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Sometimes Nam-gyu missed the idea of a person.
Of course, he’d never admit that to anyone. Not that there was anyone to really admit such a thing to — was he really so lonely now? He’d lie awake until early hours of the morning, staring at the empty space in the bed beside him and wishing for someone to appear. Not Thanos, not now, but someone warm. A warm body to press himself against and curl up into. He wanted to sleep in someone else’s arms, not worrying about the way they’d just argued. Not worrying about being left at the slightest change in the wind. Nam-gyu didn’t want to think about that, all the emotional bullshit that came with a relationship.
He tried to fill the void with other people. Flirt at the bar, invite them over, politely kick out the cat and let someone share his space. Even afterwards, even if they stuck around after they’d finished fucking him, their arms never felt right. It was there that Nam-gyu missed someone most of all. Warm bodies, someone to sleep with, but it never felt the same. Maybe the emotional turmoil was part of the satisfaction, and maybe one day he’d have to accept that. But that didn’t stop him from trying again and again, hoping some stranger will change all that for him. He’ll get whisked off his feet in a totally not romantic way, so he wouldn’t have all the feelings attached. No strings, and it was far easier that way. Nam-gyu knew that as well as he possibly could. Strings meant consequences. Strings meant he’d beg them not to leave him, in tears on the floor clawing at them. Strings meant everything he knew he couldn’t handle putting himself through again.
He felt like it’d be inevitable, seeing him again. The world’s a really small place, he thought. Surely he’ll show up again. And he’ll look even worse than I feel, and I’ll feel great about it. He’ll look so lonely, and I can laugh in his fucking face.
But Nam-gyu never saw Thanos again after their breakup. Never saw his stupid hair, the dumb grin he used to love. It was as if he’d never existed at all, as if Nam-gyu had just made him up completely so as to take a break from how lonely he’d been before. He’d considered the possibility. He felt insane enough for it to be true. So delusional you manifest an imaginary boyfriend for two years, and even the fucking hallucination abandons you in the end. That was the one part that let him know he’d really existed. Nam-gyu thought of the idea of seeing him again, but with someone else on his arm. Someone else who looked happier, someone else who kept him company without dragging him down. Someone who was nothing like Nam-gyu.
He didn’t like that idea very much.
Nam-gyu didn’t miss Thanos. Sure, yeah, he’d been head-over-heels for him. But he didn’t miss the secretive shit he used to do. Sneaking around, avoiding questions, anything so he wouldn’t have to tell Nam-gyu what was really going on. Nam-gyu had accused him of cheating. That was the only thing Thanos ever outright denied, but he didn’t buy it for a second. He was certain he’d gone off with one of his flings, completely having forgotten his old boyfriend. Nam-gyu wished he could do the same. He wished he could hook up with whoever he wanted without seeing the idiot’s face in every man he fucked. It wasn’t fair. How should you get to abandon me, and then leave me with your fucking memory? Disappear without a trace, and fuck me over while you’re at it. Not even a kiss goodbye. A hug. You really hated me that much, didn’t you?
The nights he spent alone were cold. Even wrapped in blankets, holding onto his cat, the absence of another human was heavily felt. He missed it. He thought hard to himself, curled up in a ball. He stewed, he mourned, he wished he wasn’t so fucking pathetic. He wished there was a version of himself that wasn’t stuck like this. I hate you. I always did. I said I loved you, I begged for you not to leave, but I was lying. I do that. I can lie too, asshole. You were everything to me.
I love you.
Fuck you, man.