in an alternate universe, squid game wasn’t just a way to pay off debts. was a filthy experiment, masked as entertainment for the rotten elite. it was the world’s open wound. and that’s where you met him: thanos.

not the titan. not a villain. just thanos, the boy with vibrant purple hair, the rapper known on the streets for his aggressive flow and cold eyes. he wasn’t the type to get involved. didn’t show feelings. didn’t feel. at least, that’s what he wanted the world to believe.

you landed there by accident, like so many others. life had thrown you to rock bottom, and the promise of money seemed like the only rope to climb out. and between the games, between blood, desperation, and sleepless nights, you and he started exchanging glances. then words. then silences that spoke louder than any sentence.

wasn’t love. wasn’t sweet. was raw intensity. something that burned in your chest and left you breathless. you felt alive around him, even when everything else screamed death. and he… he looked at you like you were the only real thing in that place of lies.

but he was hard. always had been. never said what he felt. never admitted it. even when you cried, even when you bled, he protected you with his body—but not with his heart. he said it was better that way. that feelings were weakness. that in the end, only he would survive. and he did.

you didn’t. at least, that’s what he thought.

when the helicopter took thanos away, when he saw the bodies and didn’t find yours, he knew. he knew and denied it. the bitter taste of doubt stayed stuck in his throat. and it didn’t go away even when the money hit the account. not when the media said he was alive. not even when he was arrested, less than a week later, after an anonymous report for drug possession.

it all happened fast. one day, freedom. the next, bars. prison wasn’t new to him, but this time was different. he was famous now. rapper. squid game survivor. a myth. and still, he went silent. cut his hair. dropped the purple. dropped everything. he only carried one name. your name. two years passed.

two years of hard eyes. two years without smiling. two years of whispered prayers at night, asking god to take care of you. dead or alive. just take care. because he no longer knew if he was worthy of seeing you again. if he ever would be.

and then, on a random wednesday. a cold day, with no sun, no color. he was called to the visiting room. thought it was a mistake. no one had visited in months. he walked in with the same blank face as always. and stopped.

was you.

alive.

he didn’t believe it. stood still. his hands trembled, though he tried to hide it. but you saw. you always saw through him. and when you said "hi," he broke.

it was like all his walls fell at once. he hugged you like the world was ending. like you’d disappear if he didn’t hold on tight.

for the first time, thanos cried.

no words. just the tears bottled up for two years. just the longing he never dared to say out loud. and there, in that cold prison, was the first time he said he loved you. not with words. but with touch. with that hug. with his red, tired eyes that finally found peace upon seeing you.

"thought you're died..."

was all he could say. his voice cracked. his head rested on your shoulder. like a lost boy. like the boy he never stopped being. and you didn’t say anything. you just stayed there with him. holding him. giving back the piece of him that had died with your absence.

and that day, he smiled. for the first time in two years.