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Chapter Text

The bathroom smelled like mold and musk. A flickering light blinked overhead as Thanos pressed his knees to his chest, seated on the tiled floor. His breathing mimicked the flickering light. Steady at first before switching to something erratic.

In his right hand was a razor blade. He felt the cold metal bite against his clammy hands as he fiddled with it, trying to weigh his decision with more consideration. It was unlike him to plan things more thoroughly, but this was a decision he knew he should only go through with in absolute certainty.

The games had ended months ago, but that never took away that emotional turmoil that came with participating in them. About midway through, the votes for leaving had won over, and everyone was sent home with a split amount of money. Of course, it wasn’t enough to cover the full cost of his debt, but it was enough to get him back on his feet again. The problem was finding a job—he couldn’t seem to do so now, but there were a lot of things Thanos found himself incapable of doing after it was all over.

As he stared at the blade in his hand, he let the thought of dying roll over in his head. The truth was, he’d been here countless times before. Suicide always felt like the best option whenever things dropped low. But the difference now was that he was in a relationship.

The best part about the games was being able to meet Nam-gyu. Back then, it felt like Thanos had met someone he could really connect with. Someone he shared similarities with, someone he wanted to continue growing closer with even after the games ended. They’d managed to stay in touch, then their friendship blossomed into something else. Thanos could still remember the first time Nam-gyu had touched him in only the most intimate of places. It felt good, like life was worth living for. But all that was short lived.

It wasn’t long after when things began to go downhill, like most things in his life. They were living with each other now, but that didn’t fix much. They fought often, bringing out the worst in each other. Thanos knew that if he were to die, he’d just be doing Nam-gyu a favour.

Without much thought, Thanos rolled down the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a canvas of old scars from the years he spent angry at the world. Each scar was a frustration he tried so desperately to release in physical form. Because to Thanos, anything that was physical made sense. It explained a lot of what he did, why he felt the need to act out.

Thanos pressed the razor against the inner portion of his forearm. Then, he dragged it down with as much force as he could possibly muster. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to take a look at the damage until he was ready for it—if he’d even pull through this.

When his eyes met his forearm, he was greeted by the sight of a gaping wound. It wasn’t gushing blood, but it was bleeding profusely. It was deep enough that it had exposed a bubbly layer of fat. To most people, something like this would’ve been grotesque—repulsive. But to Thanos, it was another ordinary sight. He’d been here before, his already existing keloids explained enough.

He let his body sink further into the floor, sliding against the wall. His head filled with a haze from the blood loss. “Shit,” he mumbled, realising that maybe he’d gone too far.

Thanos let the razor clatter to the floor, panic beginning to settle in. The truth was that he wasn’t afraid of dying. What he was afraid of was not knowing whether or not he truly wanted to die. He quickly rose to his feet, using the wall for support as he struggled to stabilise himself.

Then, slowly, he crept into the bedroom where Nam-gyu’s figure remained still, cuddled up against the blankets. He looked so goddamn peaceful to the point where it got under Thanos’ skin. He wasn’t quite sure how to break this to him.

“Nam-gyu, you shithead,” Thanos said quietly.

It took a while, but after calling his name for the second time, Nam-gyu began to stir. “What is it?” he asked, not even bothering to open his eyes.

Thanos moved closer towards the bed, enough that Nam-gyu could feel his breath against his skin. “Would you be mad at me?” He winced slightly as his arm began to violently throb. “Fuck—would you ever, I guess, hate me?”

Nam-gyu twisted slightly and opened his eyes, squinting to get a better look at Thanos. He kept his arm positioned behind his back as he stood there anxiously.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Why would I be mad at you?” There was a pause as Nam-gyu glanced over at the alarm clock. “Jesus Christ, it’s three in the morning. Shut up and get back to bed.”

Thanos watched as Nam-gyu flipped over then covered his head with the sheets. There was a pause— a hesitation—then Thanos flicked on the small lamp on the nightstand.

“What are you doing?” Nam-gyu started. But when his eyes caught on Thanos, he found that whatever else he wanted to say wouldn’t come. Instead, his eyes widened in shock. He sprung up from bed, rushing over to Thanos’ side as he grabbed hold of his arm. “Holy shit, what the fuck is wrong with you!?”

Thanos offered him a smile, but it was devoid of joy. He shrugged his shoulders, uncertain of himself. “I dunno, just felt like doing it.”

Nam-gyu’s eyes narrowed, his anger surfacing. “You just felt like it?” He grabbed onto his arm with more force, twisting enough to the point that it made Thanos wince. “Are you fucking stupid? Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

“It’s not even that bad,” Thanos muttered as he pulled his arm back. But he knew better, it was bad whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“You’ve lost it,” Nam-gyu spat as he reached into the dresser for a towel. “Wrap your arm before you bleed all over the apartment, you asshole.”

Thanos did as told, sinking into the mattress as he watched Nam-gyu pace around the room, running his hands through his messy hair. When he finally stopped, he gave Thanos a look that shot daggers. “Why did you do this?” he asked in a demanding tone. “What, are you desperate for attention again?”

The accusation was enough to make Thanos’ blood boil. “Eat shit,” he snapped. “I wouldn’t do this for you, you’re not even worth it.”

Nam-gyu’s jaw clenched as he approached Thanos and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders. “You’re so goddamn selfish, pulling some baby girly shit like this.” He shook him as though doing so would knock some sense into him. “Do you even think at all, or are you just that slow?”

Thanos let a bitter laugh slip from his lips. He should’ve known better than to expect anything but this out of Nam-gyu. Over the months that they’d gotten closer, he learned how Nam-gyu responded to stressful situations. It usually involved him either getting high or snapping in response.

“Fuck off already,” Thanos shot back. “I’m so sick of everything, it’s all bullshit. You ever think about how much I hate waking up everyday? ‘Cause I can’t do it anymore!”

The words hung heavy in the air. Nam-gyu released the grip he had on Thanos as he stormed off, slamming the bathroom door behind him. There was the sound of the faucet squeaking opened followed by muffled sobbing. Thanos knew he’d finally struck a nerve. Even though he was used to fighting with Nam-gyu, it was never over things like this. Usually, their fights were over trivial bullshit. But now it was serious.

Why the hell did I show him? Thanos thought as he pressed his head into the pillow. But he already knew why. A part of him wanted a reaction out of Nam-gyu, something to show that he was still there, that he loved him—while the other half wanted to hurt him, wanted to see the pain in his eyes as he showed him the wound.

When Nam-gyu finally emerged, his eyes were red and swollen. He reached out and grabbed Thanos’ wrist, pulling him up from the bed. In the bathroom, Thanos sat against the edge of the bathtub, watching as Nam-gyu reached into the cabinet for a first aid kit. He retrieved some antiseptic and a roll of bandages.

“Give me your arm,” he asked in a tone that left no space for argument. Thanos did as he was told, shooting him a look of disdain. Then, Nam-gyu squirted a liberal amount of the antiseptic onto the wound.

“Shit!” Thanos yelped, pulling his arm back. “That fucking hurts, man!”

“Good,” Nam-gyu snapped, reaching for the bandages. “Maybe it’ll teach you a lesson.”

Thanos glared at him. “Why you gotta be such a dick about it?”

Nam-gyu let out a bitter laugh. “I’m the dick? You’re the one who tried carving an artery out, like a pathetic little teen, so don’t pull shit that on me, you dumbass.”

The tension between them was unbearable. Thanos glanced down at his bandaged arm once Nam-gyu pulled away, setting the rest of the items aside. Maybe he should’ve just gone deeper.

As Thanos glanced at the floor, he realised his razor was gone. Nam-gyu must’ve flushed it away. He couldn’t help but feel angry at this. Then, suddenly, Nam-gyu broke the silence.

“You’re going to the hospital,” he stated flatly.

“No, I’m not,” Thanos replied, feeling his anger resurface. He couldn’t go there, not again. Not to be surrounded by people who constantly picked at his arms, who’d shove pills down his throat. It was too much.

“Yes you are,” Nam-gyu replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s what you get.”

Thanos shook his head. “Like hell I am.”

Then, unexpectedly, Nam-gyu let his arms fall to his side. He let out an exasperated sigh as glanced at him. “Fine, whatever. Do what you want, I don’t really give a shit anymore. I’m done with you.”

Thanos watched as he walked away from the bathroom, leaving him to sit there in silence.

–

The next morning, Thanos wasn’t given a choice. He’d barely woken up when Nam-gyu yanked the sheets off his body. “Wake the fuck up,” he he barked, glancing down at him sharply.

Thanos groaned, shielding his eyes with his hand. When he checked the time on the alarm clock, it read that it was only 7:09. They never got up this early for anything.

“We’re going to the hospital,” Nam-gyu said, pushing him upright. Thanos’ arm throbbed at the sudden movement. He winced, wishing he could just disappear. Somehow, the events from the night before felt like nothing more than a dream. Too bad he had to wake up from it and face reality.

Thanos shook his head as he reluctantly did as he was told. Normally, he’d put up a fight—refusing to give into something he didn’t want. But as he looked at Nam-gyu, he knew that this was a battle he couldn’t win.

He got dressed quickly, then left the apartment with him.

The car ride was awkward with only the sound of the radio to occupy the silence. Nam-gyu lit a cigarette as he drove, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. Under normal circumstances, he probably would’ve been high. The two of them always relied on something to dull out the pain. But here they were, sober, driving somewhere that Thanos wanted to avoid.

When they eventually stopped driving, it was to pull into a parking lot of a McDonald’s. Thanos scoffed as his eyes glanced at the bright yellow “M” towering in the middle of the lot.

“Are you fucking serious?” he snapped. “This shit is for poor people. I’m not eating that crap.”

“Shut up and move,” Nam-gyu demanded, flicking his cigarette out the window before pushing open the driver’s side of the door. Thanos rolled his eyes, but followed him inside.

The restaurant was busy as always despite the early morning hour. Thanos stood in a corner as he watched Nam-gyu place an order for two double cheeseburgers and fries. As he glanced around, he thought about when he genuinely enjoyed fast food.

When he was younger, his family couldn’t afford much—so coming here always felt like a treat. But when he got into the music industry and started making money, he was able to quickly distinguish the difference between a burger made of quality meat versus one that was artificial.

It seemed that he was back where he started again.

When their order was called, Nam-gyu snatched the greasy brown bag from the counter and pushed open the exit door. Thanos trailed behind without a word, his sneakers scuffing against the asphalt. As he glanced down at them, he was reminded of the life he once had when things were good, one that spoke of privilege. But he knew now that none of that ever mattered. He’d faded into the background as someone common.

Thanos slid into the passenger's seat and stared at the bag Nam-gyu had handed him. His lip curled in disgust as he examined the burger with artificial cheese oozing out. “This is shit,” Thanos remarked as they pulled away from the lot.

Nam-gyu didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into the bag and pulled out his order of fries. He steered with one hand and ate with the other as he switched from the side roads to the highway. Thanos kept his gaze fixed on the blur of trees, his appetite gone.

When he finally glanced back at his burger in the bag, he felt a wave of emptiness wash over him. “You know,” he started, his voice low and dark. “All this shit is fucking pointless. None of it matters.”

Nam-gyu’s grip on the wheel tightened, but he continued driving without a word. The silence only angered Thanos further. Throughout his life, he hated feeling invisible. He needed people to acknowledge him, to understand what he was feeling even if it made little sense.

He wanted a reaction now.

Thanos smirked as he kicked his feet up against the dashboard. “Taking me here isn’t gonna solve shit. I could just do it again, maybe even cut up right in front of you.”

“Shut up,” Nam-gyu sneered. But Thanos never wavered.

He let a bitter laugh slip from his lips. “Oh! Even better, I could just kill myself now. Open the fucking door and let my body splatter onto the pavement. I’m sure that’d be a real thrill, huh?”

Nam-gyu slammed his hand against the wheel, struggling to maintain his composure. “Shut the fuck up!” he yelled, his voice trembling slightly.

Thanos’ grin only widened at the sound, but he wasn’t done yet.

“If you take me to the hospital, I’ll go around and fuck every bitch there. All the nurses. You know I’m not a total faggot, I still like some pussy.”

He wanted to say more, but suddenly, the car swerved as Nam-gyu pulled onto the side of the road.

The movement pushed Thanos forward, his hands moving too slowly to brace himself for the impact. “What the fuck—” he started, but as he glanced over to the side, he noticed that Nam-gyu had already gotten out from his seat.

Thanos’ side of the door was yanked open as Nam-gyu grabbed him roughly by the collar, pulling him out from the seat. “What the fuck is your problem!” he shouted, his dark eyes wild with rage. Thanos smirked as Nam-gyu shook him.

“Hit me,” Thanos challenged with confidence. “Go on, you know you wanna.”

Thanos was just itching for Nam-gyu to hurt him. It had happened a couple of times—arguments that got too out of hand. But being hurt now, in this moment felt like something that was right. It was something he knew he deserved, something that’d snap him back to reality.

Nam-gyu raised his fist, keeping it inches away from his face. There was a tremble in his arm as he struggled to swing it back and deliver the punch. Then, something shifted. Nam-gyu’s gaze softened. Thanos watched as his expression shifted from anger to sadness, to something else. Grief, perhaps.

He took a step back, a single tear sliding down his cheek. Thanos barked out an ugly laugh. “Are you crying? Seriously? You’re such a pussy.”

Nam-gyu didn’t respond to that. Instead, he slid back into the driver’s side of the car. Reluctantly, Thanos followed, closing the door beside him. Nam-gyu wiped his nose with the sleeve of his shirt before handing Thanos the bag. “Eat, goddammit.”

Thanos’ smirk faded as he glanced down at the bag. He let out a frustrated sigh as he reached into it and pulled out the already cold burger. He sniffled once before bringing it to his mouth and taking a tentative bite.

–

When they pulled into the lot of the hospital, Thanos sank further into his seat. It hadn’t fully registered that they were here, and nothing would change that. Nam-gyu was set on him going in. Thanos reached into his pocket to pull out his vape, then took a hit.

Belatedly, he realised he wouldn’t be able to take it with him. He exhaled a cloud of smoke before pushing open the door. “Shit,” he mumbled, glancing over at Nam-gyu. “I won’t be able to take this with me, will I?” The thought of going through nicotine withdrawals was enough to make his skin crawl. He wasn’t even sure how long they’d keep him there for, what he’d do to pass time.

“So?” Nam-gyu responded, gesturing towards an elevator nearby.

“So?” Thanos shouted, raising his arms dramatically. “I’ll lose my goddamn mind.”

Nam-gyu rolled his eyes. “Deal with it, you dumbfuck.”

Thanos felt a smirk pull at his lips. “Maybe I should stick it up my ass or something. They can’t take a peak in there, can they?” But Nam-gyu didn’t laugh or smile. He only stood there in silence as they waited on the elevator.

When they entered the emergency room, they were greeted by the sight of nurses and patients walking about. There was a small waiting room near the entrance. Thanos clutched at his arm self-consciously as they approached the front desk. Nam-gyu shot him a look once before explaining the situation to the receptionist. She handed him some paperwork shortly after, then the two of them took a seat in the corner of the room.

Thanos fidgeted anxiously as he thought of what next was to come. He’d been here before, but it was for a different reason. It was to get himself clean and sober, but of course, that didn't last long. Giving into his urges always felt better than having to face reality.

When a nurse approached him, she glanced down at him then handed him a robe made out of cheap material. “You are to change into this,” she instructed, then handed him a plastic bag. “Your belongings go in here.” Thanos recoiled at the sight of the robe. It was dark blue and ugly with no shape to it.

He glanced at Nam-gyu, then scoffed. “You see this shit? Look how ugly it is,” he remarked, snatching the robe from the nurse. He stood up, then headed to a small bathroom where the door clicked closed behind him.

Inside, Thanos stared at himself in the mirror. None of this felt real. It was like nothing could ever go right in his life. Despite the surreality behind it, it felt fitting for him to be here. Throughout his life, Thanos had known something was wrong—deeply wrong—with him. He wasn’t someone respectable, someone worth taking seriously. He was a disappointment, a failure. The lowest of the low.

He hung his head in shame as he changed from his casual attire to the hospital gown. It was short sleeved, leaving his scars visible for the whole world to see.

When he exited the bathroom, the nurse instructed him and Nam-gyu to wait elsewhere. They were moved into the hallway of the ER where Thanos was given a stretcher with bedsheets to lay on. He plopped himself down, laying uncomfortably as Nam-gyu pulled up a chair beside him.

“Fuck you for doing this to me,” Thanos spat, but Nam-gyu let the insults roll off his shoulders. He sat there with his arms crossed over his chest as they waited on someone to stitch Thanos up.

“Fuck you for making me have to come here with you,” Nam-gyu retorted. “If you hadn’t done this, we wouldn't be here right now.” There was a sharpness to his tone, but despite it all, he knew Nam-gyu cared. Yet, his care was what got under his skin. Why did it take a suicide attempt to get him to look at him like that?

When the next nurse arrived, she rolled over a small cart containing medical supplies to clean and close Thanos’ wound. A cruel smile pulled at his lips as he studied her, then Nam-gyu.

“What’s a hot chick like you doing working at this shithole?” he said suddenly. The compliment seemed to catch the woman off guard as she paused for a moment, then gave him a bashful smile. “Seriously, you’re so fucking hot, man.” Thanos’ eyes moved up and down her body, feigning interest before he glanced back over at Nam-gyu.

There was a slight tremble in Nam-gyu’s lips, something Thanos noticed in him whenever he got jealous. It didn't take much to twist him up like that. Even a simple look at another person was enough to strike a nerve.

The nurse didn’t respond. Instead, she shifted her focus to closing the wound. She slipped on a pair of gloves and disinfected his arm before giving him a numbing shot. Thanos squirmed as the needle pierced his skin, but that sensation was trivial in comparison to when she began stitching him up. Somehow, the shot hadn’t done much for him.

It was when the nurse began moving that Thanos fully realised he’d fucked up. He was here because he had no control over his emotions. Everything he did or touched, he ruined. When he glanced at Nam-gyu, he noticed that his head was hung low, his hands pressed against his temple.

Thanos wondered if things were going to really change between them now. At his core, he knew he didn't deserve Nam-gyu. In fact, he didn't deserve anything at all.

Chapter Text

The lights above him felt suffocating as Thanos lay on the stretcher, waiting to be taken in. Hours had passed, but little had changed in his situation. All of it felt like a surreal reminder of how far he had fallen, of how hurt he was and what he had managed to pass down to Nam-gyu.

Nam-gyu had been silent the entire time. He barely glanced at Thanos, his eyes focused on the screen in front of him as he sat and waited with him. There was a persistent tension rising between them, one Thanos knew couldn’t be fixed with words.

It’s your fault for being such a fuck up, he thought to himself as he studied his distant boyfriend.

The hours continued to pass before Thanos eventually heard the sound of approaching footsteps. When he looked up, he noticed a nurse and a security guard standing beside the stretcher. The two of them exchanged a look before addressing him.

“Mr. Su-bong,” said the guard. “We’re ready to move you into the behavioural unit for tonight.”

Thanos’ fist clenched beside him. The entire time, he had held onto this halfhearted belief that he’d be given an assessment, then handed off with a bag full of pills once this was over. What he wasn’t expecting was to be held hostage in a small cell where he knew all he had were his spiraling thoughts for entertainment.

“You’ll be on suicide watch,” the nurse explained. “It’s only for overnight, and in the morning you’ll be released unless you wish to stay for extended treatment.”

That line didn’t make him feel any more assured. Instead, he glanced over at Nam-gyu, hoping that he’d say something to take his side, but nothing came out of his mouth. The only thing he offered Thanos was a cold look, one that screamed of disapproval.

When Nam-gyu rose from his seat, he grabbed hold of Thanos’ arm with a grip so tight, it was bruising. “Let’s go,” he sneered, eyes darkening as he spoke.

Feeling on edge, Thanos wrenched his arm free from Nam-gyu’s grasp.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he spat.

Sensing the tension between them, the guard instinctively moved between them. “Relax, both of you.”

Nam-gyu’s brow furrowed before he backed away, leaving Thanos to move freely. He forced himself up from the bed, feeling his resistance drain.

Even though he knew where he was going, he wasn’t certain of what would come out of this. Being in the hospital was no joke, especially not for someone like him who couldn’t handle stress. He had wanted Nam-gyu to stand up for him, to keep him protected under his care, but with the distance between them, it became apparent this would be nothing more than a childish dream

He tried not to think about the time they had spent together trying to survive the brutality of those games from months back. They both relied on each other, they needed one another like oxygen to breathe. Thanos had placed his trust in Nam-gyu, the only person it ever seemed right to belong to, and now he was sending him away to be in an institution where only loons resided.

When the nurse reached out to lead him down the hall, she offered him a sympathetic look. It was one Thanos absolutely hated. Her eyes were soft and friendly and it was enough to rekindle his anger all over again.

As they walked down the hall, Thanos couldn’t help but feel more like a prisoner than a patient. Everything about this was degrading. The people he passed could see his problems out on full display. From the way he walked, to the exhaustion in his eyes, to the scars on his arms. He was an open book.

His nerves only intensified as he watched the bright blue wallpaper fade into a dull beige. It reminded him of how he too had faded. Thanos had gone from someone colorful and energetic to an unemployed nobody with no hope, no purpose—nothing.

When they stopped at a small room with a tiny window to peek in, Thanos knew better than to say anything or to bother putting up his defenses. This was where he belonged. He always knew it, even as a kid. Someday, it was just bound to happen. Every person who’d predicted this was right.

The room was no larger than a shoebox. It had sloped, plastic furniture—a single chair with a small round table, and a bed with no frame, only a base and a mattress. On the upper side of the wall was a TV covered in a plastic casing to prevent patients from hanging themselves. In the middle of the room was a security camera big enough to get a look all around the room.

“This shit is fucking prison,” Thanos cursed as he surveyed the room.

Nam-gyu had been standing near the TV the entire time, his hands held helplessly at his sides. He looked like a small child, lost in the midst of a disaster he had no business belonging in.

There was an itch in his forearm that only seemed to intensify with every passing second. Thanos wondered if it was his nerves trying to signal something to him. He pushed his emotions down, then let out a frustrated sigh.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” said the nurse before giving them some privacy. Thanos knew what was coming after that.

When he faced Nam-gyu, he noticed there were tears in his eyes. He looked weak and vulnerable in the same manner he had been in when their lives had been at risk during those games. He was offering him that same look he had when he looked to Thanos for those pills he knew he couldn’t survive without. Only this time, they were sober. Nam-gyu was looking at Thanos because he couldn’t survive without him.

“You look like you’re about to cry again,” Thanos teased. “Don’t pull that shit on me, it’s embarrassing.”

Nam-gyu’s jaw clenched at his commentary. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he retorted, but there was no malice in his tone. Deep down, Thanos knew that he cared about him no matter how angry he tried making himself seem.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot,” Thanos said with a smirk. But Nam-gyu didn’t return the softness.

Instead, he sat down beside him and gave his hand a firm squeeze. The warmth between them was comforting, enough that Thanos didn’t want to let it go. He knew Nam-gyu was his, and he wanted it to stay this way. 

It was as they remained intertwined when Thanos began to feel guilty for what he had done.

The feeling gnawed at the inside of his stomach—painful and relentless. A reminder that he couldn’t escape reality no matter how hard he tried, or wanted to. The damage he had caused was there, and he was certain it would be forever.

When he studied Nam-gyu, Thanos realised there was something in that look he was giving him that made him not want to look away. He’d always chased after people’s attention, whether it be negative or positive.

Nam-gyu was genuinely concerned, he was hurt by his actions. This alone felt like a sickening achievement to Thanos. He was finally enough to make someone feel such a high level of concern. No one had bothered giving it to him in a manner that was this authentic.

“I want my fucking vape,” Thanos eventually announced, trying to shake away his sickening thoughts. Nam-gyu’s expression shifted slightly, but he never let go of his hand. “Shut up about that thing,” he said, shaking his head with disapproval.

Thanos opened his mouth with the intention of continuing their banter, but immediately swallowed his words the moment he saw the nurse enter again. Her smile never wavered.

Nam-gyu took this as a sign to get up, releasing the gentle hold he had on Thanos.

He stood by the door and offered him an empty look.

“Don’t go,” Thanos begged, clutching at his chest. “Don’t leave me in this shithole!” But his words weren’t enough.

Nam-gyu kept his head down as the nurse spoke for him.

“Visiting hours are over,” she said in a tone so soft, it made Thanos seethe. Her phony smile did little to cure the heat rising in his chest.

“What the fuck? No, don’t make him leave,” Thanos demanded, every syllable growing more and more desperate.

“I’m sorry, that’s just the rules.”

Thanos’ eyes never left Nam-gyu as he stood by the nurse’s side. He couldn’t process what was happening. He didn’t want to accept the fact that he was being abandoned, left to rot in an isolated place like this. Even if it was only for a night, it might as well have been an eternity.

“At least let me call him,” Thanos begged. “I don’t know, don’t you guys have a phone or something?”

The nurse nodded, then pressed her lips into a thin line, knowing he’d be one of the more difficult patients. “We do, but after a while, we limit the use of them.”

Thanos slammed his fists against the mattress, feeling his anger bubble over. “Fuck you,” he spat, watching as both the nurse and Nam-gyu disappeared behind the closed door.

When she returned again, she stood by his door for a moment, hesitant to ask him anything. “When do you plan on sleeping?” was the first thing she managed to get out.

Thanos shrugged his shoulders, scratching the faded scars on his arm. “None of your fucking business,” he snapped. But then he realised that he didn’t really have much to do anyway. All he had was the TV for entertainment, and with the late hour, he knew there wouldn’t be much to watch.

The nurse offered him a look that was enough to make his skin crawl. It was one of pity, genuine fucking pity , and more than anyting, he hated it. “Stop staring at me like that,” he spat, his voice laced with venom. “I don’t need your goddamn pity.”

She said nothing in response, then nodded with the intention to turn away. But then, Thanos stopped her.

“Fuck, I guess I’ll go to sleep now,” he said, his tone a bit softer this time. The nurse nodded as she motioned for someone to dim the lights.

In the oppressive darkness, Thanos lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling while reflecting on all his life choices.

–

Sleep never came. In fact, the darkness made everything worse. All Thanos could think about was that look on Nam-gyu’s face when he left the room—the anger, the hurt, maybe even betrayal. Thanos knew that he truly didn’t deserve him. This was the best he’d get in life if he kept it up.

As the minutes stretched into hours, Thanos lay there uncomfortably. He belatedly realised that he hadn’t brushed his teeth or even showered. Back when things were better, he had impeccable hygiene. He always tried his best to look good, appearances were everything when he knew it meant something. But after his debt, after the games, after everything went downhill, he stopped caring.

However, now, feeling trapped in a chamber with poor hygiene was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

With a grunt, he forced himself up from the bed and walked over to the desk where an attendant sat, watching over him and the two others asleep in their rooms.

“Can I get a toothbrush or something?” he asked, drumming his fingers along the smooth surface.

The attendant nodded before reaching into a cabinet and handing over a cheap, blue toothbrush with a sample sized amount of toothpaste. Thanos nodded a simple thank you as he took the two items and headed into the bathroom.

Once inside, he studied himself in the mirror. The sight of himself felt surreal. Here he was, dressed in a hospital gown with his arms out and exposed for the whole world to know what was wrong. He glanced down at the bandage that had been done just a few hours prior. The thought of knowing what he had done was enough to send a fresh wave of guilt down his spine as he thought not only about Nam-gyu, but the life he kept trying to get rid of.

As he squirted a liberal amount of toothpaste onto the toothbrush, he thought about the person he truly was. Thanos wasn’t Thanos anymore. Thanos was someone who was strong, bold and confident. In front of him was Choi Su-bong, the man he tried so desperately to get rid of. It was a reminder of how weak he was, of who he truly was at heart.

He brushed his teeth quickly, then glanced around the room once he had finished.

There was something unsettling about it. The yellow fluorescent lights reminded him of those “backrooms” he had seen in horror videos. Everything in the room was safety proofed to prevent patients from trying to harm or kill themselves.

The only thing that looked like it hadn’t been safety proofed was the shower. It had a thin head, but as he started at it, Thanos wondered if he’d be able to hang himself from it.

But that kind of thinking was foolish. It wouldn’t even be able to support his weight if he tried.

With a sigh, he glanced again at himself, studying the many scars that ran up and down his arm.

“Fucking loser,” he whispered to himself. Feeling a wave of dissociation wash over him, he lifted his hand up to his cheek and struck. Over and over until he felt grounded enough to leave.

When he left the bathroom, he plopped down against the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. Cleaning up didn’t seem to make much of a difference. Everything around him felt uncomfortable—how could he be expected to sleep on this stiff ass mattress?

He wanted to go home, to be by Nam-gyu’s side and sleep comfortably in the bed he’d grown accustomed to over the months. It wasn’t anything special, but it was his. It smelled like home.

Thanos tossed and turned in bed for what felt like an eternity before giving up. Frustrated, he reached for the TV remote and turned it on, keeping the volume low. He surfed around a few channels until he reached one with American cartoons. A small smile pulled at his lips when he found American Dad.

Years ago, he’d developed an interest in learning English, so he was able to watch and understand the show without the use of subtitles. But as he sat there, watching the episode play on, he realised that this too, felt meaningless. The dialogue, the humour—none of it made him feel any better.

Thanos shut the TV off and tucked the remote beneath his pillow.

His hands twitched for rest, for some kind of relief. He thought about his vape and the withdrawals that were already starting to kick in. It was one of the many other annoyances he had to deal with, but maybe it was his fault for picking up such a stupid habit to begin with.

Thanos let out a sigh as he reached beneath his sheets, into his boxers. The truth was, masturbation and sex in general had stopped feeling appealing a long time ago. But he reached for it regardless, hoping that it’d make a difference, hoping that he’d feel the tiniest sliver of pleasure.

But as he attempted to work himself up, as he moved up and down against his cock, he found that it did little for him. Frustrated, he yanked his hand free from his boxers and covered up. Sleep clearly wasn’t going to come naturally.

He got up again and stormed over to the desk, slamming his hands against the window. “Can I get some fucking melatonin? I can’t sleep.”

The attendant looked shocked for a brief moment before she nodded. “A nurse will bring it to you shortly, just try to relax.”

Thanos rolled his eyes at her before walking away and slamming his door shut.

He turned on the TV again, switching to the news. He listened to stories about war, about devistations, about poverty as a way to convince himself that others had it worse. But in the back of his mind, he knew he didn't care.

It took forty minutes before someone came with the melatonin. They delivered it to him in a small cup with water. He thought about adding in a snarky remark about how slow they’d been, but he swallowed his anger along with the pill and lay back against the pillow once they had left.

Thanos lay in the dark for a while before sleep eventually took him.

–

Thanos woke to the sound of knocking at his door. The sound was loud and grating, like a jackhammer against his skull. He’d barely been able to sleep, managing to get around two hours, even after taking the melatonin. His mind had kept him awake, reminding him constantly of how badly he’d fucked up.

When he glanced toward the door, he noticed some staff members entering with machinery. “Mr. Su-bong?” One of the nurses called. “It’s time to take vitals,” she said in a flat tone.

Thanos groaned, straightening up slightly in bed. The nurse who came to see him this time was younger, around his age, but she wore a tired expression separating her from the rest of the staff he had spoken with.

He didn’t respond as she approached with the machinery, taking a black part with straps on it and wrapping it around his arm. She quickly pumped a plastic piece, checking his blood pressure. Thanos let himself dissociate slightly as he listened to the pulsing in his ears. The sensation grounded him.

When the nurse removed the strap, she studied him, then asked how he was doing. “Feeling sick? Any symptoms we should be aware of?”

Thanos shrugged. “I’m fucking tired,” he snapped. “Sick of this shit, being here in this goddamn prison.”

The nurse nodded as she rolled the equipment closer to the door. “Someone will bring you breakfast soon,” she told him, offering a fake smile.

Thanos didn’t respond. Instead, he flopped back against the mattress and waited for his breakfast to arrive.

About fifteen minutes passed before another nurse stepped in, carrying with her a paper tray holding a stack of blueberry pancakes with chocolate soymilk and a brownie on the side.

Thanos blinked at the meal, then her, expecting it to taste like shit. The last thing the nurse said to him was “enjoy” before she turned away and left him to sit in silence.

Hesitantly, he reached for the spork they had given him and popped open the small tube of syrup. He applied a liberal amount onto the pancakes before digging in.

The first bite was… surprisingly good. It reminded him of when he was younger, when he used to ask his mom to make them for him in the morning before school. Because they couldn’t afford much, she would give him the instant kind, but it was still good.

With a wave of nostalgia washing over him, he savoured every bite before moving onto the chocolate milk, which turned out to be good as well. He’d never been one for plant based beverages, but for the first time, drinking this didn’t seem so bad. In fact, this meal was the best he’d had in a long time.

Feeling satisfied enough, Thanos decided to save the brownie for later. He wrapped it up in a napkin and set it aside.

Shortly after, another nurse checked in on him. She offered him a faint smile. “A psychiatrist will be here to see you soon,” she announced.

Thanos rolled his eyes. The thought of having to speak to someone about all his personal issues soured his mood. “Shove it,” he sneered, giving her the finger.

She quickly took the hint, then left.

Unable to tolerate the silence any longer, Thanos reached for the remote control and flicked on the TV. He switched to that American channel he’d found earlier that morning and smirked when he came across South Park.

When he was a kid, his mother forbade him from watching it, deeming it as “American trash,” but he always found a way around her rules. It had provided him with some comfort when things felt unbearable as a child. Even now, it felt comforting to witness the typical chaos of the familiar cartoon unfold.

For a while, Thanos felt at peace, forgetting for a moment where he even was—until the door opened again.

A woman with a tired expression stepped in. She looked a bit older, possibly mid 40’s as she approached his bed. Tucked beneath her arm was a notepad.

Thanos didn’t have to ask questions to know who she was: the psychiatrist. 

Fuck.

With the expression she had, she gave the impression of being someone who didn’t tolerate bullshit. He sucked in a breath as he turned the TV off, the small sliver of peace lost with her presence.

He shifted uncomfortably, raising a brow. “And you are?”

The woman took a seat in one of the plastic chairs. “Dr. Jang, I’m here to give you an assessment.”

Thanos rolled his eyes as he studied her, watching her every movement.

“How are you feeling today?” she asked in a flat tone.

For a moment, he debated not responding. But then he realised that denying her help would mean staying here longer. When he had tried rehab, he learnt that the best thing to do was to be honest—but not to the point where he painted himself out to look worse than what he actually was.

“Peachy,” he replied with a frown.

Dr. Jang didn’t respond. Instead, she clicked her pen once and began taking notes. There was something about her doing so that got under Thanos’ skin. It made him feel uncomfortable, like his privacy was being invaded.

There was a moment of silence that passed between them as she flipped through her notes. Then, eventually, she spoke up again. “So, let’s begin. Do you want to tell me about what brought you here?”

Thanos scoffed, leaning further into the mattress. “No, I don’t feel like it.”

Dr. Jang didn’t falter. Her eyes scanned over the notes before she faced him again. “Your boyfriend told us that you had a breakdown yesterday morning. He said you have a tendency of resorting to extremes for attention.”

Thanos scoffed at her again, feeling a pang of betrayal washing over him. “That’s not fucking true,” he snapped. “He’s a goddamn backstabber.”

Dr. Jang was still, her expression neutral. Her calm demeanor only escalated his anger.

“Stop writing all that shit,” he demanded, noticing that she was taking note of everything he said. She glanced at him once and frowned.

“Why does it bother you?”

Thanos sprung up from his bed, rushing over to her. “Because it’s all bullshit!” he snapped, waving his arms wildly. Out of impulse, he reached for her pen, ready to snatch it from her. But as he waited for a reaction, he noticed that she wasn’t moving. Instead, she studied him, watching to see what he would do next as though it were some kind of test.

He hated it.

Quietly, he backed away, feeling like the mental case that he knew he was. Thanos hung his head in shame as he took a seat against the mattress.

Dr. Jang gave him a silent thank you before moving on. She paused for a moment before asking the first question: “Do you often find yourself seeking attention?”

Thanos scoffed. Of course he did. Getting attention meant getting validation. He craved validation, relied on it like it was another one of his pills. Without attention, he knew he was nothing.

“I do whatever the fuck I want,” he snapped, trying to avoid her question.

She pressed her lips into a thin line. “That’s not what I asked.”

“Yes!” Thanos shouted. “Was that what you wanted to hear? That I’m an attention whore, that I need people to suck my dick constantly otherwise I feel empty?”

Dr. Jang nodded like she expected that answer. There was another pause between them as she looked back on her previous notes, then at him. Something in her expression shifted slightly as she glanced at the scars on his arms. Pity. Everyone always seemed to offer him that once they realised just how fucked up he was.

“What about the self-harm—why do you do it?”

Thanos hesitated, wondering if telling the truth would only do more harm than good. He’d never really opened up to anyone about it before because he knew that doing so made him appear weak—vulnerable. 

Vulnerability only opened up a gateway to letting people pick at you.

But there was also something else about it, something good. Something that didn’t require an explanation.

He shrugged once. “At first it was ‘cause it felt good, ‘cause it was just another way to numb myself. But then I realised that people cared once they saw. Gets them scared.” Thanos smirked before adding, “It’s funny the way people panic, how something like this is enough to make others suddenly give a shit about you.”

Dr. Jang didn’t respond, expecting him to say more.

“The first time my boyfriend walked in on me doing it, I felt kinda guilty. But then when I saw how quickly he’d lost his shit over it, it kinda made me happy. Like I’d won at something.”

There was a beat of silence before Dr. Jang spoke. “It made you happy?”

Thanos’ grin only widened. “Yeah, like… I dunno, I kinda liked watching him freak out over me. It gave me power, I guess.” He thought back on that first memory and let out a giggle. “He expected me to stop after a while, trusted that I wouldn’t do it again. But I like breaking people’s trust. It’s like some fucked up game.”

“You like making people feel hurt?”

Thanos’ smile faltered. “I guess. I just know it’ll make me seen. Like people will acknowledge me more with all the shit I do.”

Dr. Jang jotted something else down before turning to him again. “Your boyfriend told us that you’ve also tried overdosing before. He said that you spontaneously take too many pills on purpose. Why is that?”

Thanos shrugged, memories of the past resurfacing. “It’s kind of like a gamble. The more you do, the higher the risks are, the higher the thrill.” He glanced up towards the ceiling as if in deep contemplation. “It’s a game of wondering whether you’ll wake up the next day.”

He heard a sigh from the corner of the room followed by more scribbles against the notepad. “And the sex?”

Of all the questions she asked, this one seemed to be the most invasive. Just how much had Nam-gyu told them? Thanos felt a wave of anger surging through him, but he swallowed it down, desperate to just find a way out of here.

“It’s a sport,” he replied smoothly. “When I was younger, I used to sleep around a lot like it was a game.” Thanos paused, then added, “Are you interested in a threesome?”

Dr. Jang shook her head before pressing another question. “What about it was fun?”

Thanos’ confidence wavered. “It wasn’t so much about  how good it felt, but the risk that came with it. Like, wondering if I’d get raped or something. Used to let people pay me for it wondering when the time would come and thought that if something bad happened, maybe someone would notice.” His voice trembled slightly at one of the memories. “Guess I wanted attention for that, too.”

Dr. Jang set down her pen and studied him again. “Tell me about your childhood.”

That was the one thing Thanos wasn’t willing to do. He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Fuck off, I’m not talking about that shit.” But Dr. Jang was unrelenting. She tapped her knee patiently, expecting him to open up.

“Fine, Jesus, fuck, you’re so goddamn annoying.” Thanos gripped the edge of his bedsheets as he thought about the life he lived prior to the games, to falling into debt, to joining the music industry. The truth was that he never quite had it easy, but it was never all that bad either. Yet somehow, he still turned out to be this fucked up guy.

“My parents hated each other. Fought every night over some bullshit. Then my dad went and had an affair. Neither of them wanted to pay attention to me after that.” Thanos ran a hand through his hair as he thought about the man who’d torn their family apart. The truth was, he loathed both his mother and father for not being able to sort shit out. “Fuck both of them,” he added, through with this conversation.

Dr. Jang gave him a sympathetic look before moving on. “How about suicide? How often do you contemplate dying?”

Thanos looked away, his mind racing. He thought about the numerous attempts he made on his life and how it had always been something that seemed like such an easy fix. He thought about that moment of vulnerability that had been revealed during the games—that short clip of him revealed at the bridge as all the players turned and scoffed in his direction.

“Often, I’m just tired of dealing with bullshit,” he admitted with a scowl. “There’s just so much I want in life but can’t have.”

Dr. Jang opened her notepad again, her frown deepening. “How about your relationship with… Nam-gyu?”

Fuck, it seemed like there was really no way of getting around this.

“I don’t know,” he murmured. “It’s a fucking mess. I mean, it started off fine. We met…” Thanos hesitated, unsure if he should mention the games. Looking back on it, the idea of gathering a bunch of broke people with absurd amounts of debt to face off in a life or death competition seemed ridiculous. She’d most definitely keep him here longer if he fessed up about it.

“We met a few months back and connected right away, but then after a while, we realised just how fucked we both are.” Thanos smirked, feeling half guilty. “I’ve never had a good relationship with anyone before. It almost feels weird for me to, but with Nam-gyu, I can’t seem to walk away.”

Dr. Jang raised a brow. “Why not?”

His smirk faded, his voice dropping low. “‘Cause unlike everyone else I’ve been with, he stays. And I need him. I need someone to favour me, to make me their number one. He does it, he makes me feel special even though I’m a piece of shit.” Thanos paused. “If I’m not someone’s priority, I kinda wanna kill myself.”

There was another wave of silence between them before Dr. Jang rose from her seat. “I’ll be back,” she said in a quiet tone.

Thanos sank back into the mattress, letting the weight of their conversation press down on him. He’d never been this open with anyone before. In a way, it almost felt relieving.

When she returned, she offered him a sympathetic smile. “How do you feel about our conversation?”

He scoffed, giving her a bitter look. “None of your fucking business.”

Dr. Jang sighed before hesitantly asking him another question. “Are you familiar with borderline personality disorder?”

Thanos barked out an ugly laugh, thinking of a number of girls he’d slept with who’d claimed to have it. It was just some bullshit scheme to pull at the sympathy card. “Yeah,” he sneered. “That’s some chick shit, right? Something they all say when they wanna get laid.” His expression twisted to something mocking. “Oh, look at me, I’m so helpless, please fuck me.”

Dr. Jang’s expression shifted to something serious. “You fit the symptoms. Anger, impulsivity, unstable relationships. I’m prescribing you Vyvanse to help with your regulation.”

Feeling his anger resurface, Thanos balled his hands into fists. “That’s bullshit!” he shouted. But her expression didn’t falter. “We’re just trying to help you,” she replied flatly.

Help? What a joke. If this was help, then Thanos didn’t want it.

“Fuck off,” he replied with a scowl. “Get the fuck out of my room. Give me the phone and get the fuck out,” he snapped, thinking about Nam-gyu and how talking to him was all he wanted in the moment.

Dr. Jang hesitated for a moment before nodding. “I’ll have a nurse bring it to you.”

As she turned away to leave, Thanos let his head rest in his hands as he thought of what he’d say to Nam-gyu. He wasn’t even sure what, but all he knew was that he wanted to hear him again.

Chapter Text

The phone in his hand felt heavier than it should. Thanos listened to the steady rhythm of his heart as it pounded in his ears, his fingers lingering on the keys before pressing them. The words he wanted to say felt foreign, lost on his tongue as he thought about calling Nam-gyu. What exactly was he supposed to say? That he was fucked up? That they were going to prescribe him crazy pills?  

Thanos sighed, running a hand through his hair. He needed to choose his words carefully, with consideration. He’d spoken to Nam-gyu about his issues before, but they were never this serious. Not like this. Usually, it just ended with them laughing about it or Nam-gyu hitting him over the head in frustration. He tried not to think too hard about how Nam-gyu would react as he dialed the only number he knew by heart.  

The phone rang once, twice, three times, then clicked to voicemail. Thanos took the phone from his ear and glanced down at it, the silence filling him with something unexplainable.  

Gritting his teeth, Thanos dialed again. And again. And again. His anger began to surface, hot and undeniable. He clutched the phone tightly, the plastic casing creaking beneath his grip. Finally, he dialed once more and waited for the voicemail to come on. With a lump in his throat, he listened to Nam-gyu’s voice on the mailbox, then left a message.  

“I’m ready to go home.”  

He hung up after that first shot, hoping Nam-gyu would get the message soon. But sitting here, restless, staring up at the ceiling made him feel emptier than ever. How could he not answer? The thought of being left here, forgotten—needing the only person he had—felt like a deep sting of betrayal.  

“No, fuck this,” Thanos muttered under his breath. He snatched up the phone and dialed Nam-gyu’s number again. “Pick up, you piece of shit.”  

When the voicemail came on again, Thanos sank his nails deep into his palm. The pain was grounding, sharp, but not enough to fully distract him. When the recording ended, he huffed out a frustrated breath.  

“Pick me up. I don’t want to go home alone,” he begged, his voice cracking slightly. “I need you, you bastard.”  

When he hung up, he noticed that his hands were shaking. Hot, angry tears began to spill down his cheeks. He wiped them away in frustration, sinking into the mattress as he held the phone to his chest. He fell asleep shortly after, his eyes aching for rest.

–

When he woke again, it was to the sound of a soft voice. He cringed at the touch of someone’s hands against his body, shaking him gently.  

“Mr. Su-bong?”  

Blinking, he turned his head to the side and noticed the presence of a young nurse. She greeted him with a soft smile—an attempt at comfort. But he knew better than to fall for a phony gesture like that.  

“The fuck do you want?” he snapped, pushing her hand away. Her smile quickly dropped into a frown as she backed away, startled.  

“Someone’s here to pick you up,” she said in a dulled tone. She looked frightened, moving closer to the wall as her hands trembled slightly. He was used to this. It was familiar—better than the fake concern that had been constantly shoved at him since his arrival.  

“Get the fuck out of my room, then,” he muttered. The nurse nodded but returned shortly after with a plastic bag containing his belongings. She left him to change without another word.  

Thanos sighed as he glanced down at his clothes, taking them out of the bag. They felt like items he didn’t deserve. Moving on autopilot, he stripped off the gown, tossing it aside. As he went to put on his shoes, he noticed that he still had on the ugly beige socks they had given him, the ones with grips on the bottom.  

For whatever reason, he felt the need to keep them.

He sucked in a breath and slipped on his shoes, pushing open the door to his room. It was then that he remembered the brownie he hadn’t eaten earlier. Feeling a sudden pull toward it, he scurried back inside, searching briefly before his eyes landed on the napkin he’d wrapped it in.  

Without a second thought, Thanos scarfed it down. The taste was slightly stale but still good—good enough that he didn’t stop eating until there was nothing but crumbs left. The brownie tasted more like relief than anything. The sweetness coating his tongue felt like a brief escape from his cruel reality.  

It was comforting.  

Backing away from the room, he walked to the front desk, signing himself out. But before he could leave, they handed him a stack of paperwork. His brow furrowed as he skimmed through the notes.  

“The fuck is this?” he spat, glancing at the receptionist.  

“It’s just for you to take home so you know what to do next,” she replied softly. “Good luck.”  

Thanos resisted the urge to give her the finger as he stepped back, flipping through the papers. Most of them contained information he didn’t understand—lists of resources, follow-up recommendations, numbers he would never call.  

Then, his eyes landed on something that made his stomach drop.  

Reason for stay: suicidal.

He knew. He had always known.  

It felt off-putting to not have the urge to die. But seeing it confirmed on an official sheet of paper made it feel even worse. This was the truth, staring back at him in bold letters.  

Thanos’ throat tightened. He shut the papers and walked away from the desk, not daring to look back as he pushed open the front doors, stepping outside.

–

The first step out caught him off guard. He flinched at a harsh breeze rustling through his hair. Thanos’ breathing quickened as he glanced around the lot, finding that Nam-gyu’s car was nowhere in sight. But when he walked a bit further, he noticed a familiar figure.  

Tucked behind another vehicle, Nam-gyu stood leaning against his own car, a lit cigarette held between his two fingers as he took a lazy drag. Somehow, he looked different despite his familiarity—tired, perhaps. Worn.  

Tentatively, Thanos approached. He expected Nam-gyu to maybe smile, or even throw his arms around him in a hug. Something, anything to let him know he was glad to see him. But none of that came. Instead, he watched as Nam-gyu took a long drag before exhaling, the smoke filling the space between them like a barrier.  

No words came.  

When the cigarette burned down to the filter, Nam-gyu unlocked the car and slid into the driver’s seat. Thanos followed suit, cringing as he settled into the passenger’s side.  

As Nam-gyu drove, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy, uncomfortable—something Thanos couldn’t stand but had no will to break. It felt wrong, like he was violating some unspoken agreement. He stared out the window, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to come up with something, anything, to break the barrier between them. But it was Nam-gyu who broke it.

“What happened?” he asked, his tone light yet slightly invasive.  

Thanos shrugged. “Nothing, they just looked after me to make sure I didn’t try to end my shit again.” He stared down at the papers on his lap, crumpling them with shame.  

Nam-gyu didn’t respond. Thanos thought maybe this was it—that they wouldn’t talk again for a while—when suddenly, Nam-gyu took a sharp exit off the ramp. The action caught Thanos off guard; he snapped his head over to glance at Nam-gyu.  

“Where the fuck are we going?” Thanos pressed, his eyes catching onto the speedometer that was rapidly climbing.  

But still, an answer never came. Nam-gyu’s grip on the wheel only tightened as he pressed down on the gas pedal, the speed of the car increasing as they merged onto a quiet back road.  

“Nam-gyu, what the fuck—” Thanos began, his voice catching in his throat as Nam-gyu took a sharp turn, sending his body crashing against the door. He felt his heart pounding in his chest at Nam-gyu’s sudden impulsivity. He’d always been like this—impulsive, bold, daring—but never without a hint of control.  

Thanos tried to shake away his nerves as he reached for the seatbelt he hadn't been wearing, yanking it across his chest like it would make a difference. He clicked it in place and waited for this madness to end. As he studied Nam-gyu, he noticed a quiver in his lip. A suppressed scream, perhaps, as they continued down the empty road.  

Nam-gyu never stopped. Every now and then, the car would skid erratically across the road, enough to make Thanos wonder if the fucking tires would blow out.  

The funny thing was, he’d been so set on dying before, certain that it was something he wanted. But being put into a situation like this filled him with something else—fear.  

It wasn’t until twenty minutes later that Nam-gyu slammed on the brakes. Thanos’ hand shook as he unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed open the door. His stomach lurched, and before he could stop himself, he retched onto the side of the road.  

“Fuck!” he shouted, sensing Nam-gyu’s presence. Nam-gyu stepped closer once Thanos had wiped his mouth clean, his dark eyes cold and empty. Thanos opened his mouth with the intention of screaming at him, but Nam-gyu was faster.  

The next thing Thanos registered was pain, the force of Nam-gyu’s fist colliding with his face. The impact was sharp, brutal. There was a faint taste of metallic blood in his mouth as his lip caught against his teeth. Thanos winced, backing away in pain, but Nam-gyu grabbed hold of him again, punching him harder than he had the first time.  

Thanos’ vision blurred as he clutched at his jaw. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” he screamed, his voice trembling with barely suppressed emotions.  

Nam-gyu grabbed him roughly by the shoulders. “Did you like that? Our little fucking joyride?” His breath was hot against Thanos’ skin as he moved closer, panting. He placed his palm against Thanos’ chest, feeling the erratic beat of his heart.  

“That’s how I felt the other night,” he stated, his voice firm. “Just like how you’re feeling.”  

Thanos slapped him hard across the face. “Fuck you, goddamnit!” But Nam-gyu didn’t respond. Thanos expected him to hit him again, but he didn’t. Instead, he grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into a tight embrace, shaking. Thanos could feel drops of tears seeping into the thin layer of his shirt as Nam-gyu buried his face against him.  

When they pulled away, they stared at each other, words lost on both ends until Thanos sighed. “I know I fucked up,” he admitted. “Real bad.”  

Nam-gyu didn’t respond. He just shook his head and slipped back into the driver’s seat. Thanos sighed and followed, sinking into his seat. He passed a hand through his hair and let out a bitter laugh.  

They drove in silence all the way home. 

–

When they got home, the silence followed until Nam-gyu grabbed hold of Thanos’ hand. He stared at him with the kind of intensity he’d remembered from when they first met—when they were stuck in that surreal world of life-or-death games.  

Thanos wondered if things would reset again, back to default. Maybe they would forget everything bad between them and move on.  

“Are you hungry?” Nam-gyu asked, letting go of Thanos’ hand to light a cigarette. Thanos looked around the apartment, noticing that it was still the same as ever. He had expected that maybe Nam-gyu would clean up, make the place look nicer as a way to welcome him home. But the beer cans from weeks of drinking still remained. Ashtrays filled with cigarette butts and remnants of weed lingered.  

It wasn’t a welcoming sight.  

Thanos shook his head. “I’m good,” he mumbled, thinking about the brownie he had thrown up on the side of the road.  

Nam-gyu’s eyes narrowed as he took a slow drag, then exhaled through his nose. He stared at him intensely, and for a moment, Thanos wondered if it was meant as a threat. Then, he asked a tentative question.  

“What do you really want?”  

Thanos swallowed. The truth was, he didn’t know. He had never really known what he wanted. His life had always been filled with distractions, ways to drown out the never-ending void in his chest. But as he stood there, only one thing came to mind.  

“I wanna get high.”  

Nam-gyu didn’t hesitate. After extinguishing his cigarette, he moved into their storage space and pulled out a baggie, then some rolling paper. Truthfully, Thanos had half expected him to pull out something stronger. These days, weed didn’t seem to be enough, but he settled for it regardless, taking a seat against the living room sofa as he watched Nam-gyu grind, then roll up.  

Nam-gyu lit the first joint, then passed it to Thanos.  

Thanos sank back against the sofa, letting the small haze wash over him. After years of getting high, his tolerance had skyrocketed. One joint wouldn’t be enough. So they lit another until they were both satisfied.  

As he glanced at Nam-gyu, he wondered if anything would ever be enough. He didn’t miss the dark circles hanging beneath Nam-gyu’s eyes as he exhaled a plume of smoke. Thanos wondered if maybe they should have left things as they were—walked away after the games had ended.

They had ended for a reason: because people were scared. And now the fear seemed to linger, like a plague. He knew it was his fault. 

It wasn’t long after he got high that Thanos drifted off, his cheek resting against Nam-gyu’s shoulder. There was a static in his head, the kind that was comforting enough to distract him. He hoped that maybe it would last, but Thanos knew it was like anything else: it wouldn’t. 

–

Thanos woke up hours later to Nam-gyu shaking him. He opened his eyes, the high long gone as he studied Nam-gyu’s exhausted features.  

“I’m going to bed,” Nam-gyu announced, rising from the sofa and stretching his limbs.  

A wave of bitterness washed over Thanos at the simplicity behind his words. I’m going to bed. No questions like, “How are you feeling?” Nam-gyu’s tone was completely devoid of care.  

Thanos sighed and rose from the sofa, following him into the bedroom without even bothering to shower.  

He slipped into bed, inhaling the scent of their bedsheets. In the distance, he could hear the sound of Nam-gyu brushing his teeth—something Thanos couldn’t bring himself to do. Deep inside, he felt undeserving of something as simple as basic hygiene.  

Nam-gyu joined him in bed shortly after. There was an awkward silence between them, their bodies stiff and still despite the closeness. Thanos turned onto his side to study Nam-gyu, who didn’t bother to glance back at him. Instead, his focus was on the ceiling before he closed his eyes.  

Thanos studied the way Nam-gyu’s chest rose and fell. It was slow and steady. As the seconds passed, it only seemed to slow even further.  

He let out a sigh, then flipped over so that he was facing the wall.  

Shortly after, a faint glow beside him caught his attention.  

Thanos opened his eyes and saw that Nam-gyu’s phone had lit up on the nightstand.  

Out of curiosity, he reached over, his hands clutching the phone tightly. He glanced over once to ensure Nam-gyu was still asleep. He waved his hand over his face, half-expecting a reaction, but it never came.  

Thanos had known Nam-gyu’s password since they started dating. It was short and simple: his birth month and year. He entered it with ease, never having a need to until now.  

For some reason, something urged him to check.  

Thanos navigated to where the notification had gone off: a messaging app.  

When he saw the name at the top of the screen, his stomach dropped.  

Gyeong-su. 

He hadn’t seen that name in months—not since the games ended. Thanos had been under the assumption that Nam-gyu hadn’t bothered to stay in touch with anyone else besides him. He had no reason to. They weren’t that close with anyone else.  

But upon opening the chat, he found numerous text messages. His fingers hovered over the screen as he slowly scrolled down their conversation. 

Nam-gyu: i know it's been a while but can we talk rn

Gyeong-su: Oh

Gyeong-su: A hello would be good first of all

Nam-gyu: hello, cut the shit i need to talk

Gyeong-su: You haven't changed much have you

Gyeong-su: What's up? Why are you contacting me like this?

Nam-gyu: u remember thanos right

Gyeong-su: How could I forget? I always rlly liked him!!

Nam-gyu: ok it's kind of a lot to explain but u wouldn't if you got to know him personally

Nam-gyu: i know it's fucked up but i really need someone to talk to about him

Nam-gyu: pls man, i'll owe u after. i just need someone rn. idk who else to tell. i mean ur the only decent connection he had

Gyeong-su: Ok, shoot

Nam-gyu: he's really fucked up

Nam-gyu: i can't take it anymore

Nam-gyu: yk we met thru the games right? and how we got high everyday thru them and fucking hated that dumb faggot with the crypto shit??

Gyeong-su: Continue

Nam-gyu: we're dating now

Gyeong-su: Congrats!

Nam-gyu: no, don't even congratulate me

Nam-gyu:  i'm sick of it. i'm sick of him

Gyeong-su: oh?

Nam-gyu: he tried offing himself last night

Nam-gyu: and it's not even the first time. before u say anything

Nam-gyu: he does shit like this often. he's an attention whore. everything he does he expects someone to fucking glaze him and i'm so tired of it i just can't take it anymore

Nam-gyu: i was kind of hoping that maybe this time he'd fucking die already

Gyeong-su: Wow, you're terrible for saying that…

Nam-gyu: no, fuck off. u don't understand

Nam-gyu: he makes my life so difficult 

Nam-gyu: i just wish he'd stop being a part of it

Thanos’ vision blurred as he stopped reading, his breath catching in his throat.  

“Fuck,” he whispered softly, clutching the phone in anger. He wanted to scream, slam it against the wall, stab the shit out of Nam-gyu—but he knew he had no one to blame but himself.  

It was his fault. He was the reason everything had fallen apart.  The message—“I was kind of hoping that maybe this time he'd fucking die already”—lingered in his head.  

Thanos set the phone back onto the nightstand, shifting beneath the sheets. Despite it all, he felt a bitter smile creeping up his lips. It was humorless, devoid of any real emotion.  

He bit down against the sheets, suppressing the urge to laugh—loud and hysterical.  

His body shook with a storm of emotions. Normally, he would’ve had Nam-gyu sprawled on the floor for this, a fist raised above his head. But he didn’t act.  

He didn’t say a word.  

At least now, he knew the truth.

He fell asleep with that.

Chapter Text

Thanos woke up the next morning to an empty bed.  

The sheets beside him were cool, as though Nam-gyu had been gone for hours.  

He sank back into the mattress, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing despite just waking up. A pain in his head hadn’t left since his accident in the bathroom. It felt like a reminder—persistent, unrelenting—of how fucked up he was.  

Thanos’ fingers twitched, instinctively reaching for Nam-gyu’s phone, wondering if there was anything new he’d missed. But as he reached for it, he found it was no longer where it had been hours before. Nam-gyu had taken it, of course. Maybe he’d caught onto his snooping.  

He exhaled, pushing himself up slightly with his elbows. Rest hadn’t done much to alleviate the pain in his heart, but Thanos knew not much would to begin with.  

As he rose, a faint smell wafted through the air. It was… unpleasant, like something had just burned. He groaned, kicking his legs free from the sheets as he forced himself up.  

In the kitchen, he found Nam-gyu standing in front of the stove, shifting something in a pan. He was cooking. He never cooked. It looked like he was making eggs, but they were unappealing.  

Thanos said nothing as he took a seat, his fingers drumming against the table as he waited for Nam-gyu to acknowledge him.  

When Nam-gyu finally turned, it was to dump his attempt at scrambled eggs onto a plate. They looked… dry. Thanos pursed his lips and gave him a look.  

“This is shit,” he spat, letting his emotions spill through. If Nam-gyu wanted to shit-talk him the night before, then he was going to do the same. Right in front of him so he knew exactly how it felt.  

But Nam-gyu didn’t falter. “Eat,” he said, his tone leaving no space for argument.  

Thanos rolled his eyes before picking up the fork, then staring back at Nam-gyu. Their eyes met again with the same intensity as the day before, and for a moment, Thanos wondered if this was just another opening for an argument. But instead, Nam-gyu softened.  

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his gaze dropping slightly, as though afraid of the answer.  

Thanos considered it for a moment, wanting to be honest. There was so much he wanted to say, so much hurt he was holding inside.  

“Tired,” he admitted, but that didn’t even cover half the truth.  

Nam-gyu didn’t respond right away. He pressed his lips into a flat line before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bag Thanos had gotten accustomed to over the month.  

“Wanna get high?” he asked, shaking the baggie filled with colorful pills. The same pills they had popped when they first met, the same pills that got him going.  

But Thanos shook his head. The thought of returning to that mental state felt more unappealing than facing reality. He’d done so much, so many things he regretted while under that kind of influence. People had died because of him.  

“Not in the mood,” he replied, his tone clipped.  

Thanos glanced up as he took in a mouthful of food. It was disgusting—the worst thing he’d eaten in a while. Prison food seemed more appealing than this. Even though he knew Nam-gyu had tried, the effort wasn’t enough. Nothing ever would be after what he read last night.  

Nam-gyu sighed as he pocketed the pills, then pulled out his cigarettes. He lit one, bringing his knees up to his chest as he took a long drag. Then his gaze shifted toward the paperwork he’d left on the counter from the day before.  

Thanos sank into his seat as he watched Nam-gyu retrieve them, studying the sheet like the words on it meant anything to him. His expression remained mostly neutral until he flipped over to the medical side.  

“The fuck is this?” he pressed, raising a brow. “Vyvanse?”  

Even though the question was simple, there was a weight to it: Why do you need them?

Self-medicating with party drugs was one thing, but taking a prescription was another. Lots of people popped pills, snorted lines, shot up behind alleys. But this was different. This was serious. A documented sign that something was wrong.  

Thanos took another bite, then shrugged. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter.”  

Nam-gyu’s expression darkened. He walked over to Thanos’ side, cigarette still in hand, spilling ash onto his clothes as he grabbed him by the collar.  

“It does matter!” he shouted, his frustration palpable. “You tried to fucking kill yourself, and you’re telling me it doesn’t matter!?”  

Thanos growled as he slapped him away, rising from his seat. “Jesus—fuck! They said I got some shit called borderline, alright? Back the fuck off.” His chest rose and fell as he took in deep breaths, already regretting his honesty.  

When he glanced back at Nam-gyu, he noticed he no longer looked angry. A long column of ash clung to his cigarette, forgotten. He was too distracted. Too focused on Thanos. It made his heart race.  

He expected comfort, assurance that things would be okay. Maybe a hug, something—anything—to let him know he was still here, with him.  

But instead, Nam-gyu’s gaze darkened. The look he gave him was something he hadn’t seen before: repulsion. He looked disturbed, uncomfortable—like this revelation was the worst thing that could come between them.  

Nam-gyu backed away slightly, then shook his head. “I don’t know what to do for you,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to help you. I mean, do you even want to get better?”  

Thanos smirked. There it is. A moment that could be twisted, a way to strike back and make things hurt.  

“Maybe I don’t,” he said, voice casual. “Maybe I want it to get worse.”  

That did it.  

Nam-gyu flicked his cigarette away and stepped forward. His fist balled up, and in an instant, it connected with Thanos’ cheek. It hurt—hard enough to leave bruises. But Thanos didn’t complain, didn’t fight back. In a way, he had wanted it.  

A thick silence stretched between them after the punch landed. Nam-gyu stormed out of the kitchen, disappearing into their bedroom. The door slammed shut behind him.

Thanos rubbed his cheek, trying to soothe the sting, but the motion did little to help. He wondered if maybe he should’ve stayed silent. It was so typical of him to do this—to fuck up.  

He never seemed to know how to quit.  

Being a decent person just wasn’t on his checklist. 

–

When Nam-gyu returned, Thanos noticed he was dressed differently.  

Instead of finishing his breakfast, he’d been hitting his vape nonstop, trying to cancel out the hunger gnawing at the pit of his stomach.  

He glanced up once, his stomach twisting as he studied his boyfriend’s appearance.  

Nam-gyu was dressed in a way that bordered on formal. He had on a set of black slacks with a black button-down and shoes of better quality than what Thanos was used to seeing him wear. His hair was slicked and tied back, making him look neat. He carried the scent of cologne—the kind he rarely used unless they were going out somewhere.  

Almost immediately, Thanos knew where he was going. He didn’t even need to ask, but he did anyway, hoping the answer would hurt.  

“Where are you going?” he pressed after taking a hit long enough to make his lungs ache.  

Nam-gyu smirked, his eyes dark and cruel. “None of your fucking business.” He glanced at him—up and down—in disapproval. Thanos felt his heart clutch when he realized this was arrogance. Nam-gyu thought he was better than him.  

Thanos opened his mouth to speak, daring the argument to continue. But it didn’t. Instead, Nam-gyu turned away and slammed the front door, leaving him in silence.  

He got up, staring through the window, waiting to see Nam-gyu’s car pull out of the lot. When it finally did, it turned left down the street, then disappeared from sight.  

Thanos took one last hit from his vape, pocketed it, then slid down against the wall, his chest aching. Horrible. That’s how he felt. Like his whole world was collapsing, swallowing him whole, unrelenting.  

He slammed his hand against his head, repeating the motion over and over as his tears threatened to spill.  

“Fucking shit!” he cursed, wondering if Nam-gyu would even come back at all. He hadn’t considered the possibility that maybe—this time—he was actually done with his shit.  

Thanos sniffled as he forced himself up from the ground, staring at a box cutter on the counter. He picked it up, the weight of it heavy in his hand. Without much thought, he sat down on one of the chairs, pulled down his pants, and stared at the scars he’d accumulated over the years.  

He sucked in a breath, then pressed the blade against his thigh, swiping once, twice—enough for the pain to ground him. He watched, detached from his body, as the blood trickled down. Thanos pressed down again, ready for a third cut, when his eyes flicked to the paperwork that had started their argument. He reached over, reading the notes the psychiatrist had left for him.  

Vyvanse. They wanted him to pick up his prescription, to bounce back, to play the role of someone who wanted to recover.  

Thanos let out a bitter laugh before pressing the blade down again, making cut after cut until his leg throbbed, begging him to stop. The cuts were half-serious—deep enough that he could see a sliver of white beneath but not enough to need stitches.  

He set the blade aside and kicked his pants free from his ankles. Thanos limped over to the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror, the blood still flowing. He looked like the sick person he knew he was. So what if Nam-gyu didn’t come back? Maybe he didn’t deserve him to.  

With a trembling hand, Thanos reached for some toilet paper to stop the bleeding. When it slowed enough for him to let go, he sank onto the toilet seat and sighed.  

“Fuck this,” he muttered.  

Hospital or not, nothing was going to change. He knew better than to believe otherwise. But still, the thought of his medication lingered. Would it help? Would it even be worth trying?  

Thanos shook his head as he stood, then flushed the bloodied sheets away. His thigh throbbed, but he relished the feeling. It was enough to make him feel real.  

Bringing a hand to his stomach, he thought of the meal Nam-gyu had made him. It left a bad taste in his mouth—but not in a literal sense. He felt disgusted by the meal, the pathetic attempt at doing anything for him.  

Half out of impulse, Thanos dropped to his knees and stuck his fingers down his throat.  

He gagged, eyes watering as he pressed against the back of his mouth, his nails digging into the sensitive skin as he jabbed, willing himself to vomit.  

The act made him feel weaker than he knew he was. This was something girls did. It was stupid.  

But it felt right—to cleanse himself like this.  

His stomach churned, and eventually, the food came up, splashing into the bowl. He backed away, groaning, then flushed the last ounce of “kindness” Nam-gyu had offered him in months.  

Thanos took a shower shortly after, washing away his shame.

–

When he emerged from the shower, he walked into the bedroom and yanked open their dresser. Thanos frowned as he glanced at his clothes. They were bright and colorful, from a life he no longer lived. That was all in the past now—his personality, his joy—all of it was gone.  

He rummaged through the items until he managed to find a gray long-sleeved shirt with black pants. When he slipped them on, he realized they didn’t fit.  

They were large, hanging off him like a potato sack. As Thanos glanced at himself in the mirror, a wave of shame washed over him. This was who he was now—no one.

He ran a hand through his hair, the dyed purple enough to make him cringe. He’d always liked keeping his hair this way, a bold color. He’d even taken on the name Thanos, like the character—because it made him feel cool and powerful.  

Out of frustration, he yanked open another drawer and rummaged around until he grabbed hold of a plain beanie. He slipped it over his head. With his hair concealed, he looked less like the person he’d spent years painting himself to be. Thanos didn’t exist. The person staring back at him was Su-bong—the same man he’d seen in the hospital. Sick. Repulsive.

Thanos backed away from the dresser and headed into the bathroom again. He opened the closet where they kept their toiletries, along with a few other items—hair gel, nail polish remover. He reached for the latter and some cotton balls, then set them aside.  

Glancing at his nails, he shook his head. He’d done them to mimic the Infinity Stones because it made him feel cool. But like the hair, he knew better. Thanos opened the bottle and rubbed away the polish, as if doing so would erase that part of himself—the part that was already gone.

When he finished, he grabbed his keys, wallet, and the paperwork from the hospital.  

–  

The walk to the pharmacy was mostly uneventful.  

Thanos kept his head down as he walked, occasionally taking hits from his vape as though doing so would alleviate the pressure building in his head.  

It did little to help. Instead, it made things worse, sending sharp pains through his lungs from overuse.  

When he entered the pharmacy, his stomach twisted.  

It was mostly empty, just a few employees. But that didn’t make it any better. He sighed as he approached the counter with his paperwork, not even bothering to glance up at the pharmacist.  

When she returned with his pills, she tapped the counter gently, motioning for him to sign something. He looked up, regretting it immediately when he saw the gentle smile she offered him.  

“Fuck off,” he muttered, snatching the bag away as he scribbled down his signature. He didn’t miss the look of surprise she gave him as he backed away.  

Outside, he studied the bottle, pulling it free from the bag. It was small, filled with only thirty pills. Yet somehow, it felt like it contained more than that.  

Thanos glanced around at the busy sidewalk. Despite his staring, no one bothered to meet his gaze. He blended in with the crowd—irrelevant.

His hands trembled as he popped open the bottle, spilling one of the pills into his palm. With a swift motion, he swallowed it dry. He knew nothing would happen right away—prescriptions could take weeks, maybe even months, to make a difference. But still, it wasn’t enough to stop him from taking another.

Thanos blinked, staring down at the bottle before shoving it into his pocket.  

He walked for about thirty minutes, mostly aimless, until he spotted a grocery store near the corner. That got him to stop. He turned on his heel and stepped inside, half on impulse.  

When things were good, Thanos used to enjoy baking. It was something he did for Nam-gyu when they were both stoned, when everything tasted better. His mother used to shame him for having such a feminine hobby, but her opinion never meant much. Not when the person he loved most actually valued what he made.

Thanos browsed through the store until he landed in the baking aisle. He knew exactly what he needed—flour, sugar, cocoa powder, butter, and a few other things they already had.  

As he grabbed all the essentials and headed to the checkout, he realized he was being stupid. Delusional, even. He was making brownies for someone who had stopped loving him.  

As he scanned the last of the items, a wave of nausea washed over him.  

Nam-gyu didn’t love him.

He wasn’t sure why it had taken him months to realize that. They had stopped loving each other long ago. It wasn’t news.

–

When Thanos arrived at the apartment, he laid the ingredients out on the counter. He stared at them, feeling his arm throb from what he’d done a few nights ago. He had changed the bandages after his shower, but it did little to soothe the irritation.  

Slowly, he began to move, pulling out bowls, spoons—everything he needed.  

As he baked, he wondered if this would change things between them. Would Nam-gyu notice? Would he care?

Nam-gyu had stopped going out with him, stopped having sex with him, stopped touching him after things had soured. Thanos used to think he was everything to him—someone special. Someone worth prioritizing.  

It was a good feeling. While it lasted.

Forty minutes passed, and the brownies were finally done.  

Thanos reached into the oven and set them atop the counter. The whole apartment smelled like chocolate—sweet and comforting. It was enough to distract him. If only for a short while.

After setting the brownies aside, a wave of exhaustion pulled him down. The medication. He vaguely remembered seeing nausea and drowsiness listed as side effects. It must’ve been hitting him. He walked over to the bedroom and threw himself onto the mattress, sinking into the sheets. “Fuck this,” he muttered.  

“Fuck everything,” he whispered, grabbing Nam-gyu’s pillow and squeezing it tightly.  

As he inhaled, he caught the scent of him—his hair products, the lotion he used after showering. It was soothing. He pressed the pillow closer to his body, wishing it were Nam-gyu he was holding.  

But as he shifted onto his side, he saw only the empty part of the bed.  

–

Thanos woke to the sound of running water.  

He glanced over at the alarm clock on their nightstand and noticed it was already late in the evening. For a moment, he considered getting up, checking to see if Nam-gyu had touched the brownies from earlier—when suddenly, he heard singing.  

It was faint, distant, but unmistakable.  

Despite his rough personality, Nam-gyu had a good voice. Every now and then, Thanos would ask him to sing along to some of the songs he had written. It was a fun way to pass time, but it felt like so long ago now. He knew better than to believe they’d ever have a moment like that again.  

As he glanced around the room, he noticed Nam-gyu’s phone resting on the nightstand again. It was in the same position it had been in the night before.  

Thanos shifted against the mattress, checking to make sure Nam-gyu was still occupied with his shower. When he saw the coast was clear, he reached for the phone, entering the password with ease.

He didn’t hesitate as he navigated to the messaging app he’d been on the night before. A couple of new messages had already come in. Even before reading them, his stomach dropped, knowing whatever he’d find wouldn’t be good. 

Nonetheless, he forced himself to look. 

Nam-gyu: thx for earlier. i just rlly wanted some company igs

Gyeong-su: It’s np

Nam-gyu: he made fucking brownies

Nam-gyu: i used to like when he’d make them

Gyeong-su: Isn’t that a good thing?

Nam-gyu: idk. hes probably just doing it for attention tho

Gyeong-su: Aren’t you being harsh about it

Nam-gyu: why do you care? i sucked your dick earlier

Nam-gyu: unless that wasn’t good enough for you, u ungrateful bastard

Gyeong-su: I’m grateful, very much so

Nam-gyu: good. ill kill u if ur not

Nam-gyu: lets meet tomorrow btw. i can bring shit

Gyeong-su: What shit?

Nam-gyu: lets get high, ive been fucking bored

Nam-gyu: doesnt have to be anything hard unless u want it to be

Gyeong-su: Weed?

Nam-gyu: yea, i dont think u can handle pills

Gyeong-su: Ok, sure

Nam-gyu: thx

Nam-gyu: fuck, actually can i see u a bit earlier? i dont think i can tolerate being around him for that long

Gyeong-su: How early?

Nam-gyu: idk. like 4am 

Gyeong-su: You’re insane. I never get up that early

Nam-gyu: fuck u and ur perfect sleep schedule

Nam-gyu: if i get there early, i could be back before he wakes up. he tends to sleep in anyway

Gyeong-su: You’re GENUINELY insane

Nam-gyu: so what? can i be there or not? ill suck u off again if u want

Gyeong-su: Fine. Jc, I never thought you’d have this much hatred for Thanos

Nam-gyu: lmfao can we stop calling him that

Nam-gyu: hes so full of himself. yk his name is su-bong right? jus call him that instead

Gyeong-su: Ok. See you later

Thanos felt his chest tighten in pain.  

He knew what Nam-gyu was up to, had suspected it when he saw how he was dressed earlier. But now, this was proof. It confirmed exactly what he’d known Nam-gyu would eventually end up doing. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, but still, Thanos felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes.  

Nam-gyu had been with Gyeong-su because he wanted him—because he could make him feel good, satisfy a need Thanos was no longer enough for.  

They’d already broken that barrier of intimacy.  

Nam-gyu wasn’t the type to wait when he wanted something. If Thanos was being honest with himself, they’d probably done more than just get each other off. Nam-gyu was fucking someone else because Thanos wasn’t worth keeping around anymore.  

To make things worse, Nam-gyu couldn’t even stand being around him. Thanos had known this for months, but seeing it in writing made it worse. It was like being stabbed twice, the pain of betrayal cutting straight through his heart.  

Thanos knew he was fucked up—but not enough to cheat. He’d joked about it before, but the words had never carried any real weight.  

He thought about the brownies he’d made earlier, thinking maybe they could settle things between them. Now, that felt like a cruel joke. A bitter laugh escaped him as his fingers tightened around the phone. He thought about the way Nam-gyu had mentioned his name.  

Su-bong.  

Someone sick. Someone not worth staying with.  

The sound of the shower shutting off jolted Thanos upright. He quickly exited the app, set Nam-gyu’s phone back on the nightstand, and turned over to face the wall—pretending to be asleep. Even when he felt the mattress dip from Nam-gyu’s weight as he scooted near him, Thanos didn’t move.  

“Thanks for the brownies,” Nam-gyu whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.  

Thanos didn’t react. Didn’t respond. There was a faint sigh, then the rustle of sheets as Nam-gyu settled in. But Thanos didn’t sleep. Instead, he waited for 4 a.m. to come.  

–

When it did, he heard the sound of Nam-gyu sneaking out of bed. He moved quietly, tiptoeing as if trying not to wake Thanos. The closet door opened, then closed. A pause. Then the spritz of expensive cologne—one Nam-gyu never wore. At least, not for him.  

Thanos’ stomach churned with envy.  

A few minutes later, Nam-gyu left the room—probably heading to the storage space for their weed. Thanos took it as his cue to get up. He shuffled to the living room, plopped onto the couch, and turned on the TV, keeping it muted. His fingers pressed the remote a few times until he landed on a news channel.  

A faint smirk tugged at his lips despite nothing remotely funny on screen. The anchor spoke of tragedy—a mother and daughter in a highway accident, homelessness on the rise, poverty spreading, a drug epidemic.  

None of it registered.  

As he sat there, Thanos wondered if Nam-gyu would even notice him missing from bed. It had been at least half an hour, yet no words had been exchanged between them.  

When Nam-gyu finally emerged, he didn’t even glance toward the living room. He moved with ease, hand resting on the doorknob—until Thanos let out a laugh. Loud. Hysterical. Enough to make his stomach hurt.  

Nam-gyu froze, turning toward him like a deer in headlights. Something inside Thanos snapped.  

“What the fuck are you doing?” Nam-gyu asked, fists clenching.  

“The fuck are you doing?” Thanos spat. “Where are you going?”  

Nam-gyu had gone the extra mile for Gyeong-su. Hair styled, clothes neat and clean. Even a touch of eyeliner, bold enough to make his eyes pop.  

He looked beautiful.  

Nam-gyu frowned, shaking his head. “Out. For a bit. Doesn’t matter.”  

Thanos stood, closing the space between them. “Where? With who?”  

He didn’t miss the way Nam-gyu’s lip trembled—like he was holding back his anger, like he wanted to punch him again. “Goddamn it, that’s none of your business!” Nam-gyu snapped, backing toward the wall.  

The shouting pushed Thanos over the edge. He formed a fist, raising it with every intention of swinging. But Nam-gyu was faster. He caught Thanos’ fist, then punched back—harder, with more force than Thanos had been aiming for.

Thanos stumbled into the bookshelf, knocking over a few items. “Fuck you!” he shouted, trying to push himself up.  

Nam-gyu didn’t let him. He grabbed his shirt, shoving him back onto the couch. Then he climbed on top of him, pinning him down. His breathing was hard. Erratic. Eyes dark and wild.  

They had reached their breaking point.  

“Fuck. Off.” Nam-gyu spat, voice laced with venom. Then he backed away. Thanos watched as Nam-gyu walked to the front door and left, slamming it behind him. Now, with only the TV for company, Thanos was alone. The silence felt heavier as he stared at the muted screen, lips curling into a bitter smile as tears fell from his eyes.  

Another laugh—hysterical, like before. But nothing about this was funny. It was real. And it hurt. 

There was no erasing this.

Chapter Text

Thanos never slept. 

He kept the TV on all night, his eyes occasionally flicking to the screen, watching as muted figures moved across it. He’d left it on the news, seeing story after story about tragedy and despair—ones that closely mimicked the feeling he had deep inside.  

He sat there for hours, waiting for something to happen, to change. Thanos thought that maybe Nam-gyu would come back to apologize, but he never did. Time only continued to pass in a meaningless blur, the pain in his heart growing heavier with each second.  

Thanos wondered if this time, Nam-gyu would finally leave. He’d thought about it before, but back then, it hadn’t felt as serious. Now, however, it was. Nam-gyu had made it clear that he was seeing someone else. He didn’t even try to hide it.  

By the time 9 a.m. rolled around, a pressure in his bladder urged him to get up. With a sigh, he rose, shutting off the TV before heading into the bathroom.  

Inside, he found all the little makeup tools Nam-gyu had used hours before—small brushes, his eyeliner.  

Thanos swallowed his envy as he pulled down his pants and pissed into the toilet. Just before fully emptying himself, he reached for a piece of toilet paper. He let out a small trickle, then rubbed it along Nam-gyu’s eyeliner.  

The act was childish, but for a moment, it made him laugh.  

However, as he backed away, he realized this would never be enough to get back at him. Thanos half-heartedly acknowledged that he didn’t fully want to anyway.  

Nam-gyu was probably too tired for games. After all, he’d left him to go fuck someone else. The more Thanos pushed, the further Nam-gyu would go. It was a game he knew he couldn’t win. He flushed the toilet, scrubbed his hands, then stepped away from the sink like it was a crime scene.  

In the kitchen, he stared at his medication on the counter.  

The small bottle glared back at him, bright and ugly—like a threat ready to swallow him whole. Thanos sighed as he reached over and popped open the lid. He felt ridiculous taking these. He knew they wouldn’t even make much of a difference. But nonetheless, he let one pill fall into his palm before swallowing it dry.  

As soon as he did, he realized how hungry he was.  

He hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, and the small amount of food he’d managed to take in had come up shortly after. Technically, his last meal had been over two days ago.  

The hunger pangs were sharp, gnawing. They hurt as his stomach rumbled, begging for food. Thanos frowned but ignored them. He knew there was food in the house. Even though Nam-gyu was a terrible cook, he always made sure to buy groceries.  

Unlike Thanos, Nam-gyu ate decently enough on the days he spent sober. It explained why he looked healthier.  

Thanos reached for the vape he’d left on the counter the day before. He took a hit, long enough that his lungs burned despite how often he did this. In a way, vaping felt like another way to destroy himself. It wasn’t always pleasant. It was a bad habit, and that’s what made it worth continuing.  

He repeated this for a while, staring out the window, watching cars pass along the road. By the sixth hit, he felt his mind detach from his body, the rush of nicotine washing over him. It was distracting, enough to cancel out his hunger. He set the vape down and took a seat at the empty table.  

The silence in the room reminded him of how alone he truly was.  

–

Thanos couldn’t say he had friends.  

Everyone who had been a part of his life had left. Even the people from the games, despite him having a small friend group. The only person who had remained was Nam-gyu, but even he seemed to be drifting away.  

It felt inevitable—being alone. A consequence he couldn’t keep running from.  

As he thought of the games, a particular person came to mind: Min-su.  

He had been the weakest of the group, despite one of the members being a girl. He never dared to stand up for himself—an easy target to push and shove—but there was something about him that Thanos had been drawn to.  

Maybe it was how submissive he was. Or maybe Thanos had seen him as someone worth protecting.  

He knew that without him, Min-su would’ve died. But somehow, they had all made it out alive. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be grateful for that.  

Back then, Thanos had wanted control—power over everyone. But now, he wanted something else.  

Company.   

He was lonely. Desperate for it.  

With a sigh, he dragged himself up from the seat and headed to the bedroom. He searched around for his phone. He hadn’t used it since the night he’d cut his arm, and for a moment, he panicked, wondering if he had dropped it somewhere outside.  

But after five minutes of tearing the bedroom apart, he finally found it. It had fallen beneath the bed.  

Reaching for it, he cringed as the bones in his back popped with the motion of stretching. He headed back to the kitchen shortly after.  

As he took a seat, his eyes flicked to the counter. The box cutter from the day before was still there, faintly coated in blood. Nam-gyu hadn’t noticed it. Or if he had, he didn’t care enough to take it away from him.  

Thanos considered picking it up again. His fingers twitched at the thought of tearing his skin apart. It always felt good, rewarding, whenever he hit a low.  

But instead, his mind snapped back to Min-su.  

He needed to get ahold of him somehow. He couldn’t keep staying like this—alone, miserable. If Nam-gyu had someone to keep him entertained, then maybe Thanos needed the same in return.  

The only problem was getting in touch.  

Thanos had deleted his social media accounts after the games ended, realizing that keeping them up would only bring him more negative attention. He had let go of the pages he’d worked so hard to maintain. Hundreds of thousands of followers—gone.  

Half on impulse, he turned on his phone and redownloaded Instagram. When he reached the login page, he made a new account. He sighed when asked to fill out his name. For a moment, he considered putting Thanos. But he knew better.  

Slowly, his fingers typed in the name Su-bong before moving to the next step, prompting him to set a profile picture. Thanos opened the camera and covered it with his thumb until the screen went black. He left it like that, a wave of sadness washing over him as he glanced at his profile.  

0 followers.  

This was who he was now.

He tried not to think too hard about how irrelevant he was as he searched for Nam-gyu’s account. It hadn’t occurred to Thanos that he might not even have Instagram anymore, but as he typed in the username he remembered, he eventually came across his page. As soon as he did, his stomach dropped.  

On his story, Nam-gyu had posted a picture of him and Gyeong-su smoking. They looked happy together. Nam-gyu was smiling—a real smile—as he held a joint between his fingers while Gyeong-su had his arm slung around his shoulder.  

Thanos felt a pang of guilt when he realized he could no longer make Nam-gyu happy. Someone else had taken on that role instead. His hands shook as he clicked onto Gyeong-su’s account, curious.  

Gyeong-su was normal. As he scrolled, Thanos learned that he had two cats—one orange, the other black. He was into fitness and gardening and had a stupid smile in every post. He always looked clean and casual, like there wasn’t a single worry in his world.  

It made Thanos feel awful.  

He couldn’t be any more different.  

Swallowing the bitterness in his throat, he clicked on Gyeong-su’s following list until he eventually came across Min-su’s account. Apparently, they’d kept in touch—otherwise, they wouldn’t still be following each other.  

Min-su’s account was much smaller in comparison, with only 70 followers and a handful of posts.  

A small smile tugged at Thanos’ lips as he glanced through them. Min-su had gained weight since they’d last seen each other. He had been slightly chubby during the games, but not in a bad way. Thanos had outright called him cute once, seeing how round and soft his cheeks were.  

He hesitated, finger hovering over the screen. Then, after a pause, he pressed the follow button before navigating to the messaging option. 

Su-bong: hey man, i know it's been a long time but i wanted to see how ur doin???? it's me thanos from the games  

He hesitated again before sighing and typing out another message.  

Su-bong: i'm sorry about what i made you do.  

The moment he hit send, something twisted inside him. The weight he had been trying to suppress finally crashed down. Frustrated, Thanos rose from his seat and threw his phone against the wall. He didn’t flinch at the impact. Instead, he reached for the box cutter on the counter and sat back down.  

For a while, he stayed like that—still, hardly breathing, the blade in his hand. He didn’t move, not even when his phone buzzed twice. Likely a response from Min-su. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t care to check.  

Sliding down to the floor, he kicked off his pants, revealing the cuts from the day before. They were still red and raw, unbandaged. He hadn’t thought about covering them or applying antibacterial ointment to prevent infection. That kind of care was beyond him.  

He pushed the blade out from the plastic shell, feeling the sharp sting against his skin. For a moment, he didn’t do anything. He just let the metal bite into him without swiping. He stared blankly at his thigh, thinking of the cuts as tally marks—a way to keep track of how far he had fallen.  

The world around him seemed to slow as he lowered the blade slightly, angling it. Then, without a second thought, he swiped down—slowly, carefully—enough to relish the pain.  

Thanos shuddered as he watched his skin part, small pearls of blood seeping through the gap. The pain was sharp, grounding. The only thing that made sense to him. The cut was about the same depth as the ones from the day before, deep enough to reveal the layer beneath that reminded him of styrofoam.  

Normally, he never went past that point unless he was desperate for something else: death.  

As he cut, he thought about all the times he had gone deeper. Some wounds had been so extreme that he had nearly hit an artery. The thought of doing so had never fazed him. Even after being hospitalized, Thanos knew it wouldn’t be enough to make him stop.  

When he thought about his suicidal intent with cutting, he briefly wondered if he wanted to go there again. He certainly had a reason now.  

But something held him back. Something unexplainable.  

Thanos repeated the motion over and over. By the fourth cut, his pulse pounded in his ears—loud, erratic. But none of it mattered. By the fifth, his vision began to blur, blood pooling beside him as he pulled the blade away. A bitter laugh slipped from his lips, though nothing about this was funny.  

He glanced at his thigh, then imagined the type of body Gyeong-su had. If he was into fitness, then there was no doubt he was in perfect shape. 

Nam-gyu wasn’t. There had always been some softness to him, but not in a bad way. It was the kind Thanos had grown to love—the kind that gave him a healthy look, proof that he ate enough.  

Thanos wasn’t fit or healthy. He was repulsive instead.  

He let the blade clatter to the floor, his hands slick with blood as he huffed out a breath. 

“Fucking pathetic,” he whispered before leaning back against the wall.  

–

When the bleeding had stopped, he reached for his phone, the cuts sending sharp waves of pain down his legs. Thanos cringed when he realized he had cracked the screen. He wasn’t sure how he had never managed to do so before, but now that it was broken, he felt a pang of guilt.  

Opening Instagram, he saw that Min-su had replied. His heart pounded as he navigated to the messages.  

Min-su: Hi  

Min-su: it's okay  

That was it.  

Thanos frowned, rereading the messages over and over. No questions. No how are you’s. Not even a follow back. Just those two words. The shortness of his response got under Thanos’ skin. It wasn’t just the lack of effort—it was the fact that he knew he wasn’t anything to Min-su.  

If he was being honest with himself, he had no reason to expect anything more. He had treated Min-su like shit. Forced him to make decisions he hadn’t wanted to make.  

Thanos wasn’t someone Min-su would remember fondly. He was just a bad influence. His fingers twitched as he dropped his phone, instinctively reaching for the blade again.  

Thanos pressed the blade down against his thigh, beneath the cuts he’d made ten minutes earlier. Then, he swiped. But this time, the motion was different—quick, fueled by desperation. He wanted to feel something other than the pain in his heart. He wanted something physical.  

“Fuck you!” he shouted, cursing at himself. “You goddamn piece of shit,” he cried, lashing out wildly, each cut growing more frantic. He couldn’t even tell how deep he was going.  

His breathing quickened as his blood spilled onto the floor, warm and dark, until there was no more space left to cut. The blade slipped from his hand, brushing against his thigh and smearing blood before falling to the floor.  

Tilting his head back against the wall, he panted, feeling his pulse pounding. A smile came shortly after—not because he was happy, but because he knew this was what he deserved. This was punishment, a way to make up for everything he’d done wrong.  

At his core, Thanos knew he wasn’t a good person. He never had been, and he never would be.  

He let himself believe that until his phone vibrated again.  

–

Forcing himself to move, he reached for his phone.  

Min-su had sent him more texts—perhaps out of guilt, or maybe because he genuinely wanted to talk. Maybe he felt lonely too.  

Min-su: I’m doing better. I have a job.

Min-su: How are you?  

Thanos sighed when he read the message. How are you? The question rang in his head, heavier than he knew it should be.  

This was what he had wanted—someone to care. Someone to ask him how he was. Someone to start a conversation with him, even if it was short-lived. At least it was something.  

Su-bong: i'm not good. i’m doing bad  

Su-bong: i’m alone right now  

He knew he was being pathetic, being this honest. Min-su probably didn’t even care how he felt. Why should he, after everything Thanos had put him through? But something inside him begged to keep going, to be selfish like he always had been.  

Su-bong: are u a busy man right now?  

Su-bong: can we link?  

Minutes passed before Min-su responded.  

Min-su: I am off today. What would you like to do?  

Thanos froze. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected Min-su to agree. He was being generous, offering his time in a way Thanos knew he didn’t deserve. But instead of guilt, instead of regret for even asking, Thanos felt relief wash over him.  

He typed back quickly.  

Su-bong: idk. i don't care  

Min-su: What do you like?  

Su-bong: fun shit. i like drugs  

Su-bong: i’m kidding. i won't get u fucked  

Su-bong: unless you want to get fucked  

Min-su: I'm fine…  

Su-bong: shit, i'm sorry. ur so serious man!!!!!!  

Su-bong:  i don't care where we go. i'm just fucking lonely  

Min-su: I work in a cafe. We can go there to talk if you want. I don’t mind  

Su-bong: you'd do that for me?? ur a real one

Su-bong: what time tho? where this place at  

Min-su: 2 works… I can send the address.  

Thanos reread their exchange over and over, feeling like this was the best thing that had happened to him in months.  

Somehow, it was distracting enough that he nearly forgot what he had done to his thigh. But when he glanced down, he saw how bad the mess was.  

Despite Min-su’s willingness to meet up, he couldn’t shake the urge to cry again. The tears came hot and violent, spilling down his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to fuck up like this, but there was no one else to blame.  

With a grunt, Thanos forced himself up from the floor and headed to the bathroom.  

In the mirror, he looked just as bad as he felt.  

On impulse, he yanked open the bathroom closet, digging around until he found what he was looking for. An unopened box of brown hair dye sat in the corner. He had bought it months ago but never bothered to use it. He had always been hesitant about dyeing his hair back to its natural color.  

But now felt like the right time.  

Sighing, he turned on the shower and stepped in.  

–

By the time noon rolled around, Thanos had showered twice.  

He had dyed his hair—it was back to the color it had been originally. He stood in front of the bedroom mirror, running a comb through it. It felt strange to fall back on the default. For years, he had colored his hair in a variety of shades, but purple had always been his favorite.  

Thanos stared at himself in the reflection, the person staring back someone he didn’t recognize.  

Brown hair, brown eyes—he was ordinary now. Someone who no longer stood out.  

His intention had been set the day he first read those messages: he wanted to strip away every part of himself until nothing was left.  

The plainness of his appearance was enough to make his stomach churn. He knew he was no one now.  

With a sigh, he pulled open the dresser and dug through it for something decent to wear. He cringed at the more colorful pieces of clothing, knowing he’d never have it in him to wear them again. Most of what he had looked the same, apart from the clothes he wore around the house.  

Those were of lesser quality—but quality wasn’t something he deserved.  

Thanos spent a good five minutes searching before he came across a black sweatshirt and gray joggers. The sweatshirt was worn, with small pieces of bubbly fabric clinging to the material, but that didn’t matter. He knew better than to think Min-su would judge him for how he looked. 

After all, the two of them fit into the same category: losers.  

When he finally dressed, Thanos studied himself in the mirror again.  

He looked better… normal, despite feeling the opposite.  

His eyes flickered down to his arm. He had changed the bandage after his second shower. The wound was already starting to heal, but the itch behind it was unbearable. The stitches only made it worse, his discomfort heightening every time he felt the urge to scratch.  

While Thanos had fixed his arm, he couldn’t do the same for his thigh. It felt more punishing to leave those cuts exposed. Every time he moved, the fabric of his pants stuck to them, tugging at the wounds. It hurt, but only in the best way possible.  

It was punishing, grounding—enough that he knew better than to take that away from himself. 

–

Thanos left twenty minutes before two.  

The café wasn’t far from the apartment. He had looked it up before leaving. It was the kind of place that sold overpriced coffee, the kind university students and business people gravitated toward because it gave them an ego boost. Maybe it was somewhere Thanos would have gone back when he had money, but looking at it now made him scoff.  

As he walked, he thought about what he would say to Min-su. He had already offered a half-assed apology. He wasn’t sure if bringing it up again would do him any good.  

Truthfully, the apology had been less for Min-su and more for himself. He wanted a way to forget his wrongs, to clear his conscience.  

It was selfish.  

When Thanos arrived, he found that the place was smaller than he had expected. It was tucked near the corner of the street, behind a yellow sign. Standing near the building, he caught the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air, mixed with the aroma of baked goods.  

It was comforting.  

As he got closer to the entrance, he noticed something that made him stop abruptly.  

Min-su was there, but he was occupied. A cigarette rested between his fingers. The sight caught Thanos by surprise.  

He smirked as he approached. Min-su never seemed like the type to indulge in these kinds of habits. He was weak, cowardly. Smoking didn’t suit him. It seemed more fitting for the other members of his small group, but not him.  

Moving quickly, Thanos ran up to him and slung an arm around his shoulder.  

The action caught Min-su off guard. He immediately tensed, choking on smoke as Thanos’ grip tightened. He was being obnoxious, just like he had been during the games. He had convinced himself that childish behavior was part of his personality. He was doing it again.  

When Thanos pulled away, Min-su studied him like he didn’t recognize him at all. A pause stretched between them before Min-su exhaled, finishing the last of his cigarette before entering without a word.  

Thanos frowned and grabbed the door from him as he followed behind. “Jesus, are you that much of a pussy?”  

– 

They took a seat near the window, where a barista approached them with two cups of coffee. She set them down neatly against the table, offering Min-su a smile but not Thanos. His stomach tightened at the rejection, wondering why he was already being excluded. Was it because he stood out? How could that be after fixing his hair?  

Five minutes passed, and still, not a word between them. Thanos wasn’t sure what to say, and it was clear Min-su faced the same issue. He wondered if this awkward barrier would linger for the rest of the afternoon until Min-su finally asked a tentative question.  

“How have you been?”  

Thanos shrugged, barely glancing at him as he considered the weight of the words. He had already answered that through text. But it had been only half the truth. The real answer was far heavier.  

“I’ve been bored,” he said with a sigh. “Been fucking around a lot.”  

There was some hesitation, then, “I’ve been depressed.”  

Min-su nodded like he understood but didn’t respond. Instead, his hands trembled as he reached for his cup, sipping on it like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. The simple action frustrated Thanos. Why had he even asked if he wasn’t going to say anything in response? He kicked Min-su under the table—hard enough that he knew it would bruise.  

“Why are you so fucking quiet?” Thanos snapped, his hands balling into fists against the table. “Goddamn it.”  

“I—I just didn’t know what to say,” Min-su sputtered, his cheeks flushing in shame.  

Thanos backed down, pressing his palms into the wooden table. It hadn’t even been fifteen minutes, and he was already losing control.  

Pathetic.  

He changed the subject, desperate to redirect himself. 

“I didn’t know you smoked,” he said with a faint smirk.  

Min-su hesitated, the blush on his cheeks deepening as he glanced at the floor.  

“Hey,” Thanos began, kicking him again—but with less force this time. “You don’t have to feel bad about it, dumbass. I smoke too.”  

Still, Min-su didn’t lighten up. It irritated Thanos, but there was something about him that was so fucking cute. The way he got easily flustered, the way he tripped over his own words. He was so easy to shove around.  

“I’ve been trying to quit,” Min-su muttered. “But it’s hard.”  

Thanos rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. We’re all gonna die eventually. Who cares about shit like cancer?”  

Min-su didn’t respond. In fact, he looked even more uncomfortable after that last statement. 

Their conversation—if it could even be called one—wasn’t going well. It was dying, and Thanos could feel his patience slipping. He wasn’t used to this. It felt too normal, sitting here with someone he barely knew, sipping coffee like they were old friends from school. It felt wrong, like he was an outsider in a world he had no business being a part of.  

Thanos thought about Nam-gyu. If he had been here, they would have already had half the café upset with their antics. It would have been fun. Enjoyable. But here he was, with someone he didn’t fully care about, because he had no other options.  

How had he fallen this low?  

He glanced at the cup of coffee resting on the table. It was the only caloric thing he had been offered since the eggs. The thought of calories entering his system made his stomach twist.  

He didn’t deserve them.  

Without a word, he rose from his seat and walked into the bathroom.  

–

Thanos locked the door behind him once he entered. He glanced at himself in the mirror, then pulled out his vape. He took a couple of hits, watching as the smoke escaped his lips and curled toward the ceiling.  

No matter how many hits he took, he knew none would ever be enough to alleviate the feeling lingering inside. Everything felt wrong—felt off. He thought about Min-su and half-consciously compared him to the people he’d hung around in the past.  

Addicts, whores, people who wanted to live fast.  

Min-su wasn’t the type. So what if he smoked? That didn’t mean they had much else in common. In the back of his head, Thanos knew Min-su was here only out of obligation. Or if not that, then fear.  

When he walked back to the table, he noticed Min-su was on his phone, scrolling aimlessly.  

Thanos tested him. He stood by the table, waiting to see if Min-su would look up and notice he was there—but he didn’t. His eyes never left the screen. Thanos balled his hands into fists before smacking the phone out of Min-su’s hands. It slid across the table before falling to the floor with a faint thud. He grabbed Min-su’s collar and shook him.  

“Look at me, goddamn it,” Thanos snapped.  

Min-su’s eyes widened in the same way they had during the games. He brought his hands up—helpless, defenseless. By now, Thanos had caught the attention of the entire café. All eyes were on him, but that didn’t matter.  

“Mind your own fucking business,” he spat, giving them the finger. 

Everyone snapped back to their tables, trying to push his presence aside. Thanos took a seat shortly after, noticing the tremble in Min-su’s hands that hadn’t stopped.  

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice small.  

Everything, Thanos thought, wanting to snap at him again. But he knew better. He had already fucked up once.  

“Let’s go drinking,” he said, half out of impulse. He couldn’t take it anymore—being here sober, alone, having to face reality for what it was. The instructions on his prescription bottle had urged him to refrain from drinking, but Thanos had never been one to follow rules. That was a foreign concept to him.  

Min-su looked hesitant. “It’s… still daytime.”  

Thanos threw up his hands in frustration. “Who gives a shit, man? You wanna be a little downer all your life? Grow a pair.”  

Tension stretched between them as Min-su bent down to retrieve his phone. The corner had a small crack in it now, something that Thanos felt half guilty about. But it needed to be done if he wanted to have control over him again. He knew which buttons to push.  

Min-su bit his lip as he considered what they should do. It didn’t take him long to sigh and give in.  

“Fine.”  

Thanos grinned. He already knew what was coming.  

He was going to fuck himself over.

Chapter Text

It didn’t take them long to leave.  

Min-su knew better than to protest. He balled his hands into fists and swallowed his emotions, following Thanos out of the café.  

Thanos knew plenty of places to get drunk. None of them were good—filled with shady characters and questionable quality—but that didn’t matter. He had abandoned the taste for luxury the moment he hit debt. All he wanted was a way out, a distraction from the growing pain in his chest.  

The sun shone brightly as they walked, casting warm rays against their skin. Thanos glanced over and noticed Min-su’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking since they left. He paused, belatedly realizing that his place of choice was about twenty minutes away by car. They couldn’t walk there.  

“Do you have a car?” Thanos asked suddenly, grabbing Min-su by the back of his collar.  

Min-su glanced down awkwardly, picking at his nails. He looked hesitant, as though he had a lie prepared on his lips. Thanos half-expected him to say no just as a way to get out—but he didn’t. Instead, Min-su nodded, gesturing toward a nearby parking lot.  

He still hadn’t stopped shaking.  

“Jesus, man,” Thanos said with a snort. “Stop being so anxious. Makes you look like a pussy. There’s nothing wrong with being an alcoholic, you know?”  

But his commentary did little to soothe Min-su’s nerves. If anything, he looked even more concerned—maybe even ticked off.  

When they reached the lot, a small smile tugged at the corner of Thanos’ lips. In front of them was a tiny compact car, barely big enough for two people. It was polished nicely, with a bright red coat and small space stickers on the back window. It suited Min-su perfectly.  

Thanos sighed as he slid into the passenger seat, observing his surroundings.  

His long legs felt cramped, but there was something comforting about Min-su’s car. The interior smelled clean and fresh, something pleasant. It was a sharp contrast to what he was used to. Nam-gyu’s car always carried a sharp stench—cigarettes, weed, and other things Thanos couldn’t list.  

He tapped his fingers against his knees, waiting for Min-su to start the car. A wave of guilt prickled at the back of his mind, knowing he had dragged someone helpless and innocent into his mess. He knew better. He knew this was wrong. Min-su didn’t even like him. Thanos’ harsh exterior was too much for someone as soft and delicate as him.  

His thoughts raced as he watched Min-su pull out his keys. A vicious thought crept into his mind—sick and twisted.  

If he got Min-su drunk enough, Thanos could get him to do anything he wanted. Sex, drugs, pleasure. Whatever he desired could be his. All it would take was a couple of shots, and he’d have Min-su exactly where he wanted him.  

He knew how many it would take to get someone like Min-su tangled up in his web. The thought made his stomach churn.  

What the fuck is wrong with me? Thanos ran a hand through his hair. It wasn’t the first time he’d had thoughts like this. In fact, they were common. There were times when Thanos imagined doing the most heinous things to others. It felt justified to be this cruel—to feel that rush of adrenaline whenever those urges surfaced.  

But it was wrong.  

This was the person he knew he shouldn’t be.  

When he glanced at Min-su, he noticed he was gripping the steering wheel tightly. Their eyes met, locking in silence. But still, Min-su hadn’t pulled out of the lot. Then, finally, he spoke.  

“Put your seatbelt on.”  

Thanos rolled his eyes, toying with the fabric of his shirt. “I’m not doing that shit.”  

But Min-su looked at him—dead serious, like it mattered. His eyes were locked onto him, unwavering. Thanos couldn’t understand why it was so important.  

“Stop staring at me like that, goddamn it. It doesn’t matter,” he snapped, wasting no time in starting an argument. But Min-su didn’t fire back. He sat there, waiting expectantly for Thanos to comply. He knew he was making a mountain out of a molehill—but the reason behind it ran deeper.  

There had been plenty of times he hadn’t worn one, but it was always intentional. In fact, he almost never did for one reason. 

Nam-gyu had a habit of speeding whenever they drove places, and even though it looked like casual neglect, Thanos knew better. The thought of getting into an accident—of having nothing to hold him back from a lethal collision—was enough to get his blood pumping.  

For Thanos, taking risks like that was exhilarating. It was something he always hoped for whenever he pushed aside his own safety. But as he looked at Min-su, it felt like he was seeing something he hadn’t dared to admit. Min-su looked at him like he knew. Like he knew this was what Thanos wanted.  

It was unnerving.  

Thanos gave him the finger before finally reaching over and clicking the seatbelt into place. The weight of the fabric pressed down on him, harsh and suffocating. But that was fine.  

He had another way to gamble with his life. And he wouldn’t get it unless he complied.

–

The drive was silent. Awkward. They hadn’t said a word the entire time.  

Thanos kept his gaze locked onto the blur beside him, watching as they passed countless cars and buildings lining the streets. He felt distant, detached—like he was quite literally heading in the wrong direction.  

He hadn’t drunk in a while. Getting high always felt like the better option—quicker, easier, and often more pleasing. Alcohol felt punishing. It left Thanos with a hangover and body pains from doing things he couldn’t remember the night before.  

If he were being truthful with himself, he knew it was the punishment afterward that he was looking forward to. Thanos knew it was something he deserved, another way of saying fuck you to the body he was so set on destroying.  

The bar was mostly quiet and empty, save for a handful of regulars Thanos immediately recognized. Most of them were older. He caught sight of one man he’d slept with for a drink back before he met Nam-gyu.  

Thanos scoffed but kept his head down as he entered, hoping the man wouldn’t notice him.  

When he slid onto the barstool, the bartender hardly spared him a glance before leaning against the counter and asking what he wanted. Thanos eyed Min-su once, waiting for a reaction. Maybe he’d plead with him to change his mind, to walk away from this. But he didn’t say a word. He sat there, watching him in silence.  

“Gimme some shots of vodka,” Thanos said with a smirk.  

The bartender nodded once before turning away to serve his request.  

When the shots were in front of him, Thanos didn’t hesitate. He reached for the first, letting the bitter liquid slide down his throat. It settled roughly in his stomach, but he relished the burn. He reached for a second, then a third, then a fourth.  

He’d managed to get up to his fifth in less than five minutes.  

Thanos let out a strangled cough as he asked for another round, sliding one toward Min-su after the bartender did as he was told.  

Min-su glanced down at the shot, hesitant, then back at Thanos like he needed his assurance. “I don’t know if I should do this,” he muttered, hanging his head.  

Thanos scoffed. He knew Min-su would do this. He could tell just by one look that he’d end up wussing out on him. But as the familiar haze washed over him, Thanos knew he didn’t want to be the only one fucked up from drinking. Even if Min-su wasn’t going to get plastered, he at least wanted him to drink a little.  

It made him feel like less of a loser that way.  

“C’mon, man,” Thanos said with a grin. “Not like anyone even gives a shit. Just look around,” he said, gesturing around the room. “Buncha drunks.”  

Still, Min-su didn’t budge. Instead, he reached for the cigarettes in his pocket and lit one. Thanos didn’t miss the tremble in his hand as he watched him smoke—the long tendrils of white curling toward the ceiling as he inhaled, then exhaled.  

With an eye roll, Thanos took the shots back and downed them himself. He was already drunk, and it hadn’t even been that long. There was nothing in his system, so the vodka hit harder than it should have. Hard enough that the room began to spin, and everything around him felt distant.  

Thanos laughed as he slumped forward, pressing his forehead against the sticky wood of the bar. It smelled like sorrow, like the grief he knew all these men were desperately trying to drown out.  

Without much thought, he downed another two shots before stumbling toward the bathroom. His vision blurred as he pushed open the door, collapsing against the wall as soon as he stepped inside.  

“Fucking hell,” he slurred, trying to steady his breathing.  

The hammering in his head only seemed to escalate, the room tilting as he sat there, guilt gnawing through him as he thought about how early it was and how committed he was to this endless cycle of destruction.  

As he sat there, he glanced around the bathroom, thinking back to the first time he had come here. 

It was years ago, back when he still had some relevance in the music industry. He had met up with a group of guys, and they all got drunk. One of them had offered him a sweet deal—told him he’d get in contact with someone high enough to get him promoted in that world.  

Thanos was desperate. The deal came with a condition. 

Let me fuck you.

So he let himself be used. Right here, in this bathroom. And in the end, it had been for nothing. Somehow, both he and that man had amounted to the same worth: nothing. And somehow, years later, they were in the same building again—still trying to forget every bad thing they’d ever experienced.  

Thanos shook his head as he walked over to the sink, splashing cold water against his face. It did little to soothe his nerves, but the journey wasn’t over yet.  

He tried to suppress thoughts of Nam-gyu as he walked back to the stool. As he approached, he noticed an empty shot glass sitting directly in front of Min-su. He’d taken a shot, apparently. Still, he looked like he was under pressure. That same anxious look he had during the games—like this, too, was life or death.  

Thanos smirked at the thought. It truly was just a game.  

With a sigh, he pushed his stool closer to Min-su, leaning against him for comfort. He inhaled his scent.  

Min-su smelled like fresh soap and cigarettes. It was an odd combination, off-putting. Thanos was used to something that borderline reeked. He preferred Nam-gyu’s musk to this. But he knew he couldn’t have him.  

As he leaned into Min-su, he felt an arm wrap around his shoulder. It was delicate, hesitant—like Min-su was worried he’d hurt him. Thanos could almost pretend it was Nam-gyu sitting beside him, but the second he opened his eyes, that comfort would vanish. Reality would kick in.  

He backed away from Min-su, slumping against the wooden surface again. Slamming his hand down, he called for another round. This time, Min-su leaned toward him, looking bashful before whispering in his ear, “You’re drinking too much.”  

The bartender approached, eyeing them both like one of them would offer an explanation.  

Thanos shoved Min-su away, bringing his hands up to his head as he rested his chin against the sticky surface.  

“Gimme more shit,” he demanded, frustration bubbling over.  

For a moment, the bartender looked like he was actually going to comply. Then his eyes flicked downward, locking onto something that made his expression shift.  

Thanos didn’t register it at first, too lost in his drunken stupor—until he realized his sleeve had ridden up halfway, exposing the many scars lining his forearm.  

The realization sobered him slightly. He straightened at once, yanking his sleeve down.  

“Can’t serve you anymore,” the man said with a frown. Then there was something else—something that warranted a scowl from Thanos.  

Pity.  

“Fuck you!” he shouted. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? You think I’m helpless or something ‘cause I got funny with a blade?”  

By now, Thanos was attracting a scene. But he didn’t care. Fuck everyone else in the room. He had more of a reason to be here than any of them. The pain he felt was greater than what anyone else could understand.  

The bartender didn’t respond. Instead, he sighed, shaking his head. Thanos grit his teeth. He deserved more than that fucking look. It was the same one the nurses had given him in the hospital. The same one he had seen over and over again.  

He was sick of it.  

Grunting, he balled his hand into a fist, ready to swing. But before he could, Min-su grabbed hold of his collar.  

“Stop,” he begged, his tone desperate. “Please. Let’s just go.”  

Thanos snapped his head in Min-su’s direction. For a moment, he considered hitting him too. He thought about a lot of things—how good they would feel under his condition. It was justified, after all. He was angry, and he wanted the whole world to know.  

His heart pounded in his chest. But he backed down. He let his hands fall into his lap, watching as Min-su slid a wad of cash across the counter—enough to cover the tab.  

It was… unsurprisingly high. Thanos had intended this from the very beginning. Without hesitation, Min-su grabbed his wrist and led him out the door.  

The scenery outside hadn’t changed.  

They hadn’t even been in there for an hour, and already, Thanos had managed to get himself absolutely fucked. As they walked toward the car, his head spun more violently than it had inside. His saliva pooled in his mouth—an indication of what was soon to come.  

He stopped walking, feet glued to the ground.  

“Hey man,” he slurred. “I feel fucked up.”  

Min-su sighed, turning around to face him. This time, he looked concerned. His eyes widened slightly before leading Thanos to a nearby bench. They took a seat together, waiting for the worst of it to roll over. 

Thanos glanced up at the shining sun as his head spun. He hadn’t even given himself the chance to relish the brief haze that had washed over him before making it worse. Now, the experience was downright punishing. But that was what he wanted anyway—to get blackout, to forget, to fuck with himself in a way he shouldn’t.  

His stomach churned as he glanced over at Min-su, hands trembling as he studied him. That poor guy, Thanos thought. Why’d I have to get him into this shit?  

“Give me a cigarette,” he demanded, desperate for relief.  

Min-su nodded, handing him one before lighting it. Thanos took a long drag, feeling the smoke curl in his lungs. It tasted unpleasant, repulsive—as he took drag after drag.  

For years, nicotine had soothed his nerves. But now, it didn’t seem to make much of a difference. Halfway through, his stomach lurched. He handed the cigarette back to Min-su, then leaned over the bench’s ledge, clutching the metal like a lifeline.  

Then, violently, he retched onto the pavement, tears pricking his eyes as he waited for the pain to stop.  

Beside him, Min-su stayed quiet. He finished the cigarette, then hesitantly scooted closer, rubbing a soothing hand along Thanos’ back.  

His touch was warm, comforting. It made Thanos bitter, knowing it came from someone he didn’t care much for. He was only using Min-su, and Min-su was only here because he felt like he needed to be. After today, Thanos knew they’d never see each other again. They had no reason to.  

After all, Min-su deserved better than some suicidal fuck-up like him.  

When he finished vomiting, Min-su gently grabbed his wrist and helped him to his feet. Thanos didn’t protest, too exhausted for a snarky remark as Min-su led him to the car, buckling him in before sliding into the driver’s seat.  

Thanos had no idea where they were going. For all he knew, Min-su could’ve been taking him to a hospital, but the thought wasn’t enough to sober him.  

–

They stopped a half-hour later in front of a small brick building. Thanos had fallen asleep five minutes into the ride, too exhausted to keep his eyes open. But it did little to alleviate the pain in his head. His vision still swarmed as he pushed open the car door and stepped out.  

He lost his balance quickly, stumbling toward a nearby pole before Min-su grabbed his arm.  

“This is my place,” Min-su said, guiding him inside. They took the elevator to the third floor, where Min-su fumbled for his keys before getting the door open.  

Inside, Thanos was greeted by houseplants lining the living room. Some stretched toward the ceiling, while smaller ones perched on bookshelves and tables.  

As he glanced around, his eyes landed on a small frame near the TV. It quickly became clear the apartment wasn’t just Min-su’s. Stepping closer, he recognized the person in the photo. Beside Min-su stood Se-mi, both flashing peace signs, smiling bashfully at the camera.  

The sight made Thanos’ stomach twist.  

Apparently, everyone had stuck together after the games ended. Everyone but him, of course. The only person he kept close was gone—off somewhere fucking someone else. The thought of Nam-gyu sent a wave of nausea down his spine. He wasn’t sure if he’d see him again tonight, or if he even wanted to.  

If Nam-gyu caught him like this, it’d all be over. They’d gotten drunk together, sure—but never like this. Thanos knew he’d only be dead weight, dragging Nam-gyu down.  

Sensing his discomfort, Min-su approached and guided him to the sofa. Thanos collapsed against him, resting his head in his lap as he panted. The ceiling seemed to slip further away as he stared upward, trying to ground himself.  

There was something about Min-su’s body against his own that stirred something inside him. 

Desperation, maybe.  

He thought about how he’d felt when they first met—how right it had seemed to push him around. And how, somehow, it turned him on. It was exhilarating to have dominance over someone, especially when his grip on control loosened more each day.  

Without much thought, he sat up, his head pounding from the sudden movement, and offered Min-su a sly grin. He grabbed Min-su’s chin, locking eyes with him before asking,  

“You like me, right?”  

Min-su froze. His jaw clenched like the words he wanted to say were in a foreign language.  

When a faint blush crept up his cheeks, Thanos moved closer, breath hot against Min-su’s skin. His body trembled as he struggled to stay focused.  

He thought about all the times he’d grabbed Nam-gyu like this—yanking him by the hair, tilting his chin up, holding him from behind. It was good while it lasted. If he closed his eyes, maybe he could convince himself he was with the right person.  

Thanos shut his eyes, inches from Min-su’s lips. He could already imagine how they’d feel against his own.  

But before he could deliver the kiss, Min-su backed away.  

The rejection hit like a slap to the face. 

“Hey, the fuck was that?” Thanos asked, barely able to suppress the tremble in his voice. This hurt more than he wanted to admit.  

Min-su didn't respond right away. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice small.  

But the apology wasn’t enough. It was a cruel reminder of just how little Thanos was wanted in this world. No one loved him. No one saw him. He was just someone who existed, unworthy of attention.  

He thought about the look the barista had given him earlier. Then the bartender. He wondered if changing his hair would stop people from looking at him like he was less.  

But as he glanced at Min-su, he noticed that familiar expression etched into his face.  

Pity. Again.  

He wasn’t even worth being seen as a regular person anymore. It didn’t matter if he had changed his hair. That didn’t make a difference. It didn’t change who he was at his core.  

Thanos’ hands trembled as he crawled closer to Min-su again, pinning him down against the back of the cushions. He just wanted someone to touch him, to make him feel good and assured—like he was worthy of love.  

He lunged forward, climbing on top of Min-su like he was nothing more than something to sit on. His heart hammered in his chest as he reached for the zipper of Min-su’s pants.  

Thanos didn’t miss the way Min-su’s eyes widened in shock. He didn’t say anything, but Thanos knew he was scared. He could see it in the way he trembled beneath him, in how every breath he took grew more frantic, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room.  

“I deserve this,” Thanos muttered as he pulled the fly down. “I deserve whatever the fuck I want,” he snapped, his vision blurring with tears as his hands fumbled.

“I’m Thanos the Great.”

But the words felt shallow.

Min-su tensed even further when he glanced down and saw Thanos was a step away from getting his dick out.  

“Don’t do this,” he begged. “Please, I don’t want it.”  

Thanos wasn’t listening. The words didn’t even register as he reached inside Min-su’s boxers. He felt the warmth of his skin against his palm, but before he could move any further, Min-su shoved him. Hard.  

Thanos hit the floor with a sickening thud.  

The impact hurt. He knew it would bruise. But that pain was minuscule compared to the ache in his chest. He heaved a heavy breath, struggling to get a fucking grip on himself. Thanos raised his arm over his face as he let his tears fall, his skin burning.  

“I’m sorry,” Min-su said from across the room.  

When Thanos lowered his arm, he saw Min-su standing over him, his face a mixture of shock and concern. The tone of his voice was remorseful—like he felt guilty for hurting him. But Thanos knew this was exactly what he deserved.  

He let out a bitter laugh as Min-su extended a hand, helping him up. Then Min-su left him alone on the sofa for a minute before returning with a cold bottle of water and some crackers.  

“Take these,” he said.  

Thanos didn’t protest. His stomach rumbled as he reached for the crackers and bit down on one. It tasted like ash against his tongue.  

“I’m sorry,” Min-su repeated. “It’s just… I have someone I like.”  

Thanos grunted. Of course he did. Everyone seemed to. Everyone but him. His eyes drifted to that frame again. He didn’t even need to ask who Min-su liked. They were sharing an apartment, after all.  

When he finished eating, Min-su let him lay against his lap. His head still swarmed, but it wasn’t as bad as before. Thanos knew he’d have a nasty hangover tomorrow, but that didn’t matter.  

Min-su’s fingers brushed through his hair, wiping his bangs away from his sweaty forehead. Thanos considered trying again—one last attempt to assert dominance. But he knew it wasn’t worth it. He thought about everything he had done over the years. The shame of lying in that hospital bed.  

There was a reason he’d been there.  

“Gimme another cig,” Thanos demanded, holding out his hand.  

Min-su hesitated before fishing one out and handing it to him. This time, he genuinely felt better. The burn of the smoke against his throat soothed his nerves. It was enough to distract him from why he was here in the first place.  

By the time he finished smoking, exhaustion crashed over him. Thanos turned onto his side and shut his eyes, falling into a much-needed slumber.  

–

When he woke again, it was already late evening.  

Thanos stirred, lifting his head from the sofa. Wrapped around him was a fuzzy blue blanket covered in stars. Apparently, Min-su had a thing for space.  

As he glanced around the room, he noticed Min-su wasn’t there. But he could hear the sound of a distant conversation. Thanos sucked in a breath when he realized Se-mi was probably home. He didn’t want to see her. She hadn’t liked him much, and when they were in their group together, she wasn’t fond of Nam-gyu either.  

Still, he didn’t move. Not until he heard a door close.  

Min-su returned, now dressed in a set of brown pajamas. He looked almost like a small bear—warm, cozy. Thanos felt a pang of guilt as he approached.  

“I’m sorry for all this shit,” Thanos muttered, realizing just how far he had gone. He had almost…  

“It’s fine,” Min-su replied quickly, snapping him from his thoughts.  

But Thanos knew better. He had been half-aware of what he was doing, how wrong it was. Yet at the time, he hadn't cared. He was too focused on trying to fill a void. Selfish as always. Min-su sighed as he plopped down beside him. His presence made Thanos uncomfortable. It was a reminder of what he had done—or tried to do.  

Thanos shifted, inhaling sharply as he realized how bad he fucking smelled. He could use a shower.  

A silence stretched between them before Min-su reached out, gently pulling down Thanos’ sleeve. Just enough to reveal the scars.  

Thanos didn’t move. He turned to Min-su, studying his expression, waiting to see if he’d shoot him down like everyone else had. But instead, Min-su ran his fingers along the marks. His touch was soft, hesitant—like he was afraid of pushing Thanos further.  

“What’s really wrong?” he asked.  

A knot formed in Thanos’ throat. He wanted to say everything was wrong. Because it was. He couldn’t even remember the last time something good had happened. But only one thing came out.  

“Nam-gyu doesn’t love me anymore,” he admitted, his voice cracking.  

Min-su didn’t respond. How could he? He didn’t know the full extent of the situation. And even if he did, Thanos wasn’t sure he’d want him to.  

Neither of them spoke after that. Eventually, Min-su let go of his arm, tugging his sleeve back down, handling him with a care Thanos knew he didn’t deserve.  

“You can stay here for the night,” Min-su said.  

Thanos nodded, too exhausted to even thank him. This went beyond what he deserved. As he sank back into the cushions, Thanos thought about his life—about how things might’ve been different for those around him if his suicide attempt had worked the first time.  

It hadn’t been that long ago.  

Yet somehow, it felt like a lifetime away.

Chapter Text

Thanos woke up the next morning feeling like shit.

His body was heavy and sore, but the exhaustion that weighed on him was more than just physical. It was the manifestation of the shame and self-loathing he carried.

As he glanced toward the corner of the room, he realized exactly where he was—and what he had done to land himself in this position. It was barely seven in the morning, but his stomach churned when he thought of the events from the day before.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, he’d been drunk out of his mind.

That had led to a number of embarrassing events. But "embarrassed" wasn’t even the right word to describe what he’d nearly done with Min-su.

He had been desperate for someone to touch him, to see him, to love him—so much so that he was almost willing to rape for it. The recollection made his stomach twist, and he reached for a nearby waste bin, retching into it.

“Fuck,” Thanos cursed. “What’s wrong with me?” he whispered, trying to suppress his shame.

He let himself sink into the cushions, letting his nausea roll over him. This wasn’t something he could ever forgive himself for. His need for dominance always seemed to get him into trouble, but this was different. This time, he had crossed a fucking line. And it wasn’t okay.

When the feeling finally subsided, he kicked off the blanket he’d been sleeping with and folded it neatly.

Thanos studied the apartment quietly, walking through the halls to ensure no one else was up. When he stopped in front of Min-su’s bedroom, a pang of jealousy hit him.

He held his breath as he twisted the doorknob, taking a quick glimpse inside. He knew what to expect, but something about seeing two people snuggled up together—like they wanted to merge into one—was enough to make his throat tighten in pain.

There was this feeling he got, sharp and ugly, vicious and burning, whenever he saw people with the things he wanted. It felt like self-harm to stand there in silence, knowing his life was falling apart piece by piece while others fit together like puzzle pieces in a way that could only ever make sense.

He balled his hand into a fist as he watched the way Min-su lay between Se-mi’s arms.

Thanos shut the door quietly before heading to the kitchen, where he found a sheet of paper to write on. He blinked back tears as he quickly scribbled out an apology.

"I’m sorry about everything. I fucked up real bad last night, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. Just know that I regret it. You won’t hear from me again. Good luck with life.  

-Su-bong"

He folded the sheet in half before leaving. Deep inside, Thanos knew that something this simple could never make up for what he had done.

–

When he stepped outside, his stomach churned again.

A cold gust of early morning air slapped him hard across the face. Sharp and assaulting.

Thanos cringed as he felt a weight in the back of his pocket. He had forgotten that he’d taken his phone before leaving. He hadn’t bothered to use or check it, assuming that no one would care enough to reach out.

He had no one but Nam-gyu anyway.

His hand twitched as he instinctively reached for his vape before pulling out his phone.

Thanos walked for a few miles, taking note of his surroundings and how different they were from what he was used to. The neighborhood he lived in with Nam-gyu wasn’t good or pleasant. Even though Min-su’s apartment was small, it was probably for a reason—that being that regular-sized apartments were too expensive to afford, considering how nice this neighborhood was.

The sensation of the smoke hitting the back of his throat did little to soothe his nerves. Thanos took hit after hit like his life depended on it. There was a temptation to check his phone, curiosity biting at him over whether Nam-gyu had even noticed his disappearance.

It felt like a gamble—to keep someone else worried or to preserve his own sanity by remaining ignorant. Thanos knew the rejection would sting upon realizing that his presence was worth nothing to the person he was supposed to be dedicating his life to.

By the time he reached his twentieth hit, Thanos stopped near a bench and pulled out his phone. Fuck it, he thought. If Nam-gyu had noticed and asked, maybe it would mean something. An indication that he cared enough to worry. If he didn’t… then that would be a different story.

He sat down on the bench and checked, his hands shaking as he navigated to his messaging app.

He had gotten what he wanted.

Nam-gyu: where ru  

Nam-gyu: ??  

Nam-gyu: im sorry about earlier  

Nam-gyu: can u answer ur phone  

Nam-gyu: istg  

Nam-gyu: su-bong.  

Nam-gyu: ok fine ignore me jc  

Nam-gyu: where the fuck are you, stop playing with me like this  

Nam-gyu: ANSWER THE PHONE  

Nam-gyu: fine i dont care. kys if u want  

Nam-gyu: fuck you  

The tremble in his hand never stopped. Thanos pocketed his phone and took a hit long enough that he felt like his lungs were going to explode from the artificial flavor and toxins coating them.

As he exhaled, he watched the smoke drift toward the sky with a violent cough.

The message—“kill yourself if you want”—repeated in his head.

It hadn’t even been a full week since he’d been released from the hospital, and regardless, the idea of trying again had never left. It would be so easy to just throw himself off a bridge. Or better yet, to buy a bag of whatever and overdose. He wouldn’t even know what hit him.

But as Thanos thought of the numerous ways he could take his life, the image of Min-su flashed before him.

There he was once again, laid out in front of him. His small hands trembled by his sides, his chest rising and falling like it was another breath away from swallowing him whole. Thanos thought about the genuine fear in his eyes, like it was something he couldn’t escape from.

He knew that running away was pathetic. All throughout his life, Thanos had done nothing but that.

The sex, the drugs, the marks that lined his skin like tally marks—it was all a pathetic attempt to ignore the life he had built for himself.

Thanos ran a hand through his hair as he got up. He couldn’t keep running away anymore.

He was going to face the music, no matter how much it hurt.

–

When he entered the apartment, it was dead silent.

It was eerie, the way the air seemed to hold a tension so thick he was certain he could cut through it.

Thanos held his breath as he navigated through each room, checking, wondering if Nam-gyu would be there. Maybe he was still out. Maybe he was still with Gyeong-su.

But when he entered the bedroom, he found Nam-gyu sprawled out on the mattress. He wasn’t wearing the outfit Thanos had last seen him in. Instead, he had on a navy blue T-shirt with black sweatpants. On his neck was a faint hickey, which Thanos tried to ignore as he took a strand of Nam-gyu’s hair and covered it.

In front of Nam-gyu was his cell phone, burning hot, left open to the messaging app Thanos had snooped through before. It almost felt like mockery—leaving behind all the things Nam-gyu wanted to tell Thanos but lacked the courage to.

Thanos waved a hand in front of Nam-gyu’s face, waiting for a reaction. But there wasn’t one. He was dead asleep.

Carefully, Thanos picked up the phone. It burned in his hands, a sign that it had been on for hours.

He swallowed as he navigated to Nam-gyu’s chat with Gyeong-su, already knowing what to expect.

Nam-gyu: hes gone

Gyeong-su: What

Nam-gyu : hes not home and hes not answering his phone

Nam-gyu: i dont know what to do

Nam-gyu: it was really fucking bad before i went to see you

Nam-gyu: i didnt say anything bc i didnt want to kill the mood, but we fought again and i hurt him pretty bad since he fell into the fucking bookshelf

Nam-gyu: what if he left to go kill himself

Nam-gyu: i dont know what to do

Nam-gyu: i dont know why i still give a shit honestly, its so fucking hard bc he makes everything in my life complicated but i know i cant fully leave. he’ll crumble without me and i ffs i cant do that

Gyeong-su: Do you want me to come over

Nam-gyu: dont, we literally just saw each other i think thats enough dick for one day

Nam-gyu: im not even supposed to be doing this but like fuck i have needs too and ur the only person i can really talk to about this

Gyeong-su: Why do you feel like he’ll crumble? Doesn’t he have any other friends

Nam-gyu: no. none. genuinely none. everyone despises him from what i know. or if they dont, then the people he was with were just using him. so i mean it when i say im genuinely all he has

Nam-gyu: but im just so fucking tired, i feel like crashing out everyday bc he puts me thru sm

Nam-gyu: imagine having to watch the person ur closest with destroy himself on an everyday basis with the knowledge of knowing that he doesnt ever want to get better?

Nam-gyu: hes so set on dying, every time he disappears i just assume hes gone for good. like hes really dead. and i dont know if i would want him to be.

Nam-gyu: his death would mean i wouldnt have to suffer anymore but hes mine i just cant deal with that i hate him he treats me like im nothing. like im shit, im so tired. fuck him fuck

There were more messages below that, but Thanos didn’t get the chance to read them. He glanced up and noticed Nam-gyu stirring slightly, exhaling a tired breath.

Something clenched in his chest—guilt, maybe—as he studied how exhausted Nam-gyu looked despite being in a state of rest. It was as though sleep made no difference when trapped in a situation that constantly drained you of energy.

Without a word, Thanos shut off the phone and placed it back where it had been. Then, silently, he slipped under the sheets beside Nam-gyu, cringing as he caught a whiff of his own stench.

The smell was enough to wake Nam-gyu.

Thanos could feel him shifting beside him, slowly, then hesitantly, before pressing closer.

He stiffened as Nam-gyu wrapped his arms around him, burying his face against his chest. The action was something he hadn’t done in months—almost to the point where it felt foreign. Thanos didn’t know how to respond.

Instead, he closed his eyes and hoped to catch a few minutes of rest.

–

When he woke again, it was already past noon.

The sharp scent of cigarette smoke filled the air, assaulting his senses as it wafted through his nostrils.

Glancing over, he noticed the ashtray beside their bed was overflowing with cigarette butts. There had to be at least twenty, and Thanos wondered if Nam-gyu had gone through that many while he slept.

Nam-gyu had always been a smoker, even before they met. But as their relationship deepened over the months, the number of times he smoked had gradually increased.

The idea of quitting had always been a joke between them, but now it was concerning. At the rate Nam-gyu was going, he was set to get cancer before fifty. Thanos knew he was part of the problem—a detriment to Nam-gyu’s health.

When Nam-gyu finally stopped, he grabbed Thanos by the collar, shaking him.

The peace that had existed between them was so short-lived, Thanos wondered if he had imagined it. Maybe Nam-gyu had mistaken him for Gyeong-su.

“Where the fuck were you?” he snapped.  

Thanos shrugged, set on giving Nam-gyu the same treatment he had received the day before.

“Oh, you know. Out.”  

“Where, you jackass?” Nam-gyu scowled.  

But Thanos was set on pushing his buttons. He knew he shouldn’t, but it felt right to get back at him a little—despite the guilt gnawing at him.

Nam-gyu let go of his collar only to raise his fist. Thanos instinctively brought his hands up to shield himself from yet another beating, but when he opened his eyes, he found that Nam-gyu had lowered his hand.

He sighed, then opened his palm instead.

“Let me see your arm,” he said at last.

Thanos was caught off guard. He hadn’t expected Nam-gyu to ask that. But it was fine. Internally, he smirked as he rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing what Nam-gyu had already seen a few days before.

Nam-gyu ran his fingers over the scars before tugging the sleeve back down. For a moment, Thanos genuinely believed he was off the hook. He pulled away and sank back into the mattress, but Nam-gyu grabbed hold of him again, stopping him before he could pull the sheets over his head.

“Show me your thighs.”

Thanos flinched.  

Fuck. He thought he had actually outsmarted him.

“No,” he snapped, immediately defensive. He wasn’t in the mood to explain himself—to make things worse between them. This was something he was set on dealing with alone. It wasn’t anyone’s business.

But before he could react, Nam-gyu yanked him up from the sheets.

“Hey!” Thanos cried, struggling under his grip.  

Nam-gyu’s hands roamed around his waist before reaching for the waistband of his pants, then yanking them down.

Thanos sank into the mattress as he felt the soft fabric part from his body. His heart pounded in his chest, and he wondered if this was how Min-su had felt.

Lifeless. Full of fear.

He studied Nam-gyu as he examined the damage, his lips pressed into a thin line—like he was trying to suppress everything he wanted to say. But those emotions eventually spilled over.

Thanos had closed his eyes for not even a full second before feeling the impact of something pounding against the side of his face.

When he opened them, he noticed a splatter of blood dripping down his nose.

Nam-gyu had punched him. Hard. Maybe even hard enough to break his nose. 

It wasn’t unexpected of him to do this. But when he looked up again, he noticed that Nam-gyu was crying. Hot, angry tears spilled down his cheeks in frustration. He lifted his hand, wiping them away before Thanos even got the chance to make a remark about it.

“Why the fuck don’t you want to get better?” Nam-gyu snapped. His voice was low and angry, yet desperate at the same time. “I mean, I just don’t get it.”

Thanos glanced down at his thighs, realizing that some of the cuts had opened up the day before. Dried blood caked his skin. It must’ve happened when he was stumbling around like a fucking fool.

“Answer me, Su-bong.”

The use of his real name caught him off guard. Nam-gyu had addressed him as such through text, but never in conversation. He knew he was serious now, seeing him only for what he was.

“No.”

Thanos didn’t want to give him a response. He knew he was being unfair, but Nam-gyu had done much worse than him. It felt justified, sitting here like this, being stubborn as hell.

Nam-gyu nodded silently before walking away. The thought of him leaving again crossed Thanos’ mind. The instinctive response now was for Nam-gyu to go and get fucked or fuck someone senseless. But he returned not even five minutes later, a first aid kit in hand.

“Don’t move,” he demanded when he noticed that Thanos was already beginning to squirm.

Thanos didn’t respond. He gripped the bedsheets as he watched Nam-gyu clean his wounds. The antiseptic burned. Every now and then, Nam-gyu would apply a little too much pressure with the cotton ball, like he wanted it to hurt.

When he finished, Nam-gyu set the kit aside and lit another cigarette. The smoke curled between them as he inhaled and exhaled.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” he asked, his voice softer than it had been in months.

Thanos shrugged as he plucked the cigarette from Nam-gyu’s fingers and took a long drag. He had every reason not to.

“‘Cause you won’t stick around if I do.” There was a pause as he exhaled. Then, “I know you.”

Nam-gyu let out a long sigh before taking the cigarette back. It trembled slightly as he brought it to his lips before putting it out in the ashtray. He scooted closer to Thanos, their eyes locking in a way that reminded him of how they’d stared at each other during the games.

Thanos thought of when Nam-gyu had looked at him like this in the midst of them, crawling onto his bed, sitting down in front of him like a hungry dog, desperate for attention.

It made his heart swell with something.

Grief.

Nam-gyu wasn’t gone, but it felt like he had left long ago.

He thought about saying something smart to get that look off his face, but before he had the chance, Nam-gyu pushed him back against the pillows and straddled him. He moved down, the heat of his skin burning through Thanos like wildfire as he pressed his lips against his.

Thanos tensed, his hands at his sides. His eyes were wide open as Nam-gyu kissed him with want and need.

It had been months since he’d been kissed like this. So long that Nam-gyu’s touch almost felt foreign. He never kissed back, not even when he felt Nam-gyu’s tongue sliding into his mouth, desperate to taste him.

An embarrassed flush crept up his cheeks when he realized that he probably tasted like shit. He hadn’t brushed his teeth in a while. It was disgusting.

Still, Nam-gyu continued regardless.

To Thanos, the action felt wrong. Uncomfortable. Like he was receiving something he knew he shouldn’t have. He thought of the way Nam-gyu had been with Gyeong-su and wondered how he’d kissed him. Was it like this—desperate and heated? Or passionately slow, enough that they melted into each other?

When Nam-gyu realized he wasn’t going to give him anything in return, he pulled back, frustrated. His hands trembled as he reached for another cigarette. Thanos kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling as Nam-gyu smoked.

He thought about saying something, but what was there to say? Nothing would ever be enough to patch up the holes between them.

“Let’s do something together,” Nam-gyu said, sliding near him again.

Thanos scrunched his nose, the smoke assaulting his nostrils as Nam-gyu kept the cigarette positioned near his face.

It had been a while since they’d done something together. Thanos couldn’t process why Nam-gyu suddenly had an interest in wanting to be with him after all this time.

“I’m not really in the mood,” Thanos retorted.

But Nam-gyu wouldn’t take that for an answer.

“That’s too bad,” he snapped. “You’re going whether you want to or not.”  

Nam-gyu paused after rising from the bed. He studied Thanos, glancing him up and down before shaking his head.  

“You look terrible,” he admitted. “Why don’t you go take a shower? You stink like hell.”

Thanos shook his head. “Don’t wanna.”

Nam-gyu didn't fight him. When he finished his cigarette, he rummaged through the closet, pulled out a set of clean clothes for himself, then disappeared into the shower.

As he lay in bed, Thanos wondered if Nam-gyu truly cared about spending time with him or if it was just a ploy. Somehow, the latter seemed to make more sense than anything. He wiped away the blood on his nose and waited for Nam-gyu to return.

–

The car ride felt awkward.

Thanos pressed his cheek against the window, watching the blurred scenery pass by. For once, Nam-gyu wasn’t speeding. He drove like he wanted to, not because he was chasing some thrill or moving with urgency.

Neither of them said a word, but Thanos tensed when he felt Nam-gyu’s hand against his thigh.

He straightened up in his seat, then scoffed.

Nam-gyu used to do things like this when they first started dating. It felt like some pathetic attempt to let Thanos know he was his. Sitting here like this, though, didn’t bring him any assurance.

It made things worse.

Nam-gyu’s touch felt cold and distant, knowing that his hands had roamed someone else’s body. 

–

They arrived at a small pizza parlour shortly after.

It was slightly crowded, filled with customers just in time for the afternoon lunch rush. The crowd mostly consisted of office workers who had hurried out of their buildings, trying to relish the forty minutes they had away from their desks.

Thanos hung his head as he stood beside Nam-gyu.

Nam-gyu had sprayed himself with the usual cologne he wore. He was clean and fresh, his skin glowing despite the exhaustion Thanos knew he kept hidden beneath. Unlike him, Thanos smelled like shit. Sweat, smoke, vomit, and regret—it wasn’t a pleasant mix.

He knew people were staring as they moved from the register to one of the tables near the back. A young couple cringed when they sat nearby.

“I told you, you should’ve showered,” Nam-gyu scoffed, fidgeting with a napkin. But Thanos didn’t care. 

Fuck them for staring.

There was a pause before Nam-gyu studied him—really studied him. That was when he reached out and stroked his hair. Thanos immediately tensed.

“Why did you dye your hair?” he asked, only now realizing after an hour that Thanos had gone from purple to brown.

Thanos shrugged. He didn’t want to explain. Dyeing his hair was an attempt to erase a part of himself that he knew had never existed.  

“Just felt like it,” he said casually.

Nam-gyu didn’t press. Instead, he tapped Thanos with his foot, motioning him to move back as one of the employees came over with a whole pie. It was an extra cheese pizza split with pepperoni. The sight of it made Thanos’ stomach twist as he examined the grease dripping from the dough.

Thanos watched as Nam-gyu reached for not one but two slices of pizza. He cringed at the grease collecting on his plate as he folded one of his slices and took a bite.

A few seconds later, a kick landed against his shin.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Nam-gyu pressed. “I didn't waste gas money on you just to sit here and stare into space.”

With hesitation, Thanos reached over and took a slice from the pie. When he bit into it, the food tasted like vomit. He hadn’t eaten in days, and somehow, the hunger felt better than having to fill his stomach. Every bite he took was forced, mechanical—only because he knew Nam-gyu’s eyes were on him.

As he swallowed, it felt like the pizza was clinging to his ribs, coating him in fat. The sensation made him feel even more disgusted.

Another kick. “Why are you eating like a chick?” Nam-gyu scoffed, reaching for a third.

“Not hungry,” Thanos said, though he knew it was a lie.

He sat there for another fifteen minutes, watching as Nam-gyu indulged. By then, he had already cleaned off most of the pie. He had always had a good appetite. It made Thanos envious that he could take pleasure in something so simple without guilt.

Without a word, he rose from his seat and walked toward the bathroom. Thanos didn't bother glancing back to see if Nam-gyu would chase after him. None of that mattered.

Inside, he stood before the mirror, studying himself the same way he had done countless times.

He thought about the messages he had read, the number of cigarettes Nam-gyu had smoked, and the fact that they were here, out for lunch, trying to shove everything under the fucking rug.  

But most of all, Thanos thought about how everything was his fault.

Truthfully, Nam-gyu deserved better. Even though the cheating angered him, made him feel violently ill, he should've seen it coming months ago.

Without much thought, Thanos pushed himself into one of the stalls, locking the door behind him. He dropped to his knees and crouched in front of the toilet. Then, he stuck his fingers down his throat, jabbing at it repeatedly—hard enough that when he pulled them back, a faint coating of blood was left beneath his nails.

His stomach churned as the chunks of food he hadn’t even allowed himself to digest came tumbling up his throat. They landed in the toilet with a splash, but he didn’t stop. Not until nothing but blood and bile spilled from his mouth.

Thanos sat back on his heels and wiped the saliva from his lips. Everything fucking hurt. His throat burned as he swallowed down some of his spit, but the physical pain was nothing compared to what festered inside his heart.

When he walked out of the stall, he turned on the sink and splashed cold water against his face.  

He thought again about the messages he had read, the stress that Nam-gyu always seemed to carry with him. But worst of all, he thought about why they were still together.

Nam-gyu didn’t have a reason to stay. Thanos knew he’d stopped loving him long ago.

It was out of obligation that they did anything for each other. 

Chapter Text

They hadn’t spent long in the pizzeria before leaving.

Their outing consisted mostly of Thanos tracing the swirly patterns engraved into the wooden table they sat at while Nam-gyu scarfed down the rest of the pizza pie. Thanos hadn’t touched it since that first slice.

Riding in the car was no different. An awkward silence stretched between them, with nothing to break it.

No conversation, no touches, not even music.

Thanos kept his gaze fixed out the window, his head resting against the cool glass as they drove down the side streets. He studied the pedestrians they passed, as if he could somehow fit into each of their lives. As if he was relevant. As if he mattered.

As Nam-gyu drove, Thanos thought about how they were supposed to act like a couple. They’d gone out in an attempt to get close again, to possibly make amends for everything that had happened between them. But if anything, being together like this—strained and foreign—only made Thanos feel worse.

He glanced over, trying to study Nam-gyu, who hadn’t said a word since they’d left. Thanos absentmindedly wondered if he was angry at him for not eating. He’d been like this the day he had gone to the hospital, insistent that he eat regardless of the quality of their meal.

–

By the time they arrived at the apartment, Thanos couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief wash over him. At least here, they didn’t have to stick so close together. Thanos was free to wander around, and knowing Nam-gyu, he wouldn’t demand his attention. He’d stopped doing that months ago.

Thanos was set on locking himself in the bedroom when Nam-gyu grabbed his wrist the moment they entered.

“What the fuck?” Thanos spat, tensing at his touch.

They’d been home for not even a full minute, and already Nam-gyu was on him for something.

“Sit with me,” Nam-gyu replied, gesturing toward the sofa before letting go of his wrist.

Thanos couldn’t help but comply. Maybe now they’d talk—about the tension, about all the things hanging over them. He followed Nam-gyu, letting out a sigh as he took a seat beside him in the living room.

Five minutes passed. Somehow, Thanos should have known this was coming. He glanced over at Nam-gyu, trying to make sense of his intentions. There was clearly a need for them to spend time together. Thanos wondered if it was out of guilt or genuine desire—but then he thought back to what he had realized earlier: all of this was out of obligation.

He watched as Nam-gyu reached into his pocket and lit a cigarette. By now, he’d gotten through a whole pack, and the day wasn’t even close to being over.

Thanos sat there awkwardly as the smoke curled between them. He felt a pang of guilt watching Nam-gyu’s movements. Every inhale seemed more and more desperate, as though the smoke was a replacement for oxygen—essential.

He could feel Nam-gyu’s warmth beside him, but despite their close proximity, everything about being together felt distant. Thanos felt like he was standing in an empty room, with no one and nothing, slowly fading into the background.

As Thanos sank into the cushions, he thought about what he could do to change the flow between them. Being nasty was always an option. He’d always been nasty, cruel. It felt easier than offering kindness, even when it wasn’t superficial.

Being nasty always felt good, but now it felt more like a consequence.

Nam-gyu didn’t bother to glance at him as he exhaled, staring straight at the wall. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, “Wanna fuck?”

The question was so sudden Thanos wondered if he’d imagined it. But when he looked at Nam-gyu, he realized he was serious. His eyes were dark and intense, like they used to be when their sex life was balanced.

Still, Thanos couldn’t shake the suspicion clinging to him like glue.

He reached over, touching Nam-gyu between his legs, searching for any sign of arousal. Maybe the tension had gotten him worked up. But as he touched him, he realized there was nothing.

No reaction. No desire.

It felt like a slap to the face. Another reminder that Nam-gyu truly didn’t want anything to do with him, that he was offering sex not because he cared, but because he was trying to fill a void. The question held no value, no weight.

Thanos pulled back, his face contorted in anger.

“What the fuck?” he snapped. “Why would you ask that shit if you don’t even want me? You’re not even hard!”

Nam-gyu’s jaw tensed as he tapped his cigarette into the ashtray.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” he admitted. “I haven’t for a long time.”

He put his head in his hands, releasing a deep sigh before looking back at Thanos.

“Wanna get high?”

Thanos wasn’t taking the bait. Every suggestion Nam-gyu made was superficial, offered because he possibly wanted a way to clear his conscience, to dig himself out of the hellhole Thanos had dragged him into.

There was no care, no concern—nothing between anything he offered.

Thanos scooted closer, the stench of cigarettes clinging to him as he grabbed Nam-gyu’s chin and forced him to look in his direction.

“Hit me,” Thanos begged.

If there was anything real between them, it was violence. Anything physical felt real, grounding. Something to assert power between them.

Nam-gyu scrunched his nose, backing away slightly as he shook his head. “Why the fuck would I do that?” he asked, like the idea was completely foreign to him.

For a moment, Thanos went blank. He hadn’t considered how wild that suggestion was, but with everything between them, what wasn’t bizarre anymore?

“Because I know you wanna. And also because it makes sense for you to.”

The concept of “domestic abuse” wasn’t anything real to Thanos. He was used to Nam-gyu hitting him. Being hit felt casual, if anything.

Nam-gyu sighed. “Quit being fucking dumb. I’m not going to hit you.”

Thanos stared at him, lost. Nam-gyu wasn’t going to give him anything. He approached again, but this time, Thanos straddled him, wrapping his legs around his waist. Nam-gyu tensed beneath him, watching as Thanos brought his hands up to his neck before pressing down and squeezing.

They’d done this before. When their sex life was good, they choked each other out. It was messy, but they liked it that way. It always hurt, and the bruises left behind let the world know they belonged to each other. But this wasn’t about that. Not this time.

Anger pumped through Thanos’ veins as he squeezed harder, releasing all the emotions he could no longer suppress.

Nam-gyu squirmed beneath him, lips parting as he gasped for air, but Thanos didn’t let go. Nam-gyu didn’t even try to stop him. He kept his hands at his sides as Thanos choked him.

It was when his eyes changed—when they almost looked lifeless—that Thanos realized he could kill him here.

When they participated in the games, there was always a thrill in knowing either or both of them could die. It was a situation beyond their control. But this was different. If he kept going, Nam-gyu would die.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t considered it before. After all, Thanos had taken lives without batting an eye.

Nam-gyu never asked him to stop, but after a while, after he let out a particularly strained groan, Thanos decided he’d had enough. He let go, pushing himself off Nam-gyu and watching as he gasped for air. His chest heaved as he struggled to inhale the oxygen he desperately needed.

Still, he refused to say anything. Refused to act.

“My ears are ringing,” Nam-gyu wheezed once he gathered his composure.

Something snapped inside Thanos. He sat there in silence as Nam-gyu tried to process what had just happened. But it hardly even registered before he ran a hand through his hair and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Thanos called from the living room as the bedroom door slammed shut.

He already knew the answer. Nam-gyu’s silence said enough. It was obvious by now—whenever they faced a high-stress situation, his instinct was to go off and let himself be fucked.

When Nam-gyu returned, his hair was pinned into a small bun, loose strands framing his face. It reminded Thanos of when they first met, when Nam-gyu’s hair was shorter and how he’d mistakenly taken him for a woman.

“I’m going for a walk,” Nam-gyu announced, barely sparing Thanos a glance.

Thanos sighed, standing to face him. He reached for his arm, an attempt to make him stay, but the moment his fingers made contact, Nam-gyu tensed and immediately pulled away.

“What?” Thanos snapped, stepping closer. “Was that little choke-out too much for you?”

“Don’t start with me,” Nam-gyu warned. “I’ve had enough of your shit.”

“I’m just giving you the same treatment you’ve been giving me for months,” Thanos retorted.

He smirked when Nam-gyu snapped his head back to glare at him, hands balled into fists like he truly wanted to hit him this time. It was instinctive for him to react this way.

But he backed down, realizing Thanos had a point.

“Just leave me alone,” he muttered before stepping out the door and slamming it shut.

–

Thanos gave Nam-gyu three minutes before deciding to follow.

It was bold. Impulsive. He’d never thought of following him before, just to see where Nam-gyu’s steps might lead. But now, it felt right.

He kept a good distance, far enough that if Nam-gyu turned his head, he’d be distant enough to make him wonder if he’d imagined Thanos’ presence at all—the moment he ducked behind a trash bin or into an alley.

Nam-gyu smoked the entire walk, leaving behind the stench of cheap tobacco as he passed pedestrians and buildings.

Eventually, the scenery grew familiar. Too familiar.  

He was heading near Club Pentagon.

Thanos’ stomach churned. That place was a reminder of how far he’d fallen, of how irreversible the damage was. He could never bounce back, never perform the way he used to—when life still meant something.

When Nam-gyu stopped at a corner, Thanos ducked behind a telephone pole, watching from a distance as he crossed the street and entered a bar. He waited a few seconds before approaching, peering through a window as Nam-gyu slid onto a stool, ordered shots, downed them, and pulled out his phone.

Thanos already knew what he was doing. He didn’t need to guess.

Not when he saw that stupid smile tug at the corners of his lips. Nam-gyu hadn’t given him a genuine smile in months.

A familiar pang of jealousy pierced through his chest for what felt like the millionth time.

He considered leaving, but something about the pain of watching Nam-gyu give himself away to someone else stung in the most punishing way.

It was the type of pain Thanos knew he deserved.

Customers came and went, but Nam-gyu never moved from his stool—except to use the bathroom. Thanos never moved either. He stood there for half an hour until Nam-gyu glanced toward the entrance.

Gyeong-su had arrived. 

Thanos watched as Nam-gyu rose from his seat and grabbed Gyeong-su roughly by the collar, pulling him into a sloppy kiss. By now, he had downed a few shots and was already drunk. Gyeong-su patted him awkwardly on the back, as if to say, that’s enough, before Nam-gyu finally got the message.  

In the crowd, an older man shouted something at them—a homophobic slur, if Thanos had to guess. Nam-gyu flipped him off before taking his seat and gesturing for Gyeong-su to do the same.  

Thanos stood there for a while, watching. Observing the way they interacted.  

It was mostly playful. Every now and then, Gyeong-su would say something that warranted a slap from Nam-gyu, but that was just how he was. It didn’t look painful, violent, or laced with hatred in the same way Nam-gyu hit him.  

At some point, Gyeong-su reached over, draping an arm around Nam-gyu’s shoulder. But it didn’t last long. Eventually, his hand traveled lower, near his ass, where he gave a squeeze hard enough to earn another slap—then a laugh—from Nam-gyu.  

That final scene was enough for Thanos to break away from the window, backing away from the bar slowly, carefully—like he was at risk of being caught, even when he knew Nam-gyu was too occupied with Gyeong-su to sense his presence.  

As he walked home, Thanos realized he couldn’t even be mad. It hurt seeing this, and months ago, he would’ve stormed inside, knocking both Nam-gyu and Gyeong-su to the floor, beating them into a bloody pulp for what they were doing.   

But that was then.

He never bothered to glance back at the bar. Deep down, he knew this was exactly what he deserved.  

It’s what you get for being such a piece of shit, his brain screamed. Why don’t you just kill yourself?  

That final thought lingered as he raced back home with urgency. 

–

When Thanos entered his building, he was greeted by one of his neighbors. She stood near her front door, kneeling to pick up a handful of empty boxes that needed to be tossed away.  

He held his breath as he brushed past her, not even bothering to return the smile she had offered him. As he reached out to open the front door, she called after him.  

“Su-bong?”  

Thanos tensed at the mention of his name. He was set on ignoring her, but she seemed persistent in trying to get his attention.  

“Could you perhaps help me with these boxes? My joints are suffering a bit here.”  

He let out a sigh as he turned around to face her. She was an older woman, possibly in her early 50s or so. Apparently, she’d been married once, but he realized after accidentally receiving a misdelivered package at his front door that she no longer was—hence the “Ms.” on the delivery name.  

The lady genuinely looked helpless as she struggled to get a grip on her trash. He almost felt sorry for her. But then a cruel smile crawled its way along his face.  

“Nah.” His reply was short and simple, just enough to earn a reaction out of her. Instantly, her face twisted with something that resembled anger.  

“What was that?”  

Thanos’ smirk widened. “I said nah. I don’t wanna.”  

She opened her mouth, set on arguing with him, but before she got the chance to get a word out, he let himself into his apartment and slammed the door shut.  

“Fuck you! You selfish prick,” he heard from the other side of the door. There was the sound of angry footsteps marching away, then silence.  

Thanos let out a breath as he slid down against the door, then buried his head into his knees.  

Why did I do that?  

It felt like instinct for him to fuck up everything around him, even when he didn’t feel so shitty.  

No wonder you’re all alone, that cruel voice from earlier taunted him. You deserve this—to be here, miserable. Someone with no place in society.  

“Shut up,” Thanos whispered, pushing his knees even closer to his chest. But the voice was relentless.  

Why should I? You know it’s the truth. You know it’s exactly why no one likes you.  

“I said shut the fuck up!” Thanos shouted, rising from the floor and slapping himself hard across the face. But still, it did little to alleviate the tension brewing inside his head.

So you don’t like to hear the truth? It hurts, doesn’t it? Why don’t you ever consider how others might feel? How your actions have hurt them? You’re so full of yourself, Su-bong. You act like you’re above everyone, but really, you’re just a worthless loser. You should really just kill yourself.

Thanos balled his hand into a fist and raced over to the bedroom, reaching into the storage space for a box he had hidden beneath a pile of blankets.  

With a grunt, he pulled it out and yanked open the lid.  

Inside was a stack of photos from his earlier years in life. When he was a child, then a teen, then an early adult.  

The first few photos he laid his hands on were wrinkled and bent from the numerous occasions he’d tried to get rid of them but never had the courage to do so. There were at least a handful of photos of him with his mother in that mix.

He brought one of the photos up and held it close to his chest.  

When he had participated in the games, he was set on bringing home some of the money and giving it to her to make up for the many years of being a disappointment. But when he set the photo down, he thought about why exactly they didn’t talk. And even if he had managed to collect more than he had, he knew better than to believe she’d ever be willing to let someone like him back into her life. He was just a heavy weight, enough to bring her down.  

That’s right, no one wants you.  

Thanos bit down on his lip as he flipped through the next set of photos from when he was in high school.  

He’d been notorious for throwing parties on weekends just because he wanted to. There was a shot taken from one of the many parties he’d hosted. Beside him were two half-naked girls. They all had ridiculously cheeky grins.  

If only they knew what you were really like.  

He reached for the last stack—from his music days.  

There was a photo of him in a studio. That was the first time he really felt like he’d done something right in life. Like he was someone with value. Someone with talent.  

Back then, he thought that maybe things would work out for him long-term. But as he squinted, he caught sight of that same man he’d encountered at the bar, standing somewhere in the distance. The recollection of what had occurred between them was enough to make his stomach churn.  

You desperate whore.  

Thanos shoved the stack of photos back into the box and threw them halfway across the room, where they scattered along the floor.  

He panted as his eyes roamed the room, staring at the scattered fragments of his life. Everything about his past felt like a distant memory, like none of it had been real.  

Thanos forced himself to stand, his eyes locking onto a framed photo he had of himself and Nam-gyu.  

I bet he’s fucking his new bitch right now, he thought bitterly. He’s probably better than me.  

There was a brief pause before that voice returned again.  

Of course he’s better than you. Who the fuck would want to stick around with your sorry ass?  

Without much thought, Thanos lifted his hand and threw the frame across the room, where it bounced off the wall and shattered. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, feeling his tears threatening to spill over.  

You know what you should do.  

It felt like too much.  

Thanos stumbled over to the kitchen, knowing exactly what to look for and where to find it. He found his box cutter sitting in the same position it had been the last time he’d used it. Even after Nam-gyu had discovered the cuts on his thigh, he still didn't make the effort to get rid of it.  

It’s not like he cares. 

He reached over to pick it up, then yanked down his sleeve. The bandage from his last attempt was still there. Out of anger, he tore it free from his skin, then stared at the cut that had been forcefully shut with stitches. Even though a few days had passed, it still burned—enough that he felt like tiny insects were crawling through his skin.  

“Just get it over with,” he said to himself as he pushed the blade out from the plastic and positioned it over his wrist.  

Down the road, not across the street. Make it count for once, you piece of shit.

Thanos shut his eyes as he pressed it against his skin, feeling the faint throb of his pulse. He hadn’t bothered to leave a note or anything at all, but what did that matter? He was doing Nam-gyu and everyone else he’d once been involved with a favor.  

Yet somehow, he couldn’t seem to go through with it.  

His hand trembled as he kept the blade in place. The small prick against his skin was enough to nick him slightly, robbing him of a single drop of blood.  

Thanos opened his eyes, glancing around the room as if there was anything in it that could convince him to take a step back and reconsider.  

Directly in front of him, on the left side of the counter, was the paperwork he’d been sent home with the day of his release from the hospital. He never removed the blade from his wrist as he slowly crept closer, studying the stack like it was written in a foreign language.  

Apparently, they’d given him a list of resources. The receptionist’s voice from that afternoon rang out in his head when he was told what they were for.  

“Shit,” Thanos cursed as he let the blade clatter to the floor. He felt like a pussy for backing out of this, but something kept urging him to reach for the stack and flip through it. Maybe it was a sign, similar to how he’d felt when he’d been standing at Han River Bridge.  

His eyes scanned through the many sheets as he flipped over them one by one until landing on a particular page with a set of numbers attached.  

Near the bottom was a contact for a psychiatric team. Therapists, psychiatrists… people who could potentially help him.  

Thanos reached for his phone as he read over a specific number that would connect him with someone who could help him set up an appointment with a therapist.  

His hands shook as he dialed the number, then waited.  

The line rang once before someone answered.  

“Hello, this is Psych Wellness. How can I assist you?”  

Thanos hesitated the moment he heard the sound of a woman’s voice on the other end of the line. He wasn’t sure what to say or how to get it out. He’d never asked for help. It always felt too wrong and shameful.  

He swallowed down his pride, his voice shaky as he struggled to come up with a response.  

“I think—” Thanos paused again. “Uhh, my name is Choi Su-bong, and I wanna kill myself. Can you tell me what to do?”  

Thanos slapped his hand across his forehead the moment those words left his mouth. It felt ridiculous yet relieving all at once to say that. For once in his life, he was being honest with someone.  

Killing himself had always felt like the easiest solution. It was a way out of the painful misery he called his life. But he had options. That was one of them. The other two consisted of him spiraling down a cycle of self-sabotage and feeling worse, or feeling bad while making the effort to try. But at least with the latter, he could say he made an effort.  

“One moment while we transfer you to someone.”  

Then the line went blank.

Chapter Text

The line went blank.  

Thanos’ stomach twisted into a knot when he realized there was no longer anyone on the other end. He clutched his phone tightly in his hand, his anger surfacing again. He fought back the urge to cry tears of frustration.  

Of course they had hung up.  

His life had been a series of disappointments—what was he expecting? No one wanted to deal with a fucking mess like him.  

Thanos glanced down at the blade resting on the floor. His hand trembled slightly as he bent down to retrieve it when suddenly, a voice came from the other end of the phone.  

“Hi there, thank you for calling our number. I see you were just speaking to someone. How can I assist you?”  

He tensed, pausing for a moment before pressing the phone back against his ear and releasing a sigh. “I feel like shit,” he admitted, though he knew the person on the other end wouldn’t care. His voice was too flat, too professional. There was nothing personal about the way he was speaking.  

“I want to see a therapist, or whatever the fuck,” Thanos demanded, leaning against the counter.  

There was a faint pause, then a sigh, as though the person on the line already knew he’d be a difficult patient. “Can I have your full name and date of birth?”  

For a moment, Thanos hesitated. Was he really doing this? A wave of numbness crashed over him as he considered what these next steps might entail. But without much thought, he forced himself to push past his anxiety.  

“Choi Su-bong, July 16th, 1995.”  

Another pause. The sound of typing filled the silence. Thanos held his breath, waiting for an answer. When the man spoke again, he said exactly what Thanos had been hoping to avoid.  

“Alrighty, Su-bong, it looks like we can get you in with someone in the next couple of weeks. There’s a bit of a wait, but I can assure you—”  

Thanos balled his hand into a fist.  

“A wait? Are you fucking serious? I want to kill myself, and you’re putting me on a goddamn waitlist? What the fuck is this?”  

He slammed the palm of his hand against his forehead, shifting more of his weight against the counter.  

“I just had a fucking blade to my wrist. I could always pick it up and try again if you’re so set on putting me on some shitty-ass waitlist!”  

He couldn’t get over how insensitive these people were. First Nam-gyu, now an entire team of so-called professionals was giving him the same indifferent treatment.  

You deserve it, his brain screamed at him. And maybe it was right.  

The man on the other end kept his tone flat and neutral. “If you’re in danger and feel like you’re about to do something risky, we can send over an ambulance—”  

“No,” Thanos hissed, repeatedly slamming his palm against his head. “I don’t want to go back to the hospital where they’ll lock me up in a fucking padroom. I want a therapist! Simple as that.” He let out a huff of frustration. “Now get me a hold of a therapist or I’ll slit my wrist right here with you on the line.”  

Thanos could practically hear the frustration on the other end. The man didn’t push—he simply put him on hold.  

The sudden sound of classical music made Thanos cringe.  

When the man finally returned, Thanos realized his heart was pounding in his chest.  

“I’ve managed to find someone who’s available tomorrow at nine. This is a special exception. Do you think you’ll be able to keep yourself safe until then?”  

Thanos swallowed, feeling a sudden surge of gratitude. He hadn’t meant to get so aggressive, but he was tired of never getting what he fucking wanted.  

“Yeah, sure.”  

The man sighed. “I’ll send you his information, including an address, via the number you dialed from. Will that be all for today?”  

A shameful feeling—something close to guilt—settled in Thanos’ chest. This guy was just doing his job, and he’d snapped at him regardless. What a nutcase.  

“Yeah. I’m sorry for all the shit I caused,” he muttered. But the man hardly acknowledged it. He was clearly used to this kind of behavior.  

“It’s alright. I’ll send you the information now. Take care.”  

The line went blank before Thanos could say goodbye.  

He reached into his pocket for his vape and sank down onto the floor, taking a long hit.  

When the text finally came through, he clicked on the directions and realized the therapist’s office was about an hour away by car. He’d have to drive himself. 

Nam-gyu had left the car keys behind since he’d walked to the bar. When Thanos had gone to the hospital, Nam-gyu had been the one to take him. He knew Nam-gyu had been angry, frustrated, and, deep down, likely didn’t even want to bear such a burden. But now, he was on his own. It was up to him to do something for himself.  

As Thanos got up, he realized just how desperate he was. He glanced at the rest of the information—he was meeting with a Dr. Jeong. He didn’t know how good the guy was at his job, but he didn’t care. He just needed to talk to someone. He’d take whatever he could get.  

In the bedroom, he lay down on the bed and let out a long, exhausted sigh.  

It wasn’t even close to his usual bedtime, but regardless, he felt drained.  

Thanos turned onto his side, a sharp pang of hunger radiating through his stomach. He hadn’t eaten in days, the thought of food enough to make him cringe. He’d always enjoyed eating. Food was something he took pleasure in indulging. But now, it felt like something he didn’t deserve. Something he was doing purely for survival. But this wasn’t survival—it was punishment.  

He was hungry. So fucking hungry. And he couldn’t deny it.  

As he lay there, he thought about getting a cheeseburger. He’d always loved those. On the day of his admission, he’d gotten one—but it was from McDonald’s. Not good quality. Not that he deserved anything better, but if he was already stretching out of his comfort zone, he figured he might as well treat himself.  

“Tomorrow,” he whispered, setting an alarm for 6 AM before forcing himself to sleep.  

–

When Thanos woke, the first thing he noticed was that Nam-gyu hadn’t returned. He winced as he reached over to silence the alarm blaring in his ear and sat upright in bed.  

Nam-gyu was nowhere near him. The other side of the bed was cold, the sheets wrinkled and empty. When he switched from the alarm to his messages, he found nothing from Nam-gyu. No texts, no calls—nothing.  

He was on his own. No one would hold his hand through this.  

“Fuck,” he cursed, realizing Nam-gyu had probably spent the night at Gyeong-su’s.  

Thanos clenched his jaw, trying to push the thought aside. Even though he was angry, he knew he was powerless to do anything about it. Saying nothing felt more punishing—like a wound that bled but never healed.  

Instead, he got up and headed for the shower. Like everything else, it had been a while since he’d bothered with basic hygiene. The looks from the people at the pizzeria burned through his chest as they came to mind.  

“Fuck them,” he muttered aloud.  

No one but him knew what he was feeling.  

In the shower, he scrubbed away the filth and shame clinging to him like a second skin. He tried to ignore the ache in his chest as he watched the water swirl down the drain.  

Wincing, Thanos reached for the bandage he had slapped over his wound and pried it from his skin. It was nowhere near healed, the edges red and raw, irritated from neglect.  

When he brought his arm closer for inspection, he realized it looked almost infected. It wasn’t healing right. He had never been one to tend to wounds because it felt like more than he deserved.

A few minutes later, Thanos stepped out of the shower, feeling slightly more relaxed. He wrapped a towel around his waist and glared down at his forearm.  

The cut not only felt irritated but also itchy. He’d once read that wounds occasionally needed to breathe, so he left it unwrapped. The stitches made it feel ten times more uncomfortable—the temptation to rip them out gnawed at him.  

Thanos swallowed his urges and headed back into the bedroom, standing in front of the closet longer than he should have.  

Inside were clothes of better quality. He wasn’t sure exactly how he should dress for something like this, but a small part of his brain insisted he at least try—to give himself the image of someone slightly more presentable.  

His hands reached for a hanger to the left.  

A pair of slacks hung neatly in the corner. They hadn’t been worn in some time. He was never one to give off the appearance of someone respectable, but today was different. When he slipped them on, he felt like a different person.  

Somewhere near the middle of the closet hung a soft, slip-on sweater that draped loosely over his frame. He’d been losing too much weight.  

Glancing in the mirror, Thanos felt like someone else… like someone worth being treated as a person. He gave himself a faint smile before reaching for a comb, trying to brush his hair back.  

“Tryhard,” he whispered to himself before letting his bangs fall back against his forehead.  

When he was dressed and ready, he grabbed his keys and slipped out the front door.  

Outside, the weather was brighter than usual.  

It was still early, but the sun had already begun to rise, casting warm rays against his skin. A soft breeze rustled through his hair. He inhaled deeply, trying to soothe his nerves before stepping into the car. 

Once inside, he kept his hands glued to the steering wheel without inserting the key into the ignition.  

Nam-gyu had been with him the last time he did anything related to mental health. They’d fought about it—it hadn’t been pleasant—but regardless, Nam-gyu had been there. He had taken him to the hospital because he cared. Because he had cried about it. Because, in some way, he still loved him.  

But now, Thanos sat in an empty car with only the GPS on his phone for company. He glanced down at the small screen, already having the directions set to the therapist’s office. A small smiley face greeted him in the corner of the screen.  

“Stop staring at me, you faggot.”  

The smiley face never vanished.  

Thanos let out a slow breath, thinking about the last time he had been in a car with someone besides Nam-gyu. It had been Min-su. Their previous ride was a blur in his mind, but he had been sober before that. That ride was what stuck with him—the way Min-su had stared at him like he knew exactly why he refused to wear a seatbelt.  

Because you’re suicidal.

Without overthinking it, he reached for the belt and clicked it into place.  

Like he was someone worth keeping safe.  

Like his life actually mattered.  

The click of the buckle sounded louder than it should have.

–

The drive was mostly peaceful.  

Thanos drove with the window halfway down, feeling the soft breeze against his skin. There was hardly any traffic given the early hour, and he was grateful for it.  

Somehow, he felt surprisingly better than usual. He half supposed it was because Nam-gyu wasn’t with him, and the other half because he was finally doing something for himself after years of trying to make matters worse.  

His driving was good, stable—almost exactly as it had been when he was going for his license. Back then, he had a bit more sanity, reasons to keep himself safe. Now, it was a struggle, but he drove carefully, like a normal person. Like someone he knew he should be.  

All because he cared about where he was going.  

When he arrived at the building, he found it wasn’t what he expected.  

Thanos unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car, glancing at what looked to be an apartment complex.  

“The fuck is this?” he muttered, wondering if the receptionist he’d spoken with the day before had given him the wrong address. But when he clicked on Dr. Jeong’s profile, he found that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.  

It was strange.  

He had assumed the man would have some kind of office space, but an apartment building seemed out of the norm. Still, Thanos knew that beggars couldn’t be choosers. He stepped away from the car and headed up front, where he found a set of buzzers near the door.  

Thanos tried to swallow back his nerves as he searched for Dr. Jeong’s name on the resident list. When he found it, he hesitated before pressing the buzzer.  

No answer.  

“Of course this was all bullshit,” he muttered, already set on leaving. But then, a voice came through the speaker.  

“Come on in.”  

Then, the door unlocked.  

Thanos hesitated again before opening it and stepping inside. According to the directions, Dr. Jeong’s office was on the third floor.  

He decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator as a way to stall. It felt surreal to be doing this—to quite literally be taking steps toward getting better.  

As he climbed, he wondered if Nam-gyu would ever take him back after this. Maybe he’d like an improved, recovered version. Maybe he wouldn’t talk to him at all. Maybe he’d finally leave.  

But whatever the result, at least he had tried.  

When he reached Dr. Jeong’s office, he stood by the door and knocked.  

There was a brief pause, the sound of something rustling, then the clatter of a chain being set free from the door.  

Standing behind it was a middle-aged man with soft brown hair, gentle eyes, and a relaxed smile that suited him a little too well. He was dressed half-casually in khakis and a short-sleeved polo.  

Thanos thought he looked more like a hippie faggot than anything, but he kept his commentary to himself, giving the man a nod before stepping inside.  

The moment he did, he realized the apartment was an office space. Rather than personal belongings, there were books on psychology, degrees hung against the wall, and a few puzzle sets stacked in the corner of the room.  

He immediately felt out of place, regretting his decision to come—until Dr. Jeong’s smile widened, and he gestured toward a small sofa in what could’ve been a living room.  

“Come on in,” he said warmly.  

Thanos hung his head as he took a seat.  

Dr. Jeong’s smile never wavered as he placed a bottle of water in front of him.  

Realizing his nerves were already getting the best of him, Thanos reached for it, unscrewed the cap, and took a long sip.  

There was something about the way Dr. Jeong was looking at him that made his stomach twist. When their eyes met, the man looked at him like he was someone important—like he was someone worth saving.  

Even when Thanos knew otherwise.  

He wasn’t sure where to begin, especially after seeing the notepad Dr. Jeong had pulled out, clicking his pen in the same way the psychiatrist at the hospital had. Thanos set the bottle down and cleared his throat.  

“Don’t take notes on me,” he blurted out. “It makes me feel uncomfortable.”  

He expected Dr. Jeong to protest, to say something smart like the psychiatrist had. But he didn’t. Instead, he respected his request and set the pad down.  

“Thanks.”  

Dr. Jeong was the first to initiate their session.  

“So, you’re Su-bong, correct?”  

Thanos nodded.  

“Well, I’ve read over your file. They sent it to me yesterday. I was told you urgently wanted to see someone, so I accepted you as my patient. Even though there’s a good amount of information here, I still don’t have the full story. Would you like to share it with me?”  

Thanos sank back against the cushions. “I dunno where to start. I’ve never done this shit before,” he admitted, keeping his head low. “Not willingly.”  

Dr. Jeong nodded. “That’s okay. I guess we’ll start simple… how are you feeling today?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.  

Thanos let out an ugly laugh. “I dunno. I wanna say ‘like shit’ since that’s the default, but this morning, I’m not too bad.” He paused, then added, “I don’t feel like hanging myself at the moment, so I guess that’s something.”  

“What usually causes you to feel that way?” Dr. Jeong pressed.  

Thanos glanced up at him this time, his hands trembling in his lap. It was then that he realized he’d gone too long without vaping.  

He had brought it with him, as usual, but he knew most places were against doing so indoors.  

With some hesitance, he reached into his pocket and pulled it out.  

“Do you mind?” he asked, his voice laced with desperation.  

He expected Dr. Jeong to shake his head and say no, but instead, the man gave him a thumbs up.  

With gratitude, Thanos took a couple of hits, trying to ground himself before continuing. When he finished, he felt slightly more relaxed and straightened in his seat. 

“I feel like shit for a lot of reasons. I dunno, I’ve always been this way. My dad was a schizo drunk, so maybe I got whatever fucked-up genes he had, but lately, it’s been worse.” Thanos paused, briefly wondering if the man was homophobic before expanding.  

“My boyfriend’s cheating on me,” he confessed. “It’s my fault. I don’t blame him.”  

Thanos balled his hands into fists, thinking of what he’d witnessed less than twenty-four hours before. “He beats the shit out of me sometimes ‘cause I’m a fucked-up, borderline piece of shit. I mean, that’s what the file says, right?”  

Dr. Jeong didn’t say anything, so he kept going.  

“I’m suicidal. I’ve been this way for years now.”  

Thanos hesitated before pulling up his sleeve, revealing the canvas of scars he kept hidden beneath.  

“I cut myself.” His jaw tightened, his confession hanging heavy in the air. “I don’t know how else to cope,” he admitted. “I do it ‘cause it feels right. Like it’s something I deserve.”  

He pulled his sleeve down, clutching his arm tightly in shame.  

He half expected Dr. Jeong to say something cruel in response—because that was what he was used to. But instead, the man offered him a look of sympathy.  

“Why do you feel that you deserve it?”  

Thanos frowned.  

“Because I’ve never done anything good in my life. I hurt people, then act surprised when they get tired of me and leave. Like my boyfriend, Nam-gyu. Like everyone else I’ve known. It’s all been ruined.”  

His voice wavered as he continued.  

“I’ve always gotten off on hurting people. It made me feel good, like I was in control of something for once.”  

Thanos paused, his thoughts drifting to the mysterious island he’d been taken to months ago. He thought about what he’d put the other contestants through. The image of that dead row of people from the first game flashed through his head.  

He was a murderer. A monster.  

“But I know that’s not true. I act tough to hide the fact that I have no control. I don’t know shit about control, or caring about anyone. I’m just fucking selfish. Stupid. A waste.”  

Dr. Jeong pressed his lips into a flat line. “It seems like you have some awareness of what’s wrong,” he offered, though his words did little for Thanos.  

“You think that changes much?” he spat. “It doesn’t take away from the years of damage I’ve passed onto others. And every day—” he paused, his voice catching in his throat. “I’m reminded of how fucked up I am each time I wake up. I’m alive even when I know I shouldn’t be.”  

Thanos slammed his fist against his thigh.  

“I should be dead.”  

Dr. Jeong’s expression never faltered. He never stopped looking at him like he was worth something, like he was someone who deserved another chance—even when Thanos knew otherwise.  

“That’s not true,” he said at last. “You deserve to be here. You deserve to be helped.”  

Thanos rose from his seat.  

“How can you say that!?” he cried, his eyes burning as he blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. “You don’t even fucking know me! Everything I’ve done is my fault, and I deserve to suffer every day for it.”  

He felt like he was spiraling. The room spun around him as he slumped back onto the sofa. Thanos instinctively reached for his vape, taking a couple of hits before burying his head in his hands.  

“It’s okay,” he heard from across the room. “Just take a few breaths and calm down.”  

When Thanos looked up, he did as he was told, inhaling deeply before slowly exhaling. He closed his eyes and repeated the pattern. When he opened them again, he felt slightly calmer—like he was ready to continue.  

“How long have you felt this way?” Dr. Jeong asked once Thanos had steadied himself.  

"My entire life,” he said with a frown. “My parents hated each other, and because of that, I hated everyone else. I think that’s where all my problems started.” Thanos let a bitter laugh slip from his lips. “The initial issue wasn’t even that bad, but I made it worse. It felt right to make it worse.”  

His fingers dug into the fabric of the sofa.  

“My parents never gave me attention, and I always wanted it. So I started acting out. I fucked shit up on purpose ‘cause I thought any attention was good attention.”  

Dr. Jeong gave him another sympathetic smile.  

“You’re not a bad person, Su-bong." 

Thanos flinched at the use of his real name. Something about it struck a nerve.  

“Yes, I am,” he argued.

But Dr. Jeong’s voice remained firm.  

“You’re just hurt,” he said, crossing his leg over his knee and leaning forward slightly. “If you could talk to your child self, what would you say to him?”  

Thanos closed his eyes.  

Suddenly, the entire office space disappeared into nothing. When he opened them again, he found that a younger version of himself was seated in a small chair in front of him.  

The boy sat there quietly, his small hands folded neatly in his lap, a neutral expression etched across his face. There were a few scrapes and bruises on his knees, concealed poorly by colorful band-aids.  

It was undeniably him.  

Child Su-bong tilted his head slightly, his eyes glancing down at Thanos’ exposed forearms.  

“Why do you hurt yourself?” he asked.  

Thanos swallowed hard, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach.  

“Because I deserve it.”  

The young boy stood up and took a seat beside him. His little hand reached out, running his fingers along the scars on Thanos’ wrist.  

“You don’t,” he said simply, his voice soft and gentle—the opposite of who Thanos was today. “You deserve better.”  

Thanos opened his mouth to protest, but the moment he did, he found himself back in Dr. Jeong’s office, tears streaming down his cheeks.  

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.  

But the apology wasn’t for his therapist.  

It was for himself.  

For the child he had tried to push aside.  

For the small boy who had never stopped hurting.  

Dr. Jeong got up from his seat and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.  

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You can only grow from here.” 

–

Their session ended about fifteen minutes later.  

Thanos had spent the remainder of it crying, thinking about the person he knew he was deep down. As he cried, he realized that despite everything, maybe Dr. Jeong was right. He’d been hurt his entire life. Maybe it was time for him to stop making the damage worse.  

He couldn’t shake the image of his child self, not even after Dr. Jeong reassured him that things would be okay.  

When they wrapped things up, Dr. Jeong walked Thanos to the door, handing him his business card.  

“9 AM is pretty early for a session. Would you like to meet again one week from now, but in the afternoon instead?”  

Thanos nodded, clutching the card tightly against his chest.  

“Yeah.”  

Dr. Jeong offered him a smile before nodding. “Okay. I can see you around two, if that works.”  

For a moment, Thanos hesitated. He thought about everything he’d admitted before finally agreeing.  

“Sure,” he said at last.  

“Alright, I’ll see you next week.”  

Thanos gave him a small bow of gratitude before leaving.  

He rushed to his car shortly after. On his way down, he bumped into one of the residents, barely glancing at them even after they scoffed at him. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone’s shit—not when he had such a heavy realization resting on his shoulders.  

Once inside the car, Thanos pulled up his sleeve and studied the scars on his forearm. The moment he did, he broke down again.  

This time, the tears came in rapid streams. A broken sob tore from his lips before he buried his head into the palm of his hands and screamed.  

“Fuck!”  

His entire life had consisted of nothing but pain and suffering—most of it self-inflicted. The weight of that knowledge pressed down on him as he let himself cry, not caring if anyone saw him through the window.  

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, wiping away the last of his tears.  

When he finally finished crying, he felt slightly better—lighter.  

It didn’t make much of a difference, but Thanos knew it was something. There was a slight shift in his heart as he reached for the seatbelt and clicked it into place before pulling out of the lot.  

As he drove, he thought about the promise he had made to himself before going to sleep. He still hadn’t eaten. By now, he felt more than deprived.  

His vision blurred slightly as he steered, exhaustion gripping him as he struggled to stay awake. He kept trying to shove it to the back of his mind, but he knew he couldn’t suppress his need for food any longer.  

After about ten minutes of driving, he spotted a burger place with a drive-thru. As he pulled up, he ordered two double cheeseburgers, a large set of fries, and a large soda.  

He thought about the greedy child he used to be whenever his mother took him out for lunch. A single burger never felt like enough, but she always denied him a second.  

This time, he was determined to satisfy the craving that had followed him into adulthood.  

He pulled up to the window, paid, and left with his order.  

Thanos drove for another five minutes until he found a small, empty park overlooking a lake.  

He pulled into the lot, then stepped out with his meal in hand.  

There was an empty bench directly in front of the lake. He sighed as he took a seat near the edge, pulling out his food. His stomach grumbled as he glanced down at the greasy burger in his hands.  

“Enjoy it,” he muttered to himself before digging in, devouring every morsel.  

Thanos barely gave himself the chance to register the taste as he scarfed it down. He felt like crying again, remembering what he’d discussed during his session and how much it had hurt.  

He choked on small bits of food, hardly even swallowing as he took bite after bite, slamming his fist against his chest as he forced himself to keep going.  

When he finished, he put his head into his hands and sobbed, ignoring the mess of grease he was smearing onto his skin. None of it mattered.  

All he could focus on was the pain gnawing at the pit of his heart as he let his tears roll down his face—hot and humiliating, but grounding and real.  

Thanos struggled to breathe, another wave of hysteria crashing over him—when suddenly, he felt a small hand tap his shoulder.  

He looked up, startled, only to be met once again by child Su-bong, standing there with a soft smile on his face.  

When Thanos blinked, he was gone.  

For the first time in his life, he realized that he truly was, and always had been, a hurt child yearning for love.  

He had never stopped being that child.

Chapter Text

Thanos arrived home three hours later.

He’d gone on an extended drive, trying to marvel at the city he’d spent years living in like it was something new—worthy of being explored.

With peace in his mind, there were little things he noticed, things he’d otherwise never picked up on. Being in a better state provided him with better attention to detail. As he drove, Thanos wondered if understanding himself would help him understand the world he’d always failed to be a part of. There was an absence in his heart that only ever seemed to darken his surroundings.

When he stepped back into the apartment, he half expected Nam-gyu to be there. He stood quietly by the entrance, his hand trembling slightly when he realized he was alone. Nam-gyu still hadn’t returned—the realization dawning.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, tossing his keys onto the counter before kicking his shoes off.

Thanos made his way toward the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge for the carton of milk he knew was close to expiring. He’d spent days deprived of nutrients. If he had to explain his overindulgence over the past couple of hours, he knew it could be justified.

“Tastes like shit,” Thanos cursed when he realized it had gone sour. But there wasn’t much else for him to consume. He’d had worse before—bread that had molded, meals cooked with ingredients well past their expiration date, drugs that were laced. By now, his body had developed an immunity to health hazards.

When he finished, he made his way into the living room, flopping down on the sofa. He let the minutes pass, not daring to move or speak. His breathing became slow and leveled as he thought back on the session he’d had with Dr. Jeong.

It felt surreal to think about the things they’d discussed. The image of his child self hadn’t left his mind since he first appeared. The young boy looked so small and filled with genuine hurt over the fact that he was nothing like he’d wanted to be growing up.

Having a literal discussion with himself turned out to be the best advice he’d ever been given. The idea had never crossed his mind before.

The best part about Dr. Jeong was that he didn’t pity him. He’d been bold enough to lift up his sleeve and show the full damage, but he never said a word about it—not in a way that made him feel like less. Instead, the room was filled with silent understanding, and Thanos was grateful for it.

His issue, though, was that he had no one he could tell. Nam-gyu’s absence only seemed to widen the hole in his chest. Thanos already knew who he was with; he didn’t need to second guess himself. It wasn’t unimaginable for him to be off enjoying his fresh, sexually active life with another person.

Deep down, Thanos knew he was pent up. Sex had stopped meaning much months back. At times, it even felt painful. But it didn’t matter now. He knew he was helpless—for being the reason it had happened.

Knowing he’d regret it, Thanos picked up his phone and scrolled through his messages. They were all old, from over a year ago. No one had bothered to reach out since then, considering that every interaction or friendship he had was transactional. If he couldn’t do anything for anyone, then he wasn’t worth much.

He scrolled until reaching the bottom of his list. Like an empty void, the text messages stared back at him. The last one was from April 4, 2018. It was a conversation regarding drugs.

Thanos swiped left and deleted the chat off his phone. He repeated this with everyone else on his list apart from Nam-gyu. The last message they had sent was two months ago, and it was him asking what he wanted for lunch.

His finger hovered over the delete option before he turned his phone off, deciding against it.

What now? he thought.

Going to therapy had helped—it soothed his nerves slightly—but now that familiar restlessness was beginning to settle in again.

Thanos had nothing to occupy himself with. The thought of baking crossed his mind, but what purpose would it serve to make something only for himself? The point of making or doing anything at all was so that he could get someone’s attention. Nam-gyu used to appreciate his little creations, but now they meant nothing to him—just like the rest of his existence.

Feeling sorry for himself, Thanos rose from the sofa and walked into the kitchen. His eyes made contact with the box cutter he’d used a while ago. It was still in the same place as last time, and as it did each time he dropped low, the urge to cut gnawed at the pit of his stomach.

Do it, his brain screamed at him. You’ll feel better after the damage is done. What else do you have?

“Fuck off,” Thanos argued as he picked it up and flung it halfway across the room.

He watched as it bounced against the wall, then clattered onto the floor.

“Shit,” he cursed. Maybe there was more to this therapy thing than he thought.

On the far end of the counter sat his meds. He hadn’t taken them in a while, and maybe that was his own mistake. As Thanos stared at them, he thought about how drugs had only ever created an endless void in his life.

They felt good at first—exciting. There was always a thrill in destroying himself. But as he glanced at them, he realized that prescribed or not, drugs weren’t going to solve his issues either.

The hard truth was that the work was solely up to him. He couldn’t depend on Dr. Jeong, or the pills, or Nam-gyu. Only he could be responsible for his own comeback.

Half on impulse, Thanos reached for the bottle and opened the lid. He poured the full prescription into the palm of his hand before tossing them into the sink, watching with a sense of detachment as they slipped down the drain.

There was some thrill in throwing away the medication. It felt rebellious, but in a good way. Thanos had never been one for following rules, but this time, it felt justified. Staring at a bottle of pills only reminded him of all the times he’d taken them recreationally, and it rarely ever worked in his favor.

Thinking on the games, he wasn’t sure how he’d managed to make it as far as he had under such an influence.

Thanos’ thought process shifted as he was reminded of those games. He moved from the kitchen back to the living room, where he plopped down on the sofa and buried his head in his hands. Min-su was on his mind again.

He felt guilt over the way he treated him throughout those games—then again, over what he had done—or tried to do—in his apartment.

It was disgusting, the way he felt so entitled to special treatment. Min-su was right to push him away, to ignore him. He wasn’t deserving of being treated so gently despite it all. Thanos wondered exactly what had gone on in his mind after he’d gotten a look at his forearm.

Min-su’s touch had been warm and comforting, but Thanos knew better than to ever expect it again.

“Fuck it,” he whispered to himself as he pulled out his phone and navigated back to their chat from a few days ago. He’d promised he’d leave the guy alone, but for the first time, he began to feel genuine remorse over what he had done. Leaving Min-su a note wasn’t enough. He knew there were words he wanted to say—he wanted to find a way to release the floodgate of emotions he’d been trying to suppress.

Thanos was never one for apologies or owning up to his wrongs. It had always been about excuses, or finding a way to get people back on his side for his benefit. But now, it wasn’t about that.

Rather than texting, Thanos reached for the call option, his hands trembling slightly as he waited for a response. It was stupid, really. He wasn’t expecting one. Subconsciously, he knew he wouldn’t receive it. So when he heard a hesitant voice on the other end of the line, his stomach dropped.

“Hello?”

Min-su had answered.

Thanos wasn’t sure what to say. There was something vulnerable in the way his breathing came—loud and erratic—enough that Min-su could hear him on the other end of the line. What the fuck do I say?

“Shit, man, I didn’t think you’d pick up,” he said anxiously. Thanos bit down on the lower portion of his lip as he waited for Min-su to say something more. But he didn’t.

“Jesus, are you gonna say something or what?” Thanos snapped. He was trying to make an effort to do something good for once—it felt like a slap to the face to receive silence on the other end of the line.

Thanos felt a wave of guilt crash over him when he heard a soft sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Min-su responded. “I just… didn’t want to interrupt you.”

He slapped his palm against his forehead. The conversation was going south already.

“Fuck, I’m real bad at this, okay?” Thanos tried, attempting to steer the conversation back on track. “I’ve just—I’ve been thinking about what I did the other day to you, and I feel really bad. Like, really fucking bad.”

Thanos moved from the sofa to the floor, spreading his legs out across the cold wood. “And I usually don’t give a shit. Like, so what if I pissed some little prick off? But with you, it’s just different. I dunno, I’m really sorry and I don’t know what to do to fix it and I keep thinking about it and it won’t stop and I—”

He brought the phone down and pinched the bridge of his nose. Shit, he was going to fuck this up too. Thanos had never been one for words, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would be.

When he put the phone back to his ear, he heard Min-su sigh again.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I’m not mad.”

Something snapped inside Thanos when he heard those words.

“You’re not mad? Why the fuck not? I mean, don’t you hate me, don’t you wanna—?”

“I don’t,” Min-su replied quickly. “I’m not upset with you.” There was some hesitation before he added, “Su-bong.”

Thanos tensed slightly at the mention of his real name. He wasn’t sure why exactly. After all, he’d addressed himself as such on his social profile, then again in the note he left. Min-su knew who he was—he didn’t need to use a different name to understand his character. Su-bong was on full display now.

“I’m sorry,” Thanos repeated. “I dunno why, I just can’t stop saying that. I feel like such a dumbass.” He let a laugh slip from his lips, but it was devoid of humor. “I’m just gonna hang up. Have a nice day or whatever the fuck normal people say.”

He was just about to press the button when Min-su suddenly spoke up.

“Wait, please, just—wait,” he sputtered, sounding slightly desperate.

Thanos hesitated but pressed the phone back to his ear.

“Um… do you want me to come over? Like, to talk about what’s on your mind. Maybe it’s… better that way.”

He felt like someone had just smacked him hard on the back of the head. No one ever wanted to willingly do anything with or for him. Thanos felt his chest tighten as he brought his thumb to his lip and bit down on his nail.

“Yeah.”

They hung up shortly after, and Thanos sent him his address.

–

Thanos didn’t have to wait long before he glanced out the window and noticed Min-su’s small red car pulling up to the corner of the curb. He was nervous. They never had guests over, mostly because their apartment wasn’t in the right state for it.

He’d spent a few minutes tidying up, trying to clear space in the kitchen, which was otherwise crowded with things like empty beer cans and cigarette butts littered around. Thanos had checked himself out in the mirror as well, making sure his hair was in place. It was embarrassing and shameful, but there was something about Min-su’s presence that caused his heart rate to skyrocket.

When they had first met during the games, he couldn’t deny the mild attraction he’d felt toward him. Min-su was small and had this soft, innocent look that Thanos felt drawn to. There was something about his fragility he wanted to protect, like he was someone worth saving. That was why he’d kept him included in his group—because he wanted to, because he cared enough to.

Now, the tables had turned. Somehow, the person weaker than him was reaching out a hand, trying to save him from falling further into the abyss of his spiral.

There was a knock at the door a few minutes later. Thanos moved from the window to the door, then opened it.

Min-su stood before him, glancing down nervously at the floor like he was hesitant to enter. In his hands was a bag of takeout—an extra act of kindness he didn’t have to offer, but Thanos felt grateful for regardless.

“Hey,” he started, grabbing his wrist while leading him inside. “The fuck do you have there?” Thanos pressed, shutting the door.

Min-su set the bag down on the kitchen table, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Nothing, just some soup, in case you were hungry… I don’t know.” He studied him carefully. “You look really thin, like you’ve lost too much weight,” he said at last, wincing as the words left his mouth.

“Huh,” Thanos said aloud. “I guess I have.”

It was a truth he knew he couldn’t deny, but somehow it hurt to admit. Food didn’t seem appealing these days. It all tasted like ash on his tongue.

When Min-su opened the bag, Thanos was met with the sight of dumpling noodle soup. The savory smell wafted through his nostrils, appealing despite the circumstance. His cheeseburgers from earlier had been the last thing he’d eaten and genuinely enjoyed, but as he glanced at the meal Min-su had brought, he realized that this too looked appealing.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the floor.

Thanos nodded and took a seat at the table, carefully removing the lid from the container.

“Thanks for this,” he said with a nod, gesturing toward the soup.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Min-su replied. He took a seat across from him, his gaze averted as Thanos ate.

The first bite tasted like bliss. He wasn’t sure where Min-su had gotten the food, but for takeout, it was pretty good. When he finished, he licked his lips satisfactorily, realizing that he hadn’t left him anything to eat.

“Ahh, fuck. Sorry I didn’t leave you anything,” Thanos apologized, feigning guilt. The truth was, he’d been so deprived that the chances of him leaving anything behind were slim.

“It’s fine,” Min-su replied, holding a hand up. His cheeks blushed slightly before adding, “I need to lose weight anyway. I should stop eating so much.”

Thanos tilted his head and smirked. He had gained weight, but it wasn’t a bad thing. It made him look even cuter. “Shut up,” Thanos shot back, shaking his head. “You look fine.” Min-su didn’t argue after that.

They moved to the living room minutes later. Thanos apologized as he kicked over a crumpled fast food bag and took a seat on the sofa.

“What’s on your mind?” Min-su began, trying to get answers out of him.

Thanos ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “A lot of shit,” he said truthfully. He wasn’t even sure where to begin. How could he? Opening up to his therapist was one thing, but doing so with someone he could potentially consider a friend was another. He’d never been this vulnerable with anyone outside of Nam-gyu. It felt off-putting.

He began by pointing to the bruise he had on the side of his face. “Nam-gyu did this,” he said at last. He figured, if he was going to be honest, he may as well offer the full story. Min-su didn’t know what was between them. If he couldn’t put their story into words, he could at least show him.

“He beats the shit out of me,” Thanos added, lifting his shirt slightly to reveal a whole pattern of bruises scattered across his body. “It was never really that serious at first since we used to fuck around and playfight, but now it’s like instinct for him to just swing shit at me.”

Thanos winced as Min-su slowly ran his fingers over the bruises, cringing under his touch.

“He can really throw one,” he said with a wry smile. “He looks like a girl, but he doesn’t hit like one. Shit fucking hurts. But you wanna know what’s the worst part about it? Sometimes, I want him to.” Thanos pressed his lips into a flat line as he brushed Min-su’s hand away, bringing his shirt down.

“I push him enough that he gets pissed, and that’s why he does it. I guess it’s justified.”

Min-su frowned, his brows furrowing slightly as soon as the words left Thanos’ mouth.

“That’s not okay,” he said quietly. “That’s… abuse.”

Thanos shook his head. “No, it’s not. It’s justified. I mean, I’m totally a dick, right? You saw how I was a few months back. Fucked up, cruel. I have enough self-awareness to know I deserve it.”

Min-su shook his head, his eyes filled with sympathy. “You don’t deserve it. People who love each other don’t hurt one another.”

He flinched as Min-su reached out and offered him his hand. Thanos took it and gave him a tight squeeze. It was the first time he’d felt the touch of anyone else besides Nam-gyu. The feeling sent a rush of warmth straight through his body.

“When did he first start hurting you?”

Thanos glanced down at their intertwined hands, trying to recall the first time. It had happened so frequently that he genuinely couldn’t remember. The act of abusing one another felt instinctive by now. He knew he wasn’t entirely innocent. He’d hit back as well, but it was mostly out of self-defense—or because he was provoked enough to swing at him.

Then, a memory surfaced.

It had happened over a relapse, when he had no one else to tell and no other way to let his emotions come out.

Nam-gyu had been out somewhere and came back to find a mess in the bathroom. Thanos had tried convincing him it was an accident, but Nam-gyu knew better. His destructive behavior was predictable, and by now, he knew who he was. Out of anger and shock, he’d struck him.

The words, “you already do it to yourself,” repeated in his head in the same cruel manner Nam-gyu had uttered them. He should’ve been accustomed to pain, but receiving it from Nam-gyu of all people intensified the need to destroy himself even further.

“A while back,” Thanos admitted after a moment of recollection. He let go of Min-su’s hand to lift up his sleeve, revealing the mess scattered along his forearm. “He never liked me cutting myself, so he got mad and did it. Said I should be used to the pain anyway, so I guess it was alright.”

Min-su let out a slow breath as he got a full look at the damage. He offered Thanos a look before bringing his hand up and running it over the scars carefully, like he was scared that his touch would only add to the damage.

“I’m sorry,” he said sympathetically. “I really am. You don’t deserve this.”

Thanos shook his head after pulling his sleeve back down. “You don’t know what I’m really like,” he retorted. “You’ve seen some of my behavior already, fucked up as it is. I’m sure if you were with me, you’d wanna leave.”

Min-su shook his head. “Still, it doesn’t matter if you’re a bad person or not—you shouldn’t be treated like this. It’s not right.”

He reached out and grabbed hold of his hand again. Min-su’s touch felt warm, comforting—enough that it made his heart swell with yearning. When he looked at Min-su, he saw someone who was kind, gentle. Someone who wanted to do good, despite all that had occurred between them.

There was something genuine in the way he looked at him with those soft brown eyes. Thanos felt his cheeks heat as he studied him.

This is wrong, he said to himself. Stop staring at him like that.

But he couldn’t help it.

In Min-su, he saw someone he wanted to be with. Someone who was the opposite of Nam-gyu. He’d liked him, even if his feelings were mild during the games. Now, they only ever seemed to grow more prominent.

He knew Min-su was already committed to someone. He wasn’t even sure he was into men. Thanos knew that he’d be no better than Nam-gyu if he tried to make any advances. With a sigh, he tugged his hand away and buried his head into both of them.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “You shouldn’t even be here. I mean, the fuck did I do for you to be so goddamn nice to me?”

Thanos chuckled as he lifted his head and wiped away his tears.

“He’s cheating on me too,” Thanos admitted. “You remember Gyeong-su, right?”

Min-su nodded. “Yes.”

“They’re fucking. Like, every day. Nam-gyu just gets up and leaves. He woke up at four in the morning just to smoke pot with him and do whatever. He hates me so much, he said he wished I was dead once.”

He felt half guilty for spilling the beans so suddenly. This was probably more than what Min-su was expecting out of their conversation, but now that the lid had already been opened, he found himself unable to stop.

“I’m so lonely,” Thanos whispered. “I have no friends, no family, nothing. Nam-gyu hates my fucking guts, and the worst part about it is that I understand why. I mean, look at me. I’m hideous, right? Only, it’s not just about looks—it’s about who I am.”

Saying those words struck something within him. Thanos burst into tears, fully letting himself break. He scooched closer to Min-su, burying his face into his chest, and dry heaved as he grabbed onto his sweater.

“I just fuck up everything,” he sobbed. “All the goddamn time. And it used to be funny,” Thanos said, his voice muffled by the fabric he buried himself into. “But now it’s not, and it’s ‘cause I’m all alone. People know how shitty I am and they leave.”

He moved away from Min-su’s chest, wiping away the snot dripping from his nose. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Not like you’re my therapist,” Thanos said as he studied the way Min-su was reacting. He wasn’t saying as much anymore. Thanos wondered if he’d pushed too far, if this was too much for him to handle.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said at last. “You should be at home with Se-mi instead of someone like me. Think about the shit I pulled with you a few days ago—it was nasty.”

Thanos shivered as he thought about the way Min-su had trembled beneath his grasp. The way his eyes flashed with fear. The way his breathing became hard and labored.

“I’m so sorry,” and for the first time, his apology actually meant something. It was real, honest. He was sharing exactly how he felt.

Min-su gestured for him to come closer. Thanos did so, hesitantly laying down against his lap in the same manner he had the last time they’d seen one another. He didn’t say anything to him. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Min-su lit two, then handed Thanos one.

They smoked in silence for a while, the only sound being the faint crackle of the cigarettes between their fingers. Thanos let himself be coddled as the ash trickled from his fingers to the floor, while Min-su stroked his hair.

When they were finished, Thanos felt another tension rising between them. It was awkward until Min-su decided to break what was between them.

“You should leave him,” he said at last. “You know… break up with him.”

Thanos shifted, rising from Min-su’s lap. “What?”

“Break up with him,” Min-su said firmly. “I mean, aren’t you tired?”

The truth was, Thanos was more than just tired. He was exhausted. But he knew his exhaustion was his own doing. Nam-gyu wouldn’t have a reason to be so reactive if he kept himself in check.

“No, man, I can’t do that shit,” he snapped. “Nam-gyu is all I have. What the fuck am I supposed to do without him?”

Min-su hesitated before offering him a response. “You’re not alone…” he said softly. “I’m willing to be your friend.” He paused for a moment, his expression shifting to something more serious. “But you can’t be mean to me anymore. I have feelings too.”

Thanos nodded, knowing that Min-su’s kindness was more than what anyone had offered him in years. He felt beyond touched over the fact that he was being so generous. Being mean was just a mild way of hiding the fact that he was cruel.

He nodded at Min-su’s statement, trying to take his advice into consideration.

“Gimme another cig,” Thanos demanded. He lit his second one, letting Min-su’s words sink in.

Min-su watched him silently, observing him.

“Break up with him,” he repeated.

Thanos wasn’t even halfway done with his cigarette when he suddenly choked on the smoke—the realization that he’d never taken that thought into consideration despite everything that went on between them.

He wondered briefly what life would be like without Nam-gyu.

Would he feel at peace, or would he regret it?

Chapter Text

Thanos sat quietly in the empty apartment. Min-su had left hours ago, but there was a heavy void that lingered in the depths of his heart. The conversation they had struck something inside of him.

Break up with him, Thanos thought to himself as though the concept was strange and foreign. The truth was that it wasn’t—he’d thought of it before, told himself none of this was worth it, told himself he was only being selfish by keeping someone like Nam-gyu around him. He wasn’t deserving of being in a relationship, but he didn’t want to let go of what he had.

Deep down, Thanos knew he was clinging to Nam-gyu out of sentiment. They’d gotten together out of an unconventional situation. Life or death games. That itself should have been the first red flag. But it was the way Nam-gyu used to look at him—like he needed him—that won him over.

Nam-gyu used to look at Thanos like he was everything. He could remember the way his ice cold eyes always seemed to soften slightly whenever they made eye contact. Thanos couldn’t understand it at first. When they were in that situation, all he could feel was a deep level of shame for falling so far that it led to him gambling with his life. But Nam-gyu never looked at him like he was someone helpless or worthless. He looked at him because he wanted to, because he felt love for him, because the connection they had came on instantly.

The memory of Nam-gyu’s soft smile became ingrained into Thanos’ head. He couldn’t help but smile himself as he thought of it. Now, Nam-gyu’s smile was nothing more than a distant memory. He was holding onto something that was long gone. It shouldn’t have taken this long to understand that.

Thanos shook his head and moved from the living room to the bathroom where he removed his shirt and examined himself in the mirror. He tried not to think about the look Min-su had given him when he examined the bruises—when he brought his hand against his skin to feel the damage. 

Domestic abuse never felt like a term that applied to his relationship. The denial had kicked in faster than he wanted to admit when the beatings became a pattern. Having someone point it out for him felt like adding salt into open wounds.

My boyfriend beats me.

He repeated that line over and over inside his head until he grew tired of looking at his battered form.

Thanos was no saint. He treated Nam-gyu like an idiot for months and somehow expected him to remain tolerant. Everyone else in his life left him once they discovered who he truly was—that the character “Thanos” was nothing more than a weak facade.

When they had first met, Thanos knew Nam-gyu was troubled. He could see it in the track marks that ran up and down his skin, in the way his hands would tremble from withdrawals. When he killed people, the weight never seemed to register. The way his eyes would darken only proved to Thanos that he had taken lives prior to the games.

They rarely spoke about what went on during those few days of insanity, but Thanos knew it weighed on him.

Nam-gyu always had a hard life. Thanos never had it easy, but the difference between them was that he was never truly alone. He lived with his parents until he was legally old enough for them to kick him out. But Nam-gyu never had that.

There were stories he told about the poverty he lived in—that he was forced into developing a tough exterior because his interior was too soft. Violence was his norm. Nam-gyu had grown up with it.

Thanos thought his cruelty was cute and humorous, and maybe it was for a while—but now he was paying the price. Nam-gyu was forced into enduring brutality all his life. Why would he want to endure it from the person who was supposed to love him the most? Thanos was no victim.

Min-su’s words echoed in his head for the fiftieth time that evening.

Break up with him.

“No,” Thanos said aloud. “Fuck that shit.”

Maybe things were salvageable. Thanos had never been one to stay strong willed, but if he wanted things to change between them, he knew he had to be. Sure, Nam-gyu had fucked up, but he was truly no better. They were one and the same, they deserved to figure things out.

Thanos pulled on his shirt and moved from the bathroom to the bedroom where he slipped out his cellphone and opened up to Min-su’s contact. His fingers trembled as he began to type out a text message.

Su-bong: i dont really want to break up. i think something can be worked out between me and him.

Su-bong: its probably stupid to ask, but have u ever been in a situation like this?

He set his phone aside and waited for a response, but before he had the chance to check for one, he heard the sudden sound of the front door being swung open.

Thanos scrambled up from the bed, to the living room where he found Nam-gyu leaning against the wall for support. When his eyes landed on him, he immediately noticed the poor condition he was in.

Nam-gyu looked like he had spent several rough nights out despite the short amount of time they were away from each other. He was drenched in sweat—every pore on his body seeping faint droplets in desperation of cooling himself down. His hair was greasy and clung to his skin in a manner that only enhanced his sickly appearance. Worst of all, his eyes were dark and lifeless, a clear sign of using something other than what he normally stuck to.

All of this made Thanos wonder if he had gotten into conflict with Gyeong-su. Maybe the man wasn’t as perfect as he displayed himself to be.

Nam-gyu brushed past Thanos, too exhausted to offer him so much as a glance in his direction. Thanos immediately caught onto the smell that clung to him—he reeked of neglect and decay.

“Hey! Where the fuck are you going?” Thanos shouted, watching as he limped over to the bedroom. “Talk to me you goddamn bastard.”

Thanos watched with clenched fists as Nam-gyu threw himself against the mattress and released a sigh of exhaustion. He looked just as helpless as he had been during those games—during the start of it all. It made Thanos wonder if their roles were being reversed again.

He lay down beside Nam-gyu and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“Talk to me,” Thanos pleaded, even when he knew that communication was something beneath them.

Nonetheless, he refused to leave Nam-gyu’s side. Laying here with him filled Thanos with an odd sense of comfort. Throughout the past few weeks, romance had faded into a forgotten concept. He couldn’t help but want to relish in the sliver he’d been offered. Nam-gyu was here, beside him, oblivious to what was happening around him.

“I missed you,” he whispered quietly.

Nam-gyu barely stirred. He offered Thanos nothing but silence, even as he pulled him into a tighter embrace. All Thanos wanted was to feel the warmth of his boyfriend, even if it came in a superficial sense. Even if he knew he was hugging nothing more than a shell of a person.

He loved Nam-gyu nonetheless.

–

When morning came, Thanos found that he was still curled up beside Nam-gyu. The two of them remained interlinked, like puzzle pieces that belonged together.

Nam-gyu was awake, but looked like he didn’t want to be. For the first time in weeks, his dark eyes met with Thanos’ and he looked like he carried with him a hint of remorse.

“Nam-gyu,” Thanos began, desperate to get the ball rolling between them. “I really missed you, man.”

It felt shameful to admit that. Despite all the hurt and neglect and the advice he’d been offered—he remained insistent on clinging to someone who stopped wanting him months back.

“I’m sorry for all this shit,” Thanos added. “I’m sorry I hurt you so bad.”

He didn’t want to take Min-su’s advice. All Thanos wanted was for things to be mended back together. He was willing to bend over backwards if it meant getting the only person he’d ever cared about to love him again.

When he had snooped through Nam-gyu’s phone, there was a message sent to Gyeong-su that stuck out to him.

He’s mine, Nam-gyu had said. Lying here beside him made Thanos wonder if that message still applied.

Nam-gyu didn’t say anything to his apology. He grunted, then reached out to trace over the scars on Thanos’ arm.

“You should probably get these stitches out. Shit looks like it’s inflamed.”

Thanos glanced down at his arm, noticing the swelling between the cut and the stitches that kept it together. He’d forgotten about this. His mind had been so occupied on other things that caring for himself fell behind on his list of priorities.

“Nah, it’s no big deal.”

Nam-gyu’s grip on him tightened slightly before he let go, then stood up. “I’m taking you back to the hospital to get them out. Go get changed and ready.” He walked over to the opposite side of the room where they kept all their clothes. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

Thanos reached out as if doing so would somehow stop him from leaving. He wanted a conversation more than anything, but it felt like Nam-gyu was slipping through his fingers. The thought of asking where he had been and what had happened crossed his mind, but Thanos instantly shut it down. Being questioned usually resulted in getting beaten. He didn’t want to sour things before they had even started.

“Can I shower with you?” he blurted out, half on impulse.

He was desperate to feel him again. Thanos wanted to relish in the comfort of their bodies being pressed together, even if it happened in an unconventional manner. He didn’t care if the shower was small and cramped, didn’t care if there was a filth being passed between them. All Thanos wanted was to know that there was still something between them—something that was real.

Thanos half expected Nam-gyu to say no, but he was met with a shrug.

“Whatever,” he replied.

Thanos sprung up from bed and grabbed a clean pair of clothes before following Nam-gyu inside the cramped space.

The steaming hot water made it difficult for Thanos to breathe, but that was what their relationship had felt like for months: suffocating. He self consciously stripped down, watching as Nam-gyu did the same. He caught onto some faint bruises scattered across his body. They looked nothing like hickeys. They looked like something formed out of a fight that had gone wrong.

When Thanos stepped into the shower, he shivered at the closeness between them.

They used to do things like this before, when it counted for something. Thanos could feel the softness of Nam-gyu’s skin against his as he allowed the warm water to cascade down his body.

He couldn’t deny the awkward tension building between them. Thanos tried not to think about where Nam-gyu’s dick had been the day before as he pressed up against him, then leaned his chin against his shoulder. He tensed slightly when Nam-gyu reached for the soap and helped him bathe.

“You’re getting way too skinny,” Nam-gyu remarked, jabbing at his protruding ribcage. “I can see your fucking bones popping out. You look sick.”

Thanos fought back the urge to say something snarky. He knew Nam-gyu was right. He couldn’t remember how much he weighed the last time he had checked, but he knew that he’d lost a significant amount of weight these past couple of weeks. Meals just weren’t appealing anymore. The thought of having to stuff his face with food was enough to make Thanos’ stomach churn.

“Don’t go all Kate Moss on me too, I can’t afford some feeding tube shit for you.” Nam-gyu paused for a moment, then added, “eat.”

Thanos felt a twinge of guilt for adding more concern to the pile. When Nam-gyu finished, he grabbed hold of Thanos’ arm again. He flinched when he felt him studying the scars for the second time that morning.

“What?” Thanos pressed, turning around to make sense of his facial expression.

“Nothing.”

Thanos sighed, then reached out to touch the crook of Nam-gyu’s arm. He pressed his thumb down against where he used to shoot up. Even though there were no longer any bruises there, Thanos could visualise perfectly the time when there had been.

Neither of them said a word to each other, but the mutual concern could be felt between them. It felt vulnerable standing here like this, thinking about the damage they’d done to themselves.

The rest of the shower didn’t last for long.

It ended after Thanos helped Nam-gyu scrub away whatever filth clung to his body. It took every ounce of strength for him to keep his questions to himself, even as they approached the bedroom and changed together.

Nam-gyu sat behind Thanos on the bed and ran a comb through his hair. It reminded Thanos of simpler times when he was younger—when his mother wanted him to look his best, when she’d do the same for him. His hair had been the same colour back then: dark brown. 

“Why did you really dye your hair?” Nam-gyu asked after a beat of silence.

Thanos shrugged, debating whether he wanted to give him the full story. He wasn’t sure how he’d react.

“Got tired of pretending to be someone I’m not.” 

He turned around to face him, grabbed the comb, then ran it through Nam-gyu’s hair in return. He never really paid much attention to how long it had gotten. Somehow, it seemed like it had grown even longer in length within these past couple of days. Or maybe it was that they spent so little studying each other, that they missed the small details in between.

“I’m Su-bong, not Thanos.”

The name Su-bong always felt derogatory up until now. There was always that heavy feeling of shame which remained glued to his birth name—but it felt right for him to own up to the person he knew he was deep down. He’d been afraid of perception for so long that he crafted together an identity which caused him to ultimately lose his sense of self.

“Same thing,” Nam-gyu replied when Thanos had finished.

He checked himself once in the mirror before grabbing the car keys.

“Let’s get going.”

–

The small vehicle remained parked in the same place Thanos had left it when he had gone to his therapy appointment. He still hadn’t bothered to tell Nam-gyu about it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to—not after the way he had made him feel after trying for him. The thought of his reaction to the brownies he made a while back was enough to make his stomach churn.

Thanos slid into the passenger’s seat after Nam-gyu had unlocked the doors. He felt his throat tighten as he thought about the destination they were headed towards.

“I don’t really want to go,” Thanos protested, feeling like a small child begging not to be taken for vaccinations.

Nam-gyu offered him a disdainful look before inserting the key into the ignition.

“That’s too fucking bad. Maybe you should’ve thought about what the consequences would be before slicing half your arm open.”

Thanos pressed his nails down against the palm of his hand, suppressing his anger. Not even a full minute into this and already, things were going downhill.

Just relax, Thanos said to himself. He knew they had a bit of a ride ahead of them. Saying anything now would only contribute to a consequence he didn’t want to deal with.

It wasn’t out of fear that he kept himself silent. He’d gotten used to the abuse—the beatings that came his way whenever he said or did something Nam-gyu didn’t approve of. His silence was being offered out of desperation, because he wanted nothing more than to patch things up. Thanos wasn’t sure what else to give him. He wasn’t sure what kind of person he wanted him to be.

Normal.

Before Nam-gyu had the chance to back away from the curb, Thanos reached for his seatbelt and clicked it into place. He thought about all the signs he had given Min-su during that one car ride, and how shamefully embarrassing it was that he couldn’t have brought himself to do something so simple.

Now, he was trying to fit into the role of someone who had it together. Doing so caught Nam-gyu’s attention. He offered him a look, smirking slightly.

“Since when do you give a shit about something so minor?”

Thanos wasn’t sure how to answer. He replied with the first sentence that came to mind.

“I don’t know, maybe my life means something.”

A few years back, Thanos had heard of something called “affirmations.” It was something a lot of people used when they tried digging themselves out from a pit. My life means something. Even though that sounded more like gaslighting, Thanos wanted to believe it.

He glanced at Nam-gyu, hoping for some approval, but he didn’t remark. Instead, he backed away without bothering to do the same. It made Thanos wonder if he too was being neglectful for the same reason he had been—because there was no care revolving his safety. Because he didn’t care if he saw through to another day.

–

When they arrived at the hospital, Thanos felt smaller than ever as he walked through the polished hallways with his head hung low. Even though he’d changed a few things about himself, he still felt like the same person he had been during his initial visit.

He stood beside Nam-gyu as they walked up front to the receptionist. Thanos tuned him out as Nam-gyu did the talking for him. They took a seat in the waiting room shortly after.

Nam-gyu didn’t say anything to him. He kept his fingers over his eyes, pressing against the lids every now and then whenever he appeared to have a frustrating thought.

“Yo, what’s your problem?” Thanos pressed, nudging him slightly.

The moment he asked that question, he regretted it.

“None of your business,” Nam-gyu snapped, immediately putting up his defenses.

A few heads had turned at the sound of Nam-gyu’s tone. Thanos scowled at the eavesdroppers who had glanced in their direction.

“The fuck do you want?” he snapped, getting them to look away. Even though his gaze was directed towards them, his anger wasn’t. It was meant for Nam-gyu. He knew that being angry for something that was his fault wasn’t justified, but that emotional side of him couldn’t resist the urge to snap and make a scene. Maybe he still had a few things to work on.

A half hour had passed before someone eventually came to see him. A middle aged nurse approached him with a gentle smile on his face.

“Good morning,” he greeted.

“Morning,” Thanos offered in response as he rose from his seat. Nam-gyu followed behind with his hands shoved into his pockets as they walked through the hall. There were a few familiar faces as they did so. Thanos recognised a few of the doctors and nurses, but the one he hoped to avoid the most was Dr. Jang.

When he thought of her, it was enough to get his blood pumping.

That stupid bitch. All she had done was ask a few questions then hand him off with some pills he knew he shouldn’t have been taken. He looked into the blackbox information. It was a stupid thought to believe that hospital staff like this—people swarmed with hundreds of nutcases a day—would ever give a shit about him.

Thanos remained silent even as he was led into a small room with some medical equipment pressed up against the wall.

“I hear you’re here to get your stitches removed,” the nurse said.

Thanos nodded in response.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to his sleeve.

“Go ahead,” Thanos replied, trying to avoid his gaze as the man assessed the damage.

Through his peripheral vision, he could see Nam-gyu squeezing the bridge of his nose in frustration. Or was it shame he was feeling that his boyfriend was such a suicidal fuckup?

“How did you manage to get a wound like this?”

Thanos watched as he reached for some supplies to cut the stitches out. He thought about being honest—not that he had much to work with. The healed scars were enough of a giveaway. He was certain the nurse had seen things like this before.

“Had some accident at work. Fucked up and got a real bad cut. Manager sent me home.” Thanos paused to gesture towards Nam-gyu. “Then this guy insisted I get stitches. He put up a real fuckin’ battle over it.”

The nurse offered Thanos a smile before cutting the first loop, then the second. He tried to dissociate as he watched each piece of plastic come free from his forearm. It was a strange sight to see. It felt like he was really acknowledging all the damage now.

When the nurse had finished, Thanos immediately cringed, feeling self-conscious.

“Hey, what the fuck is this?” he questioned, pointing at the additional scars left behind from the stitches. They too, were red and inflamed. 

The nurse offered him a weak smile.

“Scarring is normal for someone who gets stitches… Don’t worry though, they’ll fade within time.”

Thanos doubted that as he glanced at his arm before pulling the sleeve back down.

“Let’s go,” Nam-gyu demanded from the corner of the room. He offered the nurse a nod of gratitude before reaching over and grabbing Thanos by the sleeve of his shirt. Thanos never fought back, not until they arrived at the parking lot. By then, he had a pool of tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“What the fuck is your problem!?” Thanos shouted as he grabbed hold of Nam-gyu’s collar, shaking him with as much force as he could muster. “Where have you been these past few days, what the fuck have you been doing and why are you treating me like I’m a goddamn piece of shit!”

Nam-gyu immediately pulled free from his grasp the moment he noticed Thanos’ emotions were spilling over.

“Where have I been?” he snapped. “I should be asking you the same! Where the fuck were you that one night when I called, texted and broke down over you? What were you doing that I had to come home and find fresh fucking cuts on your thighs?”

He paused for a moment, hesitating before adding onto that.

“What makes what I’ve been doing any different from the shit you’ve been offering me for months? You treat me like I’m nothing, like I’m some worthless retard!”

Thanos shoved him hard against the side of the car.

“I can’t control the shit that goes on inside my head—but you can! You choose to be an asshole. You choose to swing at me—to treat me like shit. I’m sure you’re capable of choosing when you don’t wanna act like a total fuckin’ dickhead, but you go ahead and do it anyway.”

Nam-gyu let those words sink in before he balled his fist. None of what Thanos had said had registered. He doubted it ever would as he thought again of the suggestion Min-su had to offer. Break up with him.

Thanos wanted nothing more than to feel loved by Nam-gyu, but this was all he was getting. It was the most he’d ever get from him. Maybe he just needed to accept that.

He shut his eyes, bracing himself for the newest bruise that would be added to the collection, when suddenly, Nam-gyu stopped.

When Thanos opened his eyes, he noticed a young couple passing by. A pregnant woman walked slowly with her husband’s hand placed gently against her stomach. He watched as the man helped her up the small set of steps leading to the entrance of the emergency room. It sent a wave of nausea rolling down Thanos’ stomach.

“Fuck!” Nam-gyu shouted before slumping and sliding down to the pavement. He buried his head into his knees and burst into tears—loud and ugly in a vulnerable way Thanos hadn’t ever seen before. He took a seat beside him, waiting for Nam-gyu to roll through the waves of his inner turmoil.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a few moments of hysteria.

Thanos let his own tears spill over the moment he heard Nam-gyu offer him an apology.

“Do your fists ever hurt from beating me so much?”

Nam-gyu’s lip quivered as he let that question sink in.

He’d been wanting to ask him that for the longest time. Thanos’ eyes never left his hands as he studied them. His knuckles were raw and bruised from all the occasions he’d thrown punches at him.

“Does the guilt ever eat away at you for treating me like I’m nothing?” Nam-gyu retorted.

He choked out another sob before grabbing Thanos by his collar, his hand shaking with rage.

“Did you ever feel guilty when I had found you for the first time in the bathroom with blood dripping down your arms, when I snatched away your razor and you fought me to hell to get it back?”

Thanos flinched at the memory.

“Did you ever feel guilty when I had to be the one to clean up the mess of vomit you left behind for me in the bedroom after you decided to take an overdose while drunk just because you thought it was funny to gamble with your fucking life?”

Nam-gyu’s grasp against his collar tightened with the severity of each situation that was being addressed.

“Did you feel guilty a few days ago when you woke me up at three in the morning with half your arm torn open? Did you think about how I would feel seeing you —my boyfriend— in such a vulnerable position? Did you consider how I felt that night lying awake unable to rest because I kept hearing your screams in my ears?”

He paused, catching a breath.

”Did you feel guilty after treating the whole issue of suicide as a joke?”

Nam-gyu pulled Thanos up to his feet and slapped him hard across the face. The pain hardly registered. All Thanos could hear was a ringing in his ears as Nam-gyu went on. He felt bile rising in his throat as he listened, taking the blame.

It was round two of hysteria, only this time—it was worse.

Thanos watched as tears and snot dripped down Nam-gyu’s face. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to breathe. Nam-gyu was having a breakdown and it was all his fault. For the longest time, Nam-gyu had kept his emotions to himself. Now, they were finally beginning to spill over.

“Did you ever feel guilty for choosing to date me? Because if you hadn’t, then none of this would’ve happened.”

Chapter Text

“Did you ever feel guilty for choosing to date me?”

Thanos let that question play on repeat in his head. His heart ached in his chest, yearning for a chance to let Nam-gyu know that he was sorry—that he was guilty, that he regretted a good majority of his choices. He hadn’t meant for things to escalate. He wouldn’t have ever expected for them to fall this far. It was his fault, he knew it. Thanos was self-aware enough to understand that.

One thing he didn’t regret was choosing to get into a relationship with him. Even though their relationship was far from picture perfect, none of that mattered to him. He picked Nam-gyu because at the time, it felt right to—because he loved him and wanted to.

“Fuck you,” Thanos retorted, hoping that Nam-gyu would say more. Provoking him was the only solution, they had no other way of communicating. Their menthod of “communicating” usually consisted of arguing, having shouting matches until one person either gave up or broke down hard enough to understand what the other was feeling. Thanos was desperate to understand Nam-gyu.

Nam-gyu didn’t respond. He kept his head buried into his knees, occasionally rocking back and forth as his emotions washed over him. It was a sorry sight. The occasional passerby would glance over at them before entering the hospital. Thanos knew they were making a scene, but when didn’t they? Being a normal couple was simply just beneath them. Normalcy in their relationship felt like a distant concept.

The truth was, Thanos understood Nam-gyu’s frustration, even if he wasn’t being completely open with him. When he was younger, his mother used to warn him about how his behaviour impacted others.

Contain your anger. Keep things to yourself. You’re acting like a goddamn child again, get it together. The moment they see the scars on your arms, they’re going to run away. I didn’t raise you to be this way; you’re a good for nothing.

Thanos was only ten when he contemplated suicide for the first time. It was after an argument had broken out between his parents, when he’d told his mother about the evidence found in his father’s coat which gave away the affair he was having. He’d listened to their arguments, listened to their fights, and wondered what it would be like to remove himself from everyone’s lives. Thanos felt like an omen, plaguing everyone he ever got the chance to be close with. Committing suicide felt like the only way he could alieviate the curse he left behind.

Maybe he was beginning to feel guilty. Maybe he should’ve never lasted this long. He should’ve died long ago—maybe even before the games. Nam-gyu would’ve managed on his own, he was stronger than him. If he had died prior to that, then none of this would’ve happened. Lives wouldn’t have been lost, chaos would never have been caused, and best of all, Nam-gyu would’ve been free from all the bullshit.

He glanced over at Nam-gyu, feeling helpless. For the longest time, it always felt right for him to poke fun at Nam-gyu whenever he showed any signs of vulnerability. 

It’s no wonder he cheated on you. You’re nothing more than a suicidal fuckup, that familiar voice screamed. Thanos didn’t bother arguing with it. He knew there was truth in that statement.

The entire time, Nam-gyu had loved him. Thanos understood that his feelings were irrational when they suggested otherwise. Nam-gyu never left because he was tired of him, or because he loathed him—but because he didn’t know what to do. It was evident in the reaction he was having. Maybe they didn’t belong together. Two fucked up people never resulted in anything good.

Words never came easy for Thanos. He slid himself closer to Nam-gyu, attempting to pull him into a hug. His movements were slow and awkward and he couldn’t deny the sting of rejection when Nam-gyu glanced up, only to push him away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he spat, his eyes red and swollen from crying.

Thanos’ heart hammered in his chest.

“Why the hell not? I’m just trying to help!”

Nam-gyu scowled at him, then slapped his hand away. 

“Just don’t,” he snapped. “You always find a way to fuck shit up, what difference would it make?”

Thanos hung his head in shame, then swallowed down the rest of his anger. Nam-gyu was right. What difference would it have made if he offered him comfort? Nothing about this was comforting. Thanos took the hint and slid himself further away, allowing Nam-gyu to wallow alone.

Everything hurts, he thought to himself. But it’s all your fault.

Ten minutes had passed before Nam-gyu calmed himself down. He stood up from the pavement and tossed the car keys over to Thanos.

“You drive,” he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll end up driving us into a goddamn ditch if you put me behind the wheel right now.”

Thanos did as he was told as he took the keys from him. He settled himself in the driver’s seat and watched as Nam-gyu slid in beside him. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them, refusing to match his gaze. It gave him the appearance of a small, hurt child. That look was just too familiar.

Nam-gyu fell asleep five minutes into the ride.

Thanos steered with one hand, the other inches away from reaching out to touch Nam-gyu, to make sure he was still there, to make sure he was still real. Even though they were so close in proximity, it felt like they were miles apart. The distance between them kept stretching. Thanos wasn’t sure how to put the pieces back together.

When they were about halfway home, Nam-gyu stirred in his sleep, then opened his eyes.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, squeezing his knees even further as doing so would somehow keep him grounded, like it was enough to keep his sanity intact.

Thanos slowed down slightly to glance in his direction.

“You alright?” he asked, even though he knew the answer to that question.

Nam-gyu shrugged, then reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. He lit one, cracked open the window, then exhaled.

“I think we should go away for a bit,” he said after taking a long drag. “Do something. Forget about all this shit.”

Thanos raised a brow at his suggestion. The last time they attempted to go out, things hadn’t gone as planned. It ended with another fight.

“Where the fuck would we go?” Thanos asked, despite his discomfort. He was desperate to please Nam-gyu, as though doing so would repair the damage between them.

Nam-gyu took another slow drag in contemplation.

“Camping. You know that place up in the woods? You don’t even need to make a reservation there, they don’t give a shit. Just pay the entrance fee when you get there.”

Thanos shuddered at the idea of going camping. When he was little, he’d taken a camping trip with his father. He had promised Thanos he’d teach him how to use a gun, that learning the skill would mold him into a proper man. That trip had resulted in his father getting piss drunk before nearly shooting his eye out in a drunken rage. He’d felt small and helpless, watching as someone he should’ve looked up to deteriorated into nothing before him.

“Fuck it,” Thanos replied. “Let’s do it.”

They drove the rest of the way home in silence.

–

When they arrived home, it was already halfway into the afternoon. The apartment was silent and uncomfortable as the two of them stepped inside.

Thanos watched as Nam-gyu kicked off his shoes and sat on the sofa. He kept his hands beside him, like he was waiting for something to happen. It felt… off putting to see him like this—so still, so devoid of emotion.

After a beat of hesitation, Thanos joined Nam-gyu on the sofa, sitting beside him. The silence was getting under his skin. Thanos was itching for a reaction—anything, just to know that Nam-gyu was still with him.

“Are you gonna talk to me?”

Nam-gyu continued staring straight ahead at the wall, offering nothing but silence.

“Hey man, I don’t like this shit.” There was a hint of desperation in his tone as Thanos continued begging for a response. “Just talk to me, tell me what the fuck is up.”

He wanted to grab Nam-gyu by the collar and shake the answers out of him—but then, he thought about everything that had gone on between them. The violence, the cheating, the disappearing act. Thanos didn’t want to go through it again. After all, he didn’t deserve a response. He was nothing more than a piece of shit.

“Fine, be that way,” Thanos added, crossing his arms over his chest.

They continued sitting there for hours until evening rolled around.

At around seven, Nam-gyu got up and reached for his phone. Thanos watched with curiosity as he dialed a number. Maybe he was going out to cheat again—because that’s what he did when he couldn’t own up to his problems. Running away was always easier than having to face the issue. Thanos knew what that was like. All the years of getting high and drunk, and mutilating his body said enough.

When Nam-gyu hung up the phone, he sat back down next to Thanos, his gaze slightly softer this time.

“I got takeout. I’m not really in the mood for cooking or going anywhere.”

Thanos nodded. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d eaten a proper meal together. Not that either of them were good with cooking, but there was no such thing as bonding when they did things like this. Not anymore—those days were long gone.

The food came about fifteen minutes later. It was some shitty stir fry that looked like it had been cooked hours ago, only to be reheated again for the next customer. Thanos said nothing as he watched Nam-gyu take each of the items out from the bag.

“Jesus, this looks like shit,” he mumbled, trying to make the situation more lighthearted.

Nam-gyu didn’t smile. He took less than half the portion, then slid the rest over to Thanos.

“Hey, this is way too much shit. I can’t eat all this,” he protested.

Nam-gyu reached over the table and grabbed his arm tightly. He kept it in his grasp for a while, before taking his index finger and thumb and managing to slide it halfway down his arm.

“You see this? That’s how fucking skinny you are. You look like a goddamn anorexic.” Nam-gyu’s fingers tightened around his arm before he let go. “Eat, or I’ll force feed you.”

Thanos glanced down at his portion and swallowed his pride. He reached for the chopsticks and did as he was told. A few months or even weeks ago, he would’ve protested, not even hesitating to put up a fight—but he knew better. He knew what would come if he gave into his usual temptations.

Just eat, goddamnit, he said to himself. Everyone fucking eats. Don’t give him a reason to hurt you.

His hand trembled slightly at the thought of another beating. It hurt to push himself like this. Weeks of malnutrition had caused his stomach to shrink. Pushing himself past what he was used to was enough to make his stomach churn in protest.

Thanos glanced up at Nam-gyu who was already halfway through his meal. He felt a surge of bitterness wash down his spine as he thought about how simple this shit was—but like always, he was failing to play the role of a normal person.

He forced  himself to finish the meal, then got up in silence when it was over. For the first time in weeks, Thanos genuinely wanted to take a shower. It was embarrassing how low he’d fallen with hygiene. Everywhere he went, he left behind his rotten stench.

Thanos took one last glimpse at Nam-gyu before grabbing a set of clean clothes, then disappearing into the bathroom.

He squeaked on the shower, waited a few seconds, then stepped inside once the water was warm enough. As Thanos felt the water cascade down his body, all the events from throughout the day washed over him.

That shameful feeling in the hospital, Nam-gyu’s breakdown, the reminder that they were still together out of obligation.

“Goddamnit!” Thanos shouted, slamming his fist against the wall. He immediately pulled his hand back the moment the pain radiated up to his shoulder. “Fuck! Jesus—fuck!” he cried, feeling the urge to burst into tears.

Thanos let himself fall to the base of the tub. He grabbed hold of his hair in frustration, yanking out a few strands. Everything was falling apart, everything hurt. His therapist had lied to him—there was no getting better in this situation. Even Min-su had lied to him. He never bothered to check if he’d gotten a text back, but it wouldn’t have mattered, even if he did. He doubted anyone would understand what he was feeling. This type of pain was serious, intense. If only there was a cure for it.

Oh right, there is.

Thanos wiped away his hot tears as he stood up, then emerged from the shower. He yanked open the cabinet above the sink and rummaged through the collection of shit they kept inside. Nam-gyu had thrown away the initial razor he had used during his attempt, but it didn’t take him long to find another. It was hidden behind a box of toothpaste, left purposely in case of an emergency.

He glanced at it, trying to weigh his decision.

Just do it, you’ll be doing everyone a favour. It isn’t like this shitty life is worth sticking around for. You know what your worth is, after all. You were born as nothing and you will die as nothing.

Thanos swallowed the knot in his throat before stepping back into the shower. He sat against the edge of the tub, relishing in the slight comfort of the warm water washing over him. He glanced at the mess of scars he’d accumulated over the years.

It was as he sat there that a sudden memory from the games had hit him.

When they’d first begun, the guards had run through the list of videos recorded of everyone during their recruitment. When Thanos’ had played, there were these looks of disapproval that had been shot his way. It was shameful and humilating—he couldn’t get rid of the burning sensation in his chest every time someone glanced in his direction. No one knew of or understood what he was moments away from doing as the camera had rolled. Curiosity was what got him to hit the pause button.

The burning feeling of shame always returned, each time he was forced into being around a group of people. Fake smiles weren’t assuring enough—everyone knew something was wrong with him. They know who you are, that vicious voice screamed. They’ll always know, no matter how hard you try to hide or cover up.

Thanos lowered the razor and pressed it against his wrist. It was so easy to just pull the plug on himself, to not give a shit. Sure, there were consequences, but they’d only be brief if he actually did the job right. His mother always used to push him into doing things “the proper way.” He’d never done that, not once—but maybe now was the right time to change that.

The metal felt soothing against his skin as he sunk it further into his skin. His hand trembled as he hesitated, moments away from swiping down. Just do it, that little voice urged.

Die, die, die, die, die you worthless piece of shit.

Thanos felt tears beginning to prick at the corners of his eyes for the second time.

“Fuck.”

Was he really backing out of this?

He thought about child Su-bong, and how disappointed he’d be.

Did we make it anywhere? Did you get better? Are you happy?

Thanos rose from the tub and tossed the razor into the toilet before flushing it away. “I’m trying,” he said aloud. For the first time, it didn’t feel like a total lie.

–

He had brushed his teeth and changed shortly after the shower.

When he entered the bedroom, he found Nam-gyu laying face down against the mattress. His phone was beside him with the messenger app wide open.

Thanos didn’t even have to glance at the name to know who he was talking to. He let out a sigh of frustration before tucking himself in bed. Of course, he’d go back to doing that shit again—but something between them felt different. Thanos couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but his gut urged him to actually read over the texts. He inhaled sharply, bracing himself for the worst as he did so.

Nam-gyu: i need a break

Gyeong-su: What do you mean?

Nam-gyu: i cant see u for a while. i just cant keep doing this

Gyeong-su: Why not, what’s up????

Nam-gyu: I SAID I JUST CANT

Nam-gyu: it’s none of ur fucking buisness anyway

Gyeong-su: Ok, but after screwing me a few times I feel like it is.

Gyeong-su: You can’t just walk away from someone

Gyeong-su: Or are you just used to doing that all the time?

Nam-gyu: fuck you, seriously

Nam-gyu: i just love him, alright?

Gyeong-su: Isn’t he a total nutcase? What do you even love about him?

Gyeong-su: I can give you better

Nam-gyu: i love him.

Nam-gyu: dont contact me for a while

Thanos’ eyes watered slightly as he set the phone aside, then scooted closer to Nam-gyu.

He loved him. Nam-gyu still fucking loved him. It felt difficult to believe, but maybe today had said more than anything ever had. The pain, the frustration, the fact that—despite everything—he was still here. Maybe as a shell of a person, but he was still here—and somehow, love won over the temptation to continue cheating.

“I love you too,” Thanos whispered, pulling Nam-gyu into a tight embrace. He was already fast asleep, but it didn’t stop him from repeating it over and over and over again until he was spilling tears. “Jesus, I never wanna fucking lose you,” Thanos cried, though his words fell on deaf ears.

Thanos held Nam-gyu like he was everything. He inhaled his smokey scent, relishing in the familiarity of it. Even though there was a gap between them, Thanos was determined to fix it.

They fell asleep together, limbs mingled with the occasional tossing and turning until morning came. Thanos had opened his eyes at around eight, squinting at the harsh sunlight that had seeped into the bedroom.

He instinctively reached for Nam-gyu, yearning to feel his warmth, only to find that the space beside him was no longer occupied.

“Nam-su,” he called, using the nickname that had originally brought them together. “Where the hell are you?”

Thanos sprung up from the bed once he had realised that Nam-gyu had really left. He felt his heart hammering in his chest as he raced around the apartment, desperate to find him. Fuck, all that had been for nothing. Why had he gotten his hopes up? This was it, wasn’t it?

When he got to the kitchen, he found Nam-gyu's phone and car keys on the table. He picked up the phone and ran through his messages, only to find that they were exactly how he had left them last night. Nothing new, no signs of anything. 

Maybe he hadn’t left.

Something urged Thanos to check in a place he was hoping to avoid: the roof.

He left the apartment in his pjs and scurried up three flights of stairs before reaching the top. When he opened the door, he let out a sigh of relief, but it didn’t last for long.

Nam-gyu was there, smoking a cigarette—but he was inches away from plummeting to his death. He stood silently on the edge, staring nonchalantly at the drop below. Thanos’ heart rate quickened as he approached him.

“Nam-su? The fuck are you doing up here?” He paused for a moment before adding, “you got me scared, man.”

Nam-gyu offered him a look that was cold and distant. He exhaled a plume of smoke, then gestured towards the many butts scattered across the pavement.

“What’s it look like? I came up here to smoke.”

Thanos’ hand trembled slightly as he reached out in desperation.

“Yeah, but why here? Why not in the apartment?”

Nam-gyu shrugged, flicking away the filter before lighting another. “‘Cause, I like the view.” He inhaled, then glanced at Thanos coldly. “Long way down.”

Fuck no, he wasn’t going to do this to him. He wasn’t here for that shit. Thanos extended his hand, offering him a pleading look. “Come down here,” he begged. “You don’t gotta do this shit."

Nam-gyu snatched his hand away, spilling ash between them. 

“Fuck off,” he snapped. “It was peaceful up here until you decided to show up.”

Thanos balled his hands into fists, his frustration skyrocketing. He felt his heart hammering in his ears, his pulse visible in his vision. He wondered if this was what Nam-gyu felt every time he pulled some risky shit. Maybe it was revenge—that this was his way of getting back at him.

So this is what it looks like… to gamble with your life.

He felt a surge of guilt washing over him as he stepped back, watching helplessly as Nam-gyu continued standing there, smoking until there was nothing left of his cigarette. Thanos’ breathing became ragged as he waited for him to come down, but he didn’t—not even after he finished.

Thanos watched in silence as Nam-gyu stared blankly into the distance. His hair rustled behind him, and for a moment, Thanos thought he looked simply angelic despite his true nature.

“Please,” Thanos begged, desperate.

Nam-gyu didn’t offer him so much as a glance.

“Beg again, and I’ll take a step forward.”

Thanos felt helpless. I can’t stop him, he realised. That weak minded mentality was what won over as he waited, hoping that things would somehow turn around. He tried not to cry, swallowing down the knot in his throat. Goddamn it, his mother had been right all his life. He understood why no one wanted to be around someone who was suicidal.

Suicidal.

Up until now, that term only applied to one of them.

As soon as the realisation hit him, Nam-gyu stepped back from the ledge and dusted his pants off.

“Let’s get moving,” he said as though he wasn’t inches away from plummeting to his death.

Thanos wiped away his tears as he followed behind, descending down the stairs. He didn’t say anything, because he knew what it felt like to be lectured. He knew what it felt like to offer false promises. The truth was in front of him, and he had no one but himself to blame for it.

–

Their camping plans were somehow still intact.

Nam-gyu had mentioned that he used to be into sports years ago. Some of them took place outdoors, where he was required to spend his nights sleeping in the same setting he’d worked his body in. He had a camping tent big enough to fit three people, along with a futon fit for two.

Thanos helped him load up the car as they carried their essentials into the trunk and backseat. They’d packed a few pairs of clothes and taken a cooler. All that was left was a stop to the convenience store to fill up the latter.

“Jesus,” Thanos said with a groan after slamming the trunk closed. “I ought to stop inhaling so much bullshit,” he said with a pant, his breathing strained from the slight exertion. His lungs ached for relief as he struggled to catch his breath. It was fucking pathetic.

Nam-gyu tossed over the keys, insistent on him driving.

“What are we getting anyways?” Thanos asked after they’d pulled away from the curb.

Nam-gyu shrugged. They hadn’t planned this well. It was a last minute decision and Thanos wasn’t sure if either of them really wanted it.

“Just some simple shit like bread, lunch meat and whatever canned goods can be conserved over two days.”

Nam-gyu smirked, but the expression was so brief, Thanos wondered if he’d hallucinated it. “Guess we could get some cheap booze too. Drink up like we used to.”

Thanos offered him a weak smile. The last time he’d gotten drunk, he regretted it—but with Nam-gyu, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

They arrived at a small convenience store a half hour into the drive. It sold just about everything they needed. They picked out a pack of buns, ham and cheese for sandwiches, a bag of ice for the cooler and some canned supplies like tuna and beans. They were all shitty choices, but none of that mattered. 

When they reached the register, Nam-gyu asked for the cheapest bottle of vodka. Thanos knew the taste was going to be unpleasant, but it wasn’t about taste—it was about what they’d get out of drinking it.

Just as they were about to pay, Nam-gyu slid out a few extra bills. Thanos glanced at him in confusion as he pointed towards the selection of cigarettes.

“Gimmie four of those,” he said, motioning towards the Marlboro Reds.

Thanos offered him a look, then whispered to him.

“Four? We barely have the funds for any of this shit. Isn’t that kinda excessive? I mean, Christ, we’ll only be gone for two days, max.”

That same thought from earlier hit him: you’re not the only one who’s suicidal.

He grabbed hold of Nam-gyu’s arm, desperate to knock some sense into him. “You’re gonna get cancer, for real,” he said, though his lines weren’t very convincing.

Nam-gyu instantly backed away, his brows furrowed in frustration.

“Like you’re that far off from me,” he snapped. “Who are you to give me some goddamn lecture about my health? You think you’re better than me, huh? What do you care anyway?”

Thanos bit down against his lip and pulled out the vape he kept in his pocket. He pressed it against Nam-gyu’s chest, his anger spilling over.

“Just use this in the meantime!” Thanos retorted. “Fuck you, seriously. God forbid I try caring about you.”

The clerk eyed them suspiciously before they paid for the rest of the items and left. Thanos glanced at Nam-gyu as he stared down at the flimsy vape before taking a long hit as they walked through the lot.

When they got themselves situated, Thanos began the drive again. It was awkward and tense—as always—but he was determined this time to do something about it. His grip against the wheel tightened, replaying the events of their morning thus far. God, it fucking hurt to think about.

“Yo,” Thanos said after debating what he should say. “You got some kinda death wish? The fuck have you been thinking about all morning?”

Nam-gyu didn’t respond. Thanos assumed he never would, because who was he to ever be open about his problems—when he took what was at least his fiftieth hit before responding.

“I’m fine,” he said after exhaling. “It’s not like I’m cutting up my wrist or starving myself like a girl.”

Thanos took that response personally. He knew what he was getting at—this was an indirect insult. It gnawed at him, but he kept silent. His hand trembled against the wheel as he struggled to keep his composure.

“Do you think you’re better than me?” Nam-gyu pressed. “I mean, seriously—take a look at yourself before you try to insinuate anything again. All I wanted was some fucking cigarettes, but for whatever reason, you made it into some federal case.”

He took another hit, then exhaled in Thanos’ direction. “You’re the one with like, twenty failed attempts.”

It took all of Thanos’ strength not to pull over and beat the shit out of him. Goddamn it, he really went that far. God forbid he tried to do better—to act like the boyfriend he knew he was supposed to be. Nam-gyu was set on keeping the distance between them, even after saying he loved him. What the hell was he doing? Thanos couldn’t understand his mentality.

One thing he knew for certain though, was that he couldn’t make Nam-gyu do anything he wanted. He knew this because if he was having the same thoughts as him, then it was easier said than done. Love didn’t fix suicidality—if it had, then they wouldn’t be in this position.

–

The campsite stood quietly amongst an endless mountain of trees. The two of them had paid a small entrance fee and drove up a steady dirt road that stretched on for a few miles. It was a peaceful scenery, one Thanos wasn’t used to seeing. Being surrounded by the beauty of nature was a contrast to the chaos he was constantly consumed by.

When they stopped driving, they had settled on a spot near a small lake within walking distance from them. There were no other campers within their proximity, making the spot a more ideal place to reside.

Thanos had glanced over to examine Nam-gyu. Things hadn’t changed between them during their ride. Thanos knew that if he even so much as opened his mouth, he would be met with a storm of insults. There was so much he wanted to say, but so little that came out. The tension and guilt ate away at him as he stepped out from the vehicle.

It didn't take them long to get their items out of the car. Not that there was much to work with—but Nam-gyu insisted on getting set up right away. He wanted to begin by setting up the tent. The two of them had hauled it out from the trunk and set down the tools they needed to pin it in place.

“I can handle it on my own,” Nam-gyu insisted as Thanos crouched beside him.

He felt the distance between them growing in size. That wasn’t meant to happen. The purpose of their trip was to somehow patch up the damage he’d left behind. Thanos was determined to fix it, so he rose to his feet and rummaged through the toolkit for some nails.

He had them in his grasp for no longer than ten seconds before stumbling and tripping over a small rock. The nails had fallen and scattered all throughout the dirt. Nam-gyu rose from his spot and pushed him out of the way.

“Jesus, didn’t I tell you I could handle it alone? You’re such a goddamn fuck up,” he spat, each insult piercing through Thanos’ heart. He was being so painfully unfair.

“You don’t have to be such a dick about it,” Thanos retorted. “You’re acting like I murdered a family of four, or some shit.”

He backed away and watched as Nam-gyu gathered the nails and began slamming them in place to secure the tent. Each movement grew more and more forceful. It made Thanos wonder if the hits he placed against the nails were originally aimed towards him—becasue that was how he dealt with his frustration.

By the time they had everything sorted, it had already stretched into the later part of the afternoon. Thanos pulled out his phone and glanced at the time—3p.m. Jesus, they’d spent half the day away and somehow, nothing had been resolved.

“Let’s just eat,” Nam-gyu suggested, gesturing towards the cooler.

Thanos nodded and sat against a thick log where they were set on eating their food.

They made sandwiches—ham and cheese. Thanos settled on eating just one as he watched Nam-gyu prepare at least three for himself.

“Fat fuck,” Thanos teased, but the joke didn’t land.

Nam-gyu glared at him like he was worth nothing more than dirt beneath his shoe. Thanos raised his hands defensively, then offered an apology.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, trying not to think of the times when jokes like these never felt like insults. When things were fresh, they got away with saying anything and everything to each other, but it never felt like a personal jab. The bond they had was so strong that no lines or words could ever come between them.

Thanos glanced at his sandwich, then briefly at Nam-gyu as he watched him eat with ease. His stomach churned in preparation for what was soon to come. He hated eating. It all seemed so pointless these days, especially when it felt like more of a consequence than fuel. Nonetheless, he forced himself into it, because that was what was expected of him—because he was trying so hard to be someone he knew he wasn’t.

Try not to think about how hard you’re fucking up, Thanos said to himself. Try not to let this mental shit win over and give him a real reason to leave. If he said he loved you, then it had to have meant something.

When they finished eating, Nam-gyu wasted no time in popping open the cheap bottle of vodka. He took a swig like it was nothing, like it was something he’d been needing. The bottle was large enough to last for at least two days, but with the way they were, Thanos knew it wouldn’t last the night.

“Drink up,” Nam-gyu urged after taking a few more swigs.

Thanos took the bottle and studied it. He knew that a few months back, getting drunk was something they did because they were looking to have fun—because being in each other’s presence while under the influence made it feel like they were the only two people in this world, like everything else was beneath them and that they were above all their problems.

Drinking now, with this kind of tension only reminded Thanos that they were doing it as a way to avoid feelings. Nam-gyu wasn’t willing to be open, but maybe if they were drunk enough, he could somehow push him for answers. He just had to be slightly more sober than Nam-gyu.

With some hesitance, Thanos tilted the bottle back and took a couple of gulps. When he pulled it away from his lips, he panted, feeling his stomach churn.

“Fuck, this is awful, Nam-su!” 

Nam-gyu grabbed the bottle and continued drinking despite his commentary.

“Yeah, well it does the fucking job,” he said, offering Thanos a weak smile.

He wondered if there was anything genuine about that soft look he had given him—if he was smiling because he wanted to or because he knew he was moments away from being under the influence.

“You remember those days we used to just get totally fucked up and make a huge scene?” Thanos tried, pushing to go over some pleasant memories.

Nam-gyu shrugged, then handed him the bottle.

“Vaugely. Dunno, I mean these past few months have kind of felt like a blur. We’ve gotten fucked up more than once, I can’t remember any specific memories.”

Oh, so that’s how it was.

Thanos swallowed down his hurt and frustration with the next swig. Each swallow felt like a fire gnawing through his stomach. He felt that familiar pain beginning to intensify as he felt the sting of rejection.

When they were about more than halfway through the bottle, Thanos understood that they were too drunk enough to care about being petty or to wallow in misery. He felt a pleasant haze rushing through his system, the kind of giddiness he’d been craving for weeks.

Nam-gyu looked like he was worse off than him. It was his plan, after all, but Thanos couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as he observed the way his breathing became strained and shallow.

“Fuck it,” Nam-gyu slurred. “Let’s go swimming… I wanna float around and shit.”

He barely gave Thanos the time to consider before he yanked off his shirt and stumbled over to the small lake.

Thanos’ vision swarmed as he forced himself to his feet and chased after him. His legs felt slow and heavy, like they were filled with lead as he struggled to follow behind. Nam-gyu was so close, yet so far from his grasp. He reached his hand out as though doing so would stop him from moving any further, but within the blink of an eye, he had somehow managed to make it to the lake.

When Thanos looked down, he noticed that he was already knee deep into the water.

How much did I have to drink?

Maybe he’d underestimated himself. 

Nam-gyu approached him and splashed him with water. There was this carefree look on his face, one Thanos wasn’t used to seeing. He looked at peace with this childlike enthusiasm he had partaking in something so simple.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Nam-gyu asked, like he hadn’t been moments away from putting a nail through his head.

Even though he had his doubts, Thanos nodded.

“Yeah, guess it does.”

He studied Nam-gyu. God, he was so fucking gorgeous. The way his wet hair fell onto his shoulders gave him a more feminine look, but Thanos didn’t mind. If anything, it was one of the many features he genuinely loved and appreciated.

Nam-gyu always had this unique look that separated him from all the girls and boys Thanos had been with throughout the years. He was charming, special—someone with a face he could never forget. Looking at him like this filled him with a yearning desire to be close again. To feel each other.

Thanos approached Nam-gyu and pulled him into a tight embrace. He expected Nam-gyu to pull away, to show some repulsion or disgust in their closeness—but he never did. Instead, he rested his head against his shoulders and remained still for a couple of minutes.

There was a slight tremble near the end, then a sensation of warmth down his shoulder which signified that Nam-gyu had been crying.

Shit, Thanos thought. This wasn’t meant to be a pussy cry off contest.

He felt tears beginning to prick at the corners of his eyes as he tightened his embrace.

“I don’t regret choosing to date you,” Thanos said with a slurred speech—but he was being honest. “I fuckin’ love you, so much… no matter what goes on between us.” He hesitated for a moment, waiting for a reaction, but when none came, he continued.

Fuck it, he wanted to keep going.

“You’re Nam-su— my Nam-su.”

Nam-gyu sighed, then pulled away. 

“You’re such a cornball,” he replied, smirking slightly. “But yeah, thanks. I love you too, I guess.”

Thanos studied Nam-gyu, wanting to believe his words. That specific line rarely ever came. Seeing it over text was one thing, but hearing it out loud, with this kind of closeness filled him with warmth and desire.

–

They left the lake about an hour later.

Thanos felt at peace after they emerged, dried off, then changed into a clean set of clothes. They’d been sitting by the camp fire, eating canned goods when Nam-gyu pulled out the bottle again. 

“May as well finish it,” he suggested.

Thanos didn’t argue. Even if it brought superficial relief, at least there was some relief. Anything was better than arguing, or fighting, or not saying anything to each other because those feelings of resentment were so strong.

The two of them passed the bottle around like it was water, taking long gulps like they needed it. When they were both finished, Thanos’ vision narrowed so severely he could barely see further than a few centimeters away.

“You fucked up?” Nam-gyu asked, stumbling the moment he rose to his feet.

It wasn’t Thanos’ intention to get this drunk, but it was that pleasant feeling he chased after that motivated him to keep going. Peace rarely ever came, he wanted to relish in it no matter the consequence.

“No shit,” he replied, smirking.

He forced himself up and instantly fell forward. Nam-gyu reached out and caught him before he could meet the ground.

“Guess we’re both drunks tonight,” Nam-gyu slurred.

The two of them struggled as they forced open the zipper to the tent and turned on the small lantern they’d brought with them. Thanos’ heart hammered in his chest as he lay beside Nam-gyu on the worn out futon.

“Fuuuuuuck, it’s so hot in here,” Thanos cursed, but it wasn’t so much about the stuffiness in the tent. It was the unbearable heat that was building in his chest. He moved closer to Nam-gyu, desperate to feel him on him. He let his hand roam somewhere near the waistband of his pants. It had been months since they’d been physical like this. Thanos wanted it more than anything.

He pulled his hand back and ran over the constellation of freckles on Nam-gyu’s skin.

“So beautiful,” he said softly.

Nam-gyu’s eyes softened the moment those words left Thanos’ lips.

He looked at him like he was worth something, like he was truly just everything to him. It was that same look he had seen at the start of everything, one Thanos had held onto in the hopes of things returning between them.

Without any warning, Nam-gyu grabbed hold of Thanos’ cheeks and pressed their lips together. The kiss was desperate and heated, fuelled by pure desire. They wasted no time, moving into things like the world was seconds away from ending—because they wanted to devour each other more than anything.

It never took Thanos much to get turned on. A simple kiss or a touch in the right place was enough. The whole concept of being able to do this again with Nam-gyu felt… surreal. He couldn’t process what was happening as they moved from a kiss, to taking their clothes off.

Thanos didn’t want to think about it. All he wanted was to feel, to have proof that Nam-gyu was still here, that they belonged to each other, that what they were doing was special, that it mattered.

“Fuck me,” Thanos begged, staring at Nam-gyu with pleading eyes.

Nam-gyu looked just as desperate as he shifted into a more comfortable position. Thanos felt no shame as he buried his face into one of the pillows and waited for Nam-gyu to move. 

If he thought hard enough, he could envision how things were during the first time they’d had sex. He could picture the way Nam-gyu had looked at him, could feel that same touch as before, could hear the sound of his yearning desire.

They’d settled on using precum for lube. Nam-gyu was already halfway there, and Thanos was desperate enough that he’d take his dick with or without the extra steps. He let himself melt into the sensation the moment Nam-gyu had entered him, letting a soft moan slip from his lips.

Fuck, it felt so good—better than any drug he’d taken in months. It was the kind of pleasure that reminded Thanos of when he’d lost his virginity. He’d been young then and inexperienced. Feeling this kind of pleasure felt like slipping into heaven.

The difference between this and then was that he was doing it with someone who mattered, not someone who paid him for it. Sex to Thanos had mostly consisted of mindless pleasure throughout the years he had offered himself to people—but it was supposed to mean more than just that. It was supposed to feel real, to be real. He didn’t want it to end.

When it finally did, Nam-gyu collapsed beside Thanos and pulled the thin sheet over their bodies.

“I love you,” Thanos said, but his line wasn't fuelled by just the aftermath of sex, or the lingering buzz in his head. It was mentioned because he meant it, because he wanted their hearts to stay connected. If he was getting another chance, then he knew it had to mean something.

Nam-gyu never replied, but he didn’t have to. He reached out and held Thanos’ hand to his chest.

They fell asleep like that.

–

Thanos woke up in the middle of the night with a violent hangover.

“Fuck, I forgot about how bad this shit feels,” he mumbled.

He slid the sheets off from his body, glancing in the spot Nam-gyu had occupied, only to find that it was empty. Thanos’ stomach churned at the sight. Maybe he went out to throw up. He wouldn’t have left him behind after doing what they did, would he?

Thanos rose and exited the tent, taking the lantern with him as he noticed a trail of footsteps leading to the lake. Something had urged him to check—it was that same feeling he’d gotten when he’d gone up to the roof that morning.

As Thanos walked, he noticed something unsettling lying near one of the bushes. When he crouched down, he realised that it was a small bunny, but it wasn’t alive. It had been ruthlessly gutted, with blood splattered beside it.

Thanos backed away and raced over to the lake, his nerves intensifying with every movement he made. By the time he reached it, he noticed Nam-gyu was sitting about an inch away from the water, but there was something off about him.

An eerie feeling floated through the air as Thanos hesitantly approached him. 

“Nam-gyu?” he called out in desperation, but there was no response.

Thanos approached him again. This time, he noticed that something was genuinely wrong.

In his hand was the hunting knife they’d brought with them. His hands were coated in blood, and to add onto that, they worked in a frantic panic, sawing away at his hair. When Thanos examined him further, he realised that most of it had been cut off.

Nam-gyu’s hair was short and choppy, giving him the appearance of someone who’d escaped from a mental facility. Something inside Nam-gyu had snapped, and Thanos knew he had only himself to blame for it.

With that thought in mind, Thanos backed away slightly, then hurled onto the ground. He let his built up hurt and frustration escape as tears slipped from his eyes. All he wanted was to fix things between them, but somehow, attempting to establish closeness only drove them further away.

When Nam-gyu had finished cutting the remaining strands away, he dropped the knife and crawled over to Thanos in desperation. He was on his knees as he clasped his hands together, shaking slightly as he forced out an apology.

“I’m sorry,” Nam-gyu tried. “About everything. I fucked up, really fucked up.”

Nam-gyu didn’t have to explain for Thanos to understand what he meant. The cheating, the abuse, the lies. He knew he was the reason behind him resorting to each of these things, but tonight, after doing what they did, Thanos realised that no efforts could ever fully repair the damage between them.

Even though there was a heavy pain in his chest, he knew not to ask questions.

Thanos knew better not to, because for the longest time, he’d been in his shoes—and it wasn’t until recently that things had changed.

Chapter Text

Thanos stood idly as Nam-gyu continued on with his breakdown. Tears spilled rapidly from his eyes as he rocked himself back and forth against the wet dirt. Fuck, things were really getting out of hand. Thanos was never one to provide people with comfort, the concept of that foreign on him as the breakdown escalated.

“I’m sorry,” Nam-gyu repeated, as though the apology would somehow mend things together again.

He wanted to believe him, to take his word and put everything behind them, but something about this was different. Nam-gyu had said a variety of different things to him, and in the end, none of them had made a difference—especially not I love you.

Thanos dropped down to the ground and placed a hesitant hand over Nam-gyu’s shoulder where he could feel his body trembling. What do people say to each other in situations like these? What Thanos was used to was getting a fist thrown in his direction or insults shot left and right whenever he was in a similar position.

What he had wanted was very different from what he had gotten.

“Hey man, you need to stop crying like that.” Thanos paused as he glanced around the rest of the campsite. No one was near them, but that didn’t mean that people couldn’t hear them from afar. If he cried loud enough, it might draw attention.

“It’s not really gonna make a difference,” he added.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he said, because if there was anything Thanos had wanted while being at rock bottom, it was the assurance that things would eventually blow over and get resolved.

Nam-gyu glanced up and wiped the snot from his nose with the back end of his sleeve. When Thanos got a good look at him, his stomach lurched. This was familiar, too fucking familiar. 

The way Nam-gyu had looked mirrored the appearance Thanos had while he was in the hospital. Desheveled, desperate and depressed. It was a nightmare—but the difference between them was that Thanos at least had people trying for him.

Throughout his life, multiple people had tried being of use to Thanos. Former friends, counselors at school, his mom, and even now, professionals—and what had he done with that? Absolutely nothing. Every conversation Thanos engaged in regarding the topic of seeking help resulted in an argument or having the person who tried getting pushed to the side.

Nam-gyu never had any of that. No one ever extended a hand to lend him their support. He had no friends, no family, no professionals—nothing. Thanos was all he had, and he needed him now more than ever.

It hurt to admit that he was responsible for the damage. No amount of sex, or drugs or drinking would ever resolve this. Nam-gyu had already been fucked by the world and its relentless cruelty, and Thanos was that final stab to the gut—a way to let him know that the universe would continuously toy with him.

What little personality Nam-gyu had at the start of it all was gone, replaced by this hysterical character who failed to keep himself grounded in reality.

You’re such a fucked up piece of shit, Thanos thought to himself. It’s all your fault.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” Nam-gyu said after taking a deep breath. He moved his hands to wipe away his tears, smearing the blood he had on them. He looked fucking insane. Seeing him like this stirred more emotions within Thanos.

Half out of impulse and half out of the fueled desire to do something other than staying useless, Thanos grabbed Nam-gyu by the arm and roughly brought him to his feet.

“Hey!” he protested as Thanos began to drag him through the empty trails. “Slow the fuck down,” Nam-gyu begged, but Thanos wasn’t listening.

When they had reached the tent, he shoved Nam-gyu inside and threw himself onto the futon. As he lay on his back, he observed Nam-gyu and the way he slowly let himself sink down beside him.

The air felt thick with tension until Nam-gyu backed away and moved onto the furthest end of the futon, creating a distance between them. Even though they were only a few feet away, it felt like they were miles apart.

Thanos turned off the lantern and rolled onto his side where he clutched at his pillow and brought it to his chest. He felt like the small, helpless person he’d been during his stay at the hospital. Nothing had truly changed, apart from the fact that they were only tearing each other to pieces, twisting the knife with every movement.

With a particularly tight squeeze, Thanos released an exhausted sigh, then silently cried himself to sleep.

–

Thanos woke to the sound of the tent zipper being undone.

He was half awake when he noticed Nam-gyu entering the stuffy space with a clean body. Apparently, he’d gotten up to wash away the blood. Thanos squinted to get a proper look at him, now that there was sunlight. 

His hair looked awful, choppy in all ends, but that wasn’t the focus of his concern. What got under Thanos’ skin was how drained he looked. How depleted of energy he was—that he’d morphed into this soulless person.

Unlike Thanos, Nam-gyu was never a person who outright declared what was wrong, but now, he didn’t have to. His silence said more than every scream, shout or cut that Thanos had made.

“You hungry?” Thanos asked, because he knew he had to.

Nam-gyu shrugged. “Sure.”

It wasn’t like they had much to eat, but that didn’t matter. Thanos forced himself up from the futon and headed for the cooler, where they kept their consumables. All they had left were some unused buns and canned beans. He didn’t bother to heat the beans as he popped open the can, then handed one to Nam-gyu.

The two of them sat near the extinguished campfire eating in silence. Every bite Thanos took was forced, strained with effort as he chewed then swallowed, the momentum grating on his nerves. Nam-gyu, on the other hand, ate like he’d been starved for days.

His hand trembled as he dug his spoon into the can and brought it to his mouth.

Nam-gyu never made eye contact with Thanos. Maybe it was stupid of him to expect it—that Nam-gyu would look at him and provide him with the assurance that things were indeed going to be okay. He was a fool for ever believing that. The avoidance sent an ache through Thanos’ chest. He wasn’t worthy of being spoken to, glanced at—he was nothing more than dirt beneath Nam-gyu’s shoe.

Well, what were you expecting? This was bound to happen eventually. You’re just a stain in his life.

Thanos shook his head as he attempted to get rid of the voice he knew was being truthful as he ate. He tried not to think about what they’d done the night before, the touches that were shared, the words, the feelings that were supposed to mean something. Thanos tried not to think about how much of it was a lie.

When they finished eating, Thanos barely gave himself the time to digest his food as he rose to his feet and dusted off his pants.

“We should go home,” he suggested. “Being out here isn’t gonna fix shit, plus—what if someone comes around and hears us? It’s not gonna look good. Fuck, I mean we could get kicked out.”

Nam-gyu dropped his spoon and glanced up at him, offended.

“You know how many times I had to be publicly humiliated by you?” he said with a scowl. “More than I can count with both fucking hands. And now you have the audacity to get embarrassed? Get fucking real.”

Thanos balled his hands into fists, then sat back down. He chose his next words with careful consideration.

“What I’m saying is, I think we should just handle this shit in private.” He reached out to run his fingers through Nam-gyu’s hair. “You’re not well.”

Thanos tried not to think of the small animal Nam-gyu had killed last night. Prior to the games, Thanos knew that Nam-gyu had killed other people before. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to, but that he’d gotten accustomed to so much violence that watching someone die became a new norm to him. 

His hands had never been clean of blood, but now he was crossing a line. Those days of taking lives—human or animal, were meant to be left behind. Thanos hated how much this scared him. 

Nam-gyu threw his face into his hands and sighed.

“Fuck it, fine,” he said after a beat.

The two of them got up and packed their belongings, trying to keep their emotions bottled inside. Thanos could see that Nam-gyu was cracking and bad. He was failing to keep his restraint, snapping at himself each time he dropped something, each time an object fell against him, each time they accidentally made eye contact.

Thanos held his tongue the entire time until they made it into the car. He kept his hands rested against the wheel before turning his head and offering Nam-gyu a sympathetic look.

He’d never been an empathetic person. Offering people empathy felt like a slap to the face. If he couldn’t get it from the one person he wanted it from, what point was there in giving it to anyone at all?

Throwing shit in people’s faces along with laughing at their problems always felt like an easier alternative—but when he looked at Nam-gyu, Thanos felt something shift in his heart, a need to do something, a need to try, a desire to. After all, Nam-gyu’s hollowness was a manifestation of the damage he’d caused and left behind throughout these past few months.

“I think…. I think maybe you should go to a hospital, get shit checked out,” Thanos suggested.

He knew hospitals weren’t the greatest, that his experience hadn’t helped him much, but at least it meant knowing that you wouldn’t be alone. Nam-gyu needed someone who could handle him with grace and understanding. He needed the attention Thanos was so clearly failing to give.

“I mean, sure it’s kinda like prison, but at least it means you won't be getting hurt in there.”

It took only a millisecond for the anger to register.

Nam-gyu grabbed Thanos’ arm and pushed up his sleeve, revealing the many scars that rested against his skin. He didn’t hesitate as he let go, then pulled up his own sleeve, revealing a clean arm.

“You see this?” Nam-gyu cried, comparing the two arms. “I’m clean! I’m not some fucking nutcase who sits around mutilating himself.”

He rubbed his arm around in his face, as if trying to assert superiority.

“The difference between us is that I’m not like you. Yeah, I did some fucked up shit, but I deserve better. Why do you get to get away with everything, but the moment I snap, it’s—oh! Let’s take you home, let’s send you away, let’s hide the problem.”

Nam-gyu rolled his sleeve down, then jabbed at Thanos’ arm.

“I’ve just had a rough couple of days, I’m fine.”

Thanos wasn’t buying it, he could see straight through his lies. He tugged down his sleeve and grit his teeth.

“How’d you feel when I was doing all this shit? How’d it make you fuckin’ feel?”

Nam-gyu grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

“You’re the reason why I’m like this! You’re the reason why I feel so much guilt and anger and sadness and every negative emotion in the goddamn book! I have to keep running away, trying to find solutions that aren’t there because I’m still with you, and for whatever reason—I can’t let go!”

Nam-gyu slammed his fist against Thanos’ chest, rambling on to no end.

“I was never enough to stop you. Hell, I’ll probably never be enough to stop you. I’ll never be capable of fixing you, or any of the shit that’s gone on between us.” Nam-gyu backed away, then buried his head into his hands. “I think I just need to go away.”

Thanos shook his head, letting the pain of Nam-gyu’s words ground him.

“It’s not your fault,” he admitted. “I did all this on my own—I’m the one who fucked up our relationship, who fucked myself up. You didn’t… you didn’t do anything.”

Thanos never mentioned the pain in his heart when he realised that Nam-gyu was cheating on him, or how much it hurt every time he laid his hands on him, or the sadness he felt knowing that they couldn’t sort things out, like normal couples did—because everything about them was the opposite of normal. They were two fucked up people trying and failing to be together.

He knew what the real solution was, but he never bothered offering it to Nam-gyu, even if Min-su had suggested it, and even if every Quora article on the internet told him to do so, they weren’t going to break up.

Thanos refused to let go despite all the pain.

He sighed, just about ready to put the keys into the ignition, when suddenly, Nam-gyu threw open his side of the door and stepped out. Thanos watched in confusion before Nam-gyu did the same for the driver’s side. He grabbed Thanos by the collar of his shirt and yanked him free from the seat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, they were doing this again.

Nam-gyu barely gave Thanos the chance to stand on his two feet before he shoved him hard—hard enough that he fell to the ground with a thud. Nam-gyu straddled him, lifted him again by his collar, then delivered a hard punch against the side of his face.

Thanos’ vision went blank as the sudden force drew him away from reality. He could see faint spots forming between his vision before Nam-gyu lifted him up again and repeated the motion; this time, knocking him straight against the nose. He could feel a warm trickle of blood sliding down his skin.

“Fuck off,” Thanos rasped, realising that talking things out only meant that he was asking for this. 

In having serious conversations, Nam-gyu would have to become aware of the damage they’d inflicted on one another, and he wasn’t ready for that conversation. In fact, it was one he never wanted to have at all.

“No,” Nam-gyu bit back before hitting him again.

With blurred vision, Thanos attempted to defend himself, aiming a punch towards Nam-gyu, but hardly possessed the strength to make it land. He had his malnourished self to thank when the punch crossed over in the direction opposite of Nam-gyu.

God, everything hurt so fucking bad. 

Thanos’ vision swarmed more intensely with darkness, his sight growing narrow as the punches continued. Nam-gyu was relentless, unwilling to give up even as his knuckles split, even as Thanos let out a strangled breath, unable to fight back.

His chest was tight and heavy, every breath he took ragged and strained. Thanos had given up when he realised that he had no strength, he’d been helpless all along; maybe all throughout his life. That was the kind of person he was: weak, pathetic, ugly.

Lying here like this reminded Thanos of the camping attempt he made with his father. They’d done it as a way to bond and connect, and in the end, it resulted in a violent disaster. Fifteen years later, nothing had changed.

Maybe his child self hadn’t deserved to be beaten and nearly shot to death, but the person Thanos was now, did. He wasn’t worthy of anything good. Not now, not ever.

Thanos wondered how long it would take to lose consciousness as the blinding pain assaulted his senses. Nam-gyu had punched him more times than he could even count as he lay there, feeling his blood drip down and soak through his collar.

He let out a strangled cough before Nam-gyu eventually stopped. He grabbed Thanos by his throat, keeping him locked in a choking position before spitting against him.

“I hate you.”

Funny shit. Twelve hours ago, you said otherwise. Twelve hours ago you made it seem like I was your world. And here we are now.

Thanos didn’t respond. He smiled as he grabbed hold of Nam-gyu’s hands and held them tighter against his throat, daring for him to finish the job. He didn’t bother to. 

Nam-gyu got up, kicked him against the side of his ribcage, then sank down beside a small tree a few feet away to sob. This time, Thanos let it happen. He knew it was all his fault, and he’d be nothing more than a hypocrite by offering his help.

–

Thanos was in no condition to drive.

He sat in the passenger’s side, pulling down the visor to get a glimpse of his appearance. To put it simply: he looked awful. His lip was busted, his eyes were swollen, and his nose was most certainly broken. Thanos winced as he brought a dampened piece of cloth to his skin, wiping away the remnants of blood. 

It had taken him twenty minutes before he’d managed to properly clean his face. Nam-gyu was still seated in the same place he’d been before Thanos had gotten up. He’d been crying earlier, but after a while, the tears had stopped, leaving him to sit with his shame and guilt.

Nam-gyu moved after another ten minutes had passed of waiting. He slid into the driver’s side and inserted the key into the ignition without a word. When Thanos glanced over, he noticed the blood staining his fists. He hadn’t bothered to clean himself up. Maybe he kept the blood as a reminder of how far they had fallen, of how irreversible the damage truly was.

Thanos didn’t question, they’d gotten to the point where he knew better not to. Trying was something that led them nowhere. He knew that no matter how much effort he put in, Nam–gyu wouldn’t bother to meet him halfway. The realisation stung, but Thanos let himself sit with that knowledge.

Halfway through the ride, he unbuckled his seatbelt and sank down into the seat. Thanos understood that he wasn’t someone worth saving. Everyone had made that statement so abundantly clear.

When they arrived home, Nam-gyu immediately split away from Thanos. He stormed over to the bedroom where he slammed the door shut behind him.

“Hey!” Thanos shouted, pounding his fists against the door. “You can’t just hide away like a fucking pussy.”

He slammed his palm against the door, desperate to get a reaction out of Nam-gyu, desperate for a sign, something, anything to let him know he was still there, still alive—Thanos was desperately clinging to something that wasn’t there.

When he was met with nothing but silence in return, he kicked the door, then shouted, “Go fuck yourself!”

Nam-gyu wasn’t going to fight back. The damage had already been done. Thanos stood there with his hands helplessly at his sides, defeated. The silence between them was deafening.

Feeling lost, Thanos moved into the kitchen where he observed the items they had brought back, discarded near the entrance. Neither of them were willing to clean up, the mess remained in an abandoned pile, just like the rest of their problems.

“Fuck,” he whispered, catching a glimpse at the box cutter he still hadn’t discarded. He felt the gnaw of temptation chewing through him as he stared at the lifeless piece of metal that had left him scarred and broken.

I shouldn’t, he thought to himself. Not like I made much progress, but fuck—I just wanna be normal.

Thanos balled his hands into fists, grit his teeth, then reached into the pocket of his pants for his cell phone. His fingers moved on autopilot as he navigated to Reddit, entering the password of an old throwaway account.

He’d been there before—asking people questions he didn’t have the courage to do in person.

Least painful way to die, how many milligrams of whatever he’d been high on would be enough to kill him, how many vapes lead to cancer, is it really peaceful after death? 

Then the most recent one: What’s it like to live with BPD?

His hands trembled as he searched for a board about washed up celebrities. It was fairly active, a sign that people didn't have much to do with their spare time, but a lot of the takes that were posted seemed accurate enough. Thanos always found celebrity drama unnecessarily stupid, but now he was using it as a last resort, as a final cry for help—as a sign that maybe, someone, somewhere out there still cared enough to remember him.

Thanos sighed as he typed up the post, feeling his chest tighten with nerves.

USERXXX: yo reddit? anyone remember that dude thanos? y’know, that rapper who named himself after the marvel character. curious about what y’all thought of him. lmk…

He threw his phone down and bit the edges of his fingernails, anxious. The answer he was hoping for was that someone would maybe piece together who he was, that it’d be enough to stop him from moving forward from what he had wanted, or what he thought he wanted.

Thanos had always been so dependent on people. Ever since he was a small child, he needed them around, needed people to fuel his ego with validation—otherwise, what was he? How would he know what his worth had accumulated to?

It didn’t take long for the comments to start rolling in. He held his breath, heart hammering in his chest as he read over each one.

USERXXX: Thanos? Yea, that guy sucked bigtime. Music was total dogshit, he was a real tryhard

USERXXX: heard somewhere that he whored himself out to get into the industry XDDDD that’s not talent, it’s just being desperate and horny

USERXXX: who?

USERXXX: iirc, he got into debt then disappeared???? No one knows where he went. Who knows tho, probs for the best. At least I don’t have to hear people glazing him anymore. Never got what the hype was, like just shut up already lol

USERXXX: tbh, people like him are just a waste of space in the industry. they never really get far. p sure he was on some hard shit too. maybe he od’d and died?? oh well, not surprising. was bound to happen eventually. such a loser

Thanos’ eyes watered as he read over each of the comments—the last one sending waves of nausea down his stomach.

Oh well, not surprising. Was bound to happen eventually. Such a loser.

Even a stranger had seen through him. That’s all he was, a fucking loser. Someone who wasn’t memorable nor worthy enough of being cared for. He was reduced to just this: a washed up tryhard who’d fallen so far, he couldn’t even count as a celebrity.

He brought his hands up to his face and wiped away the tears of grief and despair. Thanos was alone, completely alone. He’d been this way all throughout his life, left to deal with things on his own because he was too reckless to let himself be helped, he’d paved a future like this all on his own.

There was still some time away before his next therapy session, but even that felt wasteful. Therapy wasn’t something that could fix or resolve his issues—he had to be the one to do it. Support or not, the burden was his. 

I have to choose if I want to get better.

Fuck that. He’d already fallen this low. It made more sense for him to be the person everyone knew him as while he reached for the blade.

Thanos lifted up the sleeve to his shirt and studied his scars. The wound from his attempt was nowhere near fully healed. It was still bright and swollen and looked borderline infected—but the nurse hadn’t said anything about that. He never commented on the scars surrounding that particular one, but maybe that was for the best. People had known enough, he was an open book case for them.

He slid the blade out from its plastic shell, the soft gleam deceptively comforting. 

Don’t do this, the saner voice in the back of his head screamed. But another one argued back, shouting at him to move forward with this.

If you hurt yourself, no one else will have to suffer. Not Nam-gyu, not your therapist, not Min-su—they’re all lying about caring for you. You’re not worthy of being treated like a human because you’ve never behaved like one.

“Shut the fuck up and let me do this in peace,” Thanos retorted. He couldn’t believe he was arguing with himself. Doing so reminded him of his father—that drunken man who often spewed nothing but bullshit. The apple really hadn’t fallen far from the tree.

Thanos pressed the blade against his forearm and gave it a quick swipe. 

He sucked in a breath, relishing in the pain as he watched the familiar sight of blood forming between the wound. God, it felt good to do this. He repeated the motion over and over, letting himself be grounded by the pain.

When he was about ten cuts in, Thanos moved from the kitchen table to the floor, where he sank down against the cool wood. He watched, feeling detached as his blood spilled and stained the ground beneath him.

The cuts were mildly severe. He hadn’t cut with suicidal intent, but even if he happened to hit an artery, he knew that panicking or reaching out for medical support was something that was beneath him. He didn’t care. Maybe he never had, and that attempting to fix himself had been nothing but a delusional lie.

Thanos closed his eyes, feeling the warm trickle of blood slip down his arm before he shut his eyes, and let out a sigh of relief. The moment he did so, he was met with that child version of himself.

Fuck no, he wasn’t in the mood for this shit again.

Why are you harming yourself? I thought you wanted something better? I thought you said you were trying? Did you lie to me?

Thanos snapped open his eyes and grabbed hold of his arm, desperate to stop the bleeding.

You’re such a disappointment, even to yourself.

He forced himself to his feet and raced over to the bathroom where he panted, yanking open the cabinet where he kept his medical supplies. Thanos barely gave himself the opportunity to breathe before he squirted a liberal amount of antiseptic onto the wounds. The pain burned, but it was a punishing kind of a burn. It reminded him of his mother and the methods she had for enforcing discipline. 

You shouldn’t have let yourself fall that far, this is what you get.

When he had finished, Thanos backed away from the bathroom and cleaned up the mess he had left on the floor. He hadn’t bothered to bandage the wounds, doing so added onto the pain. His arm throbbed, his face ached, and there was a painful twist in the depths of his heart.

After the evidence had been wiped away, Thanos rolled up his sleeve, glanced at the damage, then laughed. The thought of letting his therapist know about this crossed his mind, but he knew better. Seeing a therapist regardless of how kind they were felt like he was partaking in an act. These people could only offer so much superficial kindness.

Half out of impulse and half out of desperation, Thanos picked up his phone and navigated to his messaging app. His stomach churned once he had realised that Min-su had responded to him minutes after he had initially reached out—then sent a series of texts following that, checking in to see if he was okay.

He barely hesitated as he hit the dial open, then brought the phone to his ear. It had rung for no more than five seconds before Min-su responded.

“Hello?”

Fuck, it hurt to hear his voice again.

“Min-su? It’s me man, I just—I really need someone to talk to.” He paused for a moment, resisting the urge to burst into tears. “I fucked up. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your shit, it’s just—I went out and I forgot all about it, and I got caught up in whatever and I think I just…”

Thanos trailed off, slamming his palm against his mouth.

You goddamn idiot. 

They’d been on the line for all of a minute and already he was fucking up by dumping his shit onto the poor guy. When he brought the phone back to his ear, he heard the sound of Min-su’s voice again.

“Su-bong, calm down… Look, listen—I don’t know what happened… But if you need someone, I’m here. I promise, it’s fine. Really, it’s fine.”

Thanos shook his head. It wasn’t fine. Goddamn it, his recovery phase hadn’t even lasted a week before he backslid.

“I can’t… I can’t calm down,” he rasped.

There was a pause in between before Min-su spoke up again.

“Okay, tell me what happened,” he replied in a tone that was too concerned for it to be casual.

Thanos wasn’t sure if he wanted to give Min-su the full story. After all, they weren’t that close, but who else did he have? All throughout his life, he’d been wanting a friend he could confide in, someone to make him feel safe and worthy of being cared for. He let out a sigh, attempting to keep himself composed.

“I know you said to break up, but I stupidly agreed to go out with Nam-gyu thinking it’d solve shit between us, and it didn’t.”

He tried not to think too hard about the full depth of the damage that was caused.

“Nam-gyu had a breakdown, like… real fuckin’ bad. Never seen him like that before. I tried talking him out of shit after things calmed down a bit, but that only made matters worse.”

Thanos let out a bitter laugh before he continued.

“He beat the shit out of me, of course. I look like a mess. I mean, I’m always a mess, but now I’m someone else’s mess. And then… I guess you can piece together what happened when I got home. Shit fucking felt right to do—to hurt myself.”

He glanced down at his arm again, then smiled weakly.

“I’ve always felt really fucked up. Like, I dunno, no matter how hard I tried, I always knew in the back of my head that it wouldn’t make a difference. I’m just immune to all this recovery shit. I feel… totally worthless, like I gotta kill myself, you know? ‘Cause there’s just no way out, no solution. I’m a piece of shit who deserves to die.”

Min-su didn’t respond for a moment, and for a second, Thanos thought that maybe he’d given up, but instead, he was met with the sound of a door slamming, then,

“I’m coming over to see you.”

They hung up seconds later.

–

Min-su arrived about fifteen minutes later.

Thanos glanced out the door and watched as his tiny car pulled up near the curb. He didn’t bother to glance back as he slipped from the kitchen, then descended down the stairs until he was out front.

Min-su’s eyes widened in shock the moment he got a proper look at Thanos.

“Oh my God,” he began, but before he could finish the rest of his sentence, Thanos threw his arms around him and pulled  him into a tight embrace.

“Don’t,” he begged. “Don’t say a fucking word about this shit.”

Min-su patted his back in understanding, but that was all he had wanted. Thanos trembled in his arms, struggling to breathe as he let himself be coddled.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually said, letting his tears fall. “So fucking sorry.”

The truth was, his apology wasn’t entirely directed towards Min-su. It was towards every person he’d ever hurt, including himself. Min-su didn’t respond, but Thanos didn’t want him to. All he had wanted was a sign that someone was still there, that he was real, that he existed, that he was hurting, even if he didn’t want to.

He was still someone, and he was human.

Chapter Text

Thanos and Min-su remained intertwined in a hug for what felt like hours. The gesture brought Thanos slight relief, but not enough to soothe over his nerves.

Squashed between him, he could feel a slight tremble in Min-su’s body. Fuck, he was scaring the poor guy. Thanos had never been one for caring about anyone, but after putting Min-su into a position like this, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt.

“Sorry,” he apologised. “I don’t know why I called,” Thanos added, backing away slightly.

Even though he hadn’t given Min-su the full story on what happened between him and Nam-gyu, a part of him wanted to. The problem was that deep feeling of shame in knowing what confiding in someone meant. He’d have to put all his emotions on full display for someone he was certain hated him a few months back.

As if he read his mind, Min-su reached up and patted his shoulder.

“You don’t have to apologise, it’s fine.”

Stop saying it’s fine, dammnit, Thanos thought to himself. Nothing about this was fine, he was being nothing more than a burden, a humiliation to himself, a stain in Min-su’s life—a stain in everyone’s lives.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Despite his feelings of shame, Thanos never gave himself the chance to think twice on his answer before he nodded. Min-su gestured towards his car and opened the passenger’s side for Thanos. He slid in awkwardly, feeling his knees brush against the dashboard. The space was tight and suffocating.

Min-su slid into the driver’s side and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He opened the box up and handed both items to Thanos.

“It’s probably better to talk about it here in private. I don’t want anyone coming around and soiling it for you.”

Thanos didn’t say anything as he took the pack from him and lit a cigarette. He almost regretted the slight scene he had caused in the convenience store that day they had left for the campsite. He understood why Nam-gyu needed four packs of cigarettes to get through an outing with him. He was simply insufferable.

The two of them destroyed each other, they were detriments to one another’s health.

As Thanos smoked, he felt the tension in his shoulders alleviate. Even though he was in a small, tight space, being here with Min-su made it much more tolerable. Somehow, a man he’d barely gotten to know provided him with more comfort than the one he was supposed to be with and love forever.

“I hate that I’m here with you right now,” Thanos admitted, exhaling a plume of smoke. “I hate that I feel better around you than my fucking boyfriend.”

Min-su nodded like he understood before taking a cigarette and lighting one for himself. He cracked the windows slightly and waited for Thanos to continue.

“Ugh. I’m not good at this talking bullshit, you know? Like fuck, I wish I had the chance to do it with him, but he doesn’t care enough to do it with me.”

Thanos took a long drag, then stared at the cigarette resting between his trembling fingers.

“I’m not a good person,” he admitted.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure where else to start. Min-su already had knowledge of the type of person he was—that being kind and good just wasn’t true to his character. Nonetheless, he remained silent, urging Thanos to keep going.

“If you really wanna know the truth, I’m the reason why shit between us fell apart. I mean, I know you said before that I don’t deserve any of this, but let’s be real. If you knew all the shit I pulled, you’d probably change your mind.”

Thanos felt his lungs ache after he took his final drag, then flicked the filter out the window. He found himself reaching for another cigarette immediately after, despite the pain—beacuse pain was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“What did you do?” Min-su asked, but his tone wasn’t anywhere near invasive. It was gentle, soft, curious—like he wanted to know instead of demanding answers.

What did I do? I can’t wait to see that look of hatred and disgust on that fucking face of yours after I fess up.

Thanos chuckled before bringing the cigarette to his lips, relishing in the slight buzz of nicotine as he thought of where to begin.

“I used to be a real whore, always have been, ever since I was young. I slept around a lot, never thought about the consequences. Just did it ‘cause it felt good and I didn’t really give a shit.”

He paused, feeling some memories resurface.

“It was good for a while, then it went downhill… You know, living that kinda life isn’t really ideal. So when I met Nam-gyu, I obviously had to cut all that out. He was the first person I genuinely wanted to have meaningful sex with, someone that I didn’t see as just a source of pleasure. I really loved him.”

Thanos glanced over at Min-su, wondering if his expression had faltered—it hadn’t. He remained neutral, not a single hint of emotion in his face other than what looked to be slight concern.

“Anyway, we did a lot of shit at the start. Then one day, I thought it’d be kinda funny to throw around whatever I’d done before him. I used to make him feel small on purpose, ‘cause I got a kick out of it. He’s always been a jealous guy, always got mad whenever he saw me around other guys or girls. So when I did this, I studied him. I wanted him to react. I said he sucked in bed, that I’d rather be fucked by someone else, maybe even strangers. I’d tell him all the nasty things I did, and he hated me for it.”

Talking about this felt beyond shameful, but Thanos knew he had to get it out of his system. He had to now, because he knew he wouldn’t give himself the opportunity to later.

“If you think that’s shitty, guess what else I did?” he stopped for a moment, waiting for Min-su to ask.

Min-su sat upright and took a slow drag before tentatively doing so.

“What…?”

Thanos crushed his cigarette between his fingers, feeling suffocated by his shame.

“I mean, you know I’m all suicidal or whatever. Maybe now it’s depressing as hell, but a while back, I thought it was kinda fun to be this way. I mean, I’m no better than I am now, but back then, there was some thrill to it. Something about being miserable that got my blood pumping.”

He reached for his phone and scrolled through his photos where he had taken a picture of his left arm sliced up. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, but he showed it to Min-su for context.

“Used to cut myself like this in front of him. He’d get all scared and I’d start laughing. When he’d get mad, I’d feel… offended, I guess. Like it hurt that he’d get upset, but at the same time, I liked it because it meant that he was seeing me. So I used to pull shit like this often. I liked seeing him squirm, especially when I took huge risks. I tried killing myself a few times too, made sure he always had to clean up after me.”

Thanos felt his eyes water, understanding fully that he’d been the problem the entire time.

“Y’know, he was good to me at the start. Never did anything wrong apart from getting a little too clingy and annoying from time to time. But he never hurt me—not until after I started doing this shit. Every interaction we had was like some kinda test on who could snap faster. If I cut myself, he’d hit me and the pain would hurt more than the damage I’d inflict on myself.”

Min-su’s lips pressed into a flat line. There it was, that look of disapproval.

“I liked hurting him, I liked putting him through hell. He used to get so scared sometimes. I’d even seen him praying a couple of times, even though he’s an atheist. I guess, for me he wasn’t. But fuck, I mean he’d even get these dreams about me, even on nights when we were okay. He’d be like… Su-bong, Su-bong, Su-bong, crying in that little tone of grief and desperation.”

Thanos smirked, pinching the skin of his hand.

“And I fucking loved it. I loved the attention. Loved all of that. And now… well, look at me. I went to the goddamn hospital a while ago because things got too out of hand. It’s weird though, because since then, I think I’ve been more aware. But that doesn’t erase what I’ve done, it doesn’t change a damn thing. It’s my fault.”

He sank back into his seat and reached again for the pack, trying to suppress his need to burst into tears. God, this was a mistake. He said too much, showed too much. As Thanos lit his third cigarette, he wondered what Min-su would do with this information. He hadn’t said a word since he started talking.

Thanos took a drag, then exhaled through his nose, glancing over at Min-su who’d already finished smoking. He held his hands in his lap and stared straight ahead before turning to look at Thanos.

The moment he did, his expression softened, unable to conceal his emotions any longer.

“I’m sorry you’ve been through so much,” he said in an earnest tone. “Obviously… you’re in a lot of pain and I—I mean, I can’t really relate to that extent, but I understand. We’re both humans, you know? We feel stuff and it hurts.”

Min-su’s reply only agitated Thanos further. He grabbed hold of his collar and shook him, tears falling down his face.

“How could you say that!? How could you feel sorry for me after all the shit I told you! I’m a goddamn monster, I’ve fucked everything up and then you hit me with this I’m sorry bullshit? Why don’t you just spit in my face—hit me, say something nasty like everyone else?”

Thanos knew that Min-su wasn’t obligated to say things like this. After all, he wasn’t a mental health professional. He was barely even a friend, yet somehow, he offered him more sympathy than anyone ever had despite the way he’d been treated in the past.

“You wanna know why my face is all fucked up? It’s because Nam-gyu broke down unable to carry the weight of all the shit I put him through. We went out camping or whatever ‘cause I thought maybe it’d fix things between us, but it didn’t work, and that’s because I was there, holding him back just by being in his presence.”

Min-su grabbed Thanos by his wrist, desperate to calm him down.

“Su-bong, please—”

Thanos immediately pulled away.

“No! Don’t start with that. C’mon, say I’m a piece of shit. Do it, say it and maybe I’ll shut my mouth. Or better yet, just fucking hit me. Just give me a sign that you get it. He’s like this with me because he should be. And no matter what you say, I’ll probably always believe that.”

He brought his hand to his cheek and let the damage from earlier truly sink in. Yeah, Nam-gyu had beaten the shit out of him, and maybe he felt hopeless about everything while it had happened, but what else was he expecting? That going camping would fix the hurt—that they’d come back hand in hand suddenly ready to make love and heal again like those couples did on TV?

Thanos was nothing more than a delusional fool for ever thinking that. Whatever they had in the past was gone, and no matter how many beatings he had to take, he had no one but himself but to blame for it.

Fuck Min-su, fuck his therapist, fuck all the Quora and Reddit posts telling him to leave—that he deserved better, that he was hurting. Thanos didn’t have the right to walk away, not after everything.

“I just… I can’t,” Thanos gasped, struggling to keep his composure.

He took a desperate drag, inhaling like the smoke was the oxygen he needed to breathe, only to cough out the lungful he’d taken in. Thanos’ stomach churned the further his thoughts spiraled.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, realising that he was pushing away someone who had wanted to care—someone who was kind out of their own freewill, not because they were paid, not because they were bored searching through forums on the internet.

This was real, Min-su was real.

Min-su didn’t respond. He reached out and grabbed Thanos’ free hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He relished in the warmth of Min-su’s grasp—how soft and comforting it was during the midst of his hysteria.

Thanos let himself have one final drag before tossing the pack back into the glove compartment. He wanted to relish in genuine comfort, not the artificial, cancerous one.

As he studied Min-su, he realised he was staring at him with compassion and understanding. His heart swelled at the sight. Someone was being kind to him, someone cared enough to be kind, to be gentle, to offer him their time. Min-su was someone who was genuine, someone who meant what he was doing.

Is this what it’s like to have a real friend?

Thanos swallowed as he felt a wave of feelings resurface. His heart pounded in his chest, yearning for something more. This was desire in its purest form. Min-su was the kind of person Thanos knew was good for him. This thought alone caused him to pull his hand away out of grief.

They couldn’t be together—Thanos would end up ruining him, just like he had with Nam-gyu. Then the guilt would never end. He buried his hands beneath his sleeves and glanced out the window.

“Stop being so nice to me,” he mumbled. “Shit just makes everything worse.”

Along with the guilt, Thanos understood that he was being a burden. Being put through situations like these was nothing more than a hassle, especially for someone as emotionally sensitive as Min-su. He was only taking advantage now, just like always.

“I’m not,” Min-su replied. “I’m just doing what I think is right…”

Thanos’ heart swelled for the second time. Fuck, kindness had always been his weakness. He hated himself for feeling this way, for letting such a simple gesture mess with his head. Despite his feelings, even though he’d threatened to cheat in the past—in the end, he knew he couldn’t do it.

Stop getting all gushy over someone you can’t have, he thought to himself. It’s not right.

Deep down, despite everything, he knew he still loved Nam-gyu.

You’ve got a funny way of showing it. If you really did, you would’ve never pulled all this shit.

That final thought was enough to make his stomach churn. Thanos pushed open the door and retched onto the pavement. The vulnerability, the closeness, the guilt was enough to make him feel ill. He got up and knelt against the asphalt as he retched again, struggling to catch his breath. It wasn’t the first time Min-su had seen him like this, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last.

“It’s alright,” Min-su said, trying to offer assurance. He knelt down beside him and rubbed soothing circles along his back. “I promise, you’re fine.”

He wanted to believe Min-su’s words, wanted to accept his kindness—but deep down, he knew he couldn’t. All of this was superficial. Sure, the comfort felt nice, but it wasn’t coming from the person he wanted it from. Being comforted by someone who wasn’t his boyfriend filled him with a deep sense of longing and loneliness. He wanted to hear those words from Nam-gyu, wanted to wrap his arms around him and know that somehow, they’d be able to patch things up again.

Thanos understood that his “friendship” with Min-su was bound to fail, like everything else. Nothing about them would ever last because no matter what he did, he always found a way to sabotage things. That was just the type of person he was.

He’d never be able to feel anyone’s warmth, especially not Nam-gyu.

Not like you deserve it.

“I can’t do this shit,” Thanos admitted, rising from the pavement, pushing Min-su away. “I’m just gonna slit my wrist or something,” he mumbled without much thought.

Thanos hadn’t realised what he had said until he felt Min-su’s grasp on him again, grabbing him tightly by the wrist. His eyes widened in desperation, pleading for him to stay.

“Don’t do it, please—it’s not going to fix anything.”

He pulled his hand away and snapped, letting his anger resurface.

“Fuck off,” he retorted, shoving him hard enough that he stumbled slightly. “Just let me do this shit. Let me fuck myself over in my shitty little apartment where I can bleed out in the kitchen. Leave me the hell alone.”

Min-su’s expression faltered slightly, each word cutting through him like a sharp blade. Thanos knew exactly what to say, how to make him hurt. After all, he was experienced in self-sabotage. He didn’t deserve to be around anyone.

Truthfully, he knew he was doing Min-su a favour. It was better to push him away now, than have him get hurt in the future. Just leave and spare yourself the hassle. They weren’t meant to be this close in proximity.

Min-su’s brows furrowed, and for the first time, he looked genuinely upset. He grabbed hold of his wrist again and kept him locked tightly in place.

“You don’t have to do this shit,” he cursed, throwing Thanos off with his language. “You don’t have to destroy yourself!”

When he glanced down at him, Thanos realised that he was bordering on tears. He was really desperate now, pleading in a manner he couldn’t comprehend. It reminded him of how he had been a while back, when they had gone to the bar. Min-su had lended his shoulder for him to lean on while he was out of his mind drunk, lost in the familiar cycle of self-loathing and sabotage. He was doing it again. 

He felt so guilty. For years, he’d been nothing but a mental case to everyone who knew him. Min-su was no exception.

Thanos felt a wave of exhaustion crash over him as he collapsed onto the ground, too exerted to even shed a single tear. He watched as Min-su sat beside him, his patience as strong as ever.

“I just wanna end my shit,” he confessed.

He was being honest, more than he had been with his therapist. Min-su got to hear the full story on everything, Min-su got a full picture on who he was.

“You should come over to my place for a bit,” he said after patting his shoulder. “I can help you clean up. Se-mi isn’t home, she’s at work.”

Thanos glanced up at him with tears in his eyes.

“How could you be so nice to me? I mean, I don’t get it. Seriously, you should just fuck off and leave me here to rot.”

Min-su offered him a soft smile, but it wasn’t the phony, pity smiles he was used to. It was one of warmth and understanding.

“I don’t know, maybe I should—but I don’t want to.”

Thanos wasn’t sure what to say. Without a word, he rose from the pavement and slipped back into the passenger’s seat, defeated.

–

The two of them arrived at Min-su’s apartment a few minutes later. It was peaceful and quiet and smelt of freshly baked cookies. When he walked into the kitchen, he caught sight of a plate resting against the counter.

“Would you like one?” Min-su offered, gesturing towards the pile.

Thanos shook his head, resisting the temptation.

“I’m good, thanks.”

Min-su grabbed him by the hand and led him over to the bathroom where he closed and locked the door behind them. The sound of the click locking was enough to keep Thanos grounded.

“Let me see your arm,” said Min-su firmly.

Thanos sucked in a breath, hesitant as he glanced down at his sleeve. Slowly, he reached down and yanked his sleeve back, allowing Min-su to assess the wounds. He winced as the glued fabric parted from his skin.

“Oh,” he said softly.

Cutting had become such a regular occurrence in Thanos’ life that he’d gotten accustomed to seeing keloids and gaping wounds. He’d forgotten that to the average person, a sight like this was simply mortifying. He watched as Min-su’s face contorted slightly in discomfort.

“Um… I know it’s not really my place to say, but don’t you think you should get stitches? This looks pretty serious.”

Thanos shook his head. He’d just gotten his last set of stitches removed. He wasn’t going through the hassle of getting them done again.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. “Just patch me up or whatever.”

Despite his look of sadness, Min-su never pushed. He nodded once, then reached for a first aid kit where he disinfected the wounds, then wrapped a bandage tightly around Thanos’ arm. The motion hurt, but not in a bad way. When he was finished, Min-su patted his arm slightly, causing Thanos to squirm. He wanted to relish in the final touch he had offered, running a thumb over his scarred wrist.

“Sorry,” Thanos said, hanging his head in shame.

He felt like a little kid again, being tended like this—but it wasn’t so bad. At least he knew someone was tending to him with good intentions. He did the same with his face after asking what he had cleaned himself with. When Thanos had told him he’d used only a cloth, Min-su went in with a cotton ball and dabbed away the dried blood, applying small bandages in areas where his skin had split.

“I’ll clean up the mess,” Min-su said when he had completed the job, gesturing towards the bloodied balls of cotton.

“Sure. Thanks,” Thanos spluttered out awkwardly. He walked away, then buried his head into his hands after he had left the room. “Fuuuuuck,” he whispered. This was beyond embarrassing.

He let himself wander around the small space, examining each room with curiosity. They’d all been tended to with care, each of them neat and organised. Thanos almost envied Min-su for being able to keep a clean place of living.

When he reached what looked to be a bedroom, he hesitated slightly when he heard the soft sound of a TV playing. Out of curiosity, he twisted the door handle, and let himself inside.

Seated on the bed was a small girl, no older than eight years old. She had her attention tuned towards the TV until she spotted Thanos entering.

“Sorry!” he said, backing away slightly, but the young girl raced over to his side and grabbed the back of his shirt, preventing him from leaving.

“Aww, don’t go,” she wined, desperate. “I wanna new friend.”

Thanos hesitated. When he was a teenager, his family hadn’t trusted him to be around his younger cousins because they all knew what a fuckup he was. No one wanted their children to be around such a bad influence like him, but somehow, this kid wanted his attention. She chose him.

With a sigh, he let himself be dragged over to the double sized bed and took a seat against the edge of the mattress, staring straight ahead at the TV which had a children’s cartoon playing in the background.

“What are you watching?” he asked, hesitant.

The young girl smiled back at him. “It’s a show about friendship,” she explained. “Today I learned what it means to have a real friend.”

That makes two of us, Thanos thought to himself. He offered her a weak smile, then nodded.

“What’s your name?” she asked, desperate to keep the conversation rolling.

Thanos sighed. “Su-bong. What’s yours?”

“Na-ri.” She held up her hand and offered him a high five. He reached out and let their hands clasp in a friendly gesture. “Do you have a lot of friends?” she asked.

He shook his head in response. “No, not really.”

Na-ri looked sad for a moment, then offered him another cheery smile. “I’ll be your friend!”

Thanos wasn’t sure what to say. He felt his stomach churn again, seeing a child this enthusiastic over his presence. He buried his head into his hands and sighed, struggling to keep his composure.

Don’t fuck up again, not here, not now. Not in front of some kid. Keep it together.

When he glanced back at her, he noticed her expression had faltered. She wasn’t smiling anymore. It didn't take Thanos long to realise why.

His sleeve had ridden up, revealing the scars on his right arm.

“What happened to you?” she asked, gesturing towards the scars.

Thanos wasn’t sure what to say. For fucks sake, he was in the presence of a little kid. This wasn’t something he should be honest about, it felt too shameful. It wasn’t anyone’s business.

“I’m just sick,” he confessed, giving her the partial truth.

She looked even sadder after he had made his confession. Thanos was desperate to redirect the conversation again. “But uh, you can think of me as a tiger with stripes.” He brought his hands up to make imitation claws.

Na-ri offered him a smile again before turning her attention back towards the screen.

Seeing a kid like this reminded Thanos of when he’d been her age. Back then, he’d been decent. Every now and then, he got into trouble, but it was never anything serious. He was always curious about everything—always had something to say, something he wanted to know.

He used to be sweet before he got involved with the wrong crowd. He felt his heart shatter at the sight of someone so innocent. Those days were gone—he knew he’d never be “himself” again. He wasn’t kind, he wasn’t cute—he wasn’t anything but lost and fucked up.

Min-su entered the room before Thanos had the chance to let his thoughts spiral. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment once he realised that the two of them were together.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised. “I forgot to tell you I’m babysitting my little cousin. She’s kind of a handful, sorry if she said anything… mean, I guess.”

Thanos shook his head. “It’s not a problem, she’s been fine.” He got up and gave Na-ri a little wave. “I’m gonna go talk to your cousin.”

She gave him a thumbs up, then turned back towards the screen. Thanos took that as a sign to leave before he was dragged back into a conversation again, or before he scared the poor kid away with his scars.

The thought of being small again was enough to push him into a state of tears again. As he followed Min-su out, his vision blurred, his chest tight with the struggle to breathe.

When they were a good distance away from the bedroom, Thanos let himself break down, collapsing against the wall. “I’m sorry again,” he tried, desperate to somehow patch things up again. He knew he was being more than what Min-su could handle, and he was desperate to get himself out of that situation.

“I’m such a fuck up,” he admitted. “Your cousin asked me about my arm and I said I was sick. Who the hell is that honest? Jesus—I just wanna disappear.”

Thanos’ shoulders shook, feeling the weight of everything crash against him. It was embarrassing, being here in this situation.

Stop letting everyone know you’re nothing but damaged goods. Man up and take care of shit yourself.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he added, his voice cracking. “I mean for fucks sake, the last time I was here, I almost raped you. How the hell are you okay with letting me back in? You should be angry with me for it, furious.” Thanos jabbed his fingers against Min-su’s chest. “You don’t have to bend over backwards for me, it’s not necessary.”

He felt humiliated, being here like this when he understood that the hospital was a more ideal place for him.

“I’m done for the day,” he said with a sigh. “I appreciate all the care and shit, but that’s enough. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Thanos made his way towards the door, but before he could leave, Min-su grabbed him and yanked him back. 

“You don’t have to do this… you don’t have to walk away.”

He flinched as Min-su grabbed his hand and gave it an assuring squeeze.

“Look, you can stay here if you want. Maybe it’s not a good idea to go home again… Se-mi won’t be back until later. You should rest up, there’s enough space for everyone.”

Thanos shook his head. He knew better, he couldn’t do this.

“I’m leaving,” he stated firmly.

Min-su frowned, then sighed in defeat.

“I know I can’t stop you from leaving, but if you’re going to go home, will you at least reach out if you feel like harming yourself again?”

Thanos smirked. He couldn’t. Min-su’s kindness felt overwhelming in a way that made him want to push him away even further. Why when all he had done was offer him compassion?

Because it’s in you to fuck everything up—you goddamn loser.

Worthless piece of shit.

The cocky smirk didn’t last. Thanos’ heart shattered upon realising that he really didn’t want to go home again. His chest hurt with every breath he took—from the bruising Nam-gyu had left behind after pushing him, then sending his foot against his ribcage.

It was fear that caused him to hesitate on leaving, but also—fear was what kept him from staying.

“Nam-gyu hurts me, but I love him,” he confessed, observing the way Min-su’s expression shifted. He looked genuinely angry, frustrated by his words and unwillingness to recover. If it wasn’t anger, then it was most definitely disappointment.

“How could you say that?” Min-su snapped. “How can you be okay with someone who makes you feel so bad all the time?”

Thanos laughed.

“You wouldn’t get it.”

He didn’t belong here, he needed to leave. Min-su was too kind, too good, too normal. No matter how hard Thanos tried, he knew they’d never be on the same page. He wasn’t meant to be like Min-su—he was meant to be with people like Nam-gyu; people who never stood a chance at obtaining a normal life.

Nam-gyu was the only person he belonged with.

Despite all the pain and abuse and hardship, they were in the same boat. The truth was that they were fucked up, and fucked up was all Thanos would ever be.

He pulled himself away and slammed the door shut, letting that final thought sink in.

Chapter Text

Thanos hardly flinched as he let the door behind him slam. The sudden sound echoed loudly in the hallway of Min-su’s apartment. He felt his chest rising and falling as he struggled to breathe, frantically gasping for air.

“Shit,” he mumbled, leaning against the wall, feeling his emotions crash over him.

He’d destroyed another perfectly good opportunity at a healthy relationship with someone. Not that it mattered, he never stood a chance at maintaining one to begin with. Min-su was kind and warm and everything he had wanted in someone, but he knew better. Min-su wasn’t Nam-gyu. In the end, he'd only cause more harm than good. He let out a bitter laugh, letting that thought roll over.

When Thanos pulled away from the wall, he took the stairs down until he reached the front exit. He let out a sigh of exertion once he’d managed to make it outside. His hand instinctively reached for the vape he always kept in his pocket only to remember that he’d given it to Nam-gyu when they had left for their trip.

Fuck.

It wasn’t anything expensive or meaningful. Relying on something like that was childishly stupid. Thanos knew well enough that keeping himself chained to an addiction of flavoured air was absurd—but that wasn’t what was on his mind. Not really. He thought about Nam-gyu instead, how he was more like the relief he was craving; even after taking so many punches, even after someone had to clean up the wounds he had left behind, even after being begged not to return to him.

Thanos wanted to, because he understood that was exactly where he belonged.

Without giving himself the chance to turn around and hesitate, Thanos sprang forward, letting his feet pound against the ground as he ran back home. Sure, it was a long distance, but that didn’t seem to matter. All he could focus on were those feelings of warmth he’d felt in the past—the way things had been at the start of their relationship.

Airing his business out to Min-su had only given him more to contemplate.

I’m a fuckup, I’m the one who ruined all the shit between us.

It’s my fault, I’m not a victim.

Thanos only felt regret for momentarily giving up after he’d taken his most recent beating. That stupid smile, those clingy hands, those dark eyes that only ever seemed to brighten when Thanos was in Nam-gyu’s presence—was it really worth giving up on?

He let himself come to the conclusion of no after reaching the apartment. Thanos brought his hand to his chest, panting as his lungs ached from the exertion. Not once had he slowed down, proving how determined he was. If there was something he really wanted, he knew he had to chase after it.

Thanos paused only for a brief moment before entering the building. His hands fumbled with the keys as he struggled to get them inserted into the lock. When he opened the door, he found that the space was painfully silent.

“Nam-su?” he called, searching around each room with desperation. “Look man, I’m sorry I pushed you so hard earlier. I really wanna talk, sort shit out. I know I fucked up.”

He peaked his head into the bedroom, only to be met with the sight of crumpled bedsheets. Nam-gyu was gone, like always—because that was what he did when things were too difficult. Leaving was always the best decision, wasn’t it?

“Bastard,” Thanos cursed, slamming his fist against the door.

He raced over to the kitchen, searching for the car keys. He found them hanging against the hook they always left them on. Nam-gyu had walked to his destination.

Thanos didn’t have to guess to know where he had gone. He knew where he was, who he was with. A part of him almost wanted to find him there with said person. He wanted to feel that heavy ache in his chest signifying that he hadn’t been good enough to make Nam-gyu stay.

Out of desperation, Thanos reached for the car keys, fuelled by the need to get there as quickly as possible. He raced again out of the apartment and into the car where he quickly pulled away from the curb and headed to the nearest bar where he had first witnessed and felt his deepest betrayal.

–

Thanos arrived at the bar less than ten minutes after leaving. He pulled up quietly in the small lot and exited the vehicle with caution, scanning his surroundings to ensure Nam-gyu wasn’t anywhere near him.

When he saw that the coast was clear, he approached one of the windows near the side and took a peak into the interior. His eyes immediately locked onto two familiar figures seated up front at the bar. As expected, Nam-gyu was with Gyeong-su, but something between them seemed to have shifted.

Gyeong-su was with him, but he looked colder, more distant—like the interest he had in Nam-gyu had drained from him. He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t laughing, was hardly talking. Nam-gyu on the other hand looked desperate.

As he spoke, he relied on body language, using his hands to convey his emotions. He’d changed into a more appropriate outfit and had cleaned up the blood on his fists, but it did little to save his appearances. His hair was still a choppy mess, and the bags beneath his eyes offered an explanation on his state of mind that went without saying.

Thanos wanted to be angry. Even though this was what he’d been expecting, he knew he should’ve been angrier about it. Maybe it was the acceptance washing over him that allowed him to stand as a bystander, his hands unclenched.

Maybe it was that he knew there wasn’t any lust in this interaction.

Not until Nam-gyu had thrown himself onto Gyeong-su, wrapping his arms around his body. Thanos could tell that inside, he was whispering filthy sayings into his ears, but they were quietly brushed aside. Nam-gyu was reaching for something that wasn’t there, and never had been to begin with.

From what he had gathered, Gyeong-su was nothing more than a shallow person.

When they had met during the games, Thanos had been approached by him because he was once someone with status. Someone who had charm, someone who looked approachable and attractive enough to be around. Gyeong-su was someone who relied on appearances and social status if he wanted a friend, or something more.

Nam-gyu was once approachable, attractive, and had his own charm—but now, he was in the same boat as Thanos: sick, undesirable and ugly. He was never one to handle rejection well. Thanos could see it in the way his smile had faded, the way his hands dropped to his sides the moment Gyeong-su pushed him away.

He didn’t have to be in the room to know that he’d said something along the lines of, “get off of me.”

Even though the rejection had landed, Thanos couldn’t bring himself to walk away. Standing here felt like yet another form of self-harm. He knew what he was doing. Even if he wasn’t angry, the hurt still resided in his heart. His intention was to remain there for as long as possible until he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, then felt a tap against his shoulder.

Startled, Thanos backed away slightly and glanced up.

“Thanos? Yo, holy shit! It really is you.”

He was met with the sight of a man around his age. Tall, slightly tanned, fit. The man offered him a friendly smile, but it didn’t last for long. Thanos immediately understood why. He looked like a wreck. Bruises on his face, bone thin body, hair dyed back to a boring shade of dark brown. He wasn’t what he used to be.

An embarrassed flush crept up his cheeks when the man took a step back after assessing him, excitement quickly replaced with disappointment, then disgust.

“The fuck happened to you?” the man said, tone too harsh to be teasing.

Thanos let his gaze fall to the ground, sucking in his hollow cheeks. He felt defeated, feeling shame consume him for what felt like the millionth time in his sorry existence.

When he looked up, he offered the guy a sorry smile, trying to shrug things off.

“Life’s a real bitch.” Then, without thinking, added, “you got a smoke?”

The man scoffed at him then dug around in his pockets. He pulled out a pack of cheap branded cigarettes and tossed them over to Thanos.

“Yeah, you look like you could use a smoke.” He paused to toss him his lighter. “And a goddamn burger! Double fucking patty with extra cheese.”

Thanos said nothing as he watched the man laugh, then make his way into the bar. He thought about causing a scene, grabbing the guy by the collar of his shirt and beating the shit out of him. What did it matter? It wasn’t like he had much else to lose. No one cared if he lived or died, no one cared if he got arrested. Wouldn’t be the first time he ended up in legal trouble—but instead, he let his defenses drain.

He stared down at the pack in his hand and opened it up. It was nearly full, still fresh. The guy had probably purchased it a few moments before they encountered each other.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled, backing away from the building. He slipped a cigarette out from the pack and lit it as he slowly started back towards the car. Thanos slipped into the driver’s seat and stared at the building. Nam-gyu was inside, trying to sort things out with someone who clearly didn't give a shit about him.

It was funny really, because both of them had tried running away to someone. Only the difference was that only one of them cared enough to stay. Somehow, Thanos had fucked that up, too.

Thanos tried not to choke on the harsh smoke as he put the key into the ignition and pulled away.

“Cheap shit,” he mumbled, steering with one hand as he brought the cigarette to his lips with the other.

The streets ahead were mostly empty, safe for the few cars heading back from school or work. He felt a twinge of loneliness as the buildings beside him blurred. He didn’t really want to go home, but he had nowhere else to go either.

On impulse, Thanos took a diversion, driving into one of the shadier sides of the city. He knew a place that sold booze for cheap. He’d never been one for fancy, classy drinking anyway. It didn’t take him long before he found himself pulled towards the curb, hands shaking against the wheel as he studied the entrance to the store.

“Chill out man,” he said, trying to reason with himself. “Not like this shit’s illegal. Everyone’s a drunk these days.”

Thanos lit another cigarette before making up his mind. He’d already gone through four of them on his way here. He felt a slight wave of nausea creep up his body from going through them so rapidly, but he relished in his own discomfort. Anything that was destructive was enough to keep him going.

When he’d finished his smoke, he exited out of the car and let himself into the store. His eyes scanned through the selection. Whatever he’d gotten the other day with Nam-gyu was strong enough. It tasted repulsive, but drinking was never about taste—it was about knocking yourself so far off the planet, it was about avoiding all the emotions you didn’t want to feel or face.

After about a minute of searching, his eyes landed on that familiar bottle he’d gone through that day. He grabbed hold of it, and headed up front.

The clerk at the register assessed him, squinting her eyes slightly. Thanos wondered if maybe she recognised him. He reached into his pocket to fish out his wallet when suddenly, his sleeve slipped, exposing some of his scars.

When he retrieved it, he pulled the sleeve back down, then sighed the moment he noticed the frown that had appeared on the woman’s face. She opened her mouth with the intention of saying something—maybe some nasty commentary, but before she could, Thanos slammed his money down against the counter, feeling his frustration boiling over.

“Don’t,” Thanos snapped, sensing her disdain. “I had a rough fuckin’ day. What is it with you people? Being so judgemental all the time. Like you’re some perfect person. Look at you—you’re some goddamn nobody working in some run down store in the middle of the jungle. I’d suggest you shut it, bitch.”

The woman, suddenly intimidated, shut her mouth.

“Add these to the bill,” he demanded, reaching out for three shooters that were equally as bad and strong as the bottle he had chosen.

She nodded, then rang him up before handing over the receipt.

“Go fuck yourself,” he mumbled before taking his items and walking out the door.

Thanos didn’t hesitate as he twisted open the first shooter, struggling to balance all items in his grasp. His hand trembled as he managed to get the cap off. It fell to the floor the moment he managed to. He wasted no time, tilting his head back and taking it down in swift gulps.

His eyes watered as he pulled the bottle away, gasping.

“Christ, that’s like fucking acid.”

He tossed the empty one away, leaning against the side of his car before unscrewing the second, taking it down with slightly more ease. As Thanos drank, he observed his surroundings, feeling comforted by them. This was where all the lowly people fell when they had no other options. No where else to live, no where else to eat, no where else to be. It was exactly where he belonged—not in some nice little neighbourhood with Min-su, eating cookies while laughing at a kid’s cartoon, babysitting.

He was nothing but a lowlife, the worst of the worst. Someone who existed on the bottom of the hierarchy.

Thanos laughed as he unscrewed the third bottle, feeling a warmth beginning to blossom in his chest as he downed it with no hesitation. When he pulled the empty bottle away from his lips, he felt a slight pool of saliva beginning to gather in his mouth.

Yeah, he was going to get fucked up, just like everyone expected him to be. If the world viewed him as a good for nothing, then that was exactly what he was going to be.

He braced himself for the drive back home, feeling giddy as he slid into the driver’s side. Thanos didn’t allow himself to think before he inserted the keys into the ignition. If he was set on destroying himself, then he may as well be selfish and do the same for others, especially if that was what he did best.

Thanos’ vision blurred as he backed away and started the drive back home. His eyes were unfocused, occasionally darting over to the paper bag he kept beside him with the bottle of cheap booze tucked inside. Three shots wasn’t enough, he wanted to feel more than just tipsy.

When he approached a stoplight, he reached for the bottle and unscrewed the cap.

If his therapist were here, he’d probably tell him how irrational he was being—but fuck that. Fuck being rational… those days never existed.

Thanos took a couple of swigs before the light switched back to green. His hand shook as he struggled to set the bottle down. The small cap had rolled somewhere under the seat. His body felt slow and sluggish as he reached under, letting his hand roam around until he located it.

Just as he was about to put the bottle away, the person behind him slammed down against his horn, urging him to move forward.

Offended, Thanos glanced at the rearview mirror. He caught sight of a middle aged man dressed in a suit—possibly an office worker. Thanos hated those types of people. He rolled his window down, brought the bottle to his lips and drank, swallowing back his disgust with every gulp he took. By the time he was finished, the light had turned red again. He smirked, then twisted the cap back onto the bottle.

When the light turned, Thanos pressed on the gas and rolled the window all the way down.

“Fuck you!” Thanos cursed, slurring his speech as he swerved onto another lane. He was about an inch away from colliding with another vehicle before he sped up and took a turn onto another street.

“These fuckin’ buisness men make me so angry!”

The rest of the ride home consisted of a chaotic mess of twists and turns, miraculously avoiding collisions with other drivers. Goddamn drunk, he thought to himself, unable to see more than ten feet ahead. Just like your old man. He used to do the same shit, picking you up from school like this.

He scooted up close to the wheel, struggling to stay in his lane, struggling to keep his hands still. Thanos was about two minutes away from home when suddenly, his hand slipped. He steered himself straight into a row of garbage cans, left outside for the collection to take. He kept his head down the moment his vehicle made contact with the cans, but the shame hardly lasted.

When he glanced up, he burst into a fit of hysterical laughter.

“Really know how to drive, huh?” He glanced over to the passenger’s side, hoping that someone would react, but all he was met with was that miserable bottle of vodka.

Right, you’re all alone.

Thanos’ hysterical laughter ended as quickly as it began. Frustrated in his stupor, he slammed his fist down against the wheel and let out a groan.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he cursed, ignoring the reality of his situation and focusing instead on the fact that he was alone.

Thanos yanked the keys out from the ignition and pushed open the driver’s door. He ignored the looks of passerby who stopped to stare at his now dented car, resting halfway against the sidewalk.

“Just a piece of junk anyway,” he slurred, kicking the door closed.

Once he’d managed to get himself onto the path leading to the apartment, he leaned against one of the nearby buildings and lit another cigarette. He knew he looked like a fucking wreck. He was reminded of it as a young woman passed by holding the hand of her daughter.

“Don’t look,” she urged, pushing her child forward. “That’s what happens when you don’t get an education.”

Thanos let the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling it in her direction, giving her a silent finger. Stuck up bitch, he thought, desperately trying to soothe his damaged ego. He let out another bitter laugh as he continued the walk back home, struggling to keep to a straight line.

–

Nam-gyu wasn’t home by the time Thanos entered the apartment. Of course he’s not here, Thanos thought, tightening his grip against the bottle as he stormed through the hallway before slamming the bedroom door shut.

His world spun violently before him as he slid down to the floor, then crawled over to the closest for yet another dose of emotional self-harm. Thanos let a watery smile make its way across his lips as he reached for the box containing the photos he’d looked at the day before booking that appointment with his therapist.

He scoffed, trying not to think about how he’d barely even lasted one session before reverting back to his usual ways. 

“Fucking pathetic,” he sneered, sorting through the pile, his vision blurring with more intensity as he studied each photo, reaching for the bottle, taking swig after swig as he went through them all.

This was what his life amounted to because this was what he had made of it. He wasn’t what he was like years back, but that didn’t seem to matter. Even back then, he was no one special, no one significant. Just a shallow nobody people leeched off of because they didn’t know any better. That look he’d received out front at the bar was humiliating, but it was one he’d gotten accustomed to seeing his whole life.

Forty minutes had passed before Thanos heard the sound of the front door slamming. He jolted up, spilling the cheap liquor along his clothes. There was hardly any left of it in the bottle.

Nam-gyu’s home.

Thanos stood up and grabbed hold of the box of photos, shoving them deep into the closet. His feet wobbled beneath him as he struggled to maintain his balance.

“Damn,” he giggled, leaning against the wall for support.

By now, his vision was more than just blurred, it was narrow. Every breath he took felt painfully strained, his chest constricting with forced effort. He knew he was nothing more than a mess—the person everyone saw him as.

The fuck happened to you?

“Life” felt like a superficial answer. Thanos was born sick.

He headed into the kitchen where he found Nam-gyu leaning against the door, struggling to support himself as well. Too drunk? Thanos thought, assuming that they were possibly in the same boat. But when he crept closer, he noticed that there was something off about Nam-gyu. He wasn’t drunk, he was high.

Thanos wrapped his arms around him, desperate to feel his warmth when suddenly, the two of them lost balance, crashing and colliding against the floor with a loud thud.

The pain never registered. Not even as Thanos felt his lip scraping against the lower portion of his teeth. All he could focus on was the static flowing through his bloodstream. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, his breathing heavy as he struggled to keep himself tethered to reality.

He let his head rest against Nam-gyu’s chest, inhaling his scent. He reeked of cigarettes and sweat, but that didn’t matter. This was Nam-gyu, his Nam-gyu, and any other smell proved that he was someone besides the person he remained intertwined with.

Thanos refused to move. If possible, he could spend the rest of his life like this. Drunk out of his mind, detached from all his problems. He knew he was close to obtaining that until he squinted slightly, noticing that Nam-gyu’s sleeves were rolled up. In the crook of his elbow, he caught onto the sight of faint bruises in the very same spot he’d sworn to never shoot up again.

He wanted to panic, to feel grief, sadness, any kind of emotion that would let him know he was still there, still capable of feeling something for the person he should’ve loved the most—but Thanos couldn’t. Neither of them moved despite this knowledge being revealed. Nam-gyu had relapsed and Thanos was the cause of it. This was no different from what he had pulled earlier, slicing his arm open then running away to someone because he didn’t have the strength to handle it on his own.

They truly were the same person, maybe that was why it made sense for them to be together.

The two of them remained in the heap they had fallen into until Nam-gyu slowly pushed him away. He struggled as he attempted to rise to his feet, stumbling against the table where he let himself fall into one of the seats.

Thanos forced himself up and watched as Nam-gyu somehow managed to light a cigarette, his head lolling slightly after each drag, eyes rolling to the back of his head. He took a seat beside him, doing the same, lighting up to mimic what he was doing, to somehow be on the same page as him.

“Fuck… The fuck have you been?” Thanos slurred, but he sounded nowhere near concerned nor invasive. He sounded like a goddamn fool instead. He strained his ears struggling to make out the response Nam-gyu had offered, but it was nothing more than a faint grunt.

Nam-gyu looked like he was moments away from passing out, tilting back and forth with every second that passed, pulling further and further away from Thanos. He was desperate to keep him tied to him.

As Thanos brought his cigarette to his lips, he let himself sink further into the seat. They were both fucked up, and there was no erasing this.

When he had finished his first smoke, he reached again for another, watching as the flame moved closer and closer to his face. Thanos laughed, wondering if the fire in front of him was enough to trigger an explosion. There was this flame that had been sitting inside of him, a fire that had been burning for years. His laughter intensified the longer his thoughts wandered.

Thanos had drifted into a far away place, too lost to realise that his cigarette had slipped from his fingers, falling onto his chest. The only thing that had brought him back to reality was the sudden searing of his skin. When he looked down, he realised that he’d burnt himself.

Despite the damage, Thanos hardly winced. He hadn’t felt a thing. He laughed again, the sound falling on deaf ears despite being in close proximity with Nam-gyu as he thought again about something. If physical pain didn’t register, then neither would the emotional pain of being with Nam-gyu.

He fell into another fit of hysterical laughter, leaning against the table as he let the cigarette ash until nothing but the filter was left.

“Shit,” he mumbled, slumping back into the seat.

Nam-gyu was hardly conscious—dark, empty eyes locked onto the ceiling.

“I gotta piss,” Thanos revealed, backing away from the seat as he headed into the bathroom.

When he closed the door and let himself stand still, his world spun in an uncontrollable blur. His stomach lurched with the need to relieve itself from all the poison he had swallowed, but as he dropped down to his knees and crouched before the toilet, nothing but saliva came up from his mouth.

“Whatever,” he whispered, bringing himself back to his feet and undoing his zipper.

Thanos tried to concentrate on relieving himself as he urinated, trying not to think about how surreal everything felt. Somehow, he felt even worse than he had when he was with Min-su. Back then, someone had caught onto his sorry state and had forced him into ending his bender early. But now, he was back home with Nam-gyu, with someone he knew wouldn’t put an end to it. Especially not now, not while he was falling into a relapse himself.

Well, it was bound to happen anyway.

The best part about it though, was that nothing hurt anymore. So what did it matter if they were destroying themselves? How could it when he couldn’t feel a thing?

When Thanos had finished using the toilet, he glanced at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands. He looked even worse than he had been earlier.

Years back, people had published an article on him in the newspaper. His mother had read it, she was the first to know about it. Attached to the article was a photo of him at his absolute lowest, intoxicated by both alcohol and drugs. He looked exactly like the man he’d been in those photos. Nothing had changed.

Thanos wanted to laugh, to say something self-loathing to himself, but he couldn’t. He felt his body go slack as he suddenly fell forward, collapsing against the sink, knocking over the few items the two of them had kept resting against it.

“Keep it fuckin’ coming!” Thanos slurred, laughing as he waved his fist up towards the ceiling. No one said anything in response, but he knew that no one had to. This was the best he had felt in months.

With a forceful grunt, Thanos pushed himself up from the ground and made his way back towards the bedroom, where he found Nam-gyu sprawled out against the mattress. Thanos couldn’t tell if he was asleep or if he’d lost him through an overdose. Maybe this was it, maybe he was really gone now, lost to no return.

“Nam-su… I miss you… I just—just wanna talk about shit, bro. Just wanna—”

Thanos barely had the time to react as his foot slipped. Shit, here we go again. His vision suddenly went blank as he heard a loud thud— his head slamming brutally against the nightstand. Everything around him blurred and swarmed, but not a single bit of pain could be felt. Not even after he noticed the faint trickle of blood splattering into the palm of his hand.

“‘M just a joke, aren’t I? My fucking life’s just… one huge joke.”

He forced himself up and threw himself onto the mattress, wrapping an arm around Nam-gyu’s waist. His breathing intensified as he moved closer to him, relishing in his warmth. It felt good to be with him again, falling apart like this.

Being broken was all Thanos knew, it was all he’d gotten familiar with. If Nam-gyu was broken, then it made sense for him to be as well. After all, if one fell, then the other should too. Being broken meant that they were together again, existing as equals.

Thanos didn’t want to change what he knew would tear them apart.