Chapter 1: The Universe Really Fucks You Over
Chapter Text
Being a low life junkie in the middle of Seoul, Korea, is one thing. Your track marks from heroin will be there to display what exactly you do and who you are in this society. It proves you're desperate for something to take the edge off, a needy slave to a simple item without conscience, yet it chokes with chains and claws into your skin until it's all that brings solace. People will immediately know that side of your life when it can easily be broadcasted from one sleeve pull. That's just one bit of it—another side is the recovered, those who bother to pick up their torn apart sludges of mass they call a body and reach towards light, the ever-clasping chains free of their necks and the rest of their cadaver. They're seen as warriors for what they fought, like they were in a goddamn revolution. Battle scars, a new attitude, a changed man. Those who get purple hearts and honor. In the minds of most, it’s an act of courage, bravery, something seemingly so difficult taken over. It puts addicts on a pedestal to redeem themselves, as if most want that in the first place. Which is the exact reason the man behind the modernesque bar is in such a pissy mood. Working at a club while high makes it all tolerable, from the pesky assholes who are so obnoxious you can’t help but purposefully spill drinks on them to get them quiet, to the endless pool of women either miserable or trying to make you the exact same. The loud music and flashing lights are barely a bother. But when you’re “recovering”, you have some special steps. Withdrawal. A toxic ex manipulating you, irritating you, mentally and physically destroying you to the point where if someone isn’t watching their damn mouth, they might as well get a foot shoved up their ass and out the other end. The hyper music and seizure-threatening lights are no longer so inviting, but against you. Everyone, everything, it’s all against you when you aren’t latched onto that sweet, sweet ecstasy. So the man with black hair, tending to the bar, turns to spit in drinks, cuss out patrons and anything really, even the air. People walk past huffing smoke of tobacco or another green leaf, all adding to the agitation as it stacks, people so leisurely doing something he must resist if he actually keeps a sorry-ass promise for once. Just an hour or so left, 60 plus minutes surrounded by drunkards and shitty humans alike, the sober of whom don’t exist considering it's relatively late into the night. Nam-gyu would much rather ride the subway back to the shitty apartment he shares with his sister, no matter how horrible the place or how rancid the furniture was, it was far less manic than this home of overstimulation.
In his endless resentment and pleas inside his mind for the night to end already, was he gifted the biggest “fuck you” he could have been warranted. Worse than Se-mi putting hair dye in his shampoo to get back at him for an argument her stupid ass started—it wasn’t his fault he actually held his own in it. This was worse than that, the public humiliation of hot-pink, neon-blasted chemicals killing his hair for almost a whole month. Whoever this obnoxious asshole was didn't even hold a candle to it. He made sure everyone was aware his presence was heard the second he walked in, boasting about it, even, like a god sent to Earth except his purpose was anything but prosperity, especially when he sat down right behind Nam-gyu mid clean up, with the smuggest grin that Nam-gyu could pretty much sense was there without looking. It really made therapy worth it if he doesn’t get arrested for assaulting this man in the next half-hour from whatever dumb shit he dares to spit. Anger management can work some miracles—so can counting to 30, once the dreaded one across the smooth counter actually speaks. Nam-gyu didn’t have to see him; he knew he was there the second he heard the barstool squeak, and the next most insufferable conversation he’d have to have was being prepared in the silence. The man himself had purple dyed hair—though the roots remained a thick black, hair spiked with so much gel it might as well smell the same as that god awful “musk of man” type of bullshit he was wearing as cologne. The outfit was just as blinding as the lights that flared in strobes above the place; an odd, reflective, neon-green looking t-shirt paired with such saggy jeans you swore he’d pants himself. The exact opposite of the black button up and matching pants forced onto Nam-gyu, the ones that were making him claustrophobic.
“Hey, señorita,” that enough felt insufferable to hear—just some mindless idiot using English to look cool was an immediate red flag, but he continued in Korean, “you seem like you need a little bit of Thanos in your world!” What a way with words. Truthfully, the guy sounded like he was in his own timeline, his own planet, even. Is he Thanos? Then, just as he turned around to face this freakish nobody, was the bartender struck over the head with the assumption that made him wonder just how much heroin would have really helped with this. “A lady like yourself is just what I’m looking for.” Woman?! What a great assumption from the thing in front of him that’s considered a person. He could understand his hair could mistake him as such, maybe a few facial features, but really? He has a dick, guys. Just because he actually maintains a decent routine for his hair that isn’t a 3-in-1 body wash and has a good fashion sense rather than wearing a couple shitty clothes that would probably earn some coins if you stood out on the sidewalk long enough to be mistaken for a homeless man, that doesn’t mean he’s a woman. Just that he’s a better man than most when it comes to hygiene and physical presentation. He’s been called a potty mouth enough to know his other qualities hold more to a bitchy type of personality. Withdrawal really boosts that, as does this stupid fuck in front of him. “Could the one and only Thanos get your name?” So he is talking about himself, not even bothering for a drink, truly wasting their time and making these minutes tick by slower than Nam-gyu can handle.
“Nam-gyu, and I’m not a damn girl. Use your fucking eyes and brain before you mush it into shit.” His words were partially registered by the indication of a hum, and because Nam-gyu would appreciate a couple dollars to his name, he has to serve this purple haired bastard. “Did you come here for a drink, or are you going to fuck off and overdose in the bathroom?” Again, he wasn’t given a verbal response at first. The anger really threatened to burst at the seams of Nam-gyu’s patience; it was a common occurrence, especially at the moment. Thanos—at least, that was the current name that stuck—laughed slightly at the final comment, hands up in mock surrender. Ironic, because in this situation, he’s close enough to being held at gunpoint just from the tone he was giving alone. “Nam-su. Sorry, my bro! Didn’t know!” Even then he didn’t seem to show too much empathy, especially when he didn’t get the name right, just humorous like he was refraining from a giggle even though the almost-sweating, annoyed, tired-of-his-shit counterpart just glared, awaiting an answer. He decided to drag himself here, even when he could’ve faked sickness, and he would’ve if he knew he’d have to deal with this. He’d rather sell all his fucking limbs than be here if he knew this was how it was gonna end up. “Chill dude, just messin’ with you,” again that stupid ass English. “Get me whatever, my bro!” God, if he could, the normal-haired guy would’ve just given Thanos a cup full of glass and piss, call it a beer and hope he gets his guts shredded before he can do another smart-ass remark. A paycheck is a paycheck, however, and money is tight when your sister is an emo brat, you’re a junkie, you live in a shitty apartment, and you're trying to pay for college shit. The reality of not having a mommy and a daddy to pay for you is a bitch. Reluctantly a cold drink was poured from the tap and iced, a regrettingly good drink—then again, any vice in a 300-foot radius made Nam-gyu think they looked good and miss his own. Luckily, he hasn’t gotten fired over the attitude just from the past day or so... yet. Condensation already began to fickle into its own version of rain drops that would never see clouds, instead met sleek, cold metal, the glass crying out the drops as it was drunk by a freakazoid whom Nam-gyu had no problem saying definitely doesn’t know how to wash his hands after pissing or shut the fuck up.
The minutes that passed felt like they purposely slowed just to test the strength of Nam-gyu’s patience and show how many times he could deal with being called “Nam-su”. Fuck promises, and fuck assholes like the one bragging about himself as Nam-gyu is forced to refill his drink. If he could leave the guy here and clock out, he would. It was already late and he still had mathematics and business ethics (which he couldn’t give a fuck about) assignments to turn in because the teachers don’t understand what a damn break means. If college didn’t mean higher-paying jobs needed, he would much rather say “piss off”. The best thing he decided to choose was Business and Management, which seemed easy enough. They might just give him a better chance at normality instead of a shitty life from paycheck to paycheck.
A half-hour passes and he’s still stuck listening to this guy hum lyrics mostly about sex and parties. By the horrible wording, it definitely sounds like his original work. No one would buy off his lyrics, at least he could give credit there. He wished the guy would go so he didn't have to babysit him any longer. In the back of his head, he could hear that insistent buzzing, the need for something to at least calm his sorry ass down. An edible, secondhand smoke from a blunt, a needle of heroin, anything to satisfy the craving, to make the irritation stop its swelling like a tumor in his mind, to stop the shakes, chills, sweats. He felt gross, mainly from the discomfort of this withdrawal and the idiotic man across from him nursing his fifth glass. He was about to get cut off if he didn’t leave. Every minute it was nonstop chugging and talking, Nam-gyu fidgeting with his hair to keep it well groomed, spinning the rings on his hands, and silently begging for Hyun-ju to take over his shift so he could clock out. He never knew her too well, a friend of a friend of Se-mi’s and she was talking once about looking for any good jobs that gave decent pay for the time being, so he offered a suggestion. It’s now one of her many part-time jobs to cover debt and school, and just overall funding nowadays. She wants to move to Thailand or something, Nam-gyu could care less about all that—just that she handled patrons well, and honestly, she was a saint with a surprising body build. He’d pay to see her kick this Thanos guy’s ass. It would be quite a show honestly. He just needs her to hustle into her shift and he can leave, the walking bicycle reflector most likely kicked out soon after.
The wish was granted, just as Thanos decided to go too, and they both forgot about his drinks needing paid. Fuck. As the black haired druggie walked, he shuffled through the usual night crowd on a Saturday he would push past, though something bothered him. It wasn’t still that freak, he was beyond pissed about, Thanos or whatever he said his name was, it was that craving that began beating down his mood. He promised no drugs, not anymore, not ever again, but day two of what was supposed to be two whole weeks of the rough withdrawal ride and he was already itching for it back. On one hand, it made him think about how his addiction persisted, from shooting up heroin for the first time, into chasing the high that faded from it. The shameful scarring in his elbow crease made him feel like when cattle were burned with logos from what farms owned them. Heroin had a very similar grip on him, something that disturbed Nam-gyu. On the other hand, it was a rush. The thrill of the chase for that high, even though he was a dealer first. He really enjoyed taking rather than selling, that euphoric feeling you can’t repeat the first time is an emotion he’d never forget. Then it faded, and new tricks or more dosages became his weapons to hunt down the joy once more. Every night, needle after needle, or pill after pill, becoming his own connoisseur, especially when he started combining things to make his own shit; something he couldn’t forget as he waited for the subway to open its doors and to find a seat, only to end up standing, which really did a number to his mood like everything at the goddamn moment. When he used it, it almost mimicked that exact first taste, a new experience that didn’t fade, until he blacked out. Which is why he was sober. Suddenly that numbing need for the drugs was partially forgotten when his least favorite emotion turned up. Fear. He hated being scared. Nam-gyu had a vendetta against it, but thinking about how dependent he was to something inanimate (either way would be humiliating), it made him rub a hand over his face, pressing and massaging the skin to try and pop out the stress lying beneath. However, it was deeply embedded, spreading to veins, replacing most of his thoughts with the mixed ones on his current position. He should go back to it, it really was nice. No, he can't, he made a promise, he knows what that shit can do to him, he paid a nasty price for it. The metro shook as it sped through tunnels, and the thoughts fought like divorced parents in the middle of a custody battle over their abused kid. From the outside perspective, he was just in a jacket, a pale long sleeve shirt with those little fabric patterns from threading, with a pair of black jeans, nothing important, just a passenger on a ride he took because he had no money for a car. Like everyone else here. He wasn’t special. Nam-gyu was just a generic junkie living in a shitty apartment doing his best to get out of that hole. Living with the same issues all other withdrawing drug lovers go through, the sweats, the (even worse) shakes. He craved hydration, peace and quiet. Even when he was sober, the fidgeting wouldn’t end, his own habits annoying him down to the bitterness that made up most of his bones and body since conception, especially now. Now, as he did his best to not pick at the black coats of nail polish adorned, as he combed back his hair and killed every bounce of volume it held, pushing through it for fear of what would happen if he got out of hand again. Call him selfish, but living is nice sometimes.
It wasn’t much longer when the subway stopped, and along with a group of people, Nam-gyu was now set on foot, walking to the complex in the distance. They lived on the second story, relatively cheap because the landlord wasn’t a shitbag, they did what they could for furniture, if the single fold up chair on the balcony wasn’t obvious. Inside, he came in to his sister Se-mi, on the couch, she seemed to have gone out, getting a snack. Simple wafer cookies, something they both liked, of course her warm welcome was a middle finger, classic. Eyes were rolled in response, she was at least somewhat tolerable. Yesterday, they fought over just him waking up pissy. Then again, that would be happening for the rest of however long he can handle sobriety. Se-mi, almost similar in genetic traits and personality, a practical twin to her brother, Nam-gyu, sat up upon his arrival home. Personally she wouldn’t understand just how annoying it was to deal with patrons taking what you can’t have with your eyes being exposed to the viscera of light and noise, which she was lucky for. Of course, Nam-gyu digs into the wafer cookie pack, why wouldn’t he? It’s tiring living with this bitch he calls his sister, even more so in the dead of night after work, and double it when you have to be sober. Se-mi got up, stretched, then dug her own hands covered in rings into the pack of cookies, she wanted some before her brother took the whole damn pack and half their glasses with water into his room pulling an all nighter from schoolwork and restlessness. If she were lucky he wouldn't play obnoxiously loud music, but she can’t exactly have so much hope.
They stood in the kitchenette, the nicest looking part of the apartment because the appliances were good quality, same couldn’t be said for the rest. The living room consisted of one big couch, bought off an online marketplace, worn down with dips that Nam-gyu presumed a fatass made, the leather peeled and scuffed, plush seen beneath like dissection occurred. In front of the almost skinned alive couch was a table, small, wooden, flimsy, its only accessory an ashtray that hadn’t been used in a couple of weeks by either sibling for some specific reasons. After the special sobriety promise of bullshit and sparkles, did both of them stop their dire need for something in their lungs or system. A TV stood on a thick box full of clothes neither sibling fit into anymore, but it made a good stand for a flimsy entertainment box so they kept the shit. In reality the apartment itself wasn’t too horrible, just inside is what sucked, like the people inside that have made it their own home, as long as you ignored the rough, stained, walls and dirty carpet. The bathroom was fine other than the trashed sink covered in junk no matter how many times either roommate promised to clean it. The single bedroom, split in half for the two was a mess in its own special way. One side organized to some degree when it came to important items, while the other side dawned the look of “I hide rats in the piles of clothes and trash in my room because I’m too lazy to clean it unless my sister does”. Very chic. You could tell who owned each half, and the beds were the nicest things inside the entire place. Not too expensive or big, but nice, enough to sleep on and be cozy. Instead of retiring, they went to the couch, watched shows, argued about said shows, ate the wafer cookies, takeout, and water, since they didn't have a drop of soju, or soda, or frankly anything other than water. Silence fell, unlike Nam-gyu’s exasperation, he crinkled his water bottle incessantly until Se-mi knocked it out of his hands, well, she slapped it away anyway. The brother scoffed with an eye roll and she took the moment to strike verbally.
“Keep doing that and you’ll go blind, I don’t need you blind and bitchy.” Strength was heaved out in a huff as the supposedly going blind brother to glare instead of copying what he did a second time, so he snapped back. “Why are you such an asshole all the time? I thought you were the “more mature” one.” Air quotes were thrown as well as a small kick from the other side of the couch. “Good question, why are you being such an asshole? I know withdrawal, but this is something totally different. Did you get fired or something?” Nam-gyu shook his head, grabbing another wafer cookie, the last one of the package while Se-mi muttered “bigback”, in one bite did he truly live up to that stupid ass insult but at least he wasn’t an emo bitch who probably posts edits of herself to My Chemical Romance. In the quiet he judged her, chewing on the wafer before coming to a concluding sentence or two about his night filled with an ignorant guy who mistook him for a woman.
“This jackass came in and bothered me my whole shift, calling me a chick. Didn’t leave until Hyun-ju clocked in.”
“Saved by the bell, did you not tell him you had a dick?”
“I told him I was a dude, then he wouldn’t stop calling me Nam-su like a fucking dipshit.”
“Did you get his name or anything?”
“Called himself Thanos, like that one movie villain guy.” That got a snort out of his sister, it almost gave her second hand embarrassment named after this giant purple guy that made no sense, the two were originally lying on their sides facing the small screen of the television but Se-mi got up and faced her head towards Nam-gyu. “Seriously? Is it like a stage name or something?” The other shrugged. “Probably, he had purple hair and shit. Dressed like he was what you saw after an epilepsy warning.” That enough of a description felt like a reminder to stay educated unless you could end up like that, suddenly homework was a lot more appealing than procrastination. He mimicked his sister’s former sitting up movement before fully leaving the couch, when asked, he simply flipped her off, courtesy of his hand not holding a water bottle he was going to chug in record time the next time withdrawal hit like a bitch. The second he shut the shared bedroom door to leave Se-mi on the couch it didn’t take long for him to be blasting music, thankfully school issued laptops if you didn’t have one. How lucky was this device to be in the hands of a druggie who blasts either questionable music or the most peaceful sounding shit you could hear in your life. Today however, instead of clicking a playlist delicately organized for either genre, he noticed a recommended mix for him, some bands or artists he recognized as the list trailed off, wanting to experiment to see if Spotify actually knew what it was doing or not, he clicked it. Music at first was loud, lyrics unintelligible in most of the songs if there were words in the song to begin with, it was honestly perfect to voice the mindset he currently had going on. Nam-gyu tucked the annoying hair strands and their fragile placement back behind his ears, leaned against the end of his bedframe on the floor, the water bottle next to him empty unsurprisingly. He’d probably whine about it later in the night when he wouldn’t sleep from the restlessness this bullshit sobriety gave him. Luckily to his aide came Se-mi, throwing a water bottle at him and nearly closing every tab on his computer once it smashed against the keyboard. He almost went to complain, then she butted in, dramatically flopping on her own bed and grimacing at the music that she would hate to admit was kind of cool. “So like, how much longer are you going to act like you’ve lived on an abandoned island?”
“What?”
“The withdrawal stuff, I thought that’d be over by now.” Oh. Yeah. Right, he was sober for a week. Yeah. A week. It wasn’t like he got desperate during that week and lied about being sober while using his own stash at work. No, he’s been sober for much longer than two days.
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Okay can Nam-gyu be honest?
Chapter 2: Sobriety Propaganda
Summary:
Hyun-ju lifted the poor man up to his feet, his forehead would definitely house a comically large bump if he seriously ran into the car head first. His build was fairly normal, maybe a little bit of muscle but he was a fair guy. Just not the sharpest mentally.
“Oh man, I’m really sorry!“ At least he had manners, looking over the cracked glass belonging to Hyun-ju’s car window. “Is your car okay?”
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What?
Notes:
Ten days and finally decided to post!!
To be honest the ending was kind of rushed, I just felt like it but a chapters a chapter.
Big thanks to my glorious huzz pewkie, Meatfart for helping with the Dae-ho planning as they are a Dae-ho gooner
The next chapter will be a filler chapter whenever I get around to making it so just handle this for now
Chapter Text
Remember those guys who can fight addiction like it's a boxing match? Yeah, fuck those kinds of people. Write that with love to their home addresses with the personal signature of Nam-gyu himself, because what the fuck. Thanks to that sobriety propaganda, he’s expected to just get clean and stay clean for the rest of his sad, miserable life. After Nam-gyu started pursuing the need for high and combined substances, he had his first overdose. It was an experience, to say the least. A rare time in his life when he saw Se-mi looming over him with worry instead of anger. She stayed like that for a disturbing amount of time, even after he was dismissed from the hospital, and their piercing-eyed nurses, they were definitely casting judgment. Nam-gyu could just feel it. Long story short, Se-mi made him promise to stay clean, and then he didn’t do that for a couple of weeks until it became subject to an argument between them. Finally, he decided to try keeping the promise..then he failed at it again. He found his old stash for deals and drained it so fast within that week, you could’ve sworn he never saw the world without the rose colored glasses of euphoria. This time it wasn’t as obvious, and to his sister, he seemed like he finally was committing to something other than education and work for once. With this rising responsibility, there was the overcast of, maybe, a little shame for not keeping to his promise. The bartender would never admit it, but sometimes he felt shitty for just lying about it for a week, especially now that he was only a couple of days sober and it was supposed to be his second week. This guilt led him to eventually vent to his co-worker, Hyun-ju. Disclosing such personal information to someone the bartender barely spoke to felt oddly freeing, especially because the buff girl was surprisingly peaceful, like a gentle giant. She said nothing, opting for silence in her car, which was used, a nice vibrant red, and made Hyun-ju look rich since it was a hellcat. The price was around a couple million won. To be nice, she offered to drop Nam-gyu off at home so he didn’t have to spend around thirty minutes surrounded by nobodies, as if he weren’t one himself on the subway.
“Maybe you could tell her you messed up, it’s not too late.” The words served with a reassuring expression, but Nam-gyu could see the pity lurking under the layer of hope. Dog tags hung off the rearview mirror, as well as a cute Hello Kitty necklace bedazzled to distract from the messy floor of the ‘new’ car. It cost good money, and being invited in it felt too good to be true at first, now that he was being interrogated (as if he didn’t start venting to the other first) about his problems, it no longer held such comfort.
“No way, she’d just bitch at me about it.” Nam-gyu’s defense wasn’t the best, considering he already fought with his sister whenever they were in a room together. It was kind of a stupid fucking excuse. Hyun-ju, however, seemed to be worried and wanted to help. That was such a major buzzkill of a mood, fuck that; he’d probably break the promise again once the opportunity struck. A bag crinkled under his foot as he sat up, the two in matching uniforms and almost matching bobs. Except he kept his flat like he covered it in layers of grease, while the military genius let hers free. Unless it was work, then she put it up so she could focus. Looking at her, the other bartender could sense a lecture, and just as a breath of air broke the silence, he braced for a paragraph echoing into his ears. Instead, a loud slam interrupted them. They surely couldn’t have hit anyone or anything; they were parked outside the apartment so they could have this talk. Hyun-ju examined the car as it shook slightly, and to her surprise, somehow the back window now had a new crack in it. Goddamn vandals, can’t leave shit alone. Maybe they stole her license plate, or her bumper, or who fucking knows, but the two got out to check. To their surprise, nothing was stolen, just a little dented, a guy with his hair, maybe half of it tied back, or maybe it was his bangs? It was hard to tell, he was faceplanted into the asphalt like a fucking dumbass. He certainly looked the part, a cobalt blue graphic tee of that one blue hedgehog guy, Sonic, and some simple sweats, Nam-gyu lightly kicking him the side to see if he was even breathing, which he was. One could ask why someone was out running at four in the morning, the sun wasn’t even out yet. Street lights were still dimly lighting usual routes and alleys, it was a Thursday, a school day, maybe this dude just didn’t go to college? Nam-gyu could swear he was familiar though. Hyun-ju lifted the poor man up to his feet, his forehead would definitely house a comically large bump if he seriously ran into the car head first. His build was fairly normal, maybe a little bit of muscle but he was a fair guy. Just not the sharpest mentally.
“Oh man, I’m really sorry!“ At least he had manners, looking over the cracked glass belonging to Hyun-ju’s car window. “Is your car okay?”
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What? He can’t be serious right? No one is actually that stupid to ask if a car is okay when they just ran into it while presumably jogging, right? Apparently the second member of what is properly known as the bob duo, reassured what is probably the second idiot of idiots he has ever met, that her car was indeed fine and he just shrugged off his own possible concussion. Honestly this must happen more often if checking on a non-living vehicle was his first reaction. Nam-gyu didn’t understand why this turned into a conversation for the trio, but introductions were shared. “I’m Kang Dae-ho! Student of the University of Seoul! It’s a pleasure to meet both of you!” Newly titled, Dae-ho looked to Hyun-ju, owner of the car he was so worried about with the brightest smile, it was almost like he was a proud toddler with formality. Kind of pathetic actually. “You’re very beautiful by the way!” The only woman amongst them was given flattery that made her smile, gross if Nam-gyu could be honest. First you crash into her car, ask if the car is okay, then give yourself a very over the top introduction and compliment the driver of the car you hit with your head with concerning force.
“We should get you an ice pack. Nam-gyu, can we get one from your place?”
“Huh? No. My apartment’s fucking disgusting right now.”
“It can’t be that bad!” Nam-gyu wondered if Dae-ho would still say that when they opened the front door. It was kind of funny to watch, funny with a dash of embarrasment that the apartment was so shit. Still the guy with a marine tattoo valiantly stepped one foot into the doorway as Hyun-ju got him an ice pack, knowing her way around from a couple visits, and with a helpful shove that had no intent of helping from the shortest of the three, the (possible) marine was forced into the humble landfill. There was a bit of trash thrown around, but messy habits don’t go away so easily. The cold compress was brought to his bruising forehead, and a phone dinged amongst them.
Se-mi Truck
Won’t be home until tmr
Make your own food dipshit
Kys
I hope you starve.
Fucking bitch.
“Se-mi said she won’t be home until tomorrow, her gig is making her pull an all nighter or something.”
“That’s fine, me and you can go get some food down at the gas station.” Hyun-ju declared, she was grossly sweet like that and sometimes Nam-gyu liked when she was nice. It was annoying most of the time though. Right now going up the street a couple blocks for some quick food didn’t sound too awful, especially because he knew she’d pay. He couldn’t care less about if Dae-ho went or not, with the way he was disgusted at the sight of his home, he’d probably run half a mile or so back to his own house, concussion or not. The bartender could only dream. The sun was finally starting to show when they exited the complex, that was a somewhat positive, getting off work late since Nam-gyu stayed to help Hyun-ju with his shift so he didn’t sleep wasn’t. They had school in a couple hours, so really this was an early breakfast rather than a late dinner.
The gastation was never far, if the fridge was empty enough Se-mi and him would take the walk to buy snacks and frozen foods, maybe a pizza slice or a breakfast sandwich. Each time they argued or had some stupid banter, especially when Se-mi dyed Nam-gyu’s hair pink for almost an entire month. Her stupid trick he’d likely never live down. He combed his hair back in thought, maybe he could shave her head, no he’d get executed for that. Dye her hair her least favorite color? She fucking hates yellow, it would make them even-
“About the whole lying thing.” Oh fuck that, Hyun-ju is not about to bring up sobriety propaganda again. Is him actually keeping to the promise he made for once not enough? He knows he needs to stay sober, he knows he should’ve stayed sober last week, he defitnitely knows he didn’t. “If you’re so worried about her finding out, maybe you could tell her. Even if she blows up on you.” He shouldn’t have agreed to this, this was a trap to talk about his stupid rant again, an interrogation and indeed not a food run, even if they did make it to the station. Even when they picked out food, he could sense her gaze on him, physically or not she was watching him in some way. Her sights beamed light onto him, and his track marks were the most highlighted part, bolded, italicized. He picked at his black nail polish, this coat lasting longer than it usually did, he barely made scrapes or noticable damage to the thick, black paint. “Trust me, it’d make you feel a lot better, then she’d know before it’s too late.” Uh-huh. “Don’t make me get involved.” Her tone changed to stern at the final sentence, he knew she wasn’t one to make threats, this was most definitely a promise. A promise he ignored with a eye roll as they walked to the register, Gyeong-su ringing them up, of course the guy was, because someone from school always has to be around today. Fuck off. This time the walk back held more tension, the fear of choice.
Stress between the two subsided as they opened the apartment back up to the stench of chemicals, with maybe a dash of febreeze or some kind of airfreshner. Dae-ho, horrified of what seemed to either be a spider or a roach, but Nam-gyu didn’t care, his attention was more drawn to the fact that this apartment no longer held the appearance of a disgusting rat nest. Trash was taken out, appliances and counters wiped down. Hyun-ju handling the bug as he examined his apartment. The cluttered sink? Organized. Kitchen? Bleached clean. His and Se-mi’s room (specifically his side)? Holy shit, he’s never seen it so empty looking, clothes in a neat pile if not in his dresser, the entire place looked like it didn’t know what trash was. Oh, he was totally taking credit for this if Se-mi asked.
“I figured I could clean this place up! As an apology for running into your car!”
“Oh, I don’t live here.”
“What? So who’s bedroom is the really clean one?” Ouch, insult the only person here who actuallypays rent to this place, why don’t you? Asshole. I mean, yeah, he should probably clean more, but who the fuck does that? Other than Se-mi and the clean freak himself who just scrubbed this place raw of any garbage. Whatever, at least he didn’t have to do it. He butted back into the conversation as a couple pizza slices were passed around the kitchenette counter. Pineapple on his because he isn’t a fucking pussy.
“It’s my sister’s, the Se-mi girl we talked about earlier, bitchy, super emo.” The junkie looked around, still admiring the cleanliness that had been done as Dae-ho nodded, clearly thinking the description was a bit rude, but he should deal with it. Speaking of dealing with shit, it was literally five in the morning, and one stranger who he kind of knew, and an equally not well known ally of his were sitting around his place, eating pizza from the gas station, as if they don’t have school in like, maybe an hour.
“Your hair looks really similar, like twins, so I thought maybe you two were siblings!” This guy was sickeningly joyful.
“We might have similar hair, but his is a little more flat if you ask me. I’m just a friend of his.” Why is everyone under his roof insulting him today. What the fuck is this behavior? And by the sounds of their reccomendations he’d have to ride with them to school. Great. Lovely. Fucking end this.
Riding to school with them wasn’t too horrible, the other two could handle a genuine good conversation and carry it, eventually telling the man in the backseat, the same man who ran into this car and put a Hello Kitty bandaid over the crack in the back window as an apology, just like how he cleaned the apartment, about his encounter with that Thanos guy. “I know him!” That’s great, thank you for that input Dae-ho. “We should sit with him and his friend at lunch! Gyeong-su!” Go fuck yourself. Why is everyone connected to that purple haired bitch. Even the cashier.
If he could decline he would, and belive Nam-gyu when he says he tried to. He trudged to a table outside, and there the bastards were, waiting for him and presumably the only other missing man, Thanos. It was two against one, seriously he wasn’t about to get called “Nam-su” again for the entire lunch period.
“Nam-su, my bro! I didn’t know we went to the same school!”
He already wants a bullet between his eyes. This was about so unbelievably insufferable, dealing with a rapper, his number one stan, a disturbingly intimidating gentle giant lady, and a ball of sunshine he hoped got stomped out because there was too much energy at this table. He’d rather be over at Se-mi’s group, that wimpy bitch Min-su he heard of from her, and that popular chick she had a thing for named Mi-na seemed to be having a much more peaceful conversation. If he didn’t fall deaf by natural sufferage here he’d do it himself with the plastic fork issued for lunch.
“We should hang out more! I didn’t realize marine man was cool like that!” Thanos had endless shit to spew, when did he not at this point, second time he’s ever interacted with him and its him just talking until his ears bleed. It wasn’t until he heard that brain scraping sound of the bell ringing did he think he was safe from the endless ranting and raving. Study hall, peace and quiet, he could feel his shoulders relax as he dumped whatever he didn’t eat into a nearby trash bin and put away the platter, watching the others disperse and Dae-ho trip on air because, why wouldn’t he. He returned to the lunch table, expecting silence and fresh air. What he got was neither. Neither. Burnt grape stench hit his smelling receptors, a smell that shouldn’t exist because it fucking reeks, vape smoke filling the air and one person still at the table, the dreaded, the disgusting, the guy who definitely only showers monthly, purple fucker. He seemed excited that he wasn’t the only one when Nam-gyu regrettably sat down with a computer in hand and his phone in his pocket.
“Nam-su!”
“Nam-gyu.”
“You know what I mean. I didn’t know we shared a study hall!”
So did the other and he wishes this discovery was never made. Vapor clouding around them once again and the bartender nearly coughed, how the rapper managed to withstand such a stench was beyond him. But he probably smelled the same as it, he couldn’t tell when his nostrils were being punished and ambushed instead of given peace. He watched the guy with a glare in his eyes, either easy or impossible to tell with his squinting habit. Then he watched as Thanos cracked open his large cross necklace, greeted to colorful yet pale pills, and plenty of them. One was taken to be consumed and the staring was caught red handed, so another was plucked from the secret pill case.
“You partake?”
He should say no, or maybe talk about his sobreity adventure.
“Usually.”
The pill is offered, a small, pastel, pink pill with that little indent in the middle, he doesn’t know what was crushed up to make it, but he knows he’d feel totally fucking awesome if he took it.
“Want one?”
Chapter 3: Fraudulent Junkie
Summary:
“You sure you should-”
“It’ll be fine Dae-ho. None of your business anyway.”
Notes:
The glorious Thanos POV chapter, a little rushed when I posted it but I wanted it out so I could work on the next one, I'm sorry if Thanos is a little out of character I am not the best at writing for him. Sorry for any spelling errors 3
Chapter Text
Words cannot describe how much Thanos missed having a drug buddy, especially someone so..experienced! Seriously the dude told him he had history with heroin, heavy stuff man. Even the legend himself would never go that far, but to each their own, y’know? He won’t hate on it, that wouldn’t rizztastic Seriously, Gyeong-su only did the occasional blunt, and that’s if you could convince him! He’s never felt more grateful for misgendering a guy behind a bar, now he was high with him in his own apartment, lines of coke on the wooden framed glass table. A couple extinguished cigarettes shoved against an ashtray a still lit blunt leaning against the rim of said tray, music blaring, something his neighbors would definitely complain about, but the song fit the vibes too well! Hyper, catchy, somehow still mellow.
He couldn’t help a smile towards the dude with a bob, the guy doing lines like he’s been separated from them for ten years. Honestly, Thanos wasn’t complaining he got some hot guy company, free drinks at a club he frequented almost every weekend, and all he had to do for it to stay that way was buy Nam-su some drugs and the occasional carton of cigs. Personally he didn’t touch that shit, didn’t go with his whole aura, he preferred his vapes and their delicious flavors. He didn’t understand how this guy could hate them when he was so similar to one, like he's a bitchy kind of flavor, something Thanos never had before but he liked him. To keep the bartender around, or replace his cartridge so to speak, he just has to provide the good shit.
“The fuck are you staring at?”
“Sorry señor, didn’t know I couldn’t stare!”
“Seriously, something’s wrong with you.” The rapper listened to Nam-su complain, it made him laugh just how easy it was to tick him off, it’s one reason he has so many nicknames for him. He’d sit there and complain but then mooch off the legend’s supply, even after name calling, such a hypocrite! Thanos could dig that! Blue raspberry flavored smoke filled the room just as a door to the cozy home was opened, Thanos’ main man, Gyeong-su walking in right after his shift. The dude was real nice for providing so Thanos could work, he was a fan too! He waved the guy over as Nam-su rubbed at his nose, reading questions off his phone from a girl- no, wait, his sister right? Yeah! Nam-su’s sister, Se-mi. He could definitely see the genetic similarities, too bad she liked girls. That’s okay they could bond over that, he liked girls too! Point is, this was one of his favorite nights, Nam-su doing a mini bender with him, Gyeong-su brought snacks on his way back, and Thanos himself was high off his ass! If it wasn’t a school night he could say that club hopping would make this a real party. Nam-su worked at a club, did he mention that earlier? Doesn’t matter. They sat on the plush couches, Nam-su wanted space between them, he just got off work himself, Thanos loved a working man! The apartment stunk of weed and burnt vapes, it’s why Gyeong-su had so many air fresheners around the place, especially his room. This wasn’t exactly a dorm, they’d call it that though, just because it was conveniently near the school. Cozy apartment, the whole district had this kind of vibe, except the drugs. That’s where it lacked sadly. Thanos’ eyes bounced around like a pair of pinballs, hitting the closed curtains, two points, the television, five points, the drugs, definitely a good five hundred, then back to Nam-su, ding, ding! A thousand points!
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Is it obvious yet that he’s totally into the guy, or does it need spelled out? Sure he was hostile, hated everyone, and definitely spat in a couple peoples’ drinks because Thanos saw that with his own eyes, and sure, they definitely got off on the wrong foot considering he confused the bartender for a Señorita, granted he knew he shouldn’t have assumed, but he was high! It wasn’t exactly a loss anyways, Thanos met Nam-su, met him again at school almost a day or so later, now he’s been seeing him daily since. Almost a whole week of hanging out, snorting, smoking, drinking, injecting (mainly for Nam-su), ingesting, crashing, then repeat. Not once did he have any hesitance if he knew this is where he’d end up. Talking to a pissed off guy with pretty and very flat hair, dark eyes, painted nails that somehow were always scuffed, rings, necklaces, jewelry he got his hands on from the bar, or from his sister. His appearance seemed so flawless. Thanos could note down his habits, the way he’d pull at sleeves until they hid most of his hand, rubbed at his nose, covered his mouth when he laughed or gossiped about literally anyone, because he hated everyone, spinning his rings, the rapper could go on and on. He’s not here to lecture though, just enjoy the moment, enjoy the view. He’s getting a little too real here.
On a different note, he loved whatever these pills were that his dealer hooked him up with, new, fucking insane too! They cost a pretty penny considering how trendy they were getting, so he started doing more gigs to get his hands on more stocks. They could rock your shit, given the chance, bitter as most pills were but it's better than a needle or a tongue stamp. While Thanos had no name for them he liked to call them candies, it fit really well. Gyeong-su never wanted to go farther than the odd blunt or two and that was still evident in his slight distaste he showed the table covered in vices as he was questioned by Nam-su, who you could consider a connoisseur when it came to this stuff. Opposites.
Distant windows showed almost no sun, with his roomie retiring after the interrogation was done, the druggies were left to the couches and the stupid shows on TV, Thanos scrolling on his phone as junkie number one fiddle with the silver chain around his neck, leaned against an armrest so he could see the series playing. Nam-su was still in uniform, for once he looked fancy! If he dressed like this more he’d probably get seen as professional more often, Thanos doubted that would ever happen. They were both too lazy to do that, except when he was flirting, he loved to look nice when it came to clubbing. Nam-su would call his style disgusting and blinding, he just didn’t know true art! That’s what happens when you don’t take art classes, not that sigma. The attention junkie two had on short form content as he scrolled on his phone cut short when he heard junkie one speak.
“Is it alright if I crash here tonight? My bitch of a sister has friends over and I’m too high for that.”
“Sure my boy! Is miss Se-mi a priss to your habits? I had an ex like that, heartbreaking when she took my vapes and threw them away.”
“Something like that.”
Maybe it was a dumb idea to let Nam-su crash at his place, because they had school, and the guy was kind of uptight with getting up on time, compared to both him and his bro Gyeong-su. It was a wake up call for sure, but it’s totally cool! Thanos took a nap anyway. After that though, his day was pretty lame, hours ticked past and all he could do was try not to fall asleep in his classes and somehow pass them. Lunch was the only thing he awaited, because he got to use an earsplitting voice level, sling an arm around Nam-su, huff his vape, and eat! Passing by columns of lunch tables, Gyeong-su pointed out Se-mi and uh… Some little dude, he seemed pretty sigma! For once he let Nam-su run off to their designated table without him, handing off his lunch tray to Gyeong-su. Thanos was going to approach this totally formally, he needed more people in his crew. Formal means walking up, and revealing his legendary title, Se-mi already knew him so he just needed to make one introduction.
“What’s your name, my boy?”
Thanos began to worry the guy couldn’t talk, he looked kind of like a wet cat, not that he was soggy, just really sad looking. Like, if you said something too loudly or too firm he’d start crying and curl into a fetal position. It took all the boy’s courage to speak with no eye contact what so ever. “Min-su..” That was enough to elicit a clap on his back from the rapper with a smile.
“Nice to meet you, my brother! Welcome to the Tanos world!” Great, he knew their names now, all he had to do was convince them that eating with the rest of the crew would be worth the time! “You know, I think you two should hang out with the rest of the Tanos world! Totally awesome! Hyun-ju would love another girl around!” Took way too long to remember army girl’s name. He barely remembered marine boy either. Doesn’t matter, he just convinced Nam-su’s sibling and her friend that he was worth their time! Convincing the two to abandon their usual table didn’t use much effort, just an offer and a couple of friends! This was too perfect, Thanos had built the ultimate crew, his Avenger Squad if you will! Totally awesome sauce. Maneuvering through swarms of classmates and tables, a disgusting combination of BO, spray on deodorants, and sweet perfumes permeated the cafeteria, along with shitty lunch food. It was a breath of fresh air once they arrived at their usual table, except for Thanos himself. Who stunk of sour cherry vapor, it really blocked out the stench of hair gel. With two new members of this crew the table was now full, Gyeong-su stuck between the legend himself and Min-su, next to Se-mi, conjoined with Hyun-ju and Dae-ho in that order, and the cycle ended at Nam-su. He was trying to eat in peace, that wasn’t how Thanos World worked, you gotta be loud, crazy! That side of him when he got incredibly high off his ass, shockingly for a druggie he was sober! Poor guy. As always the rapper couldn’t keep his eyes off him, at least in intervals, someone would speak, he would look over, Nam-su would reply or not at all, one way or another Thanos would end up looking back to him. Maybe from popping a pill, maybe not, he wasn’t admitting he was baked right now. His next suggestion came out like second nature, with the habit, a pill placed in his palm.
“Nam-su?”
The camaraderie immediately silenced, now shockingly tense, he didn’t understand why, baffling him even more was when Nam-su declined the condensed ecstasy making goodness painted pretty pink. Thanos never thought he’d see the day a bartender with such heavy drug use background would turn down a vice of such high quality. Was this Nam-su? He couldn’t even tell anymore, what happened to his favorite junkie buddy he did benders with all the time? His heart couldn’t handle such a turn down. It took even longer for the conversations to start back up, was he seriously this socially awkward? He did this shit all the time why couldn’t Nam-su? The question rabbit hole further deepened once it was a study hall period. Because, suddenly his bender buddy wanted a ciggy and a pill even. Was he bipolar or something with his addiction? No way, they’ve been on a bender together for almost a week. Thanos’ was only further proven when the marine boy or as Nam-su named him: “Dae-ho” showed up with a weary expression over the two smoking. Was he just not fond of tobacco sticks and smoke boxes.
“You sure you should-”
“It’ll be fine Dae-ho. None of your business anyway.” A little harsh, but when was this guy not like that? Smoking like he wouldn’t wake up tomorrow and he had a bucket list to clear over a hundred cancer sticks before he dropped. Whatever, he was given an equally nasty remark when they first met, nothing new. Dae-ho didn’t leave too long after and he was left with him. “You need your eyes checked, fucking staring problem.” Thanos should stop doing that.
“Nam-su what was with the whole sober only during lunch thing?”
The hesitation was so clear.
“Just a thing. Don’t eat and do pills at the same time.”
Odd.
Chapter 4: Thorns without Roses
Summary:
A sucky night gets even suckier.
Notes:
I'm very excited to post today! Sorry this is short, but I was struggling with how exactly to go about making this chapter keep going. Don't worry the next chapter will be a longer one, and a gayer one. I just wanted to get this out. I hope you enjoy!!
Chapter Text
Aren’t weekends supposed to be fun? Especially at a club? This was some major bullshit, working at a club for a few years you think would be fun, you’d get drinks to yourself, maybe drugs too, partying almost all night for some money, and if it’s what you go for, you could hit on some chicks too. If you were a customer that’s the usual, except, y’know, having to pay for half of that, or all of it, if you’re after a hooker. Anyway, working at a club really wiped away the magic, in reality you were hired to deal with drunk jackasses, serve drinks, stop bar fights and overdoses. Maybe if Club Pentagon lived up to it’s fancy name, and if Nam-gyu were paid well, he’d believe the sleepless nights were worth all the trouble. Spoiler, this place might as well be closed, the pandemic a few years back shut them down for the whole year and a half. Loads of cash were lost, especially after, when business started plummeting, the manager took to desperate measures, so they started officially selling out drugs to high paying clientele. Hey, don’t judge, it worked pretty well. They were still up and running weren’t they? If they could avoid another big public overdose anyway.
Point is, this place was kind of the lowest of middle class, which is why they so warmly welcomed Nam-gyu and a friend of his. A friend who currently was watching him like a hawk because she took over another guy’s shift to join his, since a certain marine may have blabbed about smoking. Now wanting space to breathe felt impossible, didn’t exactly help when Thanos came over so casually. Smooth, black counter they all shared had been emptier tonight, they had rave nights, meaning the dance floor was packed full of coked up party sluts. Nam-gyu really wished Thanos came up on a busier night, he’d be easier to ignore if he went into a stupid topic.
“Nam-su, my boy! Good to see you!”
“You saw me yesterday, don’t try that shit.”
It wasn’t gay. We all know what you’re thinking, and it wasn’t gay. Do not go there. Literally just an overnight bender, nothing special. I mean, technically it’s special because like- nevermind. They just do drug trade offs. To busy himself he made a drink, this week’s special for Thanos. Not like it’d matter what he made, the guy didn’t care, so long as he got free stuff and conversation. Lonely fucker. Acted like he doesn’t get into some girl’s panties almost twice a week. He knew how to keep deals at least, the wordless gesture of sliding a pack of cancer sticks across the bar. In turn — and in due time — a slender glass full of pretty pink slush, rimmed with yellow popping candy and already fogging the drinking cup with condensation was passed to Thanos’ tattooed hand. Thanos winked, because he needs a brain check up, then took a sip, not bothering to ask what it was or why Nam-gyu made it. Seriously, he could give him a glass of mushed up soggy cigarettes and he'd probably drink it. Right now no peer pressure, no panic, nothing to yet bother the bartender and his chainsmoking. It was a lengthy interaction, one neither minded for the time being. Sure, there was unnecessary flirting. pill popping, and drink chugging, it showed their idiotic and symbiotic relationship.
“Nam-gyu?” Lovely. “We need to talk. After our shifts are over.”
“Sure.”
It’s been a minute since he was last in Hyun-ju’s car. It was cleaner, still hung the bedazzled hello kitty necklace with her dog tags, though now a small candid photo was lodged in the rearview mirror. Of course the rat amongst them, the fucker who caught him — his reason for growing so careless to Hyun-ju seeing him smoke —was sitting in the backseats, frown on his face like he was the one caught red handed. As if he was the guy in this fucking hot seat. They hadn’t started talking yet, and he wasn’t about to start, the engine purred as they drove, until they hit the first red light did Hyun-ju speak up.
“Dae-ho told me he saw you smoking with the rapper guy, Thanos.” Of course he said something, it was pretty obvious he would, one reason or another. Simply, Nam-gyu nodded, as long as the pills weren’t brought into this, he could likely fly under the radar and blow it off as something to stop his shaking. A habit, in case you forgot. “You do know that counts as not being sober, right? That’s still something you lied and are lying about.” Yes, yes he did know, and if you found out just exactly how much time he had spent doing whatever Thanos had on him in private, Hyun-ju would probably kick him out of the car, door included.
“Yeah. Just to help my anxiety, you expect me to be completely cold turkey?”
“So.. What about the pills?” Dae-ho. Dae-ho, please, just please shut the fuck up. Those dark colored eyes were barely looking at the road ahead anymore once she hit the gas. Yeah, no, shes going to get them stuck in a fifty car pile up just to kill him. Choke him with her dog tags and hello kitty necklace, push him out onto the road and run him down like a speed bump. Maybe it was right to assume those, because the lecture he got for it sounded just like what figured those felt like.
“You first lie for a few days to your sister about being sober, and then drop it because some guy asked if you wanted a pill during the study hall? You threw away everything, not just to your sister but to us about your addiction. What the fuck, Nam-gyu?!” Worst time to park in front of the apartment, where they were currently having a hang out. At least Se-mi was. Dae-ho looked like he felt bad, like really bad, but if he did he wouldn’t have said shit. He’s as bad as a bimbo at this point.
Chapter 5: Escapism Signed with Love
Summary:
Oh, go fuck yourself. She seriously doesn't think he's all over fried hair McGee, with the failing career and doomed life of an overdose in a bathroom, does she?
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One hundred percent she does. He's gay, yeah, not that desperate though. Nam-gyu wouldnt sleep with that guy for ₩50,000,000. Before you say anything about “well what about drugs?” This bartender has morals, albeit their the size of a grain of sand, but he also has dignity. Don't try that shit with him, he pays for his vices, or makes trade off that don't involve skin on skin. Fuck, what was he supposed to do to convince Se-mi that they weren't getting it on every time he went to Thanos’ place? The whole high life is a secret, it's the reason he hangs out with that fuck boy though. He talked about him once, and now he's suddenly sitting with him at lunch and spending almost every day after work or school at his place. From her perspective…yeah it's kind of gay okay, that's something everyone has to admit. Back to that dignity thing, it's not like he could just admit to that sex lie.
Notes:
My phone refused to work when I tried to post this the first time 3
Anyway, THANK YOU TO MY GLORIOUS POOKIE WOOKIE BEARS FOR HELPING ME WITH THIS CHAPTER, ESPECIALLY PLANNING OUT HOW MUCH WENT INTO THE SMALL TID BITS IT WAS REALLY FUN SHOUT OUT GLORIOUS SNOOKUMS, PLATE MEAT AND NOAH MY GLORIOUS HUZZARINOSMy computer broke the other day writing this, like it actually stopped connecting to any internet at all no matter how much I restarted or powerwashed it, even reset the router. So I was orignally gonna delay until my ne wcomputer comes Wednesday but ended up liking what I had done on my phone so. NO DELAYY
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Thank anything divine holding Nam-gyu’s life together, that he could sweet talk Hyun-ju into letting him tell his sister about his addiction in his own time. It saved him a couple days, days he’d definitely spend high, there was no way he was giving this up again. Stop trying to make him guilty, these are his choices. While they don’t affect his grades and bad habits in a positive way, they help in the long run with stuff, stuff that isn’t really important right now, just know he enjoys a needle in his vein or a line in his nose. It'll stay that way, he'll go sober when he's dead and can't feel the bullshit withdrawal because his body will be as dysfunctional as every relationship he has, platonic or romantic.
Sorry, sorry, excuse his attitude, he's under a lot of pressure considering that he was surrounded by Se-mi's girl group, (featuring Dae-ho and Min-su, plus Nam-gyu himself as a special guest) and all they could do was stare and ask questions. It was safe to assume Se-mi talked a lot of shit about him, when didn't she? Hyun-ju, actually bothered to speak for him, he was under trial here, vouching to the court system with a biased jury. Really biased because two knew he wasn't sober right now, while seven of them had a general idea of his drug love.
The jury was as follows: Myung-gi’s former bitch, Jun-hee, her twin just by the highlights in her hair, they looked the same only on that front, a chick named Ji-yeong or something, he didn't like her vibe. A girl that had a short bob and the look of a quiet kid, like she had an emo phase that was still breathing, Sae-byeok as Se-mi introduced. The shy girl Hyun-ju had a picture of in her rearview mirror, Young-mi, he's met her. Then there was Mi-na, the crush to his bound by blood sibling. Min-su, wimpy boy. Lastly, Dae-ho, the narc.
“Surprised you actually showed up, not at Marvel bad boy’s house.”
“Not exactly here by choice, bitch. Hyun-ju was my ride.”
“Oh boohoo, that's your fault, don't fuss at me because you didn't get to ride Thanos or whatever he calls himself instead.”
Ex-fucking-scuse me?!
“What's that supposed to mean, you fucking dyke?!”
“You know what I meant, faggot.”
Oh, go fuck yourself. She seriously doesn't think he's all over fried hair McGee, with the failing career and doomed life of an overdose in a bathroom, does she?
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.
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One hundred percent she does. He's gay, yeah, not that desperate though. Nam-gyu wouldnt sleep with that guy for ₩50,000,000. Before you say anything about “well what about drugs?” This bartender has morals, albeit their the size of a grain of sand, but he also has dignity. Don't try that shit with him, he pays for his vices, or makes trade off that don't involve skin on skin. Fuck, what was he supposed to do to convince Se-mi that they weren't getting it on every time he went to Thanos’ place? The whole high life is a secret, it's the reason he hangs out with that fuck boy though. He talked about him once, and now he's suddenly sitting with him at lunch and spending almost every day after work or school at his place. From her perspective…yeah it's kind of gay okay, that's something everyone has to admit. Back to that dignity thing, it's not like he could just admit to that sex lie.
“Whatever, Min-su wants to know more about Gyeong-su.”
“Se-mi..”
“What? I'm helping you aren't I?”
FYI, Min-su has been interested in Gyeong-su, Thanos’ roommate, and the mediator so far of their weird lunch circle. He was a fan boy, if Nam-gyu remembered right, an OG or some shit. Since that fuckass rapper convinced Se-mi and wimpy bitch to sit with them, the two have been eye fucking across the table when Gyeong-su wasn't busy talking. Which for pussy boy, eye contact was a big step, moving so fast already, damn. Holding hands is as scary as kissing to him. So far, since Nam-gyu had been hanging around, and crashing at the place fan freak and his favorite artist shared, he's been on a secret mission. Get sent questions, get answers from the man himself for his wing woman sister and her lovestruck, pet poodle with a bowl cut.
“Haven't I told you everything as is?” Everything. Literally everything he could find out that isn't sworn to secrecy, is what the gossipy bartender has learned about Gyeong-su. And he was supposed to get more? Fucking hell, pay him for this shit. “Why should I have to do it?” A quick gesture to Min-su to his right, a person or two away. “He needs to grow a pair, and actually make a move.”
Also why were they the ones holding conversation? Maybe the others were gossiping in the kitchen, because the narc walked away with soon to be college mom and Young-mi. He didn't really have anything rude to say about her, she was a shy little fucker, that was about it. As far anyone can guess it was something about potatoes, or whatever because every lunch time, that's all Dae-ho eats, everything else was just side dishes.
Finally someone, Ji-yeong, makes her presence audible instead of just a cardboard cutout. “Honestly, you need to do some of the talking.” Clearly to Min-su. “ Otherwise it's all for nothing.” Maybe he could like her if she stayed this truthful, he was tired of being ganged up on here. Sae-byeok nodded along, so he had two defenders, better than nothing. One talked, he wished the other bothered, but if he said anything she’d with Se-mi for sure. Because lesbians stick in packs, half the people for sure kissed girls and, or, each other. The only other complete gay guy was Min-su, who was currently opposing.
Despite the almagamation of perfumes and other bullshit, somehow the apartment still reeked of chemicals from when Dae-ho did a deep clean of this place. Either pleasant or unpleasant it blinded Se-mi from his weed stench, the smoke of blunts and tobacco clung to his clothes as if it sunk teeth into it, and his repainted nails drowned his hands and surrounding aroma in more substances, not his usual stench, but like the bleach that cleaned out the kitchen sink and brightened the bathroom porcelain like veneers. Sitting on that broken springed couch, a dead air freshener stuck into the nearby wall socket by the TV, he was surrounded by women for the most part, which isn't how he spends most his nights nowadays, and would rather keep it that way.
Dae-ho was in the kitchen, eating the cheesy potatoes Jun-hee had brought him, said girl stood by him and Sae-byeok was too. Not eating, just, judging. He wanted her out of this apartment, she was kind of scary. Ji-yeong had the farthest left couch spot, Se-mi in the middle with Nam-gyu clinging to the arm rest on the right side. It had soft fabric feel with the uncomfortable hard surface the furniture held underbstuffing that grew out like flowers, in tufts from the cloth exterior. Of course he picked at it, why wouldn't he, it was already fucked, like his current position. Seriously, how does one get their sister to not think he's having fuck fests with a rapper guy each time he went to his place, but also not confessing to your drug problem and going there for benders. With absolutely no other rhyme or reason for him to be there, maybe he should just suck it up and tolerate her teasing. It held no power over him then, and he couldn't be affected by her insults.
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.
.
Yeah. No, it’d still piss him off.
Monday
That weekend was so fucking shitty, honestly, Se-mi ruined his good vibes. So did Hyun-ju with consistent surveillance, every day she’d text him or ask him at work if he said anything to his sister yet, let him breathe for one damn minute. School was no help, shit, it racked up more to his jackass mood. Sitting with three other students who he didn’t bother to look at, or put names to faces, he was more into this wall staring hobby he garnered. This was his only good class, some sort of creative class, studying art or something, you think he paid enough attention to know? Bold. His least favorite narc sat at the front of the sterile classroom, square tables scattered for groups of four at each, nothing in here screamed fun or about art, not a single thing. Bland walls, an even flatter teacher showing off his own fuckass presentation that definitely didn’t pay him enough for this. At least Nam-gyu looked good, nails painted because, that was his payment for being a topic on the Sunday night shit talking session he was forced into. Now, call him impatient, but this was only his second class today, and nothing looked nicer than ditching his sucky grades and homework, to do nothing at home.
Thank you to his eyes for drifting off the wall and towards a farther corner by a secondary entrance to the classroom. Purple hair, infinity stone colored nails, and consistently in another world where dancing in your seat was how you passed classes. Doing little hand gestures, lip syncing to lyrics that weren’t playing because, it was a fucking lecture today. Somehow this guy has grades to graduate, and this is how he spends his school time? Nam-gyu needed to step up his studying game. At least he was entertaining to watch, making the hour tick by much faster.
Walking out, Thanos caught up to him, because while he was fun to watch, he was annoying to talk to, and he clearly could find Nam-gyu like a sixth sense. “My boy, Nam-su! I didn’t know we shared that class!” Neither did he, it was hard to tell if that was a blessing or a curse. “You should sit with me next time!” Hard pass. Unless they had another lecture, then maybe.
“Uh-huh. Nam-gyu. You got stuff on you or do I gotta tolerate this shit sober?” Please, please, use your fucking head for once and have shit on you.
“Nah, forgot my cross at home.” You fucking plebian. How was this guy an almost straight A student? Genuine question here. A arm weighed down over the stretch of Nam-gyu’s shoulders, lazily and careless as they walked through the upstairs portion of their college. “We could just ditch, if ya want.” Do what? Get high? Fucking better be.
“No shit I want to skip.”
“That’s what I like to hear, Nam-su! You’re so sigma!” One of their top graduates by the way.
“You know my name, say it right. Nam-gyu.” As predicted it was ignored with a hand wave to let the failing student — somehow — know that he heard, and just was in denial to actually use his smarts on anything but education. However, much brain matter he had left anyway.
The rest of their walking led them straight off campus, since neither exactly were trusted to drive it was mutual agreement they can’t be behind a steering wheel. They could walk wherever junkies were needed, because even if it was a pain in the ass, at least they didn’t have to pay for gas and shit. That arm still slumped on him, no reason for it other than Thanos being his douchey self. Something that the other was becoming accustomed to the longer he had to leech off him, he felt like one of those fish that stuck on manta rays, getting the scraps off someone else’s addiction, feeding off them.
While he enjoyed bragging about how much better walking was than driving, he’s a druggie who made enemies with his gym teachers all through highschool, so with reason he hated how long it took to crash in this bitch of an apartment. Not that it was worse than his, Gyeong-su kept it pretty clean, how did he know fan freak was the one being the maid? Thanos’ room looked like what you saw on that one show about hoarders. Disgusting. Yeah, he can be a hypocrite because his isn’t that fucking horrid. Half of it was vapes and fast food garbage, barely any of it was clothes because Thanos recycles his outfits like he’s homeless living under a bridge with a shopping cart full of junk and weed.
Enough of the complaints, as long as Nam-gyu didn’t have to go in there he’d be okay with it. Settling into a maroon — disgusting color just so you know — leather couch, the nicest one of two, watching Thanos disappear into his garbage island. The carpet of the apartment at this point definitely had weed stench baked into it, so did the flimsy wallpaper and smoke tinted windows. Any fabric in here was lost to spray deoderant, joints, all sorts of shit, making this apartment, one of a kind in the worst way. Maybe that rapper fuckface got absorbed into his trash piles, taking longer than he normally did so Nam-gyu just got more comfortable. backpack dropped on the floor, hunched like in a depressive episode of it’s own, phone out, texting a certain former military women that he hadn’t spoken out about his addiction.
Oh, right, he should probably tell Thanos what his sister thinks they do. Perfect timing, because the dumbass just happily walked right back in, a plastic baggie of pills, a couple blunts in hand and a freshly bought pack of cigarettes just for the bastard on the couch. The guy knew how to pick good brands too, knew Nam-gyu’s preference as Esse, pretty damn nice, not that he tried their flavored cigarettes, sounded absolutely disgusting. But getting his hands on the normal or even special gold, that was a breath of good smoke shit. He caught the pale white box with the brand written with a strip of color on the edge, a watermark under the writing to signify what exactly was. He’d save them for later, right now he craved something much nicer, pills. Bringing his feet up in the seating as he leaned against the arm rest, he watched Thanos get to work on opening the bag and handing over a pink pastel pill. The compact powder crushed in his mouth leaving a bitter aftertaste, like seeing that Thanos did have his cross on him, he had it on him the whole time. Lying fucker.
“So what was with not showing up Sunday?”
“Hyun-ju drove me to my place. Didn’t know about this whole,” Nam-gyu gestured between them, “thing.” Again watching each blunt be lit and one passed to his jittery hand, something to stop the shaking for sure was that smooth cannabis, not the highest quality, but better than most. “But bro, my sister thinks we fuck. Like, when I come here she thinks we’re fucking.” That’s definitely the way you just, bring that up.
“For real?” Thanos had that look, smile big enough to see his canines, motherfucker looked like a hyena. The layered bob wavered with his nod at the question, the room suddenly smelled more potent with the lit joints burning, a reason the smoke detector in the bathroom was neglected.
Tuesday
Fuck. Fuck, skipping school, fuck getting high, Nam-gyu was so majorly behind from these stupid bullshit stunts he was pulling. His marketing classes weren't really fucking up right now, if you ignore his F in finances and the D in English studies. No more time to dick around, graduating was on the line, he was a junior in college for fuck’s sake, and he was this behind from just a week of fuckjng around? God, he hopes that bitch sending him passive aggressive emails about his missing presentation is getting cucked in her shitty marriage. Deserved at this point. Since he has so much work behind, he’s spent all fucking day working on this shit, even at lunch, ignoring the idiotic conversations that surrounded him, because they’re insufferable. He barely put a dent into it, no, it wasn’t because he ended up on Tiktok five minutes into his essay. Fuck you, that’s why.
Study hall, he smoked one of those smooth cancer sticks despite the rain pouring down just a few feet away, would’ve been on him if the school didn’t have those roof covers over the outdoor section of the cafeteria. A laptop sat on the slick, wooden table, with a hand strumming against said surface, like when he was at the club having a slow day with nothing to do. However, he found it eerily quiet, no purple hair on the opposite end of his table lecturing him about a recent hookup and how bitchy she was, or his newest and stupidest idea. Nam-gyu had zero clue where that bastard was, just that he wasn’t here to ruin his focus. Not like he was doing anything other than burning his eyes in the blue light of a empty white document screen, not even an outline or draft, patience thinning at his own struggle to put words into digital coding for an assignment that was due last Friday.
“Nam-su!” Him and his big mouth. “Watcha doin’ my bro?”
“Trying to work.” Name callouts were too much work right now, maybe it was all that weed but any consciously smart part of his brain had flatlined and there wasn’t anything to wake that shit up. Like it was melting and flooding the rest of his cranium. “Can’t fucking think.”
Thanos sat down next to him, staring at the device confused almost. What is he, a fucking caveman? He rotated it just enough to put it at an angle, so he could see what they were working with, nothing, absolutely blank document. “What class?”
“Management class bullshit.”
“Management? Damn, business major Nam-su? Bro’s gonna get rich.” Thanos practically laughed through his words, more like a breath but it held the air or humor in it. He clicked the other tabs, some Google searches, the assignment itself, and the online class, so he went into it. Didn’t take much longer until he started wordlessly typing it himself. Who the fuck was this? Thanos always complained about reading, literally everything involving typing, writing, and reading that wasn’t his own lyrics had him whining like a little bitch. Now he was here, as focused as Nam-gyu has ever seen him, working on something he didn’t have to do. Not his major, not class, not his assignment, and sure as hell not his computer. “Just gotta lock in man, not too hard.” Fuck you, grape haired bitch.
“Yeah I know how to focus. Just couldn’t think.”
“Suuuure.” This is harassment, really unappreciated harassment from someone who doesn’t know basic hygiene. He hadn’t even looked away from the screen yet.
“Oh fuck off, at least I have more than three shirts. Go shopping for once, while you’re at it, shower. At least put on deoderant.” Nam-gyu at least looked good most times, when he wasn’t picking at newly paint nails, shit he already had the end looking all fragmented just from today. “Besides, I’m just having a little writers block.”
“Señorita Se-mi yelled at you for spamming her with tiktoks at lunch. Not exactly a grindset, Nam-su.” That was different, asshole. Go get a cactus shoved up your ass.
Nam-gyu really only stops complaining once his assignment has an outline, truthfully, he didn’t know exactly what to write at first, until Thanos made him an outline. But he didn't even get his computer back yet, the son of a bitch snooping to see if he had any other late assignments. “Presentation for marketing, assignment for English. English is easy man, how the fuck you get a D in that?”
“It’s not exactly like I spend my time studying when I get high with your bitchass. Besides that teacher fucking sucks.” He knew English pretty well, didn’t mean he had to ace the class.
“So? Nam-su, my man, my bro, my grades are way better.” We know. “How ‘bout this, I do this work for you, and you owe me with a shopping trip since I don’t have enough clothes.” Hmm. Honestly, not bad, solve a part of his hygiene issue, get Nam-gyu’s work done.. Money could be an issue unless they just split the price or something. He could pull an “I give you free drinks at my work that counts” so Thanos ends up paying. After a quick comb over, aka, bartender of scams and drug dealing pulling his hair behind his ears with a sigh, no defeat, this was a win, win.
“Fine, don’t get me in trouble with this shit though. College costs too much.” Not gonna lie here, Thanos was tolerable when he wasn’t cocky, like seriously he could be chill. Maybe it was just Nam-gyu but the guy knew how to be smart, even if his brain was shrunken, which it definitely was, no need to fact check. The rest of the study hall he watched him focus, and gave context to his classes. Thanos actually honed in a lot of skill, the essay was done, his English grade would probably be up to a C or B by tomorrow morning, lastly that marketing presentation really sold well in its design and accuracy. Damn. Nam-gyu could get used to this whole, Thanos smart thing.
Wenesday
“Wait, so señorita thinks me and you-?” He didn’t even get to finish sentence, seriously had they not discussed it enough yesterday? Se-mi thought they were fucking, and as far as Thanos could think with his limits because, lets be honest, he has limited brain power, thought it was awesome that Se-mi assumed they were having sex everytime Nam-gyu came over.
“Yeah, yeah, why are you bringing this up for like, the third time, man.” Personally the other would rather forget such allegations, seriously it was demented what his sister could think sometimes. Evil, lesbian witch. “How about you focus on finding clothes that actually suit you.” He looked around, they were dead center in a mall outlet, just clothes shopping after school for the poor hygiene one, after all, he got all of Nam-gyu’s work done for him this week. Doesn’t mean he’s paying for Thanos’ clothes though, bullshit his way through it. Their shoes clicked against the modern tile floor, warm yellow lighting bathes most of the store while signs fitting to the outlet' store’s colors told them where specifics were, the bartender gestured towards a rack of little kid’s dresses. Sparkly, pretty pinks and blues, nonsensical floral patterns, exactly what Nam-gyu could picture in the mind of a man like Thanos. “Like those, totally your style.”
“Nam-su, you’re sarcasm wounds me.” A hand slapped itself over his chest dramatically, along with the faux pout, classic, corny, expected. They never stopped walking, heading more towards the back of the store, formal dresses or lingerie, mainly women’s clothing and shoes. Almost similar to a toddler pointing out their favorite animal in the zoo, with the smile to go with it, though it had a more villainous intent behind it, Thanos brought his arm out forward with his finger pointing towards an on sale piece of lingerie, black bra with the rest being a transparent curtain over the torso on a mannequin, ending at the waist. “What about that? I think you’d rock that shit.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you.” Scrunching his nose in disgust, Nam-gyu shoved Thanos forward, currently they were walking towards more of the men’s section, to find someone more of his idiotic graphic tees. Seriously, he had some of the stupidest fucking shirts you’d ever lay your eyes on. Which is why they lingered by each shirt they passed, some were good, and put into the basket on Nam-gyu’s arm, he’d never trust Thanos with a basket in hand, let alone a full blown cart. He’d drive that piece of shit into a wall or something. Of course, he snagged a couple for himself, just simple long sleeves, a couple tees, you know how it is. Treating himself to the opportunity and angrily texting Hyun-ju who was still texting him daily since Sunday night.
“Yo, Nam-su! Check it out, a Sublime shirt!” He held up a black base, the art style looked rusted, like it had been thoroughly fucked up, not in a bad way though. It was a sun, the little squigglies and all surrounded the ball of flames, a face neutral in expression and in good depths of shading and detail. It looked surreal in the best, something Thanos would definitely wear. He didn’t totally listen to that band, more of a mellow type, nonetheless he nodded, holding out his arm that the basket hooked off of, his attention driven more towards a Cigarettes After Sex shirt. Nam-gyu examined the simple design, opposite to Thanos’ it was fine, he liked the band, he liked the shirt, he could try it on when they actually went to the changing rooms. Since now they had been making genuine suggestions to shirts, like when he pointed out to Thanos there was a graphic shirt, some girl screaming her face off, quiet literally, skull and eyes still left while the rest of her flesh floating around a kaleidoscope background, fading into the pale purple shirt.
“Seems like a you thing, Su-bong.” He saw the brief cringe at the use of his actual name, Thanos getting a taste of his own medicine, looking more like it was poison. Seeing the shirt, he dropped the disgust, replaced with that energetic front.
“Good eye, my Nam-su!” Swiftly, the fabric was snagged and put into their basket, after looking around briefly, it seemed like they had done enough running, since within moments of stepping into the area the plastic cart on his arm was weighing heavy.
“Uh-huh. You done?” Nam-gyu decided to ignore the name call, it’s all he had been doing, selective listening if you will. A skill you need to master before you friend a purple fried dumbass. It didn’t take much longer until they bothered to change in and out of the new clothes, not a single pair of pants shockingly, purely shirts. For Nam-gyu’s luck, he didn’t get much, and all of it fit, in the stall next to him he could hear Thanos carrying a one sided conversation with him, he wasn’t paying attention because he was trying to debate what he hated and what he liked.
Thanos recommended this jacket, zip up, long sleeves that he could roll up or leave down depending on the mood, a shirt could peek out beneath, frilled like a skirt, which for the record he’d never fucking touch a skirt, this just looked nice. Especially with the back design, a geisha, she had butterfly wings behind her, smoking a cigarette that rested between her middle and pointer finger on her only visible arm, the smoke swirling up all of the design in a white print on the black jacket even around the sleeves were separate patterns of the smog. He liked it, really. No bullshit. Genuinely, a nice choice, Thanos actually paid attention.
“A little help. My shirt’s too small.” Sometimes. Sometimes he paid attention.
“Hang on.” With that, he put everything back into the basket, definitely keeping everything and walking out, he set down in front of the parition between his stall and Thanos’. Going inside, there was no fucking way that shirt was fitting, sure at first you could think it would. No. No, he barely had it on his torso, to be fair he was fit, knew how to take care of himself obviously. As if that was the point, neither was the tattoo lines, the ones he’s recognized on his arms crawling up the limb and over his shoulder, to behind his ear, the tattoo along his spine spelling out his stage name in Korean alphabet. The reason he was here was to help him take off the shirt, right, yeah. How’d he even get this on without realizing it was too small? Strangling his shoulders with it, until Nam-gyu came to his aide. Standing there, he didn’t know himself why he had paused, he’s seen plenty of guys shirtless, at the club, maybe some crazy junkie, he’s a guy himself, he knows there's really nothing to gawk at. So why the fuck was he oogling as he helped get the shirt off. Thanos simply wiggled his eyebrows, clearly no insecurity, no way in hell he’s feeding this fuckboy’s ego. “I’ll get you a new one.”
Thursday
If you even fucking start by calling Nam-gyu a hypocrite, for having his moment of weakness seeing Thanos shirtless. You can see yourself out. Because,,,you’re right.
“Nam-gyu wouldnt sleep with that guy for ₩50,000,000.”
Not saying he would sleep with him, not for money either- that's not implying he'd sleep with him for free. Just that, he had a moment of clarity back there when he was getting Thanos a larger shirt, that despite his defenses towards the allegations, he did find him attractive. He was an idiot most of the time, but he was someone who bothered with him, not out of pity for addiction, being a friend of his sister, or just being his sister in general. This guy met him without a bias, in fact they had a bad start considering Nam-gyu got confused for a chick.
Outside of being drug buddies, they had unironically grown to being friends, especially as of late. Skipping school because they'd rather spend time together high, using him as a distraction for boring lectures in one class, getting help with his work, shopping together. This was more than just a trade off but a genuine bond. Fuck, he even got some chunky cross earrings because Thanos told him it’d make them match with his necklace. Point is, he was into this guy, and it only really clicked yesterday. It took seeing him shirtless for it to really hit him, with a frying pan of realization no less.
The whole Wednesday thing had him thinking the entire next day about just their shopping trip, smoking behind Club Pentagon to, while he has been sober for most of tonight, that didn't mean he could feel the lack of unnatural chemicals in his body, crushing up his bad thoughts. Tobacco helped, sort of, other than the fact that Thanos bought these for him. His shift just ended but he was lingering just to see if Thanos would pop up, because the guy hadn't his entire time behind that bar. Not a glimpse of box dye bozo or anyone his usually related with. It was odd, and though he wouldn't admit it, the lack of his presence absorbed his entire night with curiosity. So he texted him. Multiple times. A lot. An idiotic amount, really, just because he didn't show up to oen of hundred of clubs in the area.
Convincing himself to stop didn't take much because he was being a bit overbearing, pocketing the phone after ignoring literally any notification that wasn't from Thanos himself, putting out his fourth cigarette and preparing to give up, head home, call it quits, go over to Su-bong’s place Friday after school. Su-bong? Whatever, he could call him that, he did in the mall and it pissed him off. Seemed fair with the Nam-su bullshit.
The walk wasn't too terrible, cramming through crowds of people dressed up even if it was around summer and they had summer break relatively soon. A nagging habit to comb the black bob behind his ears was consistent as well as spinning the ring on his index finger. After eons of pushing past people he was bumped into, it felt a little purposeful so it pissed the promoter off.
“What the fuck, man?!” Immediately, and harshly, he turned around once his balance returned. Oh. Yeah of course it'd be him, who else would pull that shit.
Su-bong stood there, stupid smile matching a stupider outfit, nothing they bought at the store, some lime green top, with a mess of art that Nam-gyu couldn't make heads or tails of, just like the tattoo on the back of his hand.
“Ugh, of course. Dude, where've you been? I texted you.” Gross, sounded way too curious.
"Got my tongue pierced, my boy!” As if the slurred speech and him showing off the ball of metal sticking out from the bar in his tongue didn't prove he did it right after. The worst part, he seemed sober, at least to some capacity, well enough to think through his dumb ideas. Yet piercing his tongue made it out as an actual task he completed. Fucker was that stupid.
“Why?”
“Why not?” They were still paused on the sidewalk, studying each other’s reactions, then a move that had become muscle memory, one that Nam-gyu really hated since Thursday. Flustered him in all the wrong ways. Arm slung over his shoulders while the numb tongue fuckface continued. “Why aren't you at the club?”
“My shift ended, dumbass. I’m heading home.”
The reply lacked anything about he felt a little stood up by Su-bong not showing. It felt,,weird that he hadn't appeared.
“You could come to my place, bro. Gyeong-su isn't home to bitch about the shrooms! We could make shrooms tea, Nam-su!”
That sounded nice, shroom tea and blunts, crashing on the couch, presumably until Friday, maybe they'd skip school. Who knew. But it sounded perfect right now, like the perfect way to spend a Thursday night, to spite this overwhelming emotions, well, maybe not, since it would be with the guy those feelings were all about. Fuck you, let him handle this is his way. Liking someone you hated when you first met, turning that drug buddy situation into a friendship, and then comprehending the truth behind it, you were into them. It was tough.
“Sure.” A breath of fresh air, maybe if he spends more time with Su-bong, he could debunk how deep these thoughts went.
Friday
“That's why you should get high and listen to uh, to Cigarettes After Sex. An experience, dude.”
Hey, so like, in case you couldn't tell, Nam-gyu stayed the night and they didn't sleep at all. They were high even as the sun was rising and their cups of half drank mushroom filled tea sitting on coasters amongst half a line of coke, a couple pills, and a burned out blunt went cold. Each on separate couches with some American band playing in the back as they talked, 80% of said thoughts were high as hell without much thought. The combination of goodies that were either snorted, chewed, or inhaled made an illustrious euphoria run beneath their skin. At some point Nam-gyu was so stoned he forgot who he was for a minute. By now it was mid-day, surprisingly they hadn't run out of stuff yet, I mean yeah they were getting there, definitely put more than a dent in Su-bong’s supply.
“That sounds fucking awesome, Nam-su.” Wannabe rappers love getting high with someone they can never get the name right of. Grabbing a vape that he hadn't burnt yet, but Nam-gyu emptied his pack of cigs since they got here. He was so out, that he was getting a little too real.
“I don't know why I ever- I ever hated you, bro. You're seriously so, fucking, awesome. Like, my best friend.”
“Appreciated Nam-su.” He sat up, going to find more blunts in his room. Su-bong only brought one back, he hadn't stopped smiling since the sun rose. This time he joined Nam-gyu on just one couch instead of being separated by two, just like when they walked, or any other time they were near each other, like at lunch, his arm went over the second junkie’s shoulders. “You’re my coolest boy, really awesome sauce.”
“Cool.” Distant nodding, he was fucking baked man, he was still with us, making decisions with critical thinking, just reaaaallly mellowed out. Never sunk into a couch so much, or been chill with hands on him. He hates anyone, everyone, ‘cept this douchebag. Fuck everyone else, maybe Se-min was cool, back before all that sobriety bullshit. Hyun-ju hasn't texted him to ask yet. He still expected it with a smoke filled head. “But, like, seriously, you're the best person, ever.”
“I get it, señor.” Speaking like he was trying to be the most sober out both of them, as if he wasn't as smoked as Nam-gyu. Taking a hit of his vape brought a question into their little bubble. “You ever try a vape?”
“No, they sound fucking disgusting.”
“Not that bad, trust.” Smoke blown in his face, it smelled a lot more pleasant when he wasn't sober. Just as pleasant as the music they were blasting. “Wanna try?”
“… Alright.”
.
.
.
.
Hey so, this is NOT what Nam-gyu meant by he'd try a hit of the vape! Sure, the bubble gum flavor vapor had been filtered into his mouth, not by the pen itself, by Su-bong. If you need more of an explanation, allow me to explain shotgun smoking. One person inhales straight from the cigarette, or in this case, the vape. Then they’d reel a second participant in, smash their lips together, like those dolls you used to play pretend with, and blow the smoke in their mouth. Sharing both a kiss and the same cloud of smoke. Normally it could last a couple seconds, a quick shared moment. Not this one.
While at first shotgunning this vape wasn't expected, they didn't separate, neither pushed away, no space between their faces, at least from their noses down. The aftertsste faded, they only stayed together, as if the piercing in Thanos’ still fairly swollen tongue was magnetized towards Nam-Gyu's, jaws would've collided a lot harsher, save for the muscle tissue and skin on their bones. They had evolved from sharing smoke to swapping spit withing seconds, even as a phone on the table dinged profusely.
Their lungs shriveled, craving air, smoke, anything, something to fill up the vital organs as they refused to separate. Scuffed nails and painted ones alike looked for places to rest. the pale pair gripped Su-bong’s shirt and the shoulders beneath it, while a better manicured one went for the hair Nam-gyu tried hard to keep maintained, throwing caution on how well it looked to the wind. If he thought he couldn't sink further into a couch before then he was wrong now, corralled in by the back of the couch and it's arm rest which the second prettier hand rested on for the time being. Caged like a bird by someone he once titled at a rapper fuckboy or box dye bozo, someone he once denied he'd ever even touch romantically was happily French kissing him and he couldn't give less of a shit on anything other than how fast time stopped when their skin collided.
A ring from a phone went neglected, any and all attention was out on stuffing tongues down throats and gnashing teeth against chapped lips, at least Nam-Gyu's were dry. The only two people in this apartment were so engrossed in each other, hands going down the bags of shirts to see if they could blindly trace a tattoo, body melted over another as if he was made of margin. Animalistic in every way, from the craving of more to how claustrophobes would be crying, so would homophobes.
If you wanted to know they only stopped to breathe because asphyxiation wasn't hot. Pausing briefly for air and hastily returning as if addicted. Given the track records of this bartender and rapper it could be expected, high off the hormones, the good chemicals in their heads, fuck, did it feel euphoric. Something heroin could never compete with, not even those pills Su-bong showed him, nothing, nothing would ever compare to the way this made his brain giggle. Why did Nam-gyu ever hate on this guy? How dare Se-mi predict Thanos was Nam-Gyu's type, and how dare he deny it.
Notes:
They kissed oh they can no longer fight the allegations <3
The ending is open for you readers, specifically because I am someone who doesn't write smut, like, at all. So I didn't want to start here, especially since I'm not a big fan of it. I ended up instead going for the idea that you readers decide if they got freaky, since it wouldn't affect the plot and what comes next that much. So, if you want them getting down right freakfestival in there you can, imply as much as your heart desires.I hope you enjoyed this because the joy will only plummet from here <3
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