Chapter Text
“And remember: you are responsible for the final decision on your investment. If—” Loud footsteps and a door slamming open cut him off, and the YouTuber looks to the side with a heavy sigh.
“Myung-gi! You fucking asshole, stop recording and come downstairs. I’ve been calling your name for the past ten minutes!”
Myung-gi’s face twists, eyes narrowing. “Nam-gyu, it’s not—”
“Shut up!” A guy goes on-screen, all huffy and annoyed as he furiously approaches the chair that Myung-gi is sitting on. His back is turned to the camera as he shouts at the YouTuber, arms waving around. “I did not spend an hour making you dinner just for you to let it get cold!”
“Nam-gyu, don’t—”
“No, no, it’s always the same fucking thing!” His voice goes higher as he mimics Myung-gi. “‘Nam-gyu, I’ll be down in ten minutes,’ and then, ‘Nam-gyu, just another five minutes,’ and then half a fucking hour goes by, you’re still recording, and you have the goddamn audacity to complain about your food not being hot anymore!”
Myung-gi tries again, “I—”
“No, I’m sick of it! If you don’t come downstairs right now, we’re not having sex for the next week,” Nam-gyu threatens, sounding completely serious with the warning.
It makes Myung-gi wince as he finally manages to interrupt. “Nam-gyu, I’m livestreaming.”
That finally gets Nam-gyu to pause. “Livestreaming?” he echoes faintly.
Slowly, he turns to face the camera. For a second, he’s frozen, but then, with renewed urgency, his hands come up to tuck his hair behind his ears, face flushed at the realization that people are watching him from home and had witnessed his little tantrum.
“Why didn’t you lock the door?” He whisper-yells to Myung-gi, moving out of camera view.
Myung-gi looks on with cold amusement now, watching Nam-gyu’s panic with a satisfied curl of his mouth. “Because I didn’t expect you to barge in and start screaming at me about, what, ramen?” He squints to glance at his second monitor, reading. “My chat is saying hello, by the way.”
“I don’t—” Nam-gyu cuts himself off with a frustrated groan. “I didn’t…”
“Come say hi, Nam-gyu,” Myung-gi prompts. It’s not a suggestion; it’s an order. He scoots his chair to the side so that there’s some more room.
“Myung-gi…” Nam-gyu whines, earning a warning look from the YouTuber. “Don’t…”
“No, come on,” Myung-gi insists firmly. “You interrupted, and now you need to apologize to the viewers.”
The guy comes back on screen. He’s lost most of his anger by now, instead just appearing annoyed, subdued, and a little nervous. His eyes flicker from Myung-gi’s expectant glare to the camera, throat visibly bobbing. After a few seconds of hesitation, he turns to Myung-gi and complains, “I don’t wanna do this.”
“Nam-gyu.” They make eye contact for a while, Nam-gyu’s gaze pleading against Myung-gi’s stern one.
After a few moments, Nam-gyu looks away, hands fidgeting with a ring on his finger. “Okay,” he relents softly before he addresses the camera. “I’m sorry for interrupting,” he apologizes through gritted teeth, somewhat begrudging and overtly embarrassed.
As soon as he says it, he flees the room, not saying another word to Myung-gi. The YouTuber watches as the sound of a door closing echoes through the room, then turns to the camera. “I’m sorry about him,” he says, sounding much more put-together than Nam-gyu had. He notices the chat and clarifies, “That was Nam-gyu, my partner. He’s not very, uh, friendly.”
From a distance, the sharp sound of pots and pans falling to the ground can be heard, along with a muffled “FUCK!”. Myung-gi clears his throat to block the noise.
“Anyways. Right.” He gets back on track, “The coin is going to shoot up. Now’s the time to buy. And, like I said earlier, you are responsible for the final decision on your investment.”
Myung-gi says his goodbyes to the audience and then ends the livestream. The ‘rewatch’ option appears, along with a different video recommendation.
Thanos blinks at his screen for a while after that, trying to process.
He’s been watching MG Coin’s videos for a long time. With his rapping career doing well, he’s got a lot of extra cash to spend, and the smartest choice would be to invest. The thing is that he doesn’t really know a lot about the stock market, or cryptocurrency, or, well, the economy in general. It’s just really fucking boring to study and research, okay? Sue him.
That has never happened on an MG Coin video or livestream. The Amazing — or so people call him — Myung-gi’s always had a pretty big female audience because, Thanos will admit it, the guy’s fairly attractive, but the YouTuber’s never mentioned having a partner.
Thanos restarts the live and fast-forwards to the end, pausing when Nam-gyu’s shocked face is on screen. And, holy shit. MG Coin’s partner is gorgeous. He’s got long black hair and sharp dark eyes that sort of reminded Thanos of a cat’s glare as they anxiously met the camera. He was in this big hoodie that goes down to his mid-thighs, hands fully engulfed in the sleeves. It made him look a little ridiculous when he yelled at Myung-gi with the way his sweater paws waved around angrily; Thanos genuinely wonders how anyone can take him seriously like that.
He’s cute. Real goddamn cute. How in the world does a stiff, shrimpy little fuck like MG Coin bag a guy like that?
It’s a good question — one worthy of Detective Thanos Mode.
If there’s one thing he knows how to do right, it’s locate a cute chick. He keeps his laptop open and pulls up Instagram on his phone, searching up MG Coin’s account and then looking through his followers. He figures it’ll be easy enough. The guy’s got a distinctive vibe, so his account should stand out.
He types in ‘Namgyu,’ waits for the page to load, and then:
No users found.
Huh. Okay. The detective shit just got a lot harder. Maybe he doesn’t use his full name?
He tries again with ‘Nam,’ and there’s a few results this time, but none of them are Nam-gyu’s.
Frustrated, he slips his vape out of his pocket and takes a hit, letting himself calm down for a second as he entertains the thought that this guy might not have Instagram. But… he’s really fucking pretty. Isn’t it, like, a universal truth that all pretty people have Instagram? What the fuck?
He presses on MG Coin’s ‘Following’ instead and tries again.
As soon as he types in ‘Namg’, two accounts pop up.
hiitsnamgyu and itsnamgyuhi
Both of the accounts’ profile pictures have the guy from the video, and it makes Thanos genuinely laugh out loud, because this guy has a main account and a private but follows his boyfriend on neither of them.
The only public one is hiitsnamgyu, so he clicks on that one.
namgyu he/him
87 posts, 39.4K followers, 12 following
Huh. Not bad. Thirty-nine thousand followers and only twelve following is kinda crazy, but Thanos puts that aside for now. His bio just says ‘namgyu’ and it’s, like, the third time he states his name in his profile. Thanos gets another lungful of nic before scrolling down.
And. Yeah. Thanos really knows that he lives in a cruel, unfair world, because how the fuck did MG Coin land a model? Well, money, probably. Influence; MG Coin’s got millions of subscribers. He’s smart, too — knows about economics and marketing, all that adult stuff Thanos never bothered to learn about. Plus, Myung-gi’s handsome in a nice, clean-cut, bring-him-home-to-meet-your-mom type of way. It makes sense he’d have a good-looking partner, but…
Nam-gyu’s not just good-looking. He’s hot.
His posts are all him posing in professional photoshoots, all tight-jawed and mean-looking. He’s got a lip piercing. He wears oversized leather jackets, trendy, kind of grunge clothes that make him look sharp and real fucking enticing. He — he fucking wears eyeliner. And, hello, one more time, he has a lip piercing!
All of a sudden, his major attitude during MG Coin’s livestream makes sense. He’s a goddamn model, of course he’s a brat. It’s so fucking unfair. A blazer-wearing, pencil-dick pussy like Myung-gi can’t handle all that.
He keeps scrolling, and scrolling, until all he can think about is Nam-gyu’s fox eyes and the way they look paired with eyeshadow —
An ITZY song starts playing, and then Gyeong-su’s face fills his screen. Thanos groans, tries to will his dick to behave, and answers.
“Gyeong-su,” he greets with forced enthusiasm. “What’s up, my brother?”
Gyeong-su’s voice is grainy and sort of drowned out by the loud music blasting behind him. “Thanos! You have a gig in fifteen minutes, where are you?”
Oh, shit.
He glances at the clock, and, holy fuck, he’s been cyber-stalking a guy he got a brief glimpse of on some YouTuber’s livestream for the past twenty minutes.
“On my way!” He hurries to reassure as he starts moving like someone threatened to bomb his house. “Totally on my way, man, don’t worry!”
“You forgot, huh?”
Yeah, one-hundred percent. “Of course not!” Thanos lies, “Just give me a few minutes. I’ll be at… uhm…” Fuck.
“Club Pentagon!”
Right. “Yeah, I knew that, my boy,” Thanos lets out a nervous laugh. Okay. Be nonchalant. “I’ll be at Club Pentagon soon.”
He hangs up before Gyeong-su can start complaining, immediately tripping on one of his sneakers and going down with a groan. It’s easy to push MG Coin’s boyfriend out of his mind after that — he’s got a job to do, and no one’s pretty enough to stop him from doing it.
—
Except that, apparently, someone is.
Because guess fucking who shows up at Club Pentagon?
“You have got to be fucking with me,” Thanos groans at the ceiling; god deserves an earful for this. “Dude. What did I do to deserve this?”
Since, it can’t be anything but divine intervention that he runs into Nam-gyu just half an hour after he obsessed over him. Like, got an erection from his Instagram page obsessed. That’s real down bad behavior, and Thanos isn’t proud of it, but he’s sort of itching to keep scrolling through those pictures.
“Man…”
Gyeong-su glances over at him, fingers tightening around his drink. He’s always got some extra energy when he’s about to watch Thanos perform — like he can’t wait or something. Classic fanboy. “What?” he asks, turning to search for whatever Thanos is fixated on. When his eyes find Nam-gyu, he asks, “Do you know him?”
Gyeong-su’s his boy, but Thanos isn’t about to admit how he knows Nam-gyu, so, “No. Just… nervous.”
Gyeong-su scrutinizes him for another second, then nods hesitantly. He must know that Thanos is lying. He’s never once gotten nervous over a performance. But he doesn’t push, because he’s just not that kinda guy. Right now, Thanos appreciates that so much, because it really gives him more time to keep staring.
Nam-gyu’s sitting at the bar, looking sort of bored as he chats up some man in his thirties. It’s clear that the other guy is super into it, his hand progressively getting closer to Nam-gyu’s thigh, but Nam-gyu’s expression never changes from cool indifference.
What the hell is he even doing here? Club Pentagon is fucking gross. Definitely not a suitable place for a rich YouTuber’s boyfriend, who is — in case Thanos hadn’t mentioned! — a model. The club is too loud, too rowdy, too sweaty and seedy and…
Right. Maybe it’s not the best idea to be shitting on the club he performs at sometimes, mentally or not. But it makes him wonder…
Or, it does until Nam-gyu’s eyes lazily drift over the crowd and finally lock onto his.
His heart honest to god stops for a second, contracting painfully before starting a frantic sprint in his chest. He gets fucking sweaty, nervous at the way those fox eyes narrow. Nam-gyu’s head tilts as he examines Thanos, and it’s so fucking shameless and he’s so pretty, wearing a cropped black shirt that exposes a good bit of his flat stomach, tiny waist, and —
“Thanos! You’re on, man!” There’s an elbow nudging his ribs, and it takes Thanos a second too long to look away from Nam-gyu, but he finally pays attention to what Gyeong-su’s saying.
Right. The set. Lock in.
It’s a little easier from there. All he has to do is hop on stage, grin widely at the enthusiastic crowd, and rap along to his song. He’s done this, like, a bajillion times before. It’s only a couple of songs, anyway.
Except that when he gets to one of the more… sexual songs, he can’t help looking at Nam-gyu.
He does his thing; he raps about how much money he has, how famous he is, how good he fucks girls. But his eyes keep drifting to the bar, where Nam-gyu has completely stopped pretending to listen to the man next to him and is intently watching Thanos perform. He still appears bored, his elbow resting on the table with his head propped up on his hand, but now he’s focused on the show.
Thanos doubles down with a wink in Nam-gyu’s direction, and it’s worth it to see the way the model’s eyes widen with shock, body shifting as he’s visibly taken aback by the returned attention. And Thanos knows that the crowd can hear his smirk when he sings, cocky tone crooning out arrogant words, but he doesn’t even care because he wants this song to be over so that he can go talk to—
Talk to MG Coin’s boyfriend.
Right. Nam-gyu’s taken.
He falters for a second, losing some of his energy, but he quickly recovers and forces himself to give a good show. For someone who’s got a boyfriend, Nam-gyu’s staring at him pretty fucking intensely, throat bobbing when Thanos says a particularly raunchy line about eating a girl out.
He finishes up his set, gives a brief bow, and quickly gets off the stage, making a beeline to the bar, where —
Where Nam-gyu’s seat is fucking empty.
Thanos completely stops in his tracks, blinking owlishly. The guy had been eyeing him the entire fucking show, and now he left? What the fuck?
“Um. Thanos?”
Thanos turns to where Gyeong-su is trying to get his attention. “Yeah?”
“Some guy wanted me to give you this,” Gyeong-su says as he passes him a slip of paper. Thanos gives him an odd look before opening the note:
It just reads, ‘alley’.
Of all the cryptic bullshit…
“Who gave you this?”
Gyeong-su tries to take the paper back, but Thanos holds it close to his chest. “The guy you were staring at earlier,” Gyeong-su answers. Thanos perks up. “He left, like, a minute ago and— Thanos, man, where are you going?!”
Before Gyeong-su can finish the anecdote, Thanos is pushing past the buzzing crowd, for once in his life completely ignoring the girls throwing themselves at him in order to get outside quicker. He’s a man on a mission, okay? He’ll explain himself to Gyeong-su later. There’s a model on the line!
The cold air hits him like a freight train when he goes outside, but he honestly doesn’t mind it, even when the wind picks up in the opposite direction he’s facing as he makes his way into the alley between Club Pentagon and a seedy smoke shop. He’s, like, weirdly excited about this… and nervous. Why Nam-gyu couldn’t just wait at the bar for five more fucking minutes is beyond him, but whatever the guy wants, he’ll get, if Thanos is being honest. Even if it’s his dick. Especially if it’s his dick.
Holy shit, did Nam-gyu ask him out here to have sex?
“Dude,” Thanos whispers up to the sky. “You’re the goat. Thanks, man!”
Except that, apparently, no!
He realizes this quickly when he’s slammed into the wall, groaning at the sharp pain that spreads through his back as a hand fists his collar and tugs.
“What the fuck were you staring at me for?”
Thanos fixes his blurry eyes on, yeah, Nam-gyu. And a very fucking pissed off Nam-gyu, at that.
“Answer me, asshole!”
Thanos blinks; Nam-gyu’s face is all flushed, and it could be from the cold, except that he’s also panting and looks kind of… afraid? “What?”
Nam-gyu huffs, aggressively twisting the hand on Thanos’s shirt. “Inside, at the bar. And during your set. You kept looking at me. What do you want?”
Okay. Okay, okay, so Nam-gyu thinks Thanos was staring at him because he’s looking for a fight, then. Now’s the chance to say something smooth, a total panty-dropper that’ll get Nam-gyu begging for his dick in a bathroom stall. Something like, ‘you’re too beautiful not to stare at,’ or ‘what I want is to buy you a drink, pretty thing.’
Unfortunately, all Thanos can do is gape for a moment and then sputter out:
“You’re MG Coin’s boy.”
Nam-gyu’s face drops, and he almost seems disappointed for a second, but then he’s angry again. “Oh, god,” he groans, letting go of Thanos’s shirt and taking a step back. “Are you one of his stalkers or something?”
“No!” Thanos immediately denies with indignation. Him, the Great Thanos, a stalker? The mere accusation is a sacrilege. “I’m Thanos, I’m a rapper,” he babbles, mouth faster than his brain. “I perform here sometimes; you saw my show!”
“Hm. I thought it was just karaoke night,” Nam-gyu comments derisively. “You make a living on that?”
“Uh. Yeah,” Thanos replies. “Yeah, I do.”
Nam-gyu gives him an appraising lookover and then snorts to himself. “I guess I’ll never understand the appeal of mainstream music, huh?” he muses.
Wow! Mean! And for no reason, either. “Man, a lot of people love my shit!” Thanos hurries to defend himself. Because hello? He’s popular!
“A lot of people also love khaki shorts,” Nam-gyu starts with a fake sympathetic smile, “Doesn’t make them good.”
“Are—” What. The. Fuck. “Are you fucking comparing me to khaki shorts?!”
“Thought that was obvious,” Nam-gyu sniffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he cocks his head to the side.
Thanos scoffs, because this guy doesn’t know shit. He’s wrong, and Thanos can literally prove it. “I have a bunch of fans that would beg to differ,” he bites back.
“Oh, please, I bet the only fans you have are your friends and extended family,” Nam-gyu insults lazily. Like it costs him zero fucking energy to be a dick. Then has the audacity to fucking yawn. In Thanos’s face. Like he’s tired of the argument he started! “Well. Bye.”
Thanos’s head spins, and, with barely stifled rage, he exclaims, “What?!”
“You kinda lost my interest,” Nam-gyu shrugs, taking a step back. “I’ll tell Myung-gi you said hi, though.”
Thanos is literally speechless as Nam-gyu starts to walk away. He wants to yell something mean and petty at the guy, but he really can’t bring himself to. So he just takes out his vape and sucks.
As soon as he inhales, Nam-gyu stills, whipping around.
“Dude,” he says, bouncing back to him. “What flavor is that?”
Thanos lifts an eyebrow, trying to play it cool. “Why?”
“Because…” Nam-gyu looks away, and he kind of seems eager. “Myung-gi keeps fucking throwing away my vapes and cigs.” Woah. Cardinal sin. After a moment, he mumbles, “Can I…?”
Thanos squints at him. “Can you…?”
The guy pulls his sleeves over his hands, tucking his fingers inside like he had during the livestream. Fucking sweater paws, man. “Can I take a hit?”
The complete one-eighty makes his head spin. “Why would I share with you?” Thanos asks with genuine confusion. “You’ve been a cunt to me.”
“Man, I know that has, like, ten thousand hits in it,” Nam-gyu complains, tucking his hair behind his ears.
“Yeah, on normal mode!” Thanos argues, taking weird offense to that. He gestures to himself, asking, “Do I look like a guy that sets his vape to normal mode?”
“No,” Nam-gyu snorts. “You look like…”
He pauses. Tilts his head in a way that has Thanos’s heart skipping a beat.
“You look like you have good shit,” Nam-gyu finishes, biting down on his bottom lip as he ponders. “Do you?”
Thanos breathes out. Well, yeah. He does. His fucking socks have little marijuana leaves printed on them. He lowers his voice. “Maybe,” he murmurs. “Are you interested?”
Nam-gyu hums, obviously trying to act nonchalant, but he lost the upper hand when he asked for Thanos’s vape. “Maybe,” he parrots.
And then he just turns and starts to leave the alley. For no reason. With no explanation.
Which. Hold the fuck on.
“Where are you going?” Thanos calls after him.
Nam-gyu doesn't even turn his head. “To your place, I’m guessing. Lead the way.”
“Uh.” Did Thanos miss a step? “Aren’t you worried I’m, like, a serial killer or something?”
Nam-gyu cackles at that; rude. “You’re funny. Now come on.”
The guy’s odd. And really bitchy. And probably an addict, judging by the way he lit up when he realized Thanos might be able to get him high. But damn, he’s pretty, and Thanos is starting to get the feeling that there’s more to his and Myung-gi’s relationship than meets the eye, because what kinda fucking psycho throws away someone’s vape?
But, Thanos muses to himself as he speeds up to walk at Nam-gyu’s side, MG Coin seems like the type to consider vaping some taboo shit. That guy would probably green out after one hit of a joint; he holds himself with this weird, calculated superiority that’s a little off-putting.
And, speaking of… “Won’t your boyfriend be mad that you’re going to some random guy’s apartment at night? Especially one as good-looking as me,” he can’t help but add.
Nam-gyu snorts to himself. “Please. Myung-gi doesn’t even notice I’m gone most of the time. He’s either tracking the stock market, recording, or editing. I could fuck someone in our bedroom and he probably wouldn’t even hear it with those goddamn noise-cancelling headphones he always wears.” Nam-gyu sounds… bitter. He spits out the words like they’re a personal affront, something that really hurts him underneath the anger seeping through his voice. “Don’t get any ideas,” Nam-gyu says after a moment. “I’m not having sex with anyone else, much less you.”
Jesus. “MG Coin was right,” Thanos says. “You’re not friendly at all.”
Nam-gyu tenses. “He said that?”
Oh. Right. That was after Nam-gyu had left the room. “Yeah.”
“He said that to the audience?” Nam-gyu questions, but he’s not really asking; just processing the news. Then he laughs. “Well. Whatever, I guess.”
Abruptly, he stops walking and takes out his phone.
“Come here.”
Thanos looks around for a second. “Me?” he asks dumbly.
Nam-gyu rolls his eyes, and Thanos instantly regrets the stupid question he’d just asked. “No. The homeless guy on the bench — yes, you!”
“Alright!” Thanos exclaims. He moves near, hovering at Nam-gyu’s shoulder.
“I don’t have cooties, you pussy. Get closer.”
“If you keep being a bitch, I’m not gonna listen to anything you say,” Thanos warns, because Nam-gyu’s hot, but no one walks over him, okay? Still, he moves closer.
“Goddamn it, Thanos, just—” Nam-gyu grabs Thanos’s arm and yanks him flush against his side, laying his head on the rapper’s shoulder and grinning at the screen. Before Thanos can process the newly established physical contact, Nam-gyu lifts his phone and takes a selfie of the two of them. “There,” he says with a satisfied little hum.
Thanos doesn’t move. Can’t, actually, because Nam-gyu’s ice cold and cuddled against his shoulder, and it’s really, really nice. “What are you doing?”
Nam-gyu snickers to himself, and, holy shit, he sounds evil. “Posting.”
And, as if tonight wasn’t embarrassing enough, just moments after Nam-gyu posts the photo of them on his Instagram, Thanos’s phone audibly buzzes.
They both look down to where the phone is resting innocuously in Thanos’s pocket, and in the blink of an eye, Nam-gyu’s stuffing his hand in there to retrieve the device. Thanos yelps, affronted, and hurriedly tries to grab his phone back before Nam-gyu can see that— “Oh my god! You follow me!”
He doesn’t even sound mad. He just laughs at Thanos, all mean and surprised, as he finally relents and lets Thanos have his phone back.
He presses the screen, and sure enough:
hiitsnamgyu just shared a post.
Thanos huffs. “I told you. I follow MG Coin. You appeared in his livestream and I got curious — sue me.”
“Wow,” Nam-gyu laughs, not hiding the amusement in his tone. “I’ve never had someone so famous be such a big fan of me.”
Which is a pretty humiliating comment, but, “So you do know I’m famous!” Thanos exclaims, the ah-ha! implied in his cocky tone.
Nam-gyu’s face reddens; he must realize he played his cards wrong. “I— well, no, just— I mean, you performed at the club and a lot of people knew the words, so—”
It’s so fucking satisfying to see this bitchy asshole stumbling over his words, outsmarted. “Yeah?”
“Okay!” Nam-gyu sighs, defeated. “So maybe I like some of your songs.”
“Then why were you pretending you didn’t?” This guy’s so fucking weird.
Nam-gyu gives him a disapproving look. “Because, unlike some of us, I don’t lose my cool that easy.”
“In the past three hours, I’ve witnessed you crash out, like, twice.”
Nam-gyu's face goes all red again. “Just. Shut up and give me the nic.”
Thanos rolls his eyes; this fucking brat… “I didn’t hear a ‘please.’”
Nam-gyu smiles sweetly at him, taking a step closer. “If you don't do what I say and please me,” his eyes widen as he bats his eyelashes, tone slow and innocent when he threatens, “I’m going to break your fingers.”
“You want me to please you?” Thanos teases, because apparently he has no self-control. “All you had to do was ask, babydoll.”
Nam-gyu punches him in the arm, hard.
“Ow! Okay!” Thanos passes over his vape, watching intently as Nam-gyu hastily brings it up to mouth and sucks on the tip. Gapes when Nam-gyu just keeps it in his lungs for a few seconds so that no smoke comes out when he opens his mouth. “Oh, you needed that, huh?”
Nam-gyu takes another hit before answering, “It’s been weeks. He doesn’t even let me smoke cigarettes.”
And Thanos might not be the brightest, but even he can clock the unhealthy implication of let me. But instead of commenting on it, he just says, “My car’s around the corner.”
Nam-gyu stares at him for a second, then nods. “Let’s go.”
—
Okay. It’s not that he’s nervous, alright? It’s just that…
“This place is a pigsty.”
Right. That. Thanos’s lifestyle is very impromptu, very gogogo! rather than practicality. So his apartment is a little… messy.
Nam-gyu idly nudges a pile of dirty laundry on the floor with his foot. “Did a bomb go off in here?”
“Let me guess: Myung-gi has a house cleaner that comes by every day, so you’re used to living in a pristine fucking palace, huh?”
Nam-gyu scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “No. I clean.”
Not to be mean, but Nam-gyu looks like he doesn’t know how to hold a broom.
But now that Thanos thinks about it, it kind of makes sense. Nam-gyu’s got a real clean energy, hair all soft-looking and neat behind his ears. His face is completely clear of pimples or acne scars, and now that Thanos isn’t being threatened by the guy, he’s noticing the natural-ish makeup he’s got on, the slight darkness of his eyeshadow, the mascara… Immaculate, like he spent forever getting ready but also like he just rolled out of bed looking this pretty.
Really, really pretty.
Nam-gyu gives him a light shove, breaking Thanos out of his thoughts. “What the fuck are you staring at, asshole?”
Thanos shrugs. “You,” he answers casually, and he’s starting to really love the way Nam-gyu blushes, then immediately tries to hide it by scratching his nose. “It’s not every day that I have a model in my apartment.”
Nam-gyu recovers quick enough to quip, “Oh, trust me, I’m sure.”
With an exasperated sigh, Thanos moves them through his apartment, ending up in his living room. He squats down next to his TV stand and opens the last drawer. “What do you want?”
Nam-gyu sits on the ground next to him. “What do you have?”
Thanos glances at the contents of the drawer. “Weed, molly, edibles, and shrooms.” When Nam-gyu seems disappointed, Thanos asks, “What? What did you want?”
Nam-gyu doesn’t answer that, but his thumb comes up to rub at the inside of his covered elbow. “Nothing…” He looks up at Thanos, eyes determined. “Are you gonna roll or not?”
Thanos grins back at him. "Now that I can do for you, babydoll."