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The dormitory felt different at night. A room once engulfed by a lawless, loud mob of green uniforms now a shadow of itself, the living returning to their bunks quietly, like a line of ants, savoring the victory of knowing they would get to see another day. The bright, cold lights they were met with at their wake, replaced at the day’s end with the warmth of the dim, yellow hues cast by the piggybank hanging above, right in the center of the dormitory – a reminder of why they were there, and of what they were giving up in return.
In the midst of ruffling sheets, the ocasional snore and the quiet chatter of those who waited for the crepuscle of lights out, one bunk in particular appeared to be more lively than the others. At least that’s what Thanos thought, given the incessant chatter coming from the dark haired man that had, as per usual, found himself sitting across the rapper on his bed.
“Man, I still can’t believe Gyeong-su flipped the ddakji on the first try,” Nam-gyu said, hands loosely holding onto the metal frameworks of the bunk. “He saved us time. That dork might actually be useful to us.”
One could almost taste the satisfaction oozing from Nam-gyu’s last sentence, his mouth twisting into a smirk akin to that of a manager at last witnessing their grand scheme come to fruition, born out of long, entertwined threads of meticulous, calculated moves.
Thanos hummed distractedly, leaning back on the bed with one hand resting comfortably under his pillow, while the other fiddled lazily with the cross around his neck. Clearly too busy coming down from his high to pay attention to the rambles of the man whose gaze never seemed to stray from him.
“Think he gave that asshole in the suit a run for his money?”
The direct question seemed to snap Thanos from his daze, although only briefly, for the interest that grazed his eyes when they met Nam-gyu’s promptly drifted to confusion when the man didn’t further elaborate.
“You know,” Nam-gyu tilted his head, shifting on the bed, “The recruiter guy, the one giving out cards and shit.”
It was almost like witnessing a shiny light bulb materialize itself above vibrant, purple hair.
Ah. That guy.
The rapper’s train of thought didn’t last long though, cut off by a string of sharp curses leaving the mouth of his companion.
“That crazy son of a bitch,” Nam-gyu huffed, digging his fingernails in a particular spot of Thanos’ sheets. “Kicked me around like I was one of his fucking toys, the bastard.”
It earned him a quick response.
“That how you treated yours, boy?”
Thanos watched as Nam-gyu’s mouth opened for a split second, eyes frantically searching for any hints of dissatisfaction – or worse, judgement – in the older man’s features.
“What, you didn’t?”
There was another pause, the two staring into each other’s eyes, perfectly still, as if waiting for their next move. A pair of fools – one testing the waters, one seeing how deep he could make the other sink. A silent match that Thanos undoubtedly lost, seeing as the subtle panic that gradually settled on the other man’s face drove him to finally release the chuckle he’d been holding back. Ironic, he thought, how easily he sabotaged himself at his own game.
“Yeah, man,” he said, a proud smirk plastering itself on his face just as his fist slammed into his palm, “Those shitty action figures never stood a chance against Thanos The Great.”
Much to the rapper’s surprise, the sight that graced his eyes following what had been a thoughtless, spontaneous attempt at easing the other man’s nerves was nothing short of extraordinary: Nam-gyu, sitting across him, sweater paw pressed tightly against his lips, failing miserably at supressing the giggle that left his throat – the same Nam-gyu that moments earlier had terrorized Min-su with promises of revenge if he stepped out of line; the same Nam-gyu that had snapped at Se-mi like a wild animal for crossing it.
The same Nam-gyu whose eyes were now sparkling under the dim lights of the dormitory, the coy smile tugging at the corner of his lips like a flame leaving its scorching mark in the small space they shared. It felt wrong. An anomaly, a paradox – none of the words that popped on Thanos’ mind seemed to fully encapsulate the sea of contradictions that was Nam-gyu. Rough, but fragile. Venomous, yet sweet. All sides of the same living, breathing being, that pushed and pulled, clashed and fused into the amalgamation which stood before him now. One, perhaps, that only Thanos was allowed to see.
He smiled to himself.
“Come here.”
Like instinct, Nam-gyu’s gaze darted from his lap to the three fingers extended in his direction. His throat felt dry as he watched them hook in a smooth motion, beckoning. Luring, for in that moment the bunk wasn’t refuge to two contestants in a life or death game, but to a ravenous beast and a prey that tip-toed on the thrill of getting caught. They locked eyes, earth brown diving deeply into artificial ocean blue, compelled by a gravitational pull, an unspoken magnetism. Whatever it was, it was real – and addicting, because before he knew it, Nam-gyu was on his hands and knees on the bed, crawling toward the rapper at an astonishingly slow pace; teeth sinking into his bottom lip as Thanos propped himself up on one elbow, watching him gradually settle beside him.
They were face to face now. The bunk, significantly smaller. The shallow lights of the dormitory did little to ease the tension, the shadows cast from above surrounding and ensnaring them both in a somber embrace. Nam-gyu remained still, back arched slightly and hands pressed firmly to his thighs; unwavering, even when Thanos’ hand slowly reached for his jaw, cool fingertips latching onto soft, burning skin.
“You sure the guy hit you that much?” He gently tilted the younger man’s head to the side. There were traces of bruising on his cheek, sure, but they were small. Barely noticeable under his fingertips.
Dizzy. Nam-gyu felt dizzy. Probably why there was a slight crack in his voice when he spoke. “You should have seen my face then, hyung,” he laughed, ignoring the way his lips trembled, “Total mess.”
Perhaps it was pathetic, the act of making himself small in the eyes of the strong in hopes of being coddled, held close – anything to satisfy the intrinsic desire of his to be seen, to feel wanted – but frankly, Nam-gyu didn’t care. Addiction ran deep in his veins. He craved the chase as much as the taste of getting caught.
“Aww.” Thanos’ fingers trailed down to his chin, thumb lingering right below his bottom lip. “Good thing you clean up okay, then.”
It was subtle, the way Nam-gyu’s breath hitched.
“Yeah?”
Thanos didn’t let go.
“Yeah, boy.” A smirk spread across his lips. “Gotta share the skin care routine with the class.”
Flushed cheeks, bashful smiles; Nam-gyu was practically melting. “You don’t look too bad yourself, I mean–“ A weak exhale, masked as a chuckle. “How many slaps did it even take for you to beat him?”
The silence that followed caught him off guard. A void he told himself he had to fill. Nothing he couldn’t fix.
“The man in the suit,” he clarified, voice barely above a whisper as his eyes fought to reach Thanos’ unreadable gaze. “How many times did he slap you?”
It was then that the air shifted.
Nam-gyu’s chest sank with the sudden loss of Thanos’ touch – his warmth – mouth quivering as his eyes frantically jumped between the rapper and the hand now pulling away from his face.
The void, it ripped the breath right out of Nam-gyu’s throat, leaving him speechless at the fog that shrouded the other man’s pupils; no more hint in them of that fiery spark that was so undoubtedly Thanos. Now, they were hollow, a broken shell, a clouded reflection of someone else.
And just like that, a familiar chill settled on Nam-gyu’s skin.
The worst part is he could have accepted the whole thing as just another one of their little ‘moments’ – gazes that effortlessly found one another in the crowd, touches that lingered when no one was watching, soft affirmations whispered in the dark – exchanges that were inexplicably intimate, but always fleeting in essence. In the dire circunstances they were in, comfort was a privilege, one they could afford as long as they had each other. Their partnership, both in and outside the game arena, was simply a means to an end. That was their unspoken agreement. It didn’t have to mean anything more than that. It shouldn’t.
Yet here was Nam-gyu, pathetically mourning the loss of a man that was breathing right beside him. It was absurd – ridiculous, even – but above all, it was overwhelming: the way his fingers desperately clung to his own sleeves to ground himself; the way his heart pounded against his ribs as Thanos refused to look him in the eye; the way his mind kept spinning around shades of purple, crying out whys and hows, just for it all to crumble down into a small, shaky is it my fault.
It shouldn’t have to be like this.
Those had been the words crossing Nam-gyu’s mind as he turned his back to the rapper and readied himself to stand and return to his own bunk. Better to leave, he thought, than to face the fact he’d ruined a perfectly good thing by poking too hard, digging too deep, seeking too much. People like him didn’t pride themselves in scratching beyond the surface; why did he always have to go and stray from the rest?
Shallow was all he’d ever known, and it’d continue to be all he ever knew had it not been for the whisper that relunctantly brushed his ear.
“…He didn’t.”
The voice was tame and mellow.
A soft exhale left Nam-gyu. Slowly, he turned to face Thanos again. His head was sinking into his pillow, gaze still fixed on the top of the bunk, but his parted lips hinted at a willingness that wasn’t there before.
“That man, he…” Thanos paused, mouth quivering slightly as he tried to conjure his next words. “He just… gave me the card and dipped.”
It was a simple sentence, easy to digest – hell, one could question why it had taken so long for the rapper to speak it into existence.
A sentence, however, Nam-gyu could feel carried so much more weight.
The bed creaked as he shifted closer to the man, crossing his legs and tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Flashes of Thanos rushed through the corners of his mind: deflated purple hair, so peculiarly foreign on the rapper, clashing with the familiar vibrancy of his neon, green shirt – the type of boldness that guaranteed all eyes were on him. In his hand, a cotton candy flavored vape, his only possession besides the cross necklace he was so inexplicably loyal to. As for the backdrop…
A bridge.
That’s when it clicked.
Nam-gyu felt sick. Under the faint, amber lights of the dormitory, Thanos didn’t look any better.
The two stayed in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Nam-gyu, who watched him attentively, holding his tongue in hopes the quiet would ease the man into sharing what was plaguing him; and Thanos, who kept his eyes shut, lips pressed tightly together in an earnest attempt at detaching himself from his past, from Nam-gyu – from the agonizing shame crawling up his throat and threatening to spill.
Because how was he supposed to tell Nam-gyu that the only reason he didn’t get physically punished, no matter how many times he failed at flipping the damn ddakji, was due to the fact that the recruiter had found him on Han River Bridge just as he was about to take his own life? That the motive for the ‘benevolence’ he’d been blessed with was nothing more than a planned strategy to assure that a potential player – another random, insignificant number on a track suit – wouldn’t, quite literally, push himself off the edge?
Thanos swallowed dryly. He’d felt small, pathetic. Weak. He could at least give thanks to whatever divine entity had spared him the shame of being pitied by that man. He was a failed rapper, a faded star that had burnt too bright. Another Icarus who had flown too close to the sun and paid the price. He knew that. The last thing he needed was to be reminded of his disgraceful fall by people who looked at him with cautious, lamenting smiles that reeked of death – the death of his career, of his loud, self-indulgent lifestyle, of his ties to his family, and of course, of Thanos.
All that remained was Choi Su-bong. Good old frail, pitiful Su-bong.
The games had given him a chance to take it all back. Reclaim it. A once in a lifetime opportunity; a hand stretched out to him, not to rub circles on his back and soothe his scarred ego, but to lift him off his feet and shove him right back to the life he’d built. A return to form, a phoenix rising from the ashes, as if it had never combusted in the first place. That’s why, for as long as he still breathed, Su-bong swore he’d do everything in his power to get the money he needed to get back to his celestial path – Thanos’ stage, his home, but above all else, his birthright. He was meant for the stars, and he’d either get there or perish trying.
All this to say that, to all the people that had offered him nothing but pity, Thanos wished they’d shove it or, at the very least, save it for when he was reduced to mere bone and ash.
Nam-gyu was different, though. There was no pity or judgement behind his deep, brown irises; no sign of mockery, nor fake sympathy. The evidence was right in front of him, for when Thanos finally turned his head to face Nam-gyu again, he found him lying on his side, gaze brimming with a tenderness he’d never been graced with before. A sense of adoration and devotion that had never been aimed at him, not even back on his days of shining the brightest under the spotlight. No, Nam-gyu looked at Thanos like he was bigger than the stage itself, louder than the swarming crowds, higher than any star up in the sky.
It was then, with parted lips and faces merely inches apart, that he realized that Nam-gyu wasn’t seeing Thanos at all – he was seeing Su-bong: the kid who was bullied at school for being different; the teen who recklessly dropped out to seek his foolish fantasy of fame and fortune; the man who’d lost everything chasing said dreams.
Su-bong, alone and afraid, for who he truly was.
And yet somehow, as he delved into Nam-gyu’s eyes, he saw in them the reflection of the man he wished to be: a force to be reckoned with, a burning sun; passion incarnate, fervorous by nature. A constellation of imperfections adorning the sky with splashes of color – raw and messy, yet still worthy of being embraced for all its chaotic beauty.
The man he is, at least to Nam-gyu.
And in that moment, enveloped by the gloomy atmosphere of the dormitory as they waited for whatever the next day would bring – no guarantees they’d make it out alive – it was enough.
Perhaps that’s why Thanos’ hand now found itself resting on the other man’s cheek. Like a whisper in the wind, his fingers gently stroked away his long hair, tucking it behind his ear, just the way he liked it. In the background, the countdown for lights out had begun, barely acknowledged given how Nam-gyu’s shaky breath was brushing against his lips, setting off thunder in his chest. It didn’t take long for Thanos to lean into the crook of the man’s neck; breathing in and slowly trailing along his jaw, mouthing at every inch of soft, scorching skin just as trembling fingers reached out to grab and tug at the back of his hair.
“Hyung–“
He pulled away just enough for their foreheads to press together, breathless pants filling the bunk as his eyes met Nam-gyu’s the second the lights went out. Above the veil of utter darkness, there was red and blue – life and death – yet Nam-gyu could have sworn there was only purple. Thanos, on the other hand, didn’t see color; to him, there was only the way the other man’s eyes sparkled in the shadows, even brighter now under the rapper’s ardent gaze.
It happened in an instant: Nam-gyu’s nails digging into the fabric of Thanos’ track suit, pulling him impossibly closer; eyes wandering lower just to fall right on the man’s parted lips. A silent invitation – more than that, an aching plea for something neither of them wished to name, yet craved so deeply.
To taste each other’s lips, a temptation they’d never allowed themselves to give in to; afraid of what it could mean, of what it could change. The forbidden fruit, solely theirs for the taking, abandoned in the name of ridding themselves of sin.
With a throbbing chest and winded breaths, Thanos’ uncertain gaze found Nam-gyu’s longing one.
One step. That’s all it would take to reach Paradise.
Bitter, yet so painfully sweet; those were the words echoing in Nam-gyu’s mouth the moment Thanos’ lips finally crashed against his: eager and demanding, hot and desperate, yet holding a tenderness that sent him spiralling. It was madly intoxicating, the way they fueled one another just as easily as they could take each other apart; bodies pressed together, hands roaming, clawing at every inch of skin all the while their lips closed the gap between their roaring hearts.
They’d crossed a line that night, but it didn’t matter.
For each other, they’d cross the stars.