Chapter Text
“But it’s always normal–” Semi starts, “you know, to feel like something more should be in your show. You’re not like, broken.”
But he feels broken.
Thanos never needed any help. From, like, anybody! But all of a sudden his independence decides to kick the bucket – during summer. The least busy, most easy time to drop a fucking album because everyone is off and has time to give Thanos more money!
Okay, that made him sound like the fucking onceler, but damn, give him a second to breathe without being bombarded with fucking complaints.
“I’ve never needed help, man, so coming to you is, like, a double down!”
“Wow, fuck you too.” She deadpans, snickering as she opens the laptop on her lap. “But, seriously, you don’t need to write another verse, or push another single out – please because that shit puts pressure on me too. What you need is–” She snaps, as she always does when an idea enters her head. Like a cartoon. A lesbian cartoon.
“Performance.” She finishes, “Something fresh.”
Thanos scoffed. What is this bitch even talking about? “I already perform,” He huffs out. “That’s like, all I ever fuckin’ do.”
“No,” She shakes her head. “Not just you; background dancers.” She said it like a fucking spectacle or something. “Remember when I told you about my shitty time in ballet? Yeah, well, I kept some friends – I've got connections.”
Thanos sneered, scratching the back of his head. “No offense, Senorita, but I don’t think I’m really looking for ballet dancers to pirouette to your beat or whatever the fuck else they do.” He shrugged, but his next sentence was interrupted by the jarring pain of Semi punching his shoulder. The fuck was that for? “Ow! Damn–”
Semi cut him off with loud words. “It’s not your style, I get it,” She spat, popping the bubblegum that she’d chewed up to a tiny little piece of mush in her mouth. “But this should be,” She murmured, placing a hand on her chin before she turned the laptop screen to Thanos, light now hitting both their faces – blue, and bright, contrasting the dimly lit, warm studio.
His eyes locked onto the screen, and he sat straight up. It was a stage, lit in a bright red and blue, adorned with some fancy dancers, but it wasn't like it was some opera shit, this was actually good. Thanos’ eyes followed them, counting each one. It was a spectrum of people, but all of them were really fucking good at what they do. About 8 of them.
The dance kinda unfolded – or rather, the group unfolded around something, someone – and he let out a scoff. The guy in the middle – the dude they’d just unfolded around, was eating the most smug, shit-eating grin on his face ever. Made Thanos’ blood boil for some reason. Just looked all..bitchy.
He couldn’t deny, though, he had moves. Sure, he was dancing to someone else's song, and the crowd hyping that shit up was helping, but his black hair reflected the lights in this weird way and Thanos couldn’t quite place what was hypnotizing about him.
But it was hot. He was hot.
Objectively, he means– in the way that he was confident and moved like he knew exactly what he was doing, but the way the other dancers framed him helped him too, since they were all equally as flowy. The only thing that wasn't objectively visually appealing was that same, smug-ass smile. He had to know who this bitch was.
“Who’s the dude in the center?” Thanos spoke distractedly, tearing his eyes off the screen to look at Semi, who was just as entranced. “The smug bitch, you know?”
After a beat, Semi finally spoke. “Namgyu,” She responds, still staring at her laptop screen. “He’s the most sought-out dancer in the entirety of Seoul. Er– well,” She shrugged, “His group.” Semi corrects herself.
His group “His group?” Thanos repeats quizzically, eyes drifting back to the dancers on screen.
“Yeah,” Semi nods, shutting the laptop as the video ends, the slam coming out loud as shit – making Thanos flinch. “The thing that’s so unique about them, is that they’re like a package deal, or some shit. You book one, you get 'em all. Namgyu runs a dance crew that everyone wants, but nobody can afford, basically.” Her gaze lands on Thanos, speaking again as if trying to solidify it in Thanos’ mind. “They’re good. Like, really good. And they play hard to get.”
“We can afford it,” Thanos pipes up, snickering as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “And I can do hard to get, easy.”
There's a second of Semi staring at him while a grin crawls onto her face – and she begins to cackle at him, right in his fucking face. Bitch.
“What’re you laughing at?!” Thanos says exasperatedly, sighing. “I can do hard to get? What's even funny about that?”
Semi takes a minute to catch her breath, “No, it's not that,” She says, finally, “it’s that they might not want anything to do with you. They’re really fucking exclusive, man. It’s like a fucking nightmare.”
Thanos leans his chin on his hand, glancing over to Semi who had a look of consideration on her face. “But?” He probes,
“But,” Semi repeats. “I know one of their guys. The little nervous one, with the bowl-cut, did you see him?”
Thanos thinks back. He was only really staring at the Nam-su guy, but he remembers a really tall woman, one girl with this wolf cut that looked like she was ready to cut a bitch, and…oh, yeah, the little guy. Thanos nods hurriedly when he remembers. “Yeah. How’d you meet?”
Semi rolls her eyes, scrolling on her phone to a picture of them at some club so Thanos could see the bowl-cut-bitch again. “Not fucking important,” yeesh. “What's important is that we might have a better shot at getting you what you want. But I feel like you want a closer look at Nam-gyu more than the whole group,” she snickers.
Bitch, what? “What?!” Thanos scoffs, huffing as he stammers over his words. “I was just staring at his fuckass face! Like, how can you be so bitchy at a place where the crowd, like, adores you!?”
Semi scoffs, sneering as she murmurs; “Like you wouldn't know anything about that,” She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’ll see what I can do.”
Thanos, the peaceful, chooses to ignore her little quip and instead pulls out his phone, opening an app and beginning the mindless scrolling. “Why thank you, Senorita.”
–
Semiorita
T: – 12:00PM
hey
hey
bidtch where ur contact hurry up
bitch*
S: – 12:01PM
Such fucking patience. Who shoved a timed bomb up ur ass
We’re in
I’ll meet u at the car
T: – 12:01PM
k
c u there
gotta finish this blunt
Fan-fucking-tastic, baby! He’s got this shit in the bag.
Well, he would, if he weren't still in his pajamas recovering from a hangover and room filled with the smell of weed that invaded his nostrils unconsensually each time he took a drag.
…But he’s gotta get up. – He’s gotta do this shit. So, he stubs out his blunt in the ashtray, smoke coiling around his hand as it hisses with the last of its life.
Thanos lazily sits up, throwing off the blanket as the wind catches it and makes it gracefully land upon his bed, adorned with an uncountable amount of wrinkles, alongside discarded articles of clothing. Thanos scoots off the bed, swinging his legs off in the process and stretching as he balances. He lets out an exaggerated sigh as he begins padding to his dresser, sifting through the clothes to choose from.
His hands pick out huge bleached-knee jeans, his limited edition Jordans – kept nicely upon a shoe rack – and a pink hello kitty shirt. He tops it off with a marvel hat in the same pink as his shirt. Fucking rad. On some fashionista shit.
He pads toward the door, narrowly avoiding a laundry basket from brutalizing his toe, and when he gets to the door, fastening his hand on the busted knob, he turns back, blowing a kiss to all his funko pops displayed on shelves and his ‘almighty’ infinity wars poster.
Thanos takes his sweet time getting out to Se-mi. He walks into the kitchen and pours himself a bowl of Froot Rings™, watching distractedly as they ascend with the milk he pours in afterward. He throws a spoon inside and pulls out his phone with a struggle as he sifts through his pocket for it, leaning on the island and taking bites out of the familiar, delectable cereal, as he opens an app, begins to scroll and — low and behold.
There he is again. The smug bitch – this time with a sharper, more serious smile on his face like he means fucking buisness. He’s dancing to a different song, by a different person – but he’s not on a stage, and the lighting is mid as hell. It's a practice room; a studio, as Thanos finally puts together. His ass probably works out of that place.
It has mirrors on 3 walls, and the other one has a door that presumably leads to another room, but the one unmirrored wall is a soothing shade of grey and the flooring is a shiny wood-plank flooring. Rich bastard. That shit costs a ton to get refinished.
But, no matter how much Thanos insults the bitch, the way he dances is almost ethereal. And his team, even the ones that look stocky or unorganized – they flow just as well. Shit’s mesmerizing.
It’s like an orchestra, but physically. They’re all like, psychically connected with the way they move in sync. Their outfits all correspond, as they’re meant to do, but it's not chaotic or jarring or too similar at all. It's like that one nursery rhyme. Not, like, too big, or too small, just right.
Thanos is kinda unable to look away from them for a long while – and not even just this Namgyu guy, it’s also the dude Semi says she knows, or the shorter girl who always looks weary and has this poofy hair – always looking over at the taller woman with her hair pinned up who has a rather motherly smile plastered on her face almost always.
It's not until Se-mi’s text pops up from the top of his screen in a small bubble that is, in short, her using any and all profanities to tell him to get his ass down there, that he finally finishes his cereal, grabs his vape from his room, and leaves his apartment.
On the way down, he scrolls through the group's page – almost hypnotized. He scoffs at one video, though – Namgyu as Semi named him is not wearing his smug-ass smile and is clearly pissed with the artist he’s working with on the stage. The fucking artist in question? Totally uncoordinated – even Thanos can see that. And he can’t dance for shit.
Still, like he mentioned before, even with a fucking pothole of an artist, that group can fucking drive. They’re all flowy, that’s their usual style, but with the music they’re sharp – not as ethereal, but still good. Adaptability – that’s a good fucking quality to have in an industry like this.
Semi has that adaptability – It's why she became his producer. She’s good with her surroundings and she kinda channels it into sound. She’s nothing like Thanos with the way she works. She plans it out and jots notes – while Thanos tries faking it until he makes it; and usually it turns out sick as all hell.
He jolts as the elevator skids to a stop, doing the jarring-ass bumpy thing that elevators often do when they stop. Seriously. Fucking annoying. But it's not his stop, he can tell by this lady who smells obnoxiously of rose perfume that is so sickening it makes his stomach turn.
He groans mentally as she begins some conversation with him that he’s not listening to, nor does he plan to. He keeps scrolling, trying to annoy this bitch talking his ear off with her scratchy ass vocal chords.
Thankfully, his skills of ignoring annoying bitches (Semi) pay off, because he’s eventually able to drown out the sounds of complaints or developing deafness or whatever the fuck she’s talking about, and keep scrolling. The next video he sees is once again them dancing, but it's something…different. Like a rehearsal. It’s in the studio, and it’s not that they aren't clean, because this bitch and his team refuses to be “not clean.”
No, it just seems…early on. Sometimes, they stop to exchange glances, give little signals, or pat on the shoulder as a sign to switch places. It’s fascinating. They have this way of communicating that’s like, just as ethereal as the rest of the shit they do. He’s used that word a fuckton, yeah, but it’s fucking true.
It looks like its not fucking real.
He sighed, thumb hovering over the “like” button on a rehearsal clip he’d already replayed three times, but stopped and paused when the elevator came to a familiar jarring stop. He pocketed the phone with a peculiar amount of struggle. The doors slid open slowly with an ear-flattening shriek of rubber against rubber, and Thanos stepped out, walking into the parkade and wincing as he smelt the familiar oil and coolant that apparently stained the concrete because, whenever he got in here, he couldn’t smell anything else.
But he sure could hear the angry woman with a bob yelling every reclaimable profanity in the dictionary.
“Thanos! Get the fuck over here!” She screamed angrily – voice hoarse from what was probably 2000 minutes of yelling to get the worst of her wrath out.
Thanos sighed, accepting his fate. “Dear god, I don’t fucking care about believing in you or whatever but if you’re real; save me.” Thanos murmured under his breath, clasping his hands around his necklace and bringing it just barely away from his chest to keep up the act. He dropped his hands and began walking cautiously over to Semi, sighing as he tried desperately to save his own ass from being ripped off and fed to the dogs.
“Hey, Senorita…” He said wearily, promptly met with a hard, agonizing kick to the balls.
He felt like his entire body was on fire; he curled into the fetal position as his hands clutched his stinging crotch. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a strained grunt as he writhed on the ground. He is now most likely infertile, but he might as well try to get Semi to forgive him rather than worrying about his already forsaken future, so– “Sorry,” he managed, face scrunching as the shock subsided and it was replaced by pure pain.
Semi winced. “Me too,” She sighed out dejectedly. Wait, what?! “That was a bit much.” She leaned down, offering a hand. “Even though you’re already an infertile bitch, don't wanna ruin your chances of releasing semen at all.” Gross. She said it with a tight lipped, insincere smile, like she was holding back a fucking witch cackle.
Thanos begrudgingly takes the palm offered to him, standing and rubbing his head from the headache caused by what was probably both of his fucking testicles exploding. “Do I need to shield any other body parts?” Thanos spoke cautiously, taking a small step back.
“God, relax,” She sighed, putting weight on one leg and crossing arms over her chest. She sneered. “The reason I was so pissed is because you’re an hour late! Do you know how much i had to beg Minsu to plead to this Namgyu dude to make sure that he didn't beat your ass – as if he wasn't planning to already for probably messing up his perfect “sought out” schedule! Jesus,” She shakes her head, pinching her nosebridge.
Thanos puts his hands out in exasperation. “Look, Senorita, I'm sorry, but Thanos has a morning routine to maintain in his day to day!” His hands retreated and he shrugged. “Can’t be helped,”
Semi scoffed. “You’re such a dick.” She walked over to the steering wheel side, placing a hand on the handle of the car door and yelling over the hood, standing on her tippy toes to do so. “Get in!”
“Roger,” Thanos affirmed, hopping into the car and moving the seat back, rubbing his eyes of tears that welled up from the vicious Semi attack. He grasped the seatbelt and hummed at the sound it made as it was pulled. It was kinda satisfying. Maybe, he should approach Semi about putting it in a track. Crash. That would be the name.
He focuses, seatbelt clicking into place as he looks up. The car smells faintly of old weed, and strongly of mint. It's a strange combo that was attacking his nostrils, but if he brought it up, Semi would light him on fire with the lighter relaxing in the cupholder. He didn’t really want to be burned alive, contrary to popular belief, so he just shut his fucking mouth.
For a few blocks, silence filled the car except for the bass vibrating through the speakers. Then, because he couldn’t help himself, Thanos grunted, “So what’s the big deal with this guy, anyway? You talk about him like he’s fucking moses.”
Semi smirked without looking away from the road. “He’s not ‘fucking moses’. More like…the guy who makes everyone else look like they’re still in pre-k dance class.”
“Yeah, okay.” Thanos scoffed, clicking his tongue and stretching out his legs as he crossed his arms across his chest.. “Bet he trips over his own shoelaces in the morning like everybody else.”
“You keep telling yourself that, superstar,” she muttered.
Thanos sighed, rolling his eyes and shifting in his seat. Quiet. Again. Thanos hated quiet.
Thankfully, like the second coming of Christ, Semi piped up, hands rolling the steering wheel. “Are you thinking about the deal?” An inquiry – not a naive one. Thanos probably should be thinking about that, but he wasn't. “I don't think money will catch him, – he has enough. You’ve gotta get under his skin. I did a lot of searching for you,” She said, glancing at Thanos with a smirk.
Thanos cocked his head, “What’d you find out?”
“Alot, crew info, inside cliques, you know the drill.” Semi paused, thinking. “What do you wanna know?” She shoots back. Does Thanos Seriously have to choose? Cruel.
Thanos rolled his eyes, putting his arms out exasperatedly. “Fucking– Iunno, everything?! I guess– just everything that’s useful?”
Semi barked out a laugh. “Everything’s a tall fuckin’ order, boy.” She waved him off with a hand as they braked for a stoplight, Semi sitting up in her seat and cursing the dude in front of her under her breath. “Pick your poison, Thanos.”
Thanos pondered for a bit. He hadn’t really thought about it, but he got something. He didn't wanna know everything. He wanted to know about the smug-ass bitch. “Namgyu.” He responded. “The ‘star of the show’. Tell me about him. What’s he really do?” He turns to Semi, eyes locked on her stoic expression as the car's wheels begin turning again.
Semi snickered at his shitty impression, then shrugged one shoulder. “He’s old school. Minsu tells me he was trained in ballet – but branched out to almost every division of the dancing arts.” She nods, continuing; “He’s got style. A real perfectionist. He’ll rip you apart if you miss a beat – which is why I kicked you in your crotch boobs when you came late.” Pause. What in the ever-loving fuck are crotch boobs??
Thanos whistled out a short tune, pursing his lips in thought. “Sounds like a fucking nightmarish prude.” He scoffs out a chuckle.
She rolls her eyes in response, but eventually chooses peace. “You could use some organizing,” Semi remarks, glancing in his direction. “Not even in just a bitchy way. He’s exactly what you need.” Thanos shoots her a glare and a grin crawls on her face.
“Anyway,” Semi continues. “Group’s like a family. He leads them, alongside this woman, Hyunju. Seem to be polar-fucking-opposites,” She snorts. “Namgyu bursts a blood vessel every second someone steps an inch away from their spot and Hyunju is like this fucking mom. But they get along.” She nods. “Its weird,”
Thanos barks out a laugh. “Damn! We’ll get to see that shitshow in progress?” He said, a lopsided grin growing wider on his face.
“Yep,” Semi says, plopping a piece of mint gum in her mouth distractedly, missing her lip a couple times before she gets it right. “Real crazy shit,” She nods, before clearing her throat and her face turns serious.
“Point is?” She continues, hand moving to switch gears. “He doesn't crack easy. Doesn’t give a shit about fame, already has the money, already has the hype. If you want him, you gotta give him something he can’t ignore.” She looks over to him.
“Something he can’t ignore,” He repeated silently, sighing. The fuck was he supposed to do with that? Stuck to his brain and shit. The way Semi phrased it made her sound like this all-knowing deity, someone who knew exactly what that meant. It was ridiculous.
He let out a huff of surrender, leaning an elbow onto the small handle where there was also a built in arm rest. He looked out the window, skyscrapers zooming by in the morning sun – he had to squint ‘cause the burning ball of gas in the fucking sky was baking his eyeballs, but he could see the cityscape. It was a little pretty.
The skyscrapers sifted through the clouds, and the wind blew against trees threatening to take them down. Bars, but he’s not on the philosophical shit, so he’s probably gonna forget about that line in 17 seconds and release a single on fucking girls in cars and shit. Type of thing people eat up.
“Sounds like a lot of work. Too much.” Thanos shrugged, saying it like he was indifferent – hiding how much that shit semi spouted really bugged him. It was like a fucking brain eating parasite that just wanted to take all the information out and replace it with its eggs… or something like that.
Semi just hummed, smug as ever.
Something he can’t ignore. It looped in Thanos’ brain over and over. What does that mean? What is he meant to give him? He couldn’t get it if someone asked him to. It made him fucking restless, so he decided to focus on the city again.
Cars, streets, buildings. That’s the type of shit he jots down with visual intake – cause that’s just how he is. After he sees them is when he starts to notice the little things. After he thinks about them. For example, a big, blue skyscraper that had windows in straight lines going all the way down – then the lobby’s walls were simple glass panels. A hotel. That’s what it was.
That’s the type of shit he thinks about, because it's just the way he works. Calms him down. But silence doesn't. Beats in his eardrums, makes him think about things that aren't 100-foot-tall hotels that are way out of budget for the average person. No, silence makes him think about the puffy, ugly scars on his wrists. When he couldn’t fucking breathe because it all just fucking <em>stung<em>, and he didnt want to deal with it anymore. But he’d get up and call Semi and everything would be okay again.
Thankfully, the she-devil herself interrupts his thoughts with a loud – “FUCK!” due to the face some truck just swerved in front of her like a drunk pig.
“Dick,” Thanos mumbled, flipping off the truck in front of them, steadying himself and shifting in his seat. “That’s not how you fucking merge, man.” He shook his head. It was just nasty. Like, learn to drive before getting a huge-ass metal box to destroy on the street, damn it. Is it that hard??
“I’m saying!” Semi approved, smacking the steering wheel with her hand frustratedly. “Fucking idiot,” She scoffed, leaning back in her seat as her eyes flicked from the truck to the red light infront of them – waiting to honk at this bitch for disgracing the traffic laws like that. As she fucking should.
Thanos sighed out a half-baked chuckle, going back to thinking. He hummed along to the song now playing on aux– a song they’d been playing around with for awhile now. Weeks – about a month. It was good enough for Semi to queue up, and while it wasn't Thanos’ favourite, he’s a pompous motherfucker, so he spits out small bits of his favourite bars.
It's not too long after, though, that the Nam-gyu dude infests his mind like a little termite. He focuses too hard on how he – and his group, would move along to music like this. Just in case this was the song they chose. Even so, Thanos already thought about producing something new for a big concert or tour to make it extra flashy before releasing it on the platforms where everyone can get at it.
But! He could change his mind. Scrap the whole plan. Hell, it’d be easy to do that. Okay, before you say he’s making excuses – He’s fucking not! Usually, he’s a pretty set-in-stone dude. If something’s good, it's good, that’s the plan. But now? He’s playing around with a big unknown variable.
Semi must’ve noticed him zoning out, because she smirked. “You’re thinking about him already.”
“Who?” he shot back, too fast. Fuck.
“The guy.” Fuuuuuck.
“What guy?”
Semi rolled her eyes so hard he thought they might just about fucking fall out. “The one who’s gonna rip your balls off if you speak wrong. Don’t play dumb, Thanos, you’re not good at it. Doesn’t suit you.” She snickers smugly.
Whatever, “Whatever,” He vocalizes. “You talk such a big game for him. Lets just get there and fucking let me see this shit for myself.” He leans his cheek on his hand as Semi gives him a nod.
And get there, they did. It was this tiny place crammed in a strip mall with a flashy little sign just above the doors. ‘Dance studio.’ Real fucking creative.
“This don’t look like something someone with ‘enough money’ would have.” Thanos scoffed, gesturing to the whole get-up.
“I thought so too,” Semi hums, unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the door to get out, turning to face Thanos just to say a simple. “Just you wait,” Before hopping out of the small car.
He rolls his eyes, clicking himself out of the seatbelt and shrugging it off his shoulder as he clicks open the door from the inside and pushes it open with an elbow. He ducks narrowly under the frame(?) of the car just above the door.
He checked himself in the car window. Fresh as shit. Fashion icon type fit, cause those who see it see it, and those who don’t, don’t!
He kicked the door shut gently with his foot as he strided smugly over to Semi, who was in the process of rolling her eyes. Then, he looked around– scanning the area. The concrete was dirty and worn down and the hood above them was made of rusty metal with long-chipped paint that showed red. “This is a wreck,” He murmured, not to anyone but himself. And if Semi reacted, he didn't notice, nor was it noisy.
Begrudgingly, they stepped up the little ridge that was the sidewalk and Semi bounded up to the door, holding it for him.
“Ladies first,” She snickered. Thanos shot her a glare and held up his middle finger. He can hold his own fucking doors. Still, he scoffed and finally walked into the famed fucking studio. He expected some dingy-ass home-depot physiotherapy office that was renovated into some sanctum for dance nerds and rented out by some 20-something year old.
Instead, he was met with…well, in one word, fucking bright He flinched back like a fucking vampire and almost hissed before his nocturnal-ass eyes finally adjusted to the sudden change that was probably the literal sun burning off what was left of his retinas, and he did not see a dingy-ass studio.
It was actually..professional. The entire room was painted with grey walls, like in the video, and near the back wall was a counter, with a kinda beat up black door behind it that had the word “STUDIO” printed in white on its face. As for the room itself, it had these comfy-looking chairs in a line against each wall and the lights on the ceiling were like those humming low-budget led school lights.
Behind the counter was a nice looking – seemingly pregnant – woman who was taking off her glasses slowly and lowering them onto the table in front of her as she addressed the two with a smile.
“Hello!” She piped up, beckoning them over. Semi pushed Thanos further in with a rough shove, prompting Thanos to finally move his ass. “My name is Junhee. Can I help you?” Junhee said. Thanos nodded, about to speak, before Semi elbowed him and he scoffed, leaning on their side of the counter and glaring at her as she spoke.
“Yeah. It's Semi. I’m in contact with Minsu? This is Thanos, and he said that we could meet with Namgyu for a background dancer's offer.” Semi gave her this sweet-ass smile, and Thanos smirked as he realised this bitch was smitten for Junhee! Seems like it was a two-way street, too. Love at first sight type shit, cause Junhee was smiling all sweet right back.
“No problem, he told me that you’d be coming soon. They’re in the studio, feel free to head on back.” She nods, tearing her eyes away from Semi finally to glance over to the studio and point at it with her right index finger.
“Thanks,” Thanos nods in appreciation, saluting her before he began walking toward the studio, whistling a tune stuck in his head as he grabbed Semi and dragged her along with him.
As he got to the door, he heard a song all muffled on the other side. It sounded like BlackPink,, and assuming that BlackPink isn't renting these bitches for charity services, it was probably a warmup. Nothing important, so a good time to barge in.
He shoved open the black door, hesitantly, since that shit creaked like it was from the 15th century. Next thing he heard after the creaky door was some much clearer music – definitely BlackPink.
Then, he saw the bitch. Nam-gyu, who was shooting him a glare for even looking at him for half a millisecond. He was, of course, owning the fucking dance he was doing, and in sync with everyone, which made it really damn hard to hate him – but he scoffed just to make sure they were equally bitchy. He analysed the room. It was the same as in that one tiktok, the 3 walls with mirrors, and the grey one, which seemed now to have resting bleachers. That shit? Kinda intuitive. Good call, interior designer.
He began to scan the group. There was of course Nam-gyu, the little smug motherfucky giving him the nastiest side-eye he’s ever had to deal with in his entire life. But there were more people, too.
At the back of the little V-shape they had going on was a tall woman with her hair tied up. She was so focused she looked a little bit scary. Intense shit. Not that she looked bad or nothing, just intense. Locked in.
Then, about a few feet away, was this dude about Thanos’ height, who was sweating like his job was to become a fucking waterfall. His hair wasn't as bad as the dude in front of him who had a total bowl-cut going on, and he looked fucking miserable. That was the Min-su dude Semi was talking about.
In front of the tall woman a pretty hot looking girl was dancing. Like, damn! She had it on lock. She had brown hair, was wearing a sports bra and tight leggings, and had the smallest braid in her tied-back hair. Shit was tight.
Infront of those two, were two girls with the same hairstyle, but one looked timid and nervous like she was about to trip on her own fucking feet in six seconds, and another one smirking like this was easy shit.
Then, in the front, was Namgyu and this bitch with a wolfcut giving her the second-nastiest glare he’d ever fucking seen. Shit was lethal in here!
Suddenly, the music came to an abrupt stop.
“Take five!” Namgyu yelled, to which erupted many thankful sighs. Namgyu rolled his eyes and began walking over to Thanos and Semi, shooting daggers at them. But someone else made it to them first.
“Thanos? Is it really you?” The sweaty dude from the back row came up to him, practically vibrating. Thanos put on a smile and nodded awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.
“Yeah. Are you a fan?” He asked hesitantly – hoping to every god ever that he wouldn’t fucking ask for a hug. Seriously, he glanced up toward the ceiling to pray for a minute. Because, and he didn’t want to be rude, but if this dude did ask for a hug, or even a picture, the answer would be a begrudging ‘not until you have a fucking shower’.
The dude piped up again, “Hell yeah, man! My name’s Gyeongsu – I'm front seat at all your shows, and I’ve got every track from your new album on my playlist, dude! I’m like, your biggest fan!” Gyeongsu nods erratically.
“Holy shit, man. You’re a diehard. Want me to sign something for you??” Thanos said back, kinda nervous. This dude was a crazy big fan – he didn't wanna, like, lose half his fanbase because he messes up with this dude, cause it’s happened before when he was tired as all hell and these fuckers wouldnt leave him alone. They posted on tiktok about it and shit and Thanos got a face-full of fucking cancel culture. Fucking twitter.
“Yeah! That’d be awesome, man!” He nods, running off to get what was apparently something Thanos could sign for him. Interaction successful. Then, another more stern voice piped up, right in Thanos’ blindspot.
“What do you want?” The shit made Thanos jump. His head whipped toward the voice. Namgyu. “We don’t got all day. We’re planning to make another deal soon, and–”
“We’ll be your deal!” Semi blurted out, nodding. “We got tons of cash and tracks that you could dance to. Whatever you want, you have it.” Fuck. She just promised a lot.
Listen, Thanos will do whatever it takes to really spice up a big concert or two, especially for a new album drop that he gets to tease his fans with. But ‘whatever you want’? He could want, like, all of Thanos’ money! Plus– this dude has a nice studio, is the most sought-out, smug little shithead in fucking Seoul, and he already has money!! What more could you want?
“I’ll talk to him,” Namgyu gestured to Thanos. “See if he can give me something, mmkay?” He drawled out that last bit like a purr, even though he was being a total bitch. Semi scoffed and crossed her arms, shooting Thanos a ‘dont fuck up’ look before she turned around and pushed her way out of the room.
“Okay, so–” Thanos began, but he was interrupted by this short bitch in front of him.
“I’ll ask again. What. Do. You. Want.” Nam-gyu said, more furiously this time, with more fervor. “Spit it the fuck out.” He scoffed, cocking an eyebrow. The fuck is wrong with this guy? Who hurt you?
Thanos blinked. “The fuck’s wrong with you, man? You always greet people like you’re a skunk who just got scared?” Dirty bitch.
Namgyu tilted his head, pretending to ponder before his eyes began drilling back into Thanos’ pupils. A fake, tight-lipped smile grew on his face. “Depends. Some people come here with respect.” His eyes flicked deliberately up and down Thanos’ outfit — from the shoes to the Hello Kitty tee. Which was fresh as shit, by the way! “Others come dressed like clowns.”
He took a breath, composing himself, before he barked out a laugh. “Chill out, boy, I’m not gonna kill you!” He scoffed. PTSD type personality in front of him right now – he either needs a reality check, a lesson on etiquette, or fucking therapy. “Just asking you for a deal.”
Namgyu stepped closer, close enough that Thanos caught the faint scent of sweat and cologne, and it was unfair as hell that it smelled good. The cologne. Not the fucking sweat. In his defense, some peoples’ sweat smells okay, it’s not even weird. Don’t make it weird. “You walk into my studio,” Namgyu said slowly, “while my dancers are working, and you think it’s a game?”
Thanos squared up, meeting his glare head-on. “It’s not a game. It’s business. I got tracks. You got moves. I’m offering you a stage that’ll blow this little strip-mall daycare out the fucking water.”
A couple gasps rippled through the dancers, namely Gyeongsu, who looked excited as fuck about the deal. But Namgyu didn’t flinch.
“Cute,” he deadpans.“You think I need you. That’s funny.”
Thanos snickered. He probably did, but he wasn’t gonna say that. “Hey, relax, boy! Never said you needed me, but I can get you what you do,” He shrugged. “Put that offer down, guess you’re gonna be working with some soundcloud rapper again. Your choice.
“Do it!” Gyeongsu piped up, jogging over to the conversation with a Thanos sweater in hand, handing it and a Sharpie gently to Thanos whilst giving a polite, deep bow. “Cmon, Namgyu. He’s good! Give it a shot, man!” Thanos nodded while he began signing the hoodie, handing it back to Gyeongsu when he was done alongside the Sharpie.
Namgyu shot Gyeongsu a glare and scoffed. “What’s he gonna give us? Money?” He shook his head. “It’s fucking bull. We’ll find an artist oursel–”
“No,” The tall woman said from the bleachers, placing down her water and strolling over as she wiped sweat from her forehead. “Gyeongsu is a fan– so perhaps he’s biased, but honestly, I think we should do it. This is the best offer we’ve gotten in a while, Nam-gyu. Sure, we’re not a tiny group anymore working out of Jiyeong’s basement, but we could use the publicity to get to the big guys.” She nods, turning to Thanos. “I’m Hyunju,” She puts her hand out with a polite smile, and Thanos shakes it gently before pulling his hand away. “I’m the co-choreographer and secondary lead dancer.”
Semi said something about Hyunju. Something something motherly. But now that he was in person? She was really motherly. Made him feel like he had to hold her hand to cross the street or something. Maternal energy type shit. Respect.
“Nice to meet you,” Thanos nods. “Won’t matter if I'm being kicked out, though.” He looked back to Namgyu.
“You won't be!” Gyeongsu responds, nodding frantically. “Right, Namgyu?” He said, slowly, hesitantly beginning to face him.
Namgyu scoffs, looking around and pinching his nosebridge in frustration as he places all his weight on one foot. Moment of fucking truth. If they can’t get in with this guy, his concerts become more and more fucking boring.
“Fine,” He reluctantly accepts, and Gyeongsu lets out a small ‘yes’. Which is honestly? Valid. Because that is exactly how Thanos is feeling at this very moment. Thank you, Gyeongsu, for the wonderful interpretation of his feelings. “Have my number,” Namgyu continues, finally opening his eyes and fishing through his sweatpants pocket for his phone.
“Kay,” Thanos shrugs, getting his own phone out as Nam-gyu fiddles with his, squinting really hard and shoving it real close to his own face.
“Fucking thing,” He murmurs, huffing when he finally gets his number and handing it to Thanos. His eyes glance back and forth, from Namgyu’s phone to his own for at least a minute before Thanos hands it back to Namgyu. Boom, the cat is basically in the potato sack or however the fuck you say that shit. Namgyu nods as he looks at his phone “I’ll text you. Now get the fuck out of my studio.” His voice raises.
Thanos puts his hands up like he’s being threatened with a gun as he backs away. “Okay– okay! I’ll see you around, or whatever!” He pushes his way out of the door and silently cheers for himself. Dear god. That was not fun.
—
And no, it was not. It still isn't, because Namgyu won't tell Thanos what he wants. It's been like, a week, and this bitch is fucking ghosting him! It's total bull. He only ever responds with “k” to the important stuff, and for the other shit like asking what the fuck he wants in return? Radio silence!
Shit is killing him.
So he’s gonna go find out what the fuck is going on.