Chapter Text
It’s been three weeks since the end of the world. Exactly twenty-two days since planet Earth went up in metaphorical flames, burned to the core, and left behind nothing but the nauseating essence of excess life. Life that, unfortunately, Namgyu’s own body clung to in a desperate thrum of highs and lows. One second, he was buzzing with joy, liquid death in his veins, unaware of his surroundings and ignorant of all besides the inexplicable pull for more, more, more. Then — shrill screams, the crowd moving as one starving entity, swallowing up everything in its vicinity; a wave of skin and bone.
And, really, Namgyu’s brain must have been steadily shrinking over the course of the week-long bender he’d indulged in after getting fired from his job, so the only thing he managed to do in the heat of the moment was link his arm with some random bitch and follow.
He thinks he remembers an attempt to push him off, but he was far from steady on his feet, head in the clouds, so who can blame him for not taking the hint? A group eventually made it out of the heart of the city, and Namgyu stuck to them like a lost puppy throughout the entire ordeal. He didn’t exchange more than a few words with them, but caught up when they went ahead, mooched off their already-scarce food supplies, ingrained himself into their circle despite it being made obvious he wasn’t wanted there.
For a day and a half, they walked. It must’ve been the work of God Himself that Namgyu still had some snow tucked away in the inner pocket of his jacket. He was nothing if not selfish — when they stopped for one of the guys to take a piss, Namgyu snuck behind a tree, cut a line atop his knee, and let himself get lost in the warmth of euphoria. He didn’t quite know what was going on, and he didn’t particularly care, either, as long as he got to avoid his own stale apartment. The snarls and moans that followed their journey seemed like background noise to the rapid beating of his heart and his sudden attempts at conversation.
It wasn’t long until Namgyu realized he might’ve fucked up. He hasn’t been home in weeks; he was traveling with people that he’d never seen before (though they’ve probably watched more survival shows than Namgyu, judging from their… capabilities), and he had no idea what part of the country they were even in. Showers seemed like a distant memory. He didn’t let himself think about it too much, though. Ignorance is bliss.
Despite his attempts to stay unaware, the world stopped when he finally started to comprehend the situation — a pale, erratically moving figure lurched at them, jaw hung open unnaturally, blood enveloping its mouth, eyes nothing but glaring spots of white on dirtied skin. The clothes were torn apart, revealing the protruding bones of its ribs and hipbones, a cold tint of dead undeniable against the greenery of the forest they found themselves in. Guttural groans and growls came from deep within its throat, skeletal hands reaching for the nearest human, all animalistic instincts rather than thought or feeling. Inhumane. Jarring. Confusion and fear curled into a sharp twist in Namgyu’s gut. Bile rose and filled his mouth, sour and heavy on his tongue, and he briefly thought that now wouldn’t be a bad time to choke on his own vomit. It was bound to happen eventually, so why not now to save himself the nightmares?
A pocket knife promptly sliced through its throat, crimson red gushing out and staining the rags it wore, just enough to have the— the thing stumbling back, and with a slap to his back, Namgyu let the contents of his stomach spill out, before being swiftly dragged away further into the woods.
That night, he couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, it was red and blue, and the dirty, blood-stained teeth trying to rip out his flesh. The dirt under his nails, the grease in his hair, the sweat on the back of his neck; undoubtedly human. Certainly live. He wrapped his fingers around his throat for a lingering moment, just to feel the flutter of his heartbeat, the warmth of the blood coursing through his veins, the clamminess of his palm. There was something vile in the air. Perhaps there always has been, and only now was Namgyu sober enough to realize it. Putrid, suffocating. How long could he really survive like this?
Namgyu finally took the time to glance at his companions. They hardly seemed older than him, yet it was glaringly clear that Namgyu was the weakest link. Whatever. He can’t imagine sticking with them until the end, anyway. He’s far more likely to let himself rot and become food for the wandering.
In hindsight, perhaps he made the right choice, tagging along just for a while longer. Namgyu didn’t know whether the others had heard of this place somewhere, or if they ended up here by chance, but he counted his blessings all the same. A refugee camp.
He could make out more people inside, behind the tall walls that surrounded the area. Guards were stationed by the gate, armed with guns and knives — military, he guessed. They were swiftly taken in one by one for a patdown and a temperature check. Once the guards had ensured they had no more weapons, they were allowed into the camp.
Tents lined the space, the larger ones reserved for medical care and food storage, while off to the side, he could make out washing areas and toilets. The atmosphere seemed dense, thick with grief and the shared knowledge that nothing would ever go back to the way it was before. He didn’t get to dwell on it long, quickly being guided to a tent he’d be sharing with another survivor, some dorky boy Namgyu already hated. It was stuffy and bordering on claustrophobic, but Namgyu settled down (with only his empty wallet and empty little sealable plastic bags in tow) and found himself waiting in line for a shower moments later. He was itching to get some deodorant and a change of clothes.
So, almost a month has passed, and nothing’s gotten better. Namgyu was quickly discarded as lacking physical strength, put into a menial labour role, kicked to the curb. It was humiliating. He was as useful as the twerp he shared a tent with. Park Minsu, he came to find out, whose hands shook too much to properly sort through the clothes the others brought in after scavenging, and who started crying when one of the survivors attacked another person and was promptly shot dead by the guards. Even seeing him around made Namgyu’s blood boil; it didn’t help that they had the same jobs.
Days were monotonous and solitary. Namgyu kept to himself — he did the tasks he was assigned under the looming threat of expulsion if not completed, tried his best to stomach the little food provided, and took his ten-minute showers at night, when fewer people were around to see the scars on his body.
Even that pussy Minsu had found someone to stick with. More and more people were arriving at the camp, seeking safety in numbers. The water supply was even more limited, food resources were stretched thin, yet that freak still wanted some ass. Namgyu couldn’t even get a full night’s sleep, weak and withdrawing, and Minsu was trying to hit on some girl he’d just met? The sight was pathetic, honestly. How desperate could he be? The worst part was that the bitch had taken a liking to Minsu too, and often accompanied him to the tents. During Namgyu’s reading time. He couldn’t even get some peace.
It was a bit lonely, admittedly. Until it wasn’t. Namgyu had been pestering one of the guys about to go on a run to keep an eye out for some pills and thriller novels — Kang prescription, right? What for? Are you okay? Daeho — when new survivors entered the camp. Not unusual by any means, except for the flash of purple hair and neon yellow shirt.
Namgyu’s life before the collapse of the world was far from pretty. He had worked at a shady club in the city for years. A well-known club, where nights bled together into flashing lights and thundering bass. More often than not, it entailed a bit of illegal business under the table. Namgyu was usually too blitzed to pay attention to the dolts he sold to, but one person never failed to catch his eye.
Thanos was a local sensation, a legend in his own words. He’d been a regular at Club Pentagon, pulling in crowds and booking VIP tables left and right. He rapped about coke and pussy and dough, but Namgyu knew him beyond that. Namgyu knew his favorite strain of weed, what music he played in his car, how his lips tasted under the burn of liquor. A few stolen moments in the shadows meant so much more than the girls that hung off Thanos’ shoulder in the bright lights, as if they had any claim over him, as if Thanos would even remember their names. They’d sit on his lap and litter his neck with lipstick stains, and Thanos’ eyes would be on Namgyu, because Namgyu knew him better than any bitch with mascara smudges and glitter on their cheekbones ever could.
Maybe Thanos stuck around for the free drinks. Namgyu didn’t let himself entertain that thought; couldn’t, when Thanos was generous enough to let Namgyu sink to his knees and suck his dick until the bitter taste of release was filling his mouth and dripping down his chin.
They never exchanged numbers. Namgyu didn’t let that bother him — they’d see each other at the club, anyway. He imagines a rising star has to be careful every now and again. But then a week passed, then another, then two more, and he cursed Thanos’ name with every swig of a drink. Seeing him in the sunlight was… disconcerting, in a way. The violet of his hair had faded noticeably since the last time they’d been together, his dark eyes were narrowed against the harsh rays of the sun, and he almost seemed smaller. Thanos, larger than life itself, reduced to prey, just like the rest of them.
When his gaze swept over the camp, it settled on Namgyu for the briefest moment. Electricity zapped through his skin; it was the only way Namgyu could explain the betraying hitch in his breath. Because Thanos’ look was vehement, intrusive in the way it pierced right through him and left just as abruptly. Not a second later, and he was being led away to the tents, leaving Namgyu with an ignored Daeho staring at him expectantly.
The following day, Namgyu was prepared to go and confront him. He’d give the asshole a piece of his mind, get a proper apology, and then leave with his dignity back in his own hands. It was a solid plan. It would’ve been, had Namgyu accounted for what he’d do if Thanos were holding a colorful pill between his thumb and forefinger, right in Namgyu’s line of sight as he placed it on his tongue. Switching gears.
“Hey, what’s that?” The words slipped out unbidden, but Namgyu didn’t have it in him to backtrack — not when the little candies were clear as day inside Thanos’ cross locket.
Instantly, Thanos’ eyes flicked up, meeting Namgyu’s own. A beat of silence passed. “What’s it to you?”
Namgyu let out a small, tight laugh. The thought of the tremors, the cramps that have been plaguing him for the past few weeks coming to an end was its own kind of high. “Can I have one?”
“Have you lost your mind?” Thanos’ eyebrows rose in exasperation.
“Just one. For all the shit I got you at the club,” Namgyu smiled placatingly.
Thanos clicked his tongue, let out a weary sigh, and beckoned Namgyu into the tent with two fingers. Eager, Namgyu climbed in, coming to sit on Thanos’ tent-mate’s ratty blanket. Hands in his lap, he waited patiently as Thanos made sure nobody was peeking in on them and turned back to Namgyu. “Namsu, was it?”
“Namgyu. From Club Pentagon,” he reminded him kindly. If it stung a bit, it was nobody’s business.
“Right, Namgyu,” Thanos said, “you can’t handle this. It’s new stuff. It’s fucking crazy, man.”
“Come on, Thanos, I’ve done all sorts of stuff at the club, remember?” Namgyu pulled up the sleeve of his sweater, effectively exposing the track marks on his inner elbow. Thanos looked up at him with wide eyes and furrowed brows. “I can handle it.”
Thanos glanced at the open flap of the tent, then back to Namgyu. “You junkie,” he murmured before opening up his cross and plucking out a blue pill. Time lost meaning after that.
Whatever Thanos had given him, it was strong. Namgyu had never thought he could feel that good before. His body was whole again. It almost seemed like none of this monster-societal-collapse shit had ever happened at all, like he and Thanos were back in the club, making out in a dingy bathroom stall. Words and giggles slithered up the nylon wall, slipping back down into Namgyu’s stomach like drops of dew on a sunny morning. If Namgyu were a flower, or likely something more akin to a weed, he’d like for Thanos to be the sun. Any excuse for him to soak up his presence, the warmth that pooled at every point of contact, and he’d be a happy man. Because Thanos was radiant in a way nothing else could ever be, not the stars or the blinding concert lights. Thanos was… kind of an asshole.
“No, Namsu, you already had one today,” Thanos chided, as if Namgyu were a dog begging for a treat. Did he not understand it was already nearing evening? It’d been a full twenty-four hours since Thanos had arrived, and Namgyu had felt great up until this moment.
“It’s Namgyu,” he followed despite the annoyance simmering under his skin. “How about after dinner? I can’t sleep otherwise.”
Thanos cut off a couple of people in line and grabbed the literal scraps of food he was handed with a dirty look. Namgyu thanked the worker, then ran off after Thanos again. A bit like a dog. In his defense, it’d been a long day of being worthless and replaceable while Thanos got sent off to move supplies and haul barricades. So maybe he rationally knew Thanos was two seconds away from passing out and that pissing him off wouldn’t end well, but the body wants what it wants, right?
“Namsu.” Thanos turned to face him abruptly, almost causing Namgyu to slam into his chest. “This is a limited supply I’ve got. I can’t waste it all on you. What if a pretty girl wants one?”
“What?”
“Like her.” Thanos’ gaze fixed on none other than the chick Minsu was eating with in the shade. Namgyu’s attempt to stop him from going over was a feeble one. He trailed behind silently, trying to will the two of them into spontaneous combustion.
It didn’t work, but Minsu’s obvious tension upon seeing Namgyu made up for it. Nonetheless, being stuck there, listening to Thanos flirt with the bitch (Semi, who clearly seemed unimpressed) was steadily becoming a worse fate than being eaten alive by the rotten. Did he not see that she wasn’t interested? No, she didn’t even look remorseful, just slightly amused. And Namgyu was right there, and he’d give Thanos everything, so why was his attention on some whore instead?
The next morning was somehow worse. Namgyu had gotten no sleep, Minsu had spent half the night crying about his family, and Thanos was nowhere to be found during breakfast. Only when Namgyu was hunched over, retching out stomach acid behind a tent, did he finally spot him.
“Woah, boy, do you need something for that?” Thanos’ eyebrows were raised, lips curled upwards just a bit, like the sight of Namgyu reduced to a mess was entertaining.
“Do you want some water?” The guy lingering behind Thanos spoke up, and Namgyu instantly felt a hundred times worse.
“Who the fuck are you?” He hissed out, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
The guy flinched a little, then put on an uncertain smile. “Kang Gyeongsu.”
Namgyu glared at him for a second longer before standing up, dusting the dirt off his knees, and wiping his mouth again for good measure. “I’m fine.”
Thanos gave him a knowing, expectant look. When Namgyu stubbornly stayed quiet, he rolled his eyes and dangled his cross necklace. “Don’t want it?”
Asshole. “Thanos—” he started, eyes flicking to Gyeongsu, who was standing there awkwardly, glancing between the two of them. Namgyu sighed. “No, I want it.” Submission.
“Should’ve just asked, my boy,” Thanos grinned, plucking out a yellow pill. Relief seeped into the marrow of Namgyu’s bones as the bitterness filled his senses. The rest of the day passed in floaty bliss. Even the addition of Gyeongsu, who apparently was now attached to Thanos’ side for whatever reason, didn’t seem so horrible.
It was fine. It was fun, when Thanos’ mystery candies came into play. Namgyu should’ve known things were going too well to last.
The snarls didn’t immediately raise any red flags, but in hindsight, perhaps they did seem closer than usual. The first scream, Namgyu chose to ignore, still buzzing from the high. The first gunshot finally had him stumbling out of his tent to see what was up.
Apparently, something went wrong. Maybe the barricades hadn’t yet been replaced after the last attack, or maybe they made too much noise at an unfortunate time. Maybe they were just unlucky, doomed to early deaths.
Red. Red pouring out of a woman’s throat as it’s torn open, red spilling from a man’s stomach, red guts ripped out and shoved into the greedy mouths of the decaying, red blood staining the grass, red as the gunshots ripping through heads, red as the bodies the dead fall on limply. Ugly, ugly red. Namgyu thinks he can’t breathe, lest he taste the iron or the flesh or the red.
Something’s limping straight towards him, and he can’t move. His feet are stuck to the ground, chained to every blade of grass that lies beneath his shoes. The wind howls, carrying the scent of rot. Dull, doll-like eyes are locked onto him. He’s prey, he understands. Feels like the bottom of the food chain.
Before he even gets the chance to flee, or scream, or fall to his knees and beg for salvation from a god he never believed in, there's a bullet fleeing through his vision and straight into the center of the figure's forehead. It drops to the ground unceremoniously. Namgyu’s eyes follow the movement, then lift to the horizon, where he sees a horde of walking flesh shuffling into the camp, like one starving entity. A sense of deja vu settles over him. Though this time he’s stuck. There’s no place to run, no place to hide, and no person to cling to.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Namgyu wonders if Thanos is safe. Wonders if Thanos is thinking of him, too. Brushes it off just as quickly, because he knows there’s no reason to hold onto such a nonsensical thought in what may very well be his final moments.
“Namgyu,” a meek voice calls out from behind him. The top half of Minsu’s body is out of the tent, fingers curled into the dirt. Right.
He darts back into the tent, zipping up the flap, and puts as much distance between himself and the opening as possible, chest heaving and hands twitching. Minsu is right beside him, too close, too warm, too sweaty, but the human of it all soothes his mind nonetheless. There’s only a brief moment of respite before the cheap nylon is being dragged forward by the weight of multiple bodies falling atop it, leaving the two pressed side-to-side with barely any air.
Suffocating. Trembling fingers grasp the rough cotton of Minsu’s sleeve, just for something to hold onto, if nothing else. He tries to inhale while counting to four, hold for seven, exhale for eight, but it’s stifling. Iron on his tongue, gunfire in his ears, vision swimming with forest green, muddled by decaying brown. Rot spreads like spores; down his throat, into his brain, everywhere. His lungs contract with every thrum of his heart against his ribs, and the walls are closing in, and it’s too much, too much, too much—
How it all came to an end, Namgyu isn’t sure. It had been nearing dawn when silence fell over the camp; no longer plagued by snarls or screams or gunshots. Corpses covered the turf, not a speck of green visible underneath all the bloodshed. Everyone was swiftly put to work clearing up the area, but Namgyu could barely stay conscious through the ringing in his ears. Half of the survivors had been wiped out. Maybe a third. The quiet had never felt this uncomfortable before.
Nobody was surprised when their usual daily tasks were swapped out for scavenging and wall repair. Defenses were down, resources lost. The remaining people seemed as dead as the rotten. Namgyu needed a cigarette.
“Hey, are you feeling alright?” He asked when Thanos ignored his request for the vape they’d been sharing. They were given a short break, and Thanos had been.. out of it. Posture tense, eyes wide. Namgyu supposed it made sense, being affected by the attack, but he couldn’t suppress the unprecedented worry, either.
“Don’t worry, bro,” Thanos replied after a moment. “I’m okay.”
Namgyu took the vape offered to him, watching as Thanos fiddled with his rings before abruptly standing up and leaving. He wanted to follow him, or at least ask where he was headed, but he held back. Something told him it’d make no difference.
He didn’t see Thanos for the rest of the day. When the sun rose again and breakfast time arrived, Namgyu spotted him and Gyeongsu speaking to another man. It hardly seemed like a pleasant conversation, judging by the gloom radiating off them in waves. Gyeongsu looked downright terrified, but Thanos’ expression was unreadable. Which was strange, because he’d always looked so… animated. Namgyu had never been great at reading people’s emotions, but Thanos had always made it pretty easy. Not the case this time, clearly.
“What was that about?” Namgyu questioned when the two were dismissed and were on their way to the communal kitchen.
“Those assholes want us to go on a run for supplies,” Thanos said, lips pulled downwards, gaze lowered. Namgyu’s heart weighed heavily in his chest.
“What?”
Gyeongsu frowned. “We can’t refuse, or we’ll be kicked out. Something about everyone pulling their weight. This sucks.”
Namgyu’s brows furrowed. “And you’re, what, gonna actually go?”
“Yes.” Thanos gave a single nod. He didn’t seem too thrilled about it, though. There was a sort of exhaustion in his eyes. Resignation. As if there was no possible way to get around it. And that was the worst part, really, because Thanos was so untouchable, unburdened by the world, now being sent out like a sacrifice. An uneasy feeling churned in Namgyu’s gut.
“Why can’t they do it themselves? Aren’t they the ones actually trained for this bullshit?” Namgyu protested, but was quickly shut off by a firm look from Thanos.
“Namsu,” he said, unexpectedly serious. “We’re going.”
So that was that. The next morning, they set out.
And then a month passed.
Namgyu had never had an easy time sleeping. Even as a kid, his nights were marred by nightmares of burning houses and insects festering under his skin. This time around, he was being tormented by violet and indigo, bold tattoos and colorful nails, a silver cross and a baritone voice. Nothing felt okay.
They were dead. They had to be. Daeho’s runs usually took a few days, maybe a week if trouble arose. A lot could’ve happened in a month. Maybe they got cornered by a horde. Maybe they didn’t even know how to fight and gave up. Maybe they fell into a ditch. Maybe they came across more people who decided to kill them. Endless possibilities, and Namgyu hated that specifics didn’t matter when the most likely outcome was death.
Perhaps the worst part was that nobody seemed to care. Fewer people meant fewer mouths to feed. Namgyu bet those bastards that sent them out were happy about the loss. Thanos didn’t deserve that.
It was infuriating. It was depressing. It was only two nights after he’d left when Namgyu snuck into his tent. Which was when he met Myunggi.
“What the fuck are you doing?” The guy recoiled, ready to reach for something behind him. Namgyu had forgotten that just like him, Thanos was sharing a tent with someone. He blanked.
“What are you doing?” Namgyu retorted, mentally calculating the chances of this dude owning a gun.
Myunggi huffed, exasperated. “Get out.”
Namgyu bit his lip. “I’m a friend of Thanos. Just let me— I’m… worried,” he managed to get out. Upon Myunggi’s raised eyebrow, he continued. “Can I just grab his blanket or something?”
An awkward, tense silence passed between them. Namgyu couldn’t imagine why Myunggi was hesitating like this, but he waited patiently nonetheless. The desperation seeped into every crevice of his being. Thanos was gone, and nobody gave a shit, and there was no way for him to cope with a disappearance this abrupt.
“Please,” he tacked on, just for good measure.
Myunggi sighed, body relaxing the slightest bit, as if he’d decided Namgyu wasn’t a threat. “Sure, whatever.”
“Thanks, man,” Namgyu said, quickly reaching for the scruffy blanket. A few rumpled pieces of paper fell out, and he paused. He decided it wasn’t the time to investigate when Myunggi shot him an irritated look.
Namgyu fell asleep with the scent of Thanos surrounding him that night. No words would be enough to explain the way his heart ached each day without his return.
Of course, bigger issues were just over the horizon. Thanos left with his necklace, meaning he’d not left Namgyu any pills (the thought only served to upset Namgyu even more — would things be different if Thanos had known he wouldn’t return? Would he still have insisted on going?) It didn’t take long for him to start feeling the effects. Withdrawal was a bitch; far from a new revelation, except he’d always had meds on hand. Now, with pharmaceuticals being considered a rarity, Namgyu was out of luck. Forced to endure the pain, with the person at fault already dead.
Like clockwork: he threw up every morning, ate a quarter of his breakfast, and later threw that up, too. He worked on repairing the walls with others, but wasn’t much help when the cramps hit, and all he could do was curl up into a ball and try not to vomit again. People started avoiding him when his already bad attitude turned worse; he was being treated like an outcast, a junkie. Sleepless nights and the constant presence of Minsu by his side only made him feel more irritable. It was a cycle. A miserable, vicious cycle.
He ended up in the infirmary often. One of those days, while waiting for whoever the assholes running this place deemed experienced enough to have the title of doctor, he heard shouting inside the tent. Namgyu didn’t even have to strain his ears to listen.
“This is exactly why I told you not to keep it.” A masculine voice; familiar.
“Like you knew this was gonna happen,” a woman scoffed. “You ghosted me, remember?”
Oh, yikes. Namgyu cringed internally.
“Come on, you know why I did it. And I thought we agreed you’d get rid of it.” The man insisted.
“I changed my mind.”
A frustrated huff. “And now? How do you expect to give birth in a place like this?”
“I’ll figure it out. This baby is gonna need a strong mother anyway, since it’ll have to grow up without a father.” She replied bitterly. Namgyu could feel the passive-aggressive look even through the thin wall.
“If you two would like to—” another voice rang through, but was cut off by the woman.
“We wouldn’t. Please leave.” She said, and seconds later, Myunggi was exiting the tent and plopping down onto the foldable chair beside Namgyu’s own. Huh.
He swiftly looked away when Myunggi turned to glare at him and let out an annoyed breath. Namgyu fidgeted with his rings, having momentarily forgotten about the feeling of his stomach being ripped apart. He glanced back at Myunggi, finding his eyes already on Namgyu. He cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Trouble in paradise?” Namgyu asked. Myunggi looked one wrong word away from strangling him. God forbid a guy try make conversation. He missed Thanos.
“Don’t you have better things to do than listen in on people’s private conversations?” Myunggi snapped.
“Hardly a ‘private conversation’ when you’re being that loud,” Namgyu replied, and Myunggi scoffed. He wasn’t too certain of why the following words left his lips: “You know, I could offer you a… distraction.”
Myunggi stilled, let his eyes lock with Namgyu’s, and Namgyu knew then that Myunggi was aware of the implication, every hidden meaning behind the suggestion. Time stretched taut, the air charged with some unspoken acknowledgement.
“What makes you think I’d say yes to that?” Myunggi eventually spoke, yet his words had lost all bite.
Namgyu cocked his head towards the tent. “I think some relief would do you good,”
Another moment passed, and then Myunggi turned his head away, and they sat in thick silence until the woman got out of the tent. Myunggi left with her as Namgyu was called in to beg for painkillers for the nth time.
When the sun set and everyone had retreated into their own tents, Namgyu lingered outside with the pretense of needing some fresh air before settling down for the night. The cold nipped at his skin and tousled his hair, but he waited — for the temporary respite, for the fleeting sense of ease, for anything at all. And Myunggi showed up, and Namgyu ended up beneath him, face pressed into the rough comforter, listening to the sound of the belt buckle.
No words were exchanged, no kisses or affectionate touches. In the back of his mind, he imagined Thanos in this exact spot, one arm thrown over his face as he slept soundly. On his chest would rest the cross, Namgyu’s soul captured inside; trapped between metal walls, unknowingly close to the steady beating of Thanos’ heart.
For a brief moment, something like disgust filled his chest. He didn’t really want this. He didn’t even like Myunggi, but the withdrawals and the constant, hammering ache inside of him clouded his mind. In the fog, only one thought prevailed — stay grounded. So no, Namgyu wasn’t proud, and he wasn’t pleased. But a distraction was a distraction all the same. He let Myunggi take him apart with spit and a delicate hand, let his gasps and moans fill the otherwise still space. And later, he could berate himself for being gross and undeserving, allow the remaining pieces of his self-respect to crumble, but for now, he had this.
“Do you think he’s coming back?”
It was nearing morning, he could tell. His body buzzed with leftover adrenaline, but his limbs felt heavy and worn, pain already setting in. If this were happening in the regular world, perhaps they’d be sharing a cigarette instead of silence.
“No,” Myunggi replied, aware of who Namgyu was talking about without even having to hear the name. “He probably ran off to some better place. Left this shithole behind.”
A huff escaped Namgyu’s lips. “He wouldn’t do that.” (Not to me, he wanted to add, though he wasn’t certain that was the case.) Myunggi cast him a sidelong glance and didn’t say anything else. Namgyu left soon after.
The news came late in the day. Daeho and a few other guys had just gotten back after a supply run. Apparently, they’d come across a bunker of sorts, tucked away in the woods, hidden behind a few rocks. Likely an old military outpost. A small, stuffy place, trashed and overrun by zombies (that’s the term they used; zombies. What the fuck was this? An American dystopian movie?) There wasn’t much to find inside — some canned food, a few bottles of water, ammunition. What stood out, however, was the signs of recent use. Namgyu didn’t care to listen to the rest. More people wouldn’t save this place.
He didn’t expect Daeho to approach him privately later on, voice lowered to a whisper.
“Hey, I thought you might want to know this,” he said, pulling an object out from behind his back. “I found this in the bunker. I only listened to half, but I figured you’d appreciate having it.” He smiled sympathetically, handing Namgyu what appeared to be an old digital voice recorder. Namgyu stared at it, confused.
“What?”
Daeho only offered him another smile, held up his fist in some misguided show of support, and was quickly called away, leaving Namgyu with more questions than answers. And what else was he supposed to do?
He kicked Minsu out of their tent during dinner. It took an embarrassing amount of time to figure out how the damn thing worked, but once he managed, it felt like cold water had been dumped over him.
The crackle of a faint hum was the first sound Namgyu could make out. What followed sent a chill racing up his spine — the voice on the other end unmistakably his. Deep and gravelly, close enough to feel the warm, phantom breath against his skin. If he were to close his eyes, maybe he would smell his cologne or the artificial, fruity scent that always clung to his clothing. The first words came in clear: a simple hello, with the o drawn out. Then, it’s the legend Thanos. Because, of course.
A few random, nonsensical noises. Casual ramblings about the quality of the mattress. His words seemed slurred when he finally started speaking about the important stuff. Like how Gyeongsu died during an attack. How Thanos had to hide in the bunker, unable to leave for days because of the number of zombies surrounding it. How he found some whiskey stashed away in a cabinet. How, when he’s drunk, he sort of feels like his father; paranoid. And when he’s high, that’s when he’s his ‘most authentic self’. Namgyu put the recorder by his head and got comfortable. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine Thanos was speaking to him.
“You know,” Thanos said, like nothing was wrong. “Before my rap career took off, I worked in a record store. I didn’t even care about any of that stuff; it was just the closest place to my house willing to take me in when my mom made me get a job fresh out of high school.”
“I used to think about dying all the time, but I was too scared to do it. It’s why I cut, I think. Made me feel closer to that world.”
“I don’t believe in a god, but sometimes I wonder, like, what if it’s for real? I’d be so fucked. Been using his name in vain and stuff. And whatever else he supposedly cares about. Would my necklace give me an advantage? Huh?” A loud mwah followed. Namgyu could imagine Thanos obnoxiously kissing the cross like this were happening in front of his very eyes.
“I hope my fans are doing okay. I’ll release a new album dedicated just to them after this is over.”
“This place kinda fucking stinks. I still hear the snarling outside, too. Fucking annoying. Good thing I have my pills and liquor to keep me distracted. I think I’d go insane otherwise.”
Namgyu was starting to doze off. He wanted to keep listening, imagining Thanos beside him, but his eyelids felt heavy, breathing slowing into a steady lull. Thanos’ voice always had this effect on him, some sort of drug on its own. It never lasted long, though.
“Namsu,” Thanos whispered. “I think I’m going to kill myself.”