Chapter Text
They didn’t talk about it the next morning.
They didn’t talk at all. Not about how Thanos was seemingly refusing to drink or take anything from the bathroom’s events onwards, choosing to savour Nam-gyu’s taste for as long as possible, choosing instead to simply ride out his high. Not about how they sped-walked home, barely closing the door behind them as Nam-gyu pinned Thanos against the wall whispering “You’ve never been fucked by a dude, have you?”, and they definitely did not talk about how Thanos meekly shook his head and allowed Nam-gyu to do what he was best at.
They didn’t talk about it, because it wasn’t supposed to happen. Though Nam-gyu relished the control he had, the freedom he was offered, he knew that Thanos knew it was a mistake. Another mistake he made while high, just like when he killed MGCoin.
No feelings involved after all, Nam-gyu told himself. He couldn’t definitively place how that made him feel.
Nam-gyu was going to have to do something about his continuous mistakes, clearly. Damage control and all that crap, as always. Just thinking about constantly and meticulously covering up Thanos’s blunders, wiping the aftereffects so clean that others' mistakes, too, washed away, granted him a brand new headache.
Just as he deserved.
Breakfast, for the first time since…too long, was eaten in the kitchen, both of them sat opposite each other rather than side by side. It was a sudden switch from the living room, unpredicted by both.
Maybe it was coincidence, or maybe both of them just simply despised having to sit on the couch, flickers of memories from two nights ago breaking through Nam-gyu’s cloudy mind.
He wondered if Thanos actually ate the spit-covered stir fry, or if he just pushed that part aside. Would it be weird if he asked?
Glancing up from his soggy cereal, Nam-gyu took in Thanos’s form.
He looked…exhausted wasn’t the right word, even with his sunken eyes, as they were fairly commonplace. Jittery, maybe? Once again they had woken up entangled in each other’s arms, this time purposefully. The night, which Nam-gyu despised thinking about, despite it having been only a mere twelve hours ago, had drained them both. Nam-gyu was sure Thanos had struggled walking out of his (their?) room, if his position from the bed didn’t distort his already blurry vision.
It wasn’t appropriate to ask about the stir fry then. Perhaps for the best.
Breakfast was silent, apart from the occasional, accidental sip, and the final scraping of metal against the bowls.
Cereal was the only thing Thanos knew how to make.
Nam-gyu gulped, mentally debating whether to say anything.
“I’m going to the studio today. Got a message from my manager, said that we should start some new stuff…y’know?”
Thanos was a horrible liar. Rambling was always a tell-tale sign, did he really not know that?
Nam-gyu simply nodded.
“Sure, okay. Leave your bowl, I’ll do the dishes.”
No reply was given, and by the time Nam-gyu had finished drying the spoons, Thanos was gone.
If only he had a dishwasher, he thought as he flopped carelessly onto the couch. Maybe, if he decided to charge rent, he would be able to afford one. But he guessed that their relationship had all too quickly been turned upside down and shaken around like a helpless goldfish in a plastic bag, and asking for rent from someone you literally slept with sounds more like charging for the act itself.
Technically, Thanos already paid for that with the pill.
Maybe heroin was better after all. It had been some months, the price being too high, and Thanos’s occasional generosity was a mildly better, though less reliable, option. However, his dealer’s number was still saved somewhere…and Nam-gyu had some spare cash, for once.
Pulling out his phone, ignoring the texts sent by unsaved co-worker's numbers begging for him to cover their shift that night, wanting him to fucking close of all things, Nam-gyu scrolled until he found the, also unsaved, number he had memorised up until those final couple of digits.
Actually, he considered it as he opened the messages between him and his guy. What was his name again? Nam-gyu couldn’t remember for the life of him.
Nam-gyu: u got my usual? (11:14)
???: been a sec, thought u ditched. yh, pure? (11:17)
Nam-gyu: nah, can’t afford rn. can we do asap? (11:17)
???: 👍(11:19)
The conversation continued for ten extra minutes, mostly because this asshole took fucking ages to reply between messages, as if he wasn’t getting fucking paid by this. By the end of it, though, Nam-gyu was grinning widely, stumbling off the couch in an excitement that was beginning to feel all too familiar; one he hadn’t felt in forever.
He threw on a random black hoodie from the corner of the room for warmth, the signature Thanos scent of old vape and more hitting his nostrils immediately.
Whatever. He would just take it off when he returned. Probably put it in the wash as well, because he was pretty sure it had been lying there and collecting dust for some days now.
Fucking Thanos, couldn’t do shit. Couldn’t cook, couldn’t clean, couldn’t even save some fucking hot water so Nam-gyu reeked of sweat and people for hours longer than what he was used to.
Fuck, he had to shower. Thanos hogged it that morning, again, before Nam-gyu found the energy to drag himself out of bed.
‘How the fuck was a first-time bottom walking around casually?’ Nam-gyu thought bitterly. There was a reason he preferred giving rather than receiving, and here Thanos was barely tripping over himself.
(Nam-gyu knew that he was absolutely exaggerating - in fact, Thanos’s occasional stumbles were the most prominent thoughts in his mind. But he couldn’t target his constant unexplainable anger towards himself, so Thanos and all his annoying habits it was. Besides, the strong emotion would fade soon enough.)
The trip there and back took just about an hour. Nam-gyu ensured to ignore any judgemental stares from put-together passers by, flaunting their designer and brand new iPhones. He scowled spitefully at a girl with pink streaks in her hair that looked exactly like Thanos’s fucking type, who stared judgmentally as he pushed past her. He didn’t even look that bad. Sure, his hair had been lacking the usual products he used (so he reminded himself to message the still unnamed co-worker back for that shift, after all), and maybe he should have considered showering, but Thanos’s strong cologne covered up…everything.
The walk back was more stressful, fueled by suspicion and twitchiness.
Walking someplace dodgy could mean anything. Walking back, however, knowledgeably hiding a plastic baggie in his front pocket, paired with the withdrawals which only the substance could solve…
Nam-gyu had only just gotten over the fear of his involvement with MGCoin coming to light, the water sure to dispose of absolutely everything, and yet a small thought in the back of his mind refused to let him let it go.
Goddamn guilt, or empathy, or whatever the girly fucking emotion was called. Despite everything, he still couldn’t erase them from his DNA.
Soon, the only thoughts that would clog his mind would be fog and emptiness. Just how he liked it.
The most noticeable thing about his re-entrance back into his apartment was that it was still completely empty of life. Where his roommate had actually gone, Nam-gyu didn’t care. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be back too soon, Nam-gyu not wanting to be caught injecting himself. The chance of him respecting the week-old rule of ‘do not enter the bedroom’ was not likely to be followed.
He could tolerate snorting or smoking with someone else in the room, even someone staring intensely at him, but never injecting. The needle sticking out of his veins, with a belt tied around his arm, rendered him all too vulnerable. Some may say it’s the last bits of shame he had left; the shame of being an addict to something so strong, the one thing he had forever been told to avoid no matter the cost.
Slipping into the bedroom, Nam-gyu dug around his set of drawers, looking for a clean, unopened pack of needles, as well as all the other crap he needed. It was muscle-memory, at this point, with him barely looking at the contents inside, relying more on feeling around the mess.
Everything was located in record time, including a lighter he had forgotten about, and as hurriedly as he had come into the room, he turned towards his bed, excited for a hit that he had waited much too long to fulfill.
He had briefly considered changing the sheets first, considering he didn’t even want to know what had dried up there.
Instead, he opted to seat himself down on the floor. He was not about to procrastinate. Just thinking about anything, whether his still unclaimed closing shift, his financial situation, MGCoin, Thanos, or Thanos and their night together, had him literally and figuratively tweaking to muzzle his racing thoughts.
He threw his carried items next to him, scattering them on the floor.
If he hated Thanos’s impending presence now, he hated even thinking about Thanos always. Fucking Thanos, and how he looked last night, eyes glazed over, experiencing a variety of firsts with Nam-gyu of all people, who had no idea how or why he was even chosen to be Thanos’s object of attraction. For the longest time, he had thought he was average at most. Not necessarily ugly, considering his every-so-often hookups always happily leading him away, but definitely nothing to Thanos’s standards - he was not the girls with cascading long hair, usually slightly, if not entirely, dyed a bright, unnatural colour, with long nails, small bodies, and plastic-surgery ass and tits.
And of course Thanos took up every crevice in his brain. In frustration, Nam-gyu became increasingly aware of his shaking hands as he clumsily texted his co-worker back.
Then, finally, as the message received a thumbs up, Nam-gyu grinned widely, sighing in relief.
He zoned out as he pulled a sleeve up, opened the baggie, lit the flame, tied the belt, watched his vein pop out - and it was only when the needle was empty that, for a brief split-second, his mind cleared.
Euphoria struck only moments later. Then, his mind became a clean slate, empty of all thoughts, memories, fear, love…
A haze of happiness consumed him. And lying there, on his musty bedroom floor, unaware of the world around him, Nam-gyu remembered why heroin was his best friend of all. Thanos hadn’t even passed his mind, because no matter what their relationship was from the previous night onwards, only heroin could consider itself Nam-gyu’s other half. Soulmates were a concept made up by those desperate for affection, Nam-gyu often regarded, until the bliss blessed by heroin made him realise, they really are real.
Love is a drug, and Nam-gyu could only truly love one.
The feeling didn’t last long - when did it ever? It was a constant, repetitive cycle; a toxic ex he could never, ever, pull away from, no matter how damaging the codependency was.
He couldn’t pinpoint how much time had passed, what with being out of practice and all, but he noticed that there was still no Thanos, considering the silence.
The high clearly hadn’t lasted as long as he wanted it to. He would have to save up for both a dishwasher and pure now.
He knew which one was the priority.
Nam-gyu hated to admit it, but he was almost worried about Thanos, nearly regretting not pushing more about his day's whereabouts. He could always use MG as an excuse, if it came down to it. Then Thanos would have no option but to stick by Nam-gyu’s side.
He shook his head, pulling himself away from that train of thought. He couldn’t get attached. Wouldn’t.
Comedowns were, as always, his greatest inconvenience, having hit him harder and faster than he recalled. Nausea slowly filled his stomach to the brim, and very soon a new, debilitating headache would make itself at home for the next few days, if not weeks. Exhaustion overtook, his muscles heavy as he lifted his body up from the floor (when had he decided to lie down?)
His intoxication dwindled into the familiar sluggishness mixed with remnants of bliss, blurring the sickness that was beginning to overcome him, and all he wanted to do was close his eyes on a clean, cosy surface.
Since his bed was still out of use, the only logical and comfortable place to lounge was the couch.
The drowsy drag up and towards his desired location lasted forever and simultaneously milliseconds. Eternity and yet nothing passed as the familiar soft, worn-out pillows allowed him to sink into them.
Channel flicking was by far the most tedious, most boring activity of anyone’s life, even when they weren’t entirely aware of, well, anything at all, really. The chances of cable, considering the rise in streaming services that Nam-gyu could most definitely not afford, having any mildly entertaining or pleasurable to watch was much too low. And yet, Nam-gyu settled for it.
The only blessing was that, for a short amount of time, he was still not fully conscious of himself and his body. The feeling was going to hit horribly once the drug’s effects had fully worn off, but, remaining optimistic for once, Nam-gyu would then be fast asleep, experiencing the weird, colourful dreams he always got after consuming anything besides cigarettes.
He wanted a cigarette bad, now that he thought of them. He left the TV on channel whatever, let go of the remote, and decided to feel around his jeans pockets for the familiar feel of a cigarette box. Surely he brought them out with him?
As he felt around his pockets and the cushions around him, a sudden awareness creeped up on him.
Somehow, the channel that he had decided to leave the TV running on was the news of all things, a fact that Nam-gyu had not been aware of until his ears caught up with a reporter’s voice speaking over some, what seemed to be live, footage by a river.
Shit. Holy shit. If Nam-gyu’s luck was down before, this just landed both it and him a place in hell.
Looking down at the brand new, developing bruise on his arm with widened eyes, Nam-gyu had a brief realisation that the paranoia that threatened to burst at the seams on his way back was, for once, validated.
All thanks to MG fucking Coin, who’s body decided to learn how to fucking swim up onto some fucking rock pile. How was that even possible? After all this time, too?
Nam-gyu’s breathing sped up, the sharpness in his chest stabbing harder and harder and harder with each passing moment, intense fear infiltrating much faster than it ever should’ve.
Should he take some more? If the police came bursting through his door, somehow connecting him just by looking at the dumbass body’s face, he would much rather be utterly consumed by deliriousness.
And it would quell the growing aches hitting his every nerve.
On the topic of growing aches; Thanos.
It was Thanos who got him into this mess. Thanos who had kissed him back, making their already strange relationship somehow even weirder.
Thanos, who had sneakily entered both the apartment and the room, Nam-gyu only having noticed thanks to the unavoidable creakiness of the hallway floor, flinching slightly at the sudden intrusion.
“Are you wearing my sweater?” Thanos asked unaware, followed by a familiar click of a vape being inhaled.
Nam-gyu hummed, still distracted with a look of horror at the news literally playing out in front of him.
‘Early this morning, at about 9am, witnesses in the Mapo district claimed to have seen a figure lying on hard-to-access rocks in the Han River. Emergency response was quick to the scene, where the body was revealed to be missing youtuber, MGCoin, who was reported missing short of two weeks ago. Though decomposition occurred, the cold water helped maintain the body, and the distinguishable items of clothing provided by friends and family ensured quick identification.’
Thanos had missed the first half, having interrupted the female voice, but at Nam-gyu’s ‘reply’, if it could even be called that, he stopped, and Nam-gyu could sense the impending sense of doom that had enveloped the room.
Crazy coincidence, Nam-gyu thought, that he had clicked onto the channel just in time for this specific news to appear, and for Thanos to come waltzing in the door. Maybe it was a sign from the universe that he would always get updates, ready to be one step ahead, or maybe it was a grim, grisly reminder that he was totally and utterly fucked.
Another headache.
Another bout of fear.
Another piece of damage to control.
If he even could. Maybe it was too late. Maybe he just had to accept his fate. Maybe his involvement with Thanos, which had originally been somewhat of a dream - to befriend an actual rapper with budding fame, was his ultimate downfall.
As swiftly as he could, he smashed the ‘off’ button on the remote, throwing it back down as if the action had burned him.
“Just…don’t say anything. Shut up, please,” Nam-gyu flatly stated, closing his eyes and exhaling loudly.
Thanos scoffed.
“I wasn’t even gonna say anything.”
Another lie. What else was he lying about? Maybe…
Maybe he went out and reported it. Thanos was always a bit of a pussy, when he wasn’t high out of his mind. At least Nam-gyu thought so.
The space beside him sunk, a sudden chill replacing the emptiness.
“There’s a needle on the floor…and…y’know. In the bedroom.”
Nam-gyu’s eyes shot open. Of course he knew. He wasn’t used to having to immediately clean up after himself.
“Oh, right.”
A pause.
When had Thanos even gone in there? Nam-gyu hadn’t been aware of anything, though he wasn’t about to complain.
“I’ll clean that up right now, my bad,” and yet he made no sign that he was going to move from his position on the couch.
Thanos’s eyebrows furrowed, yet he didn’t push. The guise that Nam-gyu didn’t inject anymore, having formed a closer bond with the brand new shiny boyfriend called ‘pills’ was now lost, and yet Nam-gyu couldn’t help but not give a single fuck anymore. Perceptions of everyone changed every day, and it was only going to be so long until Thanos figured him out.
Now, it didn’t matter.
Then, suddenly an idea lit up inside his head, but it was only after five or so awkward minutes (hours, possibly) that Nam-gyu found the correct wording to not push Thanos away.
“We should stop having drugs in here.”
“What?” came Thanos’s shocked reply.
Nam-gyu winced at the loudness.
“We can’t afford to have anything incriminating in the apartment. A precaution, you know?”
“Dude, you’re so clearly high right now. Don’t spout bullshit when you’re like this.”
“Look, just listen to me, okay?” Nam-gyu nearly shouted, if it wasn’t for his onset of withdrawals. “There might be some association with Club Pentagon. I bet he was fucking caught on the CCTV outside and everything, this place is the republic of it! Until our names get cleared, we just can’t have anything in the house, or preferably on us, unless we’re at Pentagon. They don’t have any cameras inside, especially not in the VIP sections.”
Thanos scowled, crossing his arms. Anger battled with hesitancy, a familiar feeling to Nam-gyu.
“So what, I can’t have my cross?”
“Have your cross all you want, I’m telling you not to keep anything shady inside it.”
“Shady? That includes the stuff in your room, right?” Thanos asked, a spiteful edge to his voice.
Nam-gyu glared at him.
“I’ll handle that. I’ll handle everything, okay?”
Then, just as suddenly as his outburst occurred, Nam-gyu’s strong emotions dwindled, and he wiped his hands down his face.
“We’ve got this. This isn’t full time soberness, just something short term while we’re inside. I’ll keep us supplied.”
Reluctantly, Thanos nodded.
And that symbolised the beginning of Nam-gyu’s plan.