Archive of Our Own

Namgyu was done. Seriously done.

This was the fifth time this month that Thanos had left their apartment without any explanation: no text, no call, not even a casual “I’ll be back later.”

He would just disappear slipping out the door like a ghost and every time Namgyu confronted him afterward, Thanos gave the same vague excuse: “I was working on my song.”
But Namgyu wasn’t stupid. He knew Thanos, maybe better than anyone. And he could tell when something wasn’t right.

The first time it happened was about two weeks ago. Thanos had been acting distant that day, lost in thought, pacing their small kitchen with his headphones half-on, mumbling lyrics to himself. When he left without a word, Namgyu figured he was just deep in some creative mode. After all, writing music had always been Thanos’ escape, a way to deal with the world when it got too loud.

Namgyu didn’t question it at first. He told himself not to overthink things. Artists needed space sometimes, right? But when Thanos came home that night, something was off. His energy had shifted he wasn’t the same. He avoided eye contact, barely spoke, and didn’t even offer Namgyu a hug.
That was when the doubt started to creep in.

So when Thanos left again a few days later, again without saying anything. Namgyu decided to trust his gut. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but he needed to know what was going on. He sent a quick message to Gyeong-su, Thanos' longtime manager and biggest fan.

It was a simple question:
“Hey, is Thanos at the studio with you today?”

The reply came a few minutes later, and it was like a punch to the chest.
“Nope. We’re not working on anything right now. He told me he was too busy this week.”

Busy? Too busy to make music? Then where the hell was he going?
Namgyu had stared at the message for a long time, a knot tightening in his stomach. He didn’t want to believe the worst, but the truth was starting to feel unavoidable. Thanos wasn’t just hiding something, he was lying.
And Namgyu was done pretending not to notice.

And that’s how he ended up here, trailing behind his boyfriend on the quiet street like some obsessed fan. It felt strange, almost embarrassing, like he’d become one of those creepy people Thanos always complained about. The kind who lurked in the shadows, waiting for a glimpse or a selfie.

It was a cold October night, the kind where your breath fogs up in the air and the wind brushes gently against your skin. Dry leaves crunched softly beneath Namgyu’s boots as he walked, each step sounding louder in the stillness of the street. Thankfully, it was dark, just dark enough that Thanos hadn’t noticed he was being followed.

Namgyu was surprisingly good at this whole ‘stalking your boyfriend’ thing. He knew exactly when to duck behind a car or blend into a doorway. Maybe it was just muscle memory. He knew this road too well, after all. And that’s when it hit him this wasn’t the way to Thanos’ recording studio.

Far from it.
This street led somewhere else entirely. Club Pentagon.

Namgyu felt a knot twist in his stomach. That place was practically a ghost from his past a four year long mistake wrapped in flashing lights, deafening music, and a haze of drugs. Pills, heroin, anything that helped him forget how miserable he was at that moment.
That club had nearly destroyed him.

But that was before Thanos. Before they moved in together. Before he started building something that felt like a real life. With Thanos' rising success, there was finally enough money, enough stability, enough hope. He’d quit the job, quit the pills, quit the whole scene.

He was supposed to be done with that part of himself.

So what the hell was Thanos doing going back there?
Namgyu stared ahead, his heart thudding a little harder in his chest.

Thanos’ songs were popular too popular, maybe. Namgyu never really understood the appeal. He’d always thought the music sucked, to be honest. But it paid the bills. It kept them afloat. It gave Namgyu the chance to walk away from Club Pentagon and everything it stood for.
And now, here he was, watching Thanos walk right back to it. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Every rational part of his mind was telling him to turn around, to go back to the safety of their apartment, to curl up with their cat and forget this night ever happened.

But the gnawing need to know what his boyfriend was doing here burned hotter than common sense. He walked faster, his boots crunching dry leaves as he tried to catch up before Thanos got away.

The air changed first, bass vibrations pulsing faintly under his feet like a second heartbeat, then the thrum of laughter and voices spilling out of open car windows and alleys. The closer he got the thicker it became: music leaking through brick, cigarette smoke hanging like a low fog, the sour sweet tang of alcohol and something chemical he didn’t want to name.

And then he saw it.
The neon sign.
“CLUB PENTAGO.”
Still missing the final “N” after four whole years.

The jagged edges of the tube flickered weakly, casting a sickly glow on the cracked sidewalk. The sight hit him like a punch, an absurd detail from his old life rising out of the dark. Of course the manager hadn’t fixed it. Of course nothing here had changed. For a moment, Namgyu forgot why he was even here, caught between nostalgia and fear.

Right. Thanos.
That’s why.

He blinked, refocusing just in time to catch his boyfriend slipping past the velvet rope at the front entrance, bypassing the small crowd of people waiting in the cold. No ID check, no wait, no questions. Fame was a master key; it opened every door. Namgyu, meanwhile, couldn’t just go in.

But he had to.
He had to know.

Maybe Thanos was just drinking with Semi. Maybe he’d walk in, see them laughing, remember that Semi was a lesbian and harmless, and go home with his dignity intact. Maybe this entire nightmare would dissolve into something normal even stupid.

He glanced at the bouncer, a man built like a refrigerator, and instantly knew begging wouldn’t work. “Hey, I used to work here.” was not a golden ticket. Four years of dragging trash bags, cleaning up vomit in bathrooms, taking pills and needles, none of that was going to get him past the door tonight.

He turned away, mind racing. He couldn’t stand here any longer; even the smell of the alley was tugging at old memories, like ghosts brushing his skin. He needed a plan.
Then it hit him. The sign was still broken. If they hadn’t fixed the sign, they probably hadn’t changed the employee door code either.

For the first time all night, adrenaline burned in his veins as excitement instead of fear. Holy shit. I’m actually brilliant. He ducked into the narrow alley behind the club, heart hammering, the bass louder now, rattling the dented dumpsters. There it was, the scuffed metal door with the keypad, same as always. His breath came out in sharp white bursts.

He flexed his fingers once before pressing them to the cold keys.
“Three… five… four… seven.”
The keypad blinked red.
“Damn it.”
Two tries left before the alarm.
He licked his lips. “Three-five-four-six? Three-five-four-eight? Three-five-four-three?” he muttered under his breath, trying not to sound as panicked as he felt. He could almost hear his own pulse over the music.

No, think. Think. Four. Four!
Thanos’s favorite number. Of course. That’s how he always rememberd.
“Three-five-four-four.”
He jabbed the last button. The keypad gave a soft, merciful chirp and blinked green. Relief crashed through him so hard he almost laughed. He pushed the door slowly, carefully, peering inside before stepping over the threshold. The hallway smelled of bleach and stale beer. No one in sight.
Namgyu slipped in like a shadow, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his heart still rattling against his ribs.

The hallway behind the door was narrow and dim, lined with crates of liquor and the same sticky tiles Namgyu had mopped a thousand times. The bass from the main floor thudded through the walls, a steady pulse that vibrated in his chest.

He moved quietly almost hugging the wall, his breath misting in the cold air drifting in from a broken vent.
A flash of memory himself, four years younger hauling boxes down this exact corridor, counting down the minutes until his shift ended -nearly stopped him in his tracks. He shook it off and kept going.

This wasn’t about him.
This was about Thanos.

He followed the sound of music until the hallway opened up into the edge of the main club. Lights spun overhead in sickly pinks and electric blues, strobes cutting the crowd into frozen snapshots of glitter, sweat, and blurred faces.
The smell hit him next: perfume, alcohol, and the faint chemical tang he remembered too well. His stomach tightened.

He scanned the room, keeping to the shadows near the staff door. He knew all the blind spots; he’d used them himself on long shifts when he needed to breathe. From here he had a clear view of the VIP area, a raised platform with velvet ropes and a low couch, a place he used to wipe down when the night ended. Now it was full of people with too perfect hair and expensive drinks.

And there in the corner of the VIP lounge was Thanos.
Namgyu’s breath caught. Thanos wasn’t alone. He was leaning in close to a woman Namgyu didn’t recognize, someone in a tight black dress with a staff lanyard dangling against her hip. She wasn’t just a customer; she worked here. She was laughing at something he said, a hand on his shoulder. Thanos’s posture was relaxed, intimate it made Namgyu’s stomach churn.

For a second Namgyu told himself it could still be innocent. Maybe she was giving him directions. Maybe it was about a show. Maybe anything. But then he saw it: Thanos’s fingers brushing the woman’s waist, slow and familiar, like he used to touch Namgyu when no one was watching. The woman tilted her head and whispered something in his ear. Thanos smiled, a real smile, soft the kind Namgyu hadn’t seen at home in weeks.

Namgyu’s heart thudded so hard it hurt. The music drowned out everything except the image in front of him. He pressed back against the wall, his hands shaking, and for a moment he didn’t know if he was going to cry, scream, or walk straight over there.

Namgyu just pressed himself farther into the shadow of the staff hall, his back flat against the cool metal. From here, the VIP area was framed like a stage. Lights strobed over the crowd, turning bodies into silhouettes, but he kept his eyes locked on the two shapes on the couch.

Thanos had shifted closer to her now. The woman: dark hair, pale skin, the glint of a name tag he couldn’t read from here was saying something into his ear again. Thanos laughed softly, head tilted down. She touched his knee, casual, like they’d done it a hundred times before. Namgyu’s palms went slick.

It’s nothing, he told himself. It’s nothing. She’s just staff. This is work.

But then the strobe light froze them in perfect clarity for a heartbeat. Thanos’s hand slid to her waist, fingers splaying against the curve of her hip. She leaned up. He leaned down.
And they kissed.
Not a quick brush or a polite peck, a slow and unhurried kiss, the kind Namgyu had memorised years ago. In the blink of a strobe it was there, unmistakable, and then another flash caught them again, still locked together. Time stretched.

The club noise dimmed until all he could hear was his own pulse pounding in his ears. Namgyu’s knees went weak. He pressed a hand to the doorframe to steady himself, his mouth dry. The smell of alcohol and perfume seemed to thicken, clinging to his throat. He couldn’t look away, even as it felt like the floor had tilted under him. Every hope he’d rehearsed on the way here every excuse, every “maybe” collapsed in on itself.
Thanos broke the kiss, still smiling at her. She laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Namgyu turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut, as if that could erase what he’d seen.

Namgyu didn’t remember leaving the club. One moment he was pressed against the wall, watching the two of them framed in flashing lights, and the next he was stumbling back down the service corridor, pushing through the metal door into the cold night air. The bass faded behind him, muffled by the alley walls. The smell of smoke and sweat still clung to his clothes. His hands were trembling so badly he shoved them into his coat pockets to hide it from himself.

Every step away from Club Pentagon felt like stepping out of his own skin.
He kept walking. Past the neon sign with its missing N. Past the line of shivering people waiting to be let in. Past a group of smokers laughing, oblivious. The October air burned his lungs but he didn’t stop. He didn’t even look up. The streetlights blurred into long streaks, his eyes wet but no tears falling. He just moved.
By the time he reached the quieter streets near their apartment, his body felt hollow, like he’d left something vital back in that club. His boots echoed on the pavement. His mind replayed the scene over and over; Thanos’s hand on her hip, the kiss, the smile afterwards until he thought he might be sick.

He wanted to collapse on the couch and bury his face in the cat’s fur, pretend he’d never gone out tonight. But the thought of going home, of seeing Thanos walk back in later smelling like women's perfume and lies, made his stomach turn. A hot, sour anger began to mix with the sadness. And then, like a switch flipping, a thought came to him.

If Thanos could do it, why couldn’t he?

The image arrived fully formed: not an argument, not tears, but revenge. Cold and sharp. He saw himself with someone Thanos would never expect, someone close, someone who would cut deeper than any shouting match ever could.

He saw Gyeong-su. Thanos’ best friend. Thanos' biggest fan.
The one who’d always been around, always loyal, always texting Namgyu first when Thanos was late. He imagined what it would feel like to take that loyalty and twist it. To make Thanos taste the betrayal he was choking on now.
The idea sat heavy and glittering in his mind as he walked the last few blocks. He didn’t decide anything yet; he just let it sit there, pulsing like the bass from the club, warming him in a way that scared him a little. By the time his building came into view, he wasn’t just sad anymore. He was angry. And anger, at least, felt like control.

Namgyu shut the apartment door behind him, leaning his weight against it as if the wood alone could hold him up. The silence inside was heavy, pressing against his ears after the club’s relentless noise. Even the cat didn’t stir from the couch, curled into a perfect circle like nothing in the world could go wrong.
Namgyu envied him for that.

He dropped his coat on the floor, boots half-kicked off, and stumbled into the kitchen. The overhead light was too bright, too clean. He filled a glass of water and held it in both hands, staring at the surface until the ripples stilled. His reflection was a blur, eyes dark, mouth pulled tight.
“Don’t think.” he muttered. But his brain wouldn’t stop. The kiss replayed over and over, each loop sharper, like someone digging a needle deeper into the same wound.

Thanos was out there. Smiling. Touching her like he hadn’t touched Namgyu in weeks. And Namgyu was here, alone, clutching water like it was going to fix anything.
He slammed the glass down harder than he meant to. The sound cracked through the quiet, and the cat darted off the couch with a startled hiss. Namgyu flinched, guilt catching in his throat. He pressed his palms to the counter and forced himself to breathe.
But the thought was still there, glowing hot.

Gyeong-su.

It wasn’t even about attraction, not really. It was about the look on Thanos’s face if he ever found out. About flipping the script. About proving he wasn’t the only one who could betray.
Namgyu pulled his phone from his pocket, thumb hovering over Gyeong-su’s contact. The little photo beside his name was stupid, Gyeong-su grinning with sunglasses too big for his face, holding up a microphone like a trophy. Namgyu’s chest tightened. The guy didn’t deserve to be a pawn in this, but…
He locked the screen before he could think too long. Tossed the phone onto the couch like it burned. He paced back and forth across the living room, each step stirring up the anger again.

He wasn’t ready to press send. Not yet. But the idea was alive now, breathing inside him. And once something lived in him like that, it never really went away.

Namgyu didn’t sleep. He tried, curling up on the couch with the black cat pressed against his legs, but every time he closed his eyes, the club lights strobed across his eyelids. Thanos’s smile, her laugh, the kiss, it played in loops that tightened around his chest until he was wiide awake again, staring at the ceiling.
By the time the first pale streaks of morning slipped through the curtains, 9 a.m., something inside him had solidified. The sadness was still there, heavy and sour, but the anger had sharpened into focus.
He wasn’t helpless. He wasn’t going to sit here waiting for Thanos to come home smelling like someone else.

He picked up his phone. The screen glowed too bright in the dim room. His thumb hovered over Gyeong-su’s name again. He hesitated, heart thumping hard enough to shake his hand. This wasn’t a text you could just laugh off. Once he sent it, there was no going back.
He typed anyway.
“Hey. Are you free later?”
The three dots appeared almost instantly, like Gyeong-su had been waiting for him.
“Yeah. What’s up?”

Namgyu stared at the words until his vision blurred. He could still stop. He could say it was nothing, pretend he just wanted to grab coffee, spin some excuse about needing to talk. But what was the point in that?

“Come over,” he wrote.
And hit send.
The message hung there, stark and final. His pulse roared in his ears. A second later, the reply came.
“Sure. Give me an hour.”

Namgyu set the phone down, exhaling shakily. His reflection in the black screen looked like a stranger: dark-eyed, jaw tight, someone who could actually go through with this.
He pushed himself off the couch and started cleaning without really thinking about it. Wiping the counters, folding the blanket, making sure the space didn’t look like he’d just spent the night unraveling. Every sweep of his hand felt like preparing, like setting a stage.

By the time the knock came at the door, his stomach was tight with anticipation. He didn’t rush to open it. He let Gyeong-su knock a second time, then pulled the door wide.
“Hey”, Gyeong-su said, smiling that familiar easy smile, a little concerned when he took in Namgyu’s face. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”
Namgyu forced a shrug. “Didn’t feel like it.”

He stepped aside to let him in.
And as the door shut behind them, Namgyu realized he had already crossed the line.

He made coffee. Didn’t ask if Gyeong-su wanted some, just set the steaming mug down in front of him like it was natural. Gyeong-su accepted it with a nod, blowing on the surface before taking a sip.
For a while they just sat at the small kitchen table, the silence stretching. Gyeong-su glanced at Namgyu from time to time, like he was waiting for him to speak first. Namgyu let the quiet linger, let the weight of it settle until Gyeong-su shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Finally, Namgyu broke the silence. “Do you remember the first time we met?”
Gyeong-su blinked at the question, surprised, but then a smile tugged at his mouth. “At the studio. You came to pick up Thanos. Yeah, I remember.”
Namgyu’s lips curved faintly. “You looked at me weird.”
Gyeong-su laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Did I? I didn’t mean to. I just-“ He hesitated, eyes flicking down into his coffee, then back up. “You were… memorable.”
The word hung between them, heavier than it should have been. Namgyu leaned back in his chair, pretending nonchalance, but inside he felt the first thread of a snare tightening.

Four years ago - Gyeong-su’s memory
The recording studio had smelled like burnt coffee and too many hours of stale air. Thanos was inside the booth, headphones slipping over his ears, running through a verse for the tenth time that night. Gyeong-su had been slouched in the producer’s chair, half-distracted, when the door opened.
And in walked Namgyu.
He wasn’t flashy, just black, baggy jeans and a grey sweater, a little worn at the sleeves, but something about him caught Gyeong-su off guard.

Maybe it was the way his hair fell into his eyes, or the quiet confidence in how he looked around the room like he belonged there despite being an outsider.
“Hey, I’m here for Thanos.” he’d said, voice soft but certain.
And Gyeong-su had thought: pretty. Not handsome in the polished, stage-ready way Thanos carried himself, but striking in a way that made you look twice. He’d pushed the thought aside quickly, of course. Thanos was his friend. Namgyu was Thanos’s boyfriend. That was a boundary you didn’t cross.
Still, the image had stuck with him all these years: Namgyu leaning against the doorframe, hands shoved in his pockets, a faint smile playing on his lips as he watched Thanos behind the glass.

Back in the present, Gyeong-su cleared his throat, dragging himself out of the memory. “You probably don’t remember that day. But… yeah. I noticed you.”
Namgyu tilted his head, watching him carefully. “Noticed me how?”
The question was casual on the surface, but Gyeong-su felt it dig under his skin, pulling at something he hadn’t wanted to examine too closely before. He shifted in his chair, the heat of the coffee mug suddenly too much against his palms.
Namgyu didn’t press further. He just smiled faintly, like he already knew the answer.

Namgyu let the smile linger on his lips before looking down at his own untouched coffee. He traced the rim with one finger, casual, almost bored. Silence again. He’d learned long ago that people filled silence with the things they didn’t mean to say.
Sure enough, Gyeong-su spoke first.
“You seem… off. Everything okay?”
Namgyu exhaled through his nose, a sound almost like a laugh.

“I don’t know. I guess I just… feel invisible lately.”
He didn’t say Thanos’s name. Didn’t have to. He knew Gyeong-su would connect the dots. When he finally glanced up, Gyeong-su was frowning, brows knit, his whole posture angled toward Namgyu. Hooked.

Namgyu leaned back, pretending to brush it off, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “Forget it. I’m being dramatic.”
“No.” Gyeong-su said quickly, leaning forward. His hand twitched on the table like he almost wanted to reach across. ”You’re not. If something’s wrong… you can talk to me.”
There it was, the opening Namgyu had been waiting for.
Namgyu looked away again, letting his shoulders sag, carefully manufacturing vulnerability.
“It’s just… sometimes I wonder if Thanos even sees me anymore. Like I’m just furniture in the apartment. Useful, but… not really there.”

And as expected, guilt flickered in Gyeong-su’s eyes, guilt for being Thanos’s friend, for knowing his flaws too well. Namgyu leaned into that flicker. “You ever feel like you’re holding onto someone who’s already let go?” he asked softly. The room felt smaller after that. Quiet, charged. Namgyu didn’t push further, not yet. He just let the question hang in the air, heavy enough that Gyeong-su shifted again in his chair, restless, like he didn’t know where to put his hands.

He pushed his chair back, the scrape of wood making Gyeong-su flinch slightly. He stood, stretching like the conversation had worn him out.
“You don’t have to listen to me mope.” he said, voice lighter now, almost dismissive. “It’s not fair to dump that on you.”
Gyeong-su shook his head immediately. “No, I don’t mind. Really.”
Namgyu glanced down at him, studying the earnestness in his eyes. He let a small, tired smile slip across his face, the kind that said thank you but I don’t believe you.

Then he turned away, heading for the couch. Namgyu sank into the cushions and patted the space beside him.”Come sit. The table feels too serious.”
Gyeong-su hesitated, then stood and crossed the room, settling on the edge of the couch. He kept a careful distance, as though proximity itself might mean something he couldn’t admit. Namgyu noticed the gap and, without thinking twice, slid a little closer, just enough that their knees nearly brushed.
He pretended not to notice.

For a few minutes they sat in silence again, the faint hum of traffic outside filling the space. Namgyu let his head tilt back against the couch, eyelids heavy, body angled subtly toward Gyeong-su. He knew the effect it would have: vulnerability, exhaustion, something fragile that begged to be protected.

“You’re too good at this.” Namgyu murmured suddenly, eyes still closed.
Gyeong-su turned his head. “At what?”
“Listening. Being… safe.” He opened his eyes just enough to meet Gyeong-su’s gaze, then let them flutter shut again. “Thanos doesn’t do that anymore.”
The words landed like a stone dropped in water. He could feel Gyeong-su stiffen, could feel the weight of loyalty pulling at him in one direction and something else pulling the other.
Namgyu shifted slightly closer, their shoulders brushing now. He didn’t apologize for the contact. He didn’t even acknowledge it. Instead, he whispered, low enough that Gyeong-su had to lean in to hear:
“Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like… to be wanted again.”

The silence that followed was sharp, electric. Namgyu kept his gaze down.
When Gyeong-su finally spoke, his voice was unsteady. “You are wanted. More than you know.”
And Namgyu allowed himself, just barely, to smile. He stayed perfectly still, as though Gyeong-su’s words hadn’t pierced right through him. You are wanted. He let the weight of it settle between them, heavy, undeniable.

Then, as if it were nothing, he shifted slightly, curling his legs up onto the couch so that his thigh pressed flush against Gyeong-su’s. No acknowledgment. No invitation. Just casual closeness, like it happened by accident. He could feel the tension coiling in Gyeong-su’s body beside him, the way his breathing stuttered, the way he tried to hold still as though stillness would save him.
Namgyu leaned his head to the side, letting it rest lightly against Gyeong-su’s shoulder. His voice was quiet, almost drowsy.
“You’re warm.”
That was all. Nothing more. He didn’t move again, didn’t push. He just let the silence throb, let the contact grow heavier with every passing second.

Gyeong-su swallowed hard. Namgyu could feel the movement under his cheek. “Namgyu…” His voice cracked on the name.
“Mhm?” Namgyu hummed soft.
There was a pause. A war waged inside the man sitting next to him, between loyalty and desire, between friendship and the way he’d looked at Namgyu years ago in that studio doorway. Namgyu didn’t have to see it to know. He could feel it in the way Gyeong-su’s muscles tightened, in the shaky exhale that gave him away.

And then it happened.

A hesitant touch, fingers brushing the back of Namgyu’s hand, so light it could have been an accident. But it wasn’t. Namgyu didn’t move away. He didn’t even look up. He just let it happen, let the line blur. The touch grew bolder, Gyeong-su’s hand settling over his, tentative but deliberate. Namgyu’s lips curved in the faintest smile, hidden against his shoulder.
He didn’t need to kiss him first. He didn’t need to force anything.

Because Gyeong-su was already leaning in, his breath warm against Namgyu’s hair, the weight of his choice tipping them both into dangerous territory. Namgyu only tilted his head at the last moment, just enough that when Gyeong-su finally broke, when his mouth brushed against Namgyu’s, it felt like his decision. His betrayal.
And Namgyu let him.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, barely there. Gyeong-su pulled back almost immediately, eyes wide, guilt already rushing in to fill the space.
“I-“ He started, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have-”
Namgyu didn’t interrupt. He didn’t reassure him. He simply looked down, lashes low, and whispered, almost too quiet to hear:
“Don’t stop.”

The words unraveled Gyeong-su.
He leaned back in, desperate this time, lips pressing firmly against Namgyu’s. His hand cupped Namgyu’s jaw, clumsy and trembling, like he’d been waiting years to allow himself this moment.
Namgyu kissed him back slowly, deliberately, but not hungrily. Not yet. He wanted Gyeong-su to feel like he was the one losing control. He parted his lips just enough, guiding the pace without ever seeming to.
When Gyeong-su’s hand slid down to his waist, Namgyu let out a small, shaky breath, soft encouragement wrapped in feigned vulnerability. It was all the invitation Gyeong-su needed to tug him closer, closing the space between their bodies.

Namgyu tilted his head, deepening the kiss at just the right moment.
When he finally pulled back, lips flushed, he didn’t say anything. He just looked at Gyeong-su, eyes glassy, mouth parted slightly like he was on the edge of breaking.
The silence stretched. Namgyu knew exactly what it would do, force Gyeong-su to fill it, to justify it, to make the next move.

And he did.
Gyeong-su leaned in again, kissing him harder this time, urgency replacing hesitation. His hand slid beneath the hem of Namgyu’s shirt, fingertips brushing bare skin. Namgyu shivered, not entirely pretending this time, and let himself melt against the touch.

The kiss turned rougher, clashing teeth and breathless sounds that filled the quiet apartment. Gyeong-su’s hands were restless now, tugging at the hem of Namgyu’s shirt like he couldn’t stop himself.
Namgyu let him.
He lifted his arms slowly, deliberately. The shirt slid over his head and landed somewhere on the floor. His skin prickled in the cool air, and he let out a soft exhale, the kind that sounded like surrender.

Gyeong-su froze for half a second, eyes dragging over him with something like awe and guilt right behind it. “Namgyu, this is... this is wrong.”
Namgyu tilted his head, lips curving faintly. “Then stop.”
The challenge was quiet, almost a whisper, but it cut deep. He knew Gyeong-su couldn’t.
And he didn’t.

Their mouths crashed together again, hungrier this time, Gyeong-su’s restraint crumbling as he pushed Namgyu back into the cushions. Namgyu went willingly, soft beneath him.
When Gyeong-su’s hand skimmed lower, sliding across his hip, Namgyu arched slightly into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. “Please.” he breathed.
That was all it took. Gyeong-su groaned against his mouth, the sound raw, desperate. Whatever line had been left between them snapped completely.

Another groan vibrated against Namgyu’s mouth, and suddenly Gyeong-su was tugging harder, desperate, like he couldn’t get close enough. Fingers fumbled clumsily at his waistband, pulling, and Namgyu lifted his hips just enough to help. The fabric slid down, a slow scrape of cotton over skin, before being shoved aside and lost to the floor.
Namgyu’s lashes fluttered as he exhaled.

Gyeong-su’s jacket went next peeled off in haste, clattering to the ground with the weight of keys still in the pocket. One layer, then another, until Gyeong-su’s sweater, shirt, jeans and briefs joined the growing heap on the floor.

Gyeong-su looked down at Namgyu, hunger burning in his eyes. The boy was beautiful beneath him, too beautiful, in a way that twisted something deep inside his chest.
Unlike Gyeong-su, stripped bare and exposed, Namgyu still had his underwear on. Just a basic black boxer, snug around his hips. At first glance, an S, Gyeong-su thought: slim, delicate, almost too slight. But then his gaze lingered, and he reconsidered. Maybe an M. Namgyu wasn’t as fragile as he looked. There were curves where there shouldn’t have been, soft lines that drew the eye. His ass alone, Gyeong-su thought with a dizzy rush of shame. Put most girls to shame.

The thought made his throat tighten. He shouldn’t be thinking this. He shouldn’t be here at all. But Namgyu’s body beneath him, half-hidden and half-revealed, left no room for sense or loyalty.
Namgyu’s eyes flicked up to meet his, dark and unreadable. He didn’t move, didn’t protest just lay there, breathing shallowly, every small shift of his body deliberate. Gyeong-su’s hands hovered over the waistband, fingers trembling. He told himself to stop, that this was the last chance, the final line he hadn’t yet crossed. But Namgyu tilted his hips just slightly, a subtle invitation, and the decision was made for him.
The last of Gyeong-su’s restraint broke, and he leaned down again, kissing him while sliding Namgyu’s briefs down his legs.

Gyeong-su really didn’t want to make things awkward, but he had to say something. His throat felt tight as the words slipped out.
“So… how do I even do this?”
It wasn’t like he was inexperienced. He’d been with girls before, he knew what he was doing there. But this? With a guy? He hadn’t even let himself think about it.
Well… except for that one time. That one dream. About Namgyu.
He’d woken up sweating, shaken, hard and immediately forced himself to forget it. Because fantasizing about your best friend’s boyfriend was something you just didn’t do.
But here he was anyway. The thought he’d tried to kill was suddenly real.
And he couldn’t stop. He didn’t even want to.
Namgyu’s voice broke through the haze, calm and unbothered.
“Get the lube.” he said. “There’s a bottle in the TV cabinet, I think.”

Gyeong-su got off the couch without a word, walking across the cold wooden floor. The boards creaked softly under his feet as he knelt by the TV cabinet and pulled out the small bottle. His fingers shook a little, though he pretended not to notice.
When he turned back, Namgyu was already waiting for him. He’d shifted lower on the couch, back arched slightly, propped up on his elbows, the low light brushing over his skin.
For a second, Gyeong-su forgot to breathe. The sight hit him harder than he wanted to admit, not just because of how beautiful Namgyu looked but because of what it meant.
What they were about to do.

He swallowed hard, bottle still in hand.
“Namgyu…” he started, voice rough, but he couldn’t end the sentence.
Namgyu looked up at him through his lashes, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. “You’re thinking too much.” Namgyu murmured, voice low and steady.
Gyeong-su swallowed. “Maybe I am.”
Namgyu tilted his head, a quiet laugh escaping him. “Then stop.”
The words landed like a dare. And for a moment, Gyeong-su didn’t know if he wanted to run or give in. His heart was hammering, but the part of him that still thought this was wrong was losing ground fast.

“I want to see you.” Gyeong-su said his voice low but steady.
Namgyu blinked, pushing himself up slightly so he was sitting back on his knees, his elbows leaving the couch as his weight shifted. His brows drew together, confusion flickering across his face. “What?” he asked confused.
“I want to see your face when I fuck you.” He answerd, confidence threading through his voice. Namgyu let out a soft chuckle. “Sure.” He shifted, turning onto his back, a smirk on his face while opening his legs as an invitation.
Gyeong-su, seeing him like that, moved quickly back to the couch, settling himself between the older boy’s legs. His eyes traced over Namgyu’s body before he could stop himself, a sharp thought cutting through the haze, why hadn’t he done this sooner?
But then another thought followed, quieter, more complicated. Why did Namgyu even want this?
He’d said he felt invisible. Unwanted. But what exactly did that mean? Gyeong-su had always thought Thanos and Namgyu were solid messy sure, but happy enough. And yeah, he’d noticed the way Thanos sometimes pulled away from Namgyu’s touch, the way he stiffened at affection. He’d assumed Thanos just wasn’t the physical type.
Or maybe… maybe he just didn’t love Namgyu anymore.
The thought hit like a stone in Gyeong-su’s stomach. Shit, he thought. Why am I even thinking about this now?

He was supposed to be happy.
Happy that Namgyu let him finally fuck him. Shit that sounds so wrong. Everything about this was wrong. Cause who the hell would fuck their colleague, idol, bestfriend's boyfriend?
Gyeong-su would.
But can you blame him? Just look how fucking sexy and hot Namgyu laid there underneath him. Speaking of Namgyu, there was a flicker of irritation on his face, the kind that said his patience was running out.
Noticing his expression, Gyeong-su quickly snapped back to reality, right fucking Namgyu. Well first he obviously had to prep him, should be the same like fingering a girl right... right?

He opened the bottle of lube with trembling hands, and put a good amount on two of his fingers, he was pretty sure Namgyu should be able to take three fingers, according to Thanos’s songs, but he just wanted to be safe and gentle with Namgyu. Not wanting to mess this moment up.

He looked at Namgyu’s face. Did he look scared? Was he doing something wrong? Panic prickled at the edges of his mind. Then Namgyu caught his gaze. A soft smile curved his lips, and before Gyeong-su could think too much, Namgyu tugged him by the back of his neck for a quick, deliberate kiss. The small gesture gave Gyeong-su a rush of confidence. He took a deep breath and went back to what he had been doing. He teased the rim of Namgyu’s ass with one finger, getting a soft whimper in return. Not wanting to make Namgyu bored he moved his finger towards the entrance, making eye contact with the boy beneath him while doing so.

Namgyu prepared himself for the worst, knowing that Gyeong-su never fingered a man before and didn't know Namgyu’s sweet spot like Thanos does, shit why the fuck is that purple haired fucker in his head right now. Fortunately, his thoughts disappeared when a finger entered him, slow and caring. It felt okay, great even. Thanos never went this slow, always entering his fingers inside as fast as posible, so he just could go on and fuck him.
Namgyu moaned softly, the finger going deeper.

Gyeong-su contiued looking at Namgyu, seeing if he still was comfortable. He pushed his finger in and out slow, getting soft and cute whimpers out of Namgyu. When Gyeong-su noticed Namgyu was getting comfortable he pushed another finger in, adding pace. A moan escaped Namgyu’s mouth, he looked so beautiful mouth open and looking down.
“You like that?” He asked grinning while scissoring his fingers to stretch Namgyu open. “Ah yes, add another please.” Namgyu nodded. Obsessed with Namgyu’s reaction, Gyeong-su obies and added a third finger in, pumping his fingers in and out in a steady rhythm. Namgyu’s body responded, his back arching slightly as Gyeong-su was stretching him open.

So Thanos’s lyrics hadn’t been a joke, Gyeong-su realized. He always sang about 'his bitch' riding his three fingers, but never mentioned Namgyu by name. The fans just assumed it was about a girl, and Thanos never bothered to correct them.
Gyeong-su looked down again, locking eyes with the raven-haired boy beneath him. He could never understand why Thanos kept Namgyu hidden, why he never posted him, never talked about him in interviews, never claimed him.
If Gyeong-su were the one dating Namgyu, he’d let the whole world know. He’d never shut up about it. He’d make sure everyone knew Namgyu was his.

A loud moan pulled Gyeong-su out of his thoughts, he had hit Namgyu’s sweet spot without realizing it.
“Fuck Gyeong-su right there ah please don't stop.” So he kept hitting the same spot, going faster and harder.
“Ah- Gyeong-su!” Namgyu couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good. Thanos hadn’t given him any real attention in weeks. “Oh Gyeong-su I'm so close ah I'm gon- Why the fuck did you stop!”
The sweet moaning and trembling Namgyu was gone, replaced by a mean one, who clearly didn’t like that Gyeong-su had pulled his fingers out.
“Why the fuck would you do that?” he yelled. It was almost funny, seeing him like that; sweat shining on his forehead, a trace of saliva at the corner of his mouth. Gyeong-su looked him in the eyes. “I want you to come when I'm inside of you.” Gyeong-su’s hearing wasn’t exactly top-tier (thanks to listening to Thanos’s songs on max volume every day), but he could’ve sworn the older boy whimpered after saying that.

“Then what the fuck are you waiting for, huh?” Hearing this Gyeong-su took the bottle of lube from the table and squeezed a generous amount on his dick, stroking it fast after, not wanting to waste any more time. He lined up the tip of his dick with Nam-gyu's entrance. “Are you ready?” “Fuck just put it in already Gyeong-su.” Namgyu answered, and even though his tone was aggressive, it didn’t come across as mean, his smile resting on his face softened it. Gyeong-su began to slowly push in, just his tip at first not wanting to hurt Namgyu. Even though Namgyu could handle his size, Thanos and he had compared their dicks in the studio after an argument over whose was bigger. Unfortunately for Gyeong-su, his dick was slightly smaller than Thanos’s.
Still Gyeong-su was proud of his, it was a little bit above average and curved perfectly. His dick definitely looked better than Thanos's , he hoped Namgyu also tought this.

When Gyeong-su had fully bottomed out, Namgyu was breathing loud. He could tell it had been a long time since Thanos last touched him.
“Do you need a moment?” Gyeong-su asked softly. “No just move please.” Namgyu said, his tone firm.
Gyeong-su started to move himself slowly in and out, soft whimpers leaving Namgyu’s mouth. Shit he could listen to this cute whimpers all day. “Go a bit faster please.” Namgyu moaned softly. Gyeong-su picked up pace, thrusting out and slamming back in. “Ah! Fuck yes like that.” Happy with the reaction Gyeong-su got, he increased speed. Gripping Namgyu’s waist hard while thrusting in and out. He felt like he was in heaven, Namgyu felt so soft and thight around him. If he was Thanos he would fuck Namgyu eveyday, shit he would even bring him to the studio fuck him right there while the mic is on, adding his soft little moans in the songs.
Gyeong-su groaned at the tought thrusting deep inside of Namgyu.

He kept going faster, searching for that one spot that made Namgyu see stars. He found it with his fingers so it shouldn’t be hard to find it with his cock right? As he finnaly hit that particularly sensitive spot deep inside Namgyu, the long-haired boy's eyes rolled back in his head, mouth falling open as a loud moan escaped him. “Faster, faster! Shit right there Gyeong-su.” Namgyu’s loud moans echoed through the room. Poor neighbours Gyeong-su tought, but that thinking quickly went away when he saw Namgyu's beautiful but messy face. He whimpered at the sight underneath him. Namgyu’s hair was a mess, sticking to his forehead from sweat. His mouth hung slightly open, a little drool escaping the corner, and shit did he have freckles? Gyeong-su couldn’t stop falling in love with this boy. This boy, who happened to be his best friend’s boyfriend. But right now, none of that mattered. All he could feel was heat, desire, and the pull he couldn’t resist.

Namgyu felt so full, if he had know Gyeong-su could make him this good he would've asked him this a month ago. Right now, the thought of catching his purple haired boyfriend cheating didn’t feel so bad. In fact, Namgyu was almost glad, a reason to end things with him and maybe… be with his best friend instead.

Gyeong-su slammed into the same sweet spot again, dragging another loud moan out of Namgyu. From Namgyu’s expression, Gyeong-su could tell that he was gonna come soon. He moved his hand from the older boy’s waist to his dick, taking it in his hand and stroking at the same rhythm as his thrusts. Namgyu’s nails traced sharp lines along the short-haired boy’s back and lets out one final loud whimper before spilling over Gyeong-su’s hand, letting his head fall back into the couch. Gyeong-su quickly follows finishing inside of him with a loud groan, grinding against Namgyu's ass as he rode out the wave of his release. Namgyu could feel the cum painting his inner walls, filling him up with heat.

After a moment Gyeong-su pulled out, He pressed his lips to Namgyu’s, staying there as the kiss slowly deepened. He could feel the warmth between them growing with every breath. His hands moved without thinking, tracing the lines of Namgyu’s sides, feeling his skin tense and relax under his touch. Then his lips drifted lower, down to Namgyu’s neck, where he started with gentle kisses before making them firmer, darker, until faint hickeys began to form. He watched as Namgyu shivered under his touch, breath hitching, fingers pressing into the couch cushions. Every flicker of reaction pushed Gyeong-su to press further, to mark him more, making it clear he was his. Thanos would see he was his.
Going back up Gyeong-su left one last kiss at his lips. “Do you want me to clean you up?” He asked softly. “No.”
“No?” Gyeong-su asked confused. “You know when your cum dries on your stomach, it's going to be really uncomfortable right?”
“I want him to see this mess.”

Right. Thanos.
Gyeong-su had almost forgotten about him. What would he even do if he walked in now? How would he react?
Still, Gyeong-su couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty. Thanos deserved this, he was sure of it. If you could make someone as beautiful and kind as Namgyu feel unwanted, then maybe you deserved to lose him.
And if Thanos did walk in, if he saw his boyfriend and best friend like this naked, covered in cum, cuddling… well, that would be a shitty way to find out. But if this was what Namgyu wanted if this was how he wanted Thanos to feel the pain he’d caused, then Gyeong-su would stand by it.

Before he could ask what Namgyu wanted to do next, the boy had already drifted off to sleep. Predictable, really, he hadn’t slept at all last night. Gyeong-su reached carefully for his phone, which was still in his jeans on the floor, trying not to wake Namgyu lying beneath him. 11:30 a.m.
Thanos could be home any minute. He always came home around lunch, Namgyu used to make it for him. Gyeong-su remembered that.
He put his phone aside and settled beside Namgyu, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts wouldn’t stop circling. What would Thanos do when he found out? What would Namgyu say? What would he say? He’d probably get punched, maybe worse. But if it meant having Namgyu, it would be worth it.
He’d lose his job too, most likely. That part hurt more than he wanted to admit he loved his work: helping with recording sessions, planning promotions for new albums.
And, of course, he’d lose his best friend.

But when he looked at Namgyu, asleep and peaceful beside him, it all felt worth it. It sounded stupid, this was the first time they’d ever shared something so intimate but it felt right in a way nothing else ever had.
If he could feel like this every day, he could live with losing everything else.
A small smile tugged at his lips as he turned and pressed a soft kiss to Namgyu’s cheek.

“I love you, Namgyu.” he whispered.