Do you think there were moments where Sanji totally acted like a little sibling/middle child and it had Nami and Luffy both side eyeing him because no one just acts like that, he HAS to be a sibling, bro....
summary: You picked the wrong hiding spot and he followed you. Now the game is over — but neither of you wants to leave.
WARNINGS: a liiiitle bit of smut
Luffy is standing on the figurehead, arms wide, screaming into the wind like a man who has never had a single anxious thought in his entire life.
"WE'RE PLAYING HIDE AND SIKE!"
Nami, curled up with a book, doesn't look up. "That's not a real thing, Luffy."
"It is now." Luffy jumps down, landing in a crouch. His grin is too big for his face. "I close my eyes. I count to a hundred and you hide. When I find you, I sike you out. If you flinch or scream, you lose."
"And if we don't?" Usopp asks from the rigging. He's trying to look brave, but looks like he's about to cry.
"You get double dinner today."
A beat. Then Zoro, who was sharpening his sword in the corner, stands up. "I'm not playing."
"No one asked you, mosshead." Sanji flicks ash off his cigarette. He's leaning against the mast, arms crossed, one ankle hooked over the other. The white button-up, the black slacks, the hair falling over his right eye; all that combine makes him looks like he walked out of a noir film.
Luffy claps his hands. "EVERYONE PLAYING. READY. SET."
He slams his hands over his eyes.
"ONE… TWO… THREE…"
The crew scatters.
You run.
"Where do I go," You ask yourself "My room? No, that's too obvious. The hold, maybe?" You sigh "Come on, ____, think" Then an idea crosses your mind. "The galley!"
You slip through the door, pull it shut behind you, and freeze.
Sanji is already there.
He's standing at the counter, calmly chopping carrots. The knife moves in a steady, rhythmic thunk thunk thunk. He doesn't look up.
"Wrong hiding spot, love," he says. "Luffy checks here first. Every time."
"I panicked," you whisper.
"Clearly."
You hear Luffy's voice from the deck: "…TWENTY-FIVE… TWENTY-SIX…"
Sanji sighs. Sets down the knife. Wipes his hands on a towel. Then he looks at you.
"Pantry," he says. "Now."
He grabs your wrist—firm, warm, purposeful—and pulls you toward the narrow door at the back of the galley. It's not a walk-in. It's a closet. Shelves of spices, sacks of flour, jars of pickled vegetables.
"In there?" you hiss.
"Unless you'd rather lose."
He opens the door, nudges you inside, and follows you in.
Darkness. Tight. Hot. Your back hits a shelf and a bag of rice digs into your spine. Sanji is in front of you—too close, his chest an inch from yours, his shoulder brushing the doorframe.
He pulls the door shut.
The latch clicks.
And then—nothing.
Total darkness. You can't see your own hand. You can't see anything except the tiny glow of light coming from under the door.
He's standing sideways now, trying to give you space. But there is no space. His hip presses against your thigh. His breath is warm on your forehead.
"Breathe," he says quietly.
"I am breathing."
"Breathe slower. You're going to hyperventilate."
You try. You really try. But his cologne is everywhere—smoke and sandalwood and something clean like soap—and his hand is still on your wrist, and you can feel his pulse under his thumb.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Steady. Calm. Like he does this every day.
"…FIFTY… FIFTY-ONE…" Luffy's voice, muffled through the hull.
"How are you so calm?" you whisper.
Sanji doesn't answer. You can barely see the corner of his lips lifting into a side smile.
Outside, Luffy hits one hundred.
Silence.
Then—a scream. Usopp. High and terrified and absolutely pathetic.
"SIKE!" Luffy's laugh echoes across the deck. "GOT YOU, USOPP!"
"I WASN'T EVEN—" A pause. "Okay, I was hiding. But that was mean."
You almost laugh. Sanji's thumb presses into your wrist. A warning: quiet.
Footsteps on the deck, then the galley door creaks open and you stop breathing.
Luffy's voice, sing-song: "Sanjiiii… I know you're in here. I can smell the carrots."
He doesn't answer. His hand tightens around yours and his body shifts to angle himself between you and the door. His shoulder presses into your collarbone, his hip digs into your thigh, his face is inches from yours.
Sanji doesn't move. Doesn't flinch. He just looks at you. Even in the dark, you can feel his gaze. Heavy. Focused.
He presses his palm flat against the shelf next to your head. Caging you in. His forehead drops to yours.
He smiles. Just a little. Just enough for you to see it in the dark.
Don't. Move.
Luffy's footsteps get closer. The pantry door is right there. A thin piece of wood between you and being found.
The handle jiggles and then stops.
Luffy sniffs loudly. "Hmm. Not in here."
His footsteps retreat. The galley door creaks shut.
Silence.
Neither of you breathes.
Sanji doesn't pull back. His forehead is still pressed to yours. His breath is hot and shaky. His chest rises and falls against yours — fast, despite how calm he looked outside.
"He didn't open it," you whisper.
"No," he agrees. His voice is lower than you've ever heard it. "He didn't."
A beat.
"You're shaking," you say.
"I know."
He still doesn't move. His body is a wall of heat pinning you to the shelves, not leaving you other thing in sight but him.
"We should probably go out there," you say.
"We should."
Neither of you moves.
His nose brushes yours. Once. Twice. Testing.
"Sanji."
"Tell me to stop," he murmurs.
You don't.
His thumb starts tracing a slow circle on your hip — bare skin, just under the hem of your shirt.
"Sanji," you whisper.
His name sounds different in the dark. Thicker. He notices. His breath catches.
"Say that again," he murmurs.
"Sanji."
He kisses you.
Full and firm and deliberate. His lips slant over yours like he's been waiting for permission his whole life, his hand leaves your hip and cups your face — thumb on your cheek, fingers buried in your hair — tilting your head exactly where he wants you.
You make a sound. Small. Embarrassing. He swallows it.
When he pulls back, you're both breathing too fast.
"Oh, cherié."
He kisses you again. Slower this time. His tongue traces your lower lip. Asks. You open for him and he makes a quiet noise — almost a groan — and his hips press into yours involuntarily. The shelf creaks behind you.
He pulls back again. His forehead drops to your shoulder.
"Sorry," he breathes. "Sorry. I shouldn't— we're in a pantry. Anyone could—"
"No one's coming."
"You don't know that."
"You're the one who hasn't moved."
He laughs. Quiet. Broken. His lips press against the collar of your shirt.
"I know," he says. "I know."
His hands are shaking now. You feel it — his fingers trembling against your face, your hip, wherever they're touching.
"Look at me," you say.
He does. Even in the dark, you can see the conflict in his eyes. Want and restraint fighting in real time.
"I'm not telling you to stop," you say.
His jaw tightens.
"You should."
"But I'm not."
He stares at you for a long, agonizing second. Then something in him breaks — or maybe snaps into place.
His mouth crashes into yours again. Hungrier. Less careful. His hand slides from your face down your side, over your ribs, your waist, gripping your thigh and hooking it around his hip. The new angle pulls you flush against him — every inch of him pressed into every inch of you.
You gasp into his mouth. He swallows that too.
His hips roll into yours once — slow, deliberate, questioning. You answer by pulling him closer. His groan vibrates against your lips.
"Tell me," he pants, pulling back just enough to speak. "Tell me you want this."
"I want this."
"Tell me it's not just the dark. Not just the game. Not just—"
You kiss him quiet.
"It's not," you say against his lips. "It's you."
His breath shudders out of him. His whole body relaxes — just for a second — before he kisses you again. Harder this time.
His hand slides from your thigh down to the back of your knee, hiking your leg higher. Your skirt rides up. His bare fingers press into the back of your thigh.
"Fuck," he whispers — and you've never heard him swear like that. Breathless. Desperate.
His mouth finds your neck. Not gentle this time. He sucks hard just below your jaw — enough to leave a mark. His tongue soothes it immediately after.
"Sanji — someone's going to see—"
"Good," he says against your skin.
His teeth graze your collarbone. His hand slides higher — from your thigh to your waist to the curve of your ribs. His thumb brushes the underside of your breast. He pauses.
Looks up at you.
"Okay?" he asks.
You nod. Barely.
His thumb brushes again — higher this time. Your back arches off the shelf. His hand covers you fully, palm warm and rough through the thin fabric of your shirt.
He makes a sound. Low. Hungry.
"You have no idea," he murmurs, "how long I've wanted—"
The ship creaks. Footsteps above.
Both of you freeze.
Luffy's voice, distant: "WHERE IS EVERYONE? THIS GAME IS BORING NOW."
Sanji's forehead drops to yours. His chest is heaving. His hand is still on you. He doesn't move it.
"We should stop," he whispers.
"We should."
But neither of you moves.
His thumb flicks over you once — slow, deliberate — through your shirt. Your breath hitches.
"We're going to get caught," he says.
"Probably."
His mouth finds yours again. Softer this time. Almost sweet.
"One more minute," he breathes.
You pull him closer.
"Make it ten."
He laughs quietly against your mouth — a broken, desperate sound — and then his lips are on yours again. His hand slides back up to your face, cradling your jaw like you're something precious. But his hips don't stop moving. Slow. Rolling into yours in the dark. The shelf creaks with every shift of his weight.
Your fingers find the collar of his shirt. The white button-up. You fist the fabric and pull him closer — impossibly closer.
His hand leaves your face. Slides down your stomach. His fingers hook under the waistband of your pants — just a finger's width. Testing. Asking.
"Sanji—"
"I know," he whispers. "I know."
He doesn't go further, but he doesn't pull away either. His thumb presses into the soft skin just above your hip bone. His forehead stays pressed to yours.
"After this," he says, voice raw, "when we're not hiding in a closet like idiots — I'm going to take my time with you."
Your breath catches.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He kisses the corner of your mouth. "Properly. Somewhere with a bed. And a lock. And no rubber pirates trying to scare us."
You laugh. Quiet. He smiles against your cheek.
His hand slides out of your waistband. His thigh pulls back from between your legs. He doesn't go far, just enough to let you both breathe.
"We should actually go now," he says.
"I know."
"Luffy's going to come looking again."
"I know."
Sanji doesn't move. His hands are on your waist now. Thumbs tracing slow circles. His eyes are still dark, still hungry, but there's something softer underneath.
"You first," he says.
"Together."
He hesitates. Then nods.
He reaches behind him — careful, not letting go of you — and finds the door latch. His fingers curl around it.
"Ready?" he whispers.
"No."
He smiles. Real. Warm. Even in the dark.
"Me neither."
He opens the door.
Light floods in. You both squint. The galley is empty. The carrots are still on the cutting board. The knife is still there. Everything looks exactly the same.
Nothing has changed. Except everything has.
Sanji steps out first. Offers you his hand. You take it.
He doesn't let go when you're both standing in the galley. He doesn't let go when you hear Luffy scream "THERE YOU ARE" from the deck.
He just looks at you — flushed, lips swollen, hair a mess — and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
"You look like you've been hiding in a pantry," he says.
"So do you."
He grins. Lifts your hand to his mouth. Presses a kiss to your knuckles.
"Worth it."
You walk out to the deck.
Sanji follows a few seconds later, lighting a fresh cigarette. His hair is still slightly disheveled — one strand falling over his eye that he doesn't bother fixing, his shirt has wrinkles across the chest from where you grabbed him. He doesn't seem to care.
Luffy is sitting on the mast, pouting. "You guys are no fun, I couldn't find you."
Zoro is back to sharpening his sword. He glances up, looks at you, looks at Sanji and rolls his eyes so hard it's almost theatrical.
"Took you long enough."
Sanji doesn't rise to it the way he usually does. No immediate kick. No shouting match. He just flicks ash in Zoro's general direction.
"Shut up, mosshead."
But his voice is lighter. Distracted. His eyes keep drifting back to you.
You sit down on the deck, legs crossed, trying to act normal. Trying to ignore the phantom feeling of his hands on your waist, his mouth on your neck.
Sanji sits next to you. Closer than he needs to. His shoulder presses against yours his thigh lines up with yours. Anyone paying attention would notice. He doesn't seem to care about that either.
Nami catches your eye from across the deck. She raises one eyebrow. Smirks.
You look away, face hot.
"You have something," Nami says sweetly, tapping her own jaw, "right about here."
Your hand flies to your neck. You feel it — the spot Sanji marked. Still slightly tender.
Your face goes nuclear.
Sanji, without missing a beat, takes a slow drag of his cigarette and exhales toward the sky. "Bug," he says flatly. "Big one. Had to get it off her neck."
Nami's smirk deepens. "Must have been a very aggressive bug."
"Very," Sanji agrees. His knee bumps yours. Deliberate.
Zoro snorts but doesn't look up.
You want to die. You also want to kiss Sanji again. It's a confusing feeling.
He offers you his cigarette. "Want a drag?"
"I don't smoke."
"You could start."
You take the cigarette. Your fingers brush. You bring it to your lips, inhale, and immediately cough.
Sanji grins.
"Atta girl," he says.
And when he takes the cigarette back, his fingers linger on yours. Not accidentally. Not briefly. He holds on for a full second longer than necessary.
Nami pretends to be very interested in her book.
Luffy, oblivious, swings down from the mast. "I'm hungry. Sanji, make meat."
Sanji doesn't move. His shoulder is still pressed against yours. His pinky hooks around yours on the deck between you — hidden from everyone except the two of you.
"Yeah," he says, not looking away from your face. "In a minute."
Your new beginning starts with eyes that reflect the endless seas; aka, a country boy cheers you up from your city blues.
feat. farmer!phainon & gn!reader
content : fluff, non-canon au, puppynon, neighbors to friends to lovers, kind of a slowburn.... like 10k words of yearning LOL, ooc phainon bc nothing bad happened to him, happy trail jumpscare, entirely self-indulgent boohoo.
w.c. : 10.4k
note : i saw this fanart of phaicham and i was possessed by the stardew/rune factory/harvest moon demons. i've been working on this for a while bc school and life have been kicking me, so i'm sorry if i was constantly teasing everyone with this orz but now he's here! and ready to kiss all of you! i hope you enjoy silly little moments of a country bumpkin cheering up a sad city dweller.
Autumn.
Fields of golden grass shimmer underneath the glow of the afternoon sun and make the small town before you glow. The tranquil breeze dances through the foliage of aureate trees, making their branches sway with each push. It's quiet, only the sounds of the ocean waves gently washing up against the shoreline and the distant sound of birds singing their songs to one another as they fly across the blue skies can be heard.
Children weave through the meadows of wheat, giggling with excitement as they play their games while the adults are busy at work on the fields surrounding the village, fishing on the wharf just on the outskirts of town, or simply living. It's lively despite the small number of people, but it's a noise that you don't mind.
No raised voices filled with anger and impatience as people shout at each other during the rush of transportation to and from work, and definitely no endless demands from a prickly boss with pay that barely covered your living expenses. No rush for any deadlines and no one yelling at you for wasting your time on your dreams, just patience and peace in the life around you.
This is Aedes Elysiae, a remote seaside village and your new beginning.
The old wooden door of your new home creaks open, revealing a quaint kitchen big enough for a small dining table and a living space to the right. There's a staircase leading up to rooms that you can only assume were sleeping quarters and a washroom. This old cottage was used and quite dusty, but it was much bigger than your measly apartment while living in the lively and busy city of Okhema.
With some dusting and decor that you've brought with you, you're sure you can make this place a home.
However, as you place your luggage by the staircase, three knocks come from your aged door. Curiosity paws at your mind; you aren't expecting anyone to greet you the day you move in and yet…
"Welcome to Aedes Elysiae, neighbor!"
You're greeted with the sight of two older folk smiling with a warmth that you had never experienced living in the city. A sudden visit that you don't find yourself dreading.
"Sorry for the sudden visit, you're probably unpacking and all from just moving in," the woman says, her golden eyes filled with sympathy from interrupting your peace. She's holding a wicker basket of various fruits in her arms—apples, pears, persimmons and pomegranates. Her silver hair is tied into a ponytail that rests above her right shoulder, a beautiful contrast to her golden irises that shine with kindness and youthful mirth. "But we never get any visitors, let alone a new neighbor so we couldn't help ourselves."
"I'm Hieronymus, and this is my wife Audata. We have a son as well, but he's off running errands for us. He's a charming boy, but such a slacker when it comes to finishing his tasks. I apologize in advance for his shenanigans if you ever bump into him," the man introduces himself, reaching out a hand for you to shake. And you do.
His hand is rough from years of farming, you presume. It is firm and strong, but it's not one of intimidation; you would know. With blond hair that rivals the gold of the field of grass surrounding the small village and eyes a pale blue, he looks quite youthful. But his eyes crinkle as he smiles and give way to years of experience of life that you have yet to know yourself.
You give your own name and their smiles grow brighter. "Thank you for dropping by. I would offer you both a meal for welcoming me with such excitement but…" Your eyes trail to the empty home and lack of both furnishing and food.
Hieronymus laughs heartily. "Don't worry about hospitality just yet; you're a new face. It would be rude of us to demand anything of you on your first day here."
"Instead, take this as your first gift here in Aedes Elysiae," Audata chimes in, handing you the basket of fruits. The weight is hefty in your arms and you wonder just how strong your neighbor is for her to carry this with ease. "If you need any help with moving around or getting around our small town, don't be shy to ask us."
—
The morning is chilly as the sun rises up over the golden, grassy horizon. The breeze that pushes through the small village is brisk and nips at your skin; it's a cold that you don't mind even as it bites with every gust. There's nothing about a brisk morning walk by the seaside that can't put you at ease. The village is already awake as everyone begins their day; if the sun is up then everyone is, save for the young children catching up on their rest before their busy days of youth.
The dirt pathway crunches underneath your feet as you walk above the shoreline of Aedes Elysiae, gentle waves wash up against the sand below you. The sound of the ocean and wildlife brimming with life is comforting and you inhale the salty sea air to embrace the new era of your life that you've walked into.
In.
Out.
In.
Bark.
…What?
The soft pitter-patter of paws against the dirt road and the sudden shout of warning alerts you of the incoming danger rapidly approaching. Your head turns towards the direction of the bark, merely catching a glimpse of snow white fur before there's a sudden weight slamming into you. You're knocked off of your feet with an 'oof!' and the world spins before you're looking at the sky from the floor with an eager fluffy dog licking the side of your face.
"Snowy! Oh, I'm so sorry about this!"
The furry creature is lifted off of your body and suddenly you're face to face with the bluest eyes you've ever seen. They twinkle with light like the ocean reflecting the sun as it hovers above and you find them to be the most beautiful shade of blue you have ever seen. His white hair, fluffy and pure like the clouds drifting across an endless sky, is tousled in an effortlessly messy and boyish way that fully complements his eyes.
The sun has branded itself onto the skin of his neck; golden and bright as if inked by the golden ichor that drips from the core of the blazing star. His arms are… honestly, quite big and muscular. It's hard to hide his broad chest underneath the plain white shirt and, quite frankly, you find it difficult to look anywhere else.
He's a pretty man, but one that you aren't ready to encounter in the countryside.
You don't realize you've been staring until the handsome stranger says something that you aren't able to catch, but his outstretched hand and worried demeanor gives enough context for you to answer what you didn't hear. You take his hand, calloused and firm, in yours and you're pulled up with such ease; just how strong was he?
"I'm alright. If anything, I'm happy to be the victim of something so cute," you reply. In response to your words, the big cloud of fluff barks in response and grins at you with a huge dopey smile. "I didn't quite catch your name, I just moved in so I've yet to meet everyone."
The stranger gives you a boyish grin and it nearly takes your breath away with how he's practically glowing with the sunrise just behind him, emulating a halo around his head. Was he blessed by the Titans or something…?
"Phainon, I'm Phainon. You must be the new neighbor my parents talked about the other night," the blue eyed stranger introduces himself. He lifts the pup in his arms and you notice that they both smile in a similar way. It makes your lips pull up into a smile of your own. "And this is Snowy! He's friendly, I promise. He's just very curious and excited."
Ah, is this Hieronymus and Audata's son? Getting an even better look at him, you notice that he's a perfect reflection of his parents— you recall his mother's pure white hair and his father's clear blue eyes as they stare right back at you. Hieronymus is right; he's charming indeed, and you have a rising suspicion that he shouldn't be here by the shore so early in the morning when there are fields of wheat in need of harvesting.
You tell Phainon your name and he repeats it.
"Well, neighbor. Since you're new around Aedes Elysiae, how about a tour? I know this village like the back of my hand," Phainon suggests to you with such excitement that you feel yourself wanting to agree just by the brightness in his smile. "Unless, you're busy that is."
"No," you respond with a shake of your head. "I would love a tour."
The seaside village of Aedes Elysiae is truly small; it doesn't take the full day to explore everything Phainon's hometown has to offer. Everything from the open oceanic view from Voyager's Wharf to the cobbled pathways of the Sacrament Courtyard and the forested areas beyond were all within a walkable distance. All the townhouses and family owned markets or businesses congregate into a compact town square and with a population of only a handful of people, everyone knows each other quite well. As you walk through the quaint village, many people greet Phainon with a smile and a wave and he returns the gesture with equal enthusiasm.
The older folk free of any responsibility reside in the heart of the village with the young children as they run through the old, cobbled streets with no expectations on their shoulders. And yet as you and your two white haired companions make your way closer to the center of it all, the children begin to ease their gait and the older folk speak in hushed whispers.
Curious eyes follow you around, an unfamiliar face is something rare for anyone in Aedes Elysiae to see. And slowly, like grains of sand trickling through an hourglass, you've become swarmed by children and old folk alike.
"Hello, how's the city like?"
"What made you come here?"
"Is it true that droma are everywhere in the holy city of Okhema?"
"Do you have a partner?"
Huh?
The questions swirl around you like a dizzying tornado; before you're able to answer one question another is quickly pelted at you. Small hands gently tug at the hemline of your shirt or grip your arm to grab your attention; you try to answer everyone to the best of your ability. Those who had no questions to ask were playing with Snowy—his delighted barks mix in with the clamor of the sea of curious children.
But it's a bit overwhelming and by the tenth question you can feel Phainon gently pull you aside to shield you from the swarm of eager people who have yet to venture past the golden fields of Aedes Elysiae.
"Alright, let's give our new neighbor some room to breathe," he announces with arms outstretched to gently herd them away from you. "I'm sure they'll be glad to answer all of your questions another time." You hear the collective groan of everyone, but eventually one by one they bid their farewells to you and you finally have the space to think. Snowy whines softly at the kids saying their goodbyes but quickly rejoins yours and Phainon's side; his furry tail gently whacks against your legs.
You can hear the soft chuckle from the man beside you and your gaze is immediately redirected towards his direction. Phainon is smiling at your frazzled appearance, eyes twinkling in amusement as you try to recalibrate yourself and catch your breath from the sudden attention.
"Hard work being the celebrity in town, huh?" Phainon teases you gently and you sharply exhale at his jest. "Sorry. Again, a new face always gets everyone in high spirits."
"No need to apologize. Though, I guess I shouldn't have trusted my tour guide to protect me from my new fans," you shoot back. Phainon blinks in surprise at your jab, clearly not expecting you to match his energy. Your hands reach down to pet Snowy; the large, fluffy dog seems to appreciate the attention and gives you a big dopey smile with each gentle scratch to his fur. "I'm just not used to the attention."
"Someone from the big city not used to this many people? That's a surprise," your white haired companion comments as he leans down as well to bury his hand in Snowy's white fluff. "Shouldn't this amount of people be normal to you?"
You can tell he's merely curious and that none of his words hold ill will to them; how could they when his eyes hold a sincerity that was never shown to you in the city of Okhema.
A pure blue.
"There's many people, sure," you begin with a heavy heart, as if the words you speak take a toll on your spirits the more you recall the memories before moving here, "but everyone's so busy with life that no one has time to enjoy life. We work to live over there, and it gets so lonely the longer you stay."
"It was so suffocating, I hated every living second of it," you continue to pour your heart out to your newly acquainted neighbor, something you normally wouldn't do but maybe it's something about his friendly demeanor and the fresh ocean breeze filling your lungs that's letting your small heart open for the first time in a while. "But the people living here are different, in a good way. I just need to get used to being around such friendly people welcoming me to their home."
"Well," Phainon begins with a warm smile that catches your breath, "Aedes Elysiae is known for showing hospitality to any and all guests. I hope you'll find your new home here, neighbor."
You don't know exactly why Phainon chose to listen to you ramble about your city life, but you appreciate the small gesture as you finally unload the little weight on your shoulders. Your heart swells with a feeling you haven't experienced for a long while, but you don't find it discomforting. If anything, you embrace this new beginning with open arms and you hope that it is kind to you in return.
Winter.
Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. The color of the wheat fields that surround the land of Aedes Elysiae fade into something more muted as the weather begins to cool down. But, like the undying flame that flickers within the heart of the sun, even the dead of winter cannot subdue the sea of golden grass that brings life to this isolated town.
The creeping cold of the winter months does not seem to deter the townspeople either; most continue on their day tending to the domestic farm animals now more than ever since crops are difficult to grow in the frosty air. The distant sounds of livestock mix in with the merry chatter of the excitable youth and working adults keep the town thriving and alive.
With each rise and fall of the sun across the horizon of Aedes Elysiae, Phainon has greeted you nearly everyday during your stay in this fishing village that he calls his home. It has come to the point where it's rather odd to not see that familiar tuft of white hair outside your cozy cottage or those ocean blue eyes that you've come accustomed to peering back at you when you're walking around Voyager's Wharf.
He's always where you least expect him to be—on your doorstep with another wicker basket filled with today's harvest from his parents' crops, bumping into you while taking a stroll on the dirt paths surrounding the ocean side with Snowy galumphing beside him adorning his signature dopey grin, by your side as you help the elderly in the village's small town square with their own errands or tasks for the day.
And even now as he helps carry and move your furniture inside your small home in Aedes Elysiae.
Your eyes follow the taller man as he pushes your couch into place in your living room; it's the last piece of furniture that you've brought back from Okhema and now your home is beginning to finally feel and look like, well, home.
There's a small, wooden dining table placed in the middle of your kitchen with a knitted tablecloth draped over the top. The designs of sunshine and wheat are delicately threaded together and bring a little brightness to your home; a handmade gift from Audata. Various pots and pans and other dishes now fill your cabinets—you hope one day you'll have enough ingredients and plates to host a thank you dinner for Phainon and his family for being so kind to you.
In your connected living room, Phainon is draped over your old, beaten up couch that he himself had lugged into your home and shoved into place according to your directions. The cool azure has long faded into a dimmer shade, but that doesn't take away from the comfort that it still offers. The fire in the hearth of your stone fireplace crackles with warmth, the embers encasing your home in an intimate glow as the sun begins to set across the ocean's skyline.
Your friendly neighbor is just as worn as your couch after lifting and pushing around your heavier furniture pieces around your quaint home. His chest heaves slightly as he catches his breath and his skin has a sheen of sweat that makes him glow golden from the warmth of the fireplace before him. His snow white hair is messier than usual from laboring in your home; white tufts sticking out in places you didn't know they could and you resist the urge to flatten them down.
You thank the Titans for gracing you with Phainon as your neighbor; had it been anyone else less handy or friendly you're not sure you would've been able to find your home in this place anytime soon.
"Thank you for helping me move all my stuff in," you thank your neighbor with a warm mug of hot cocoa pressed to the side of Phainon's face. His body perks up at the ceramic on his skin and he turns from the fireplace to face you, gratefully accepting your act of gratitude with both hands and a bright, boyish smile.
The one that you always feel your heart fluttering at.
"You really didn't have to."
"But I wanted to."
His reply is simple, and you know that he means it sincerely.
"I'm more surprised you know how to brew hot chocolate, being from the city and all. Are you sure this isn't poisoned?"
Oh, he wanted to play this game?
Your eye twitches at his dig and you reach over to snatch away the ceramic mug from Phainon's hands. Unfortunately, his reflexes are quicker than yours. His arms lift up higher than you had aimed for and, not expecting the sudden movement, you find yourself toppling over the back of your well-loved couch and flopped over onto the plush cushions beside your white haired neighbor. He's looking down at you with an amused smirk and you so desperately want to wipe it off of his pretty face.
"Give me that back, jerk. You don't deserve my gratitude anymore," you huff from below him. You lean over his lap, an arm outstretched into the space in front of Phainon's face while your other hand flattens itself on his thigh to leverage yourself up. Your fingers graze the ceramic mug and you almost snatch away the warm liquid away from the grinning madman above you.
But Phainon is quicker than you are. His long arms extend to its full length high above the both of you and far out of your reach and you can hear his soft, airy chuckle as your determined expression falls.
There it is again; those pristine pools of azure that reflect the wavering flames of the hearth peering back at you. They're filled with mirth and delight at gaining the upper hand in this situation and seeing you seethe below him, but your blazing anger dwindles down as you stare into the endless sky above you. His tufts of fluffy, messy white hair frame his face, seemingly soft to the touch and your fingers twitch. From this angle, he truly resembles his pup and you wonder if the texture will also be similar.
Phainon is hot, his heat emanates from his body and consumes you from the proximity of your body to his. Compared to the heat of the hearth, it's like the sun has found its home in his soul, embracing you in its gentle yet searing warmth. He's closer to you than you had anticipated and there's nowhere to hide from those twinkling eyes as they gaze down at you—and he cannot hide from you either. You're close enough to count how many pure, white lashes line his eyes, the places on his skin where the sun has kissed and left its mark in the form of faint freckles that are invisible from a distance, and the faint blush that runs across his cheeks to the tips of his ears.
You wonder if you have anything to do with that, or if it's just a matter of being to close for only being neighbors.
Probably because you're just neighbors.
As you open your mouth to fire another quick and snarky remark at your smug companion, your stomach grumbles in place of your voice; a low, gurgling growl like the rumbling of a wildcat. There's a thick silence between the two of you as you both digest the sudden noise that erupted from the deepest pit of your stomach.
And then Phainon is laughing; a deep, hearty laugh that comes from his gut and you can feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment. There's a wide, jovial smile that spreads from cheek to cheek; so boyish and charming that you want to wipe it off of his face but can't find it in your heart to do so. He sets down the warmed mug of hot chocolate on the small table by the side of your worn blue couch and helps you sit upright so that you're no longer leaning on his lap, eye to eye with his mirthful gaze.
"That reminds me, my parents invited you for dinner tonight if you're up to it." You can see the corners of his eyes creasing even more as his smile widens. "Though, I think your own stomach gave away your answer before I could even ask you."
A light punch is thrown to his arm and he's laughing again, this time more subdued. Gentler.
Phainon stands up from your worn blue couch, dusting off his trousers with gentle pats. Then, he offers his hand to you, palm side up and a delicate smile that you can't refuse. And with bated breath and a heart that skips a beat, your hand slides into rough palms and Phainon is pulling you up.
His ears remain a dusty shade of pink, but you don't bring it up.
—
Dinner was as decadent and filling as usual; Audata's cooking never ceases to to amaze and comfort you to no end. Every bite of meat is so tender that it melts on your tongue and the vegetables are roasted and seasoned to perfection that pairs so perfectly well with the main course. Despite wanting to be a courteous guest and only eat one plate, every time you finished a portion of food you would find it replaced with another portion and Audata or Heironymus smiling at you with such familiarity and affection that it's difficult to turn down their offers.
"You need to eat well in this weather. Wouldn't want you to fall ill, neighbor," Audata talks to you with such tenderness, as if you were her own, and it completely melts away at your resistance and you let her fill your plate again and again.
Until you're full to the brim of a pleasant home cooked meal with some leftovers in a covered wicker basket to take back home, courtesy of Audata herself.
The winter wind is cruel on your way back home, especially after sundown, nipping at any exposed skin like barbed wire whipping at your body. It is unforgiving as it blows nothing but dry, cool air to your exposed face until your cheeks and nose are cool to the touch and numb of any sensation. Yet, with nothing but frigid air greeting you as soon as you exit Phainon's home, your heart is tender and warm from the loving dinner served to you with amicable company.
And warm from the person who followed you out of his own home and now walks side by side with you in the night, your basket of leftovers held in his hand and an embroidered lilac scarf around his neck.
It's silent between you two with only the distant sound of the sea lapping up against the shores of Aedes Elysiae and the crunch of the dirt underneath your shoes filling the the space between you. Quiet, but not awkward in the slightest. Although the walk to your home isn't far, you appreciate his effort to escort you in the night.
"Sorry for my parents," Phainon's words break the comfortable silence, his voice quiet to match the surroundings of the night. "They can be a bit much, but they mean well. And they like you."
You exhale sharply, a soft laugh, and your lips curl upward in a smile. Your head turns to look at him; Phainon is bashfully looking at you, a timid smile on his own lips and his free hand rubbing the back of his neck in his embarrassment.
It's cute.
"Don't apologize," you begin, "I'm not used to this type of affection from family, but I don't hate it."
There's a flash across Phainon's expression. His eyes widen slightly and his brows fly up for only a millisecond; there's a question on the tip of his tongue but, thankfully, he doesn't press any further.
"Good, my parents have so much love to share. I'm sure they won't mind letting it overflow into you," Phainon continues the conversation with ease. "Not that you have a choice. They're fond of you, you know?"
There's a certain tenderness in the way he looks at you, like even he reflects the endearment of his own parents. His blue eyes are warm, reminiscent of the sea by sundown when the remaining rays of light cast the gentle waves in a golden light.
Affectionate and inviting; does he share the same sentiments? The question is on the tip of your tongue, but the cold freezes your mouth shut.
You take a wrong step forward and your hand brushes against Phainon's. For a second, the warmth of his hand seeps into your skin like an invitation to wrap yourself around it to flee from the chill of winter. Instead, an apology slips through your lips in a soft murmur and you pull your hand away.
The warmth of Phainon's body seems to melt into you as his hand darts forward, enveloping yours in his with one swift movement. The heat from his palm pressed into yours melts away the frigid air surrounding you two and you can feel your heartbeat pick up in tempo; an accelerando that you can't control no matter how much you try to calm yourself.
You don't pull away.
"How was winter in Okhema like? Livelier than Aedes Elysiae, I presume," Phainon asks. "Did you get to spend it with your family?"
You shrug your shoulders. "It was lively and enjoyable when you had the people to share the season with. Often times, my friends would be spending winter with their own families so I wasn't able to spend many winters with them."
You take a breath recalling the memories of your family. "But whenever my family was able to visit me in Okhema, those winters weren't too bad."
A weight seems to float off of your shoulders as the recollections of your winters in the city begin to resurface. Not that any of them were too remarkable; often times they would be lonely as your family chose to stay home for the colder season or the weather was too rough for either of you guys to go and visit one another. But the times that were good felt so good and comforting that you couldn't help the warmth flooding to your chest as you begin to recall them.
You tell them all to Phainon, who is eagerly listening to every word you say; every tale of family or friend back in the city is met with an attentive nod and a gentle tug of your hand when you're too invested in a story to notice the rock in your path.
Before you know it, your small home is in sight—a yellow tulip hangs by your door with wind chimes dangling at the bottom of the wooden green stem dances in the wintry winds, a gentle tinkling melody sings through the night. For once in this new life of yours, you don't want to go home just yet and leave the comfort that you find in this intimate moment shared with a man you never would've expected to grow fond of. But the destination is inevitable and you're standing face to face to your white haired neighbor outside the front door of your humble home.
"Sorry, I was talking so much about myself and Okhema. You should've told me to be quiet." The heat rises to the back of your neck and your free hand reaches up to bashfully rub the burning skin. "I'm sorry if I bored you with all that."
There's a gentle squeeze to your hand; your eyes flit up to meet his and you're met with nothing but the softest smile grazing Phainon's lips.
"Don't apologize for something like that," he begins, with a tilt of his head. From this angle you can see those azure eyes of his so clearly—lustrous and kind, twinkling with something you can't quite decipher just yet. "Why would I stop you from sharing a part of your life with me?"
You don't answer, letting the calm winter night do the answer for you.
"…I have a friend living in Okhema now, actually," Phainon brings up as the silence finally settles between you two, effectively breaking it with a new conversation with a smile so gentle it could soothe the swirling winds coming from the sea.
"Oh? A friend… or something more?" You gently nudge him with your shoulder and Phainon chuckles softly before shaking his head.
"No, just a good friend. She grew up with me in Aedes Elysiae and only left recently for a new job opportunity," Phainon continues with gentle smile. "I'm happy for her, and of course I supported her decision in leaving."
He pauses briefly, taking a deep breath as the memories flow like a movie behind his eyes; a movie you can't see but, from the warmth that seems to grow in his visage, you didn't need to witness it all to know they were cherished and dear to him. "But things have been lonely without her, I won't deny that."
Something sombre twists in Phainon's expression; your body instinctively urges you to try and comfort him in the way that he comforted you in the small moments leading up to this. But the fear of overstepping a boundary you aren't sure of freezes your body in place and all you can do is listen to him.
And yet there's a certain fondness in his eyes that turn such a cool shade of blue so warm when he looks at you that stirs your heart; it skips a beat and your breath hitches at an unfamiliar but not unwelcome feeling.
"That's why… I'm glad that you've moved here. Having a new face to welcome in has really made this small town feel less small, despite the said person being so small." Phainon's words would have moved you greatly, but you gently shove him again with your shoulder after hearing the gentle diss at your height. He laughs heartily, filling your chest with something tender. "There, a part of my life shared with you in return for sharing with me."
There's another pause in the conversation; not awkward, but one fitting of the amicable atmosphere shared between two friends. A cool breeze rushes past you, chilling your body to the bone. Your body stiffens in response and a shiver travels up through you from head to toe—there's a sharp exhale of laughter in front of you.
"You should head inside now, it's getting late, neighbor," Phainon tells you, letting go of your hand in the process. There's a pang in your heart at the empty space, but you don't dwell too much on the feeling.
Phainon's nose and the tips of his ears are rosy, nipped by the frosty winter air. Yet, there's not a hint on his face that indicates that winter is even present. He's grinning from ear to ear with stars dancing in his eyes; mirthful and joyous as he is nothing but spring incarnate and you are the sole victim to wintry winds.
Through delicate, quiet chuckles, your messy white haired neighbor unravels the knit scarf around his neck and drapes it over your shoulders; the lilac yarn is soft as it touches your skin. It's still warm from absorbing Phainon's body heat and the scent of the sea breeze and fresh linen fills your senses as he wraps the scarf twice over your neck—you want to bury yourself into it and get lost in the newfound comfort he seems to bring you.
Spring.
Luckily, the dreary winter season seems to come and go in the blink of an eye and, before you know it, your days begin to stretch a bit longer and the sun starts to warm the earth with rays that kiss the surface at the break of dawn and don't disappear until the moon has decided it's her time to soothe the busybodies of Aedes Elysiae. Even the cold surrounding the small town of Aedes Elysiae seems to brighten up, not that it ever was dull in the winter, but the changing seasons bring a change of mood and a new harvest.
The markets and businesses that make up the small town square slowly fill with life as more and more produce begins to sell and seeds for future harvests are displayed for the local farmers to get their hands on for the welcome of spring.
The welcome of a new season.
Phainon's family's farm isn't too far from your own home, you know this quite well from one too many trips to his place for dinner; his mother always had the excuse of making too much and that leftovers were a hassle to deal with and how could you ever say no to her. Audata and her son were truly one and the same with their ability to utilize such a pitiful expression on their faces and team up on you to stay for a meal or two.
Though this time, you're offering something for once; the same wicker basket used to carry goods from Phainon's household to yours and back filled with a warm lunch that you've prepared yourself. It isn't much, but it's something homemade and made with love that you hope would be enough to convey your thanks for being so kind to you since day one.
Phainon's farmhouse peers above the dirt road as you approach it; the distant sounds of the farm life awake in the early afternoon are evident signs that the whole household is busy at work. You spot Phainon's mother first; her silver hair shines brilliantly in the sunlight and her golden eyes seem to brighten up more than they already are as she recognizes your figure at the entryway of their farm. She is carrying a large bundle of hay near the front of their home, a small group of lambs tail behind her as they try to steal some of the dried grass before the rest of them can. Their own mother nips at the little rascals even though she's clearly stealing a couple strands of hay here and there as well.
"Oh, greetings neighbor!" Audata chirps, throwing the dry grass in one of the nearby bins before turning to you with a smile brighter than the sun. "What brings you here, dear? My son, perhaps?" She sends you a playful wink and you feel the heat rising to your cheeks at her teasing.
"Not really? I made you guys lunch as thanks for taking care of me so many times." You meekly hold up the familiar wicker basket and Audata's smile melts into something more endearing. "I thought that this was the least I could do… for a friend and his family."
The wicker basket is taken from your hands accompanied by a knowing gaze from Audata, but she doesn't tease you any further. "You're such a sweetheart. I'm sure the meal you've prepared for us is going to be delicious. I'll call my husband inside since he's near, but my son is a bit farther away into the fields. Would you be a dear and call in Phainon for me?"
The trek into the fields of their family farm is a bit daunting; the sun is bright and high enough into the sky to illuminate everything in your path, but the fields seem to be continuously rolling in every direction that you're worried you'll either get lost or not be able to spot your neighbor. Or perhaps it's intimidating because you'll have to see your neighbor, your handsome and charming neighbor that never seems to fail in making your days brighter even through the darkest times in winter.
Is it excitement that's thrumming in your chest? Your stomach is flipping, but you aren't sure of the reason why. Maybe you missed seeing those messy tufts of silver and those beautiful, crystalline eyes that never seem to stop glimmering when looking at you.
Yeah, that's all.
As your eyes scan the field to your left, you're met with a familiar body hunched over green bushes. There's a large wicker basket strapped to his broad back filled to the near brim with orange carrots and a straw hat resting on his head to block the sun from his face. Your heart skips a beat when he stands to his full height; a loose gray-ish shirt cut off at the sleeves that allowed his built arms to be on display, the collar of said shirt dips low enough to show his collarbone and the muscular chest that teases you just enough, and his blue eyes hazy from the labor and heat of being on the field. His tattoos, a golden sun on the base of his neck and shoulder and a ring that crosses his chest, shine in the sun, almost as if his skin was inked with the golden ichor of the gods.
A gloved hand reaches for his collar, pulling it up to wipe away the sweat accumulating on his face and you catch a glimpse of his navel; small tufts of white peek through for just a moment before his shirt falls again and you're met with those familiar, those gorgeous seas of blue as they twinkle like sunlight reflected off of the sea at the mere sight of you.
"Neighbor!" Phainon calls out to you with a boyish grin spreading across his lips. You've seen this cute smile one too many times; you've grown used to his charms and how he seems to get even prettier with the sun shining on him directly. But seeing such a sweet smile in contrast to the appearance of his body stirs your heart in a way that you can't quite determine whether or not feels good.
Your scrambled thoughts are quickly shooed away as your neighbor saunters over to you. With every step he takes, his sculpted body and sweat-stained skin are even more prominent and you send a quick prayer to Kephale in hopes of keeping a sane disposition in front of him.
The shade of his straw hat cannot hide the excitement of seeing you on Phainon's face—if he had a tail like Snowy you're sure it would be wagging so hard that it would be sore tomorrow. Upon closer inspection, you notice some streaks of dirt on his face. He must've made the mess from wiping away his sweat throughout the day.
You pull out a small, folded cloth from your pocket and hold it out to him; a small blue handkerchief with a small purple dromas embroidered into the corner. Phainon peers at down at it with curiosity before he leans down closer to your height, to your surprise.
"What brings you here?" Phainon asks, closing his eyes with a flutter of his white eyelashes. They're long and beautiful, much to your dismay—must he always be blessed in every which way? You slowly unravel the small handkerchief from your hands and reach over to gently wipe away the sweat dripping from his forehead and the dirt smeared across his cheeks.
His face is soft under your touch—a contrast to the roughness of his hands, you mentally note. With every graze of your fingers against his skin, Phainon leans closer to your touch.
"I-" You begin, but your voice cracks from the nerves threatening to leap out of your skin. You clear your throat and try your best to ignore the heat spreading from your chest to the tips of your trembling fingers. His eyes open; he's already peering down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling as an affectionate smile sprawls across his lips and the handkerchief nearly slips from your fingers.
He's looking at you like you hold the life of the planet in your hands and your heart thumps against your chest, threatening to leap out the longer you bask in Phainon's warmth. Can he hear the simple beating of your heart? You hope not.
"You…?" He trails after you, no hint of pulling away from your hands that rest comfortably on his cheeks. If anything, he looks right at home resting in the palm of your hands with his beautiful blue eyes twinkling with nothing but mirth at the mere sight of you. The corners of his eyes crinkle a bit more and he scrunches his nose in response to your eyes trailing on his visage; cute, but you don't tell him that,
"I brought some lunch over. Your mother told me to call you in to eat together."
His smile seems to grow at your news. "Will you be joining us for a meal?"
"I only made enough for you all. Besides, I've already eaten lunch before heading over here. I couldn't possibly stay for more than I need to," you explain.
"Aw, shucks. That's unfortunate. You'll break my ma's heart…" Phainon's expression seemingly falls, the metaphorical ears and tail that were upright and wagging before now drooping as his expression melts into something more pitiful. With his face still in the palm of your hands, it's dastardly how a mere pout from him could tug at your heartstrings in such a way.
With a heavy sigh, your shoulders slump in defeat and you don't even need to look at Phainon's expression to know he's perking up at your demeanor. Your finger and thumb pinch at his cheek, his punishment for taking advantage of his mother and himself to manipulate you into whatever he wants to do. "Fine, but only this once."
"You said that the last fifty times we've invited you to a meal at- Ouch!"
You're already walking away from your neighbor at this point, escaping his teasing words by creating some physical distance. But his feet carry him right by your side in a few easy strides like they always do.
—
Aedes Elysiae seems to be bursting with life as Anthos Day, the day celebrating the Spring Solstice, looms just beyond the corner. The children eagerly whisper to one another as the hours of light begin to get longer and the season begins to warm; allowing for more playtime in the evening before the sun sets to signal the end of the day. The elderly talk amongst themselves, brainstorming of what dishes to bring to celebrate Anthos Day and share with the other townsfolk; your ears perk whenever someone mentions something that piques your appetite and you send a silent prayer that they follow through with their promises.
The younger adults are busy with their own harvests as well, preparing the most bountiful crops and animal products to share with others or flowers to decorate the quaint village with. There are eager teens helping their parents paint eggshells for the annual egg hunt hosted for the youth; the bright pastels of each painted shell are decorated with delicate designs and soft palettes and you take a mental note to snatch at least one during the hunt.
The morning is cool, but the rising sun encases Aedes Elysiae in its creeping warmth as a new dawn begins. Birds begin to wake with a song to greet the break of day with the gentle waves rolling along the shorelines of your small town as the harmony supporting their interwoven melody of chirps and tweets.
Phainon is sitting beside you, his knee bumping into yours occasionally as the two of you hunch over your kitchen table. The white and blue gingham tablecloth is littered with various wildflowers and golden stalks of wheat which would occasionally be picked up by deft or unskilled fingers alike. As the season of Spring makes its grand appearance in Aedes Elysiae, it's tradition for wreaths of flowers or wheat alike to be adorned by all in celebration of Anthos day.
Your fingers aren't as adept to weaving strands of plants together as your neighbor is, even with his careful advice and guidance, your wreath isn't as… grandiose as you would like it to be. With the flower stems weakly braided into place and empty patches scattered here and there, your wreath looks more like… a sad, rope of flowers tied together with a knot, especially in comparison to the beautiful golden wreath that Phainon has woven in the midst of your pleasant conversation from earlier.
You try not to bring any attention to your little attempt at weaving, but your silence from the conversation is enough for your neighbor to notice. As blue eyes peer down at your lap, a sympathetic smile grows on his lips.
"You're… not quite good at this, are you?" There's a playful lilt in his tone and usually you would attempt to fire back anything in response, but the embarrassment of your limp and measly wreath overpowers the need to punch him.
"I mean… I tried? Maybe I'm just not built for this. I could always buy one-"
"Hey, come on now. You shouldn't give up just like that," Phainon interjects with a gentle tone. All playfulness has melted away into something much more tender and caring as he scoots his chair a little closer to you. "Here, I'll help you. See this? You'll have to make a knot here and then loop it…"
Phainon's fingers have taken a hold of your flimsy wreath, gently weaving and braiding the flower stems into the correct way in order for the wreath to form and take shape. They lightly brush against yours as he guides your own fingers to follow his directions. Although his teaching is clear and concise and with the additional hands-on learning, you're sure to get the weaving by the end of it. The only issue is…
You're aware of his proximity to you; how close his body is to yours, his rough fingertips grazing along your skin as the wreath slowly gets braided, his warmth seeping into you as his thigh presses against yours. The smell of fresh laundry, the sea breeze, and light, clean citrus intermingle with your senses and it's all you can think about as your neighbor's arm brushes against your own.
His voice is gentle, so sweet and calming, as he instructs you through the process of weaving a wreath and you find it almost addicting to listen to. Not that he didn't have a nice voice until now it's just… maybe it was the changing of seasons that's affecting your hearing and your senses.
Phainon is just a friend, after all. A friend who happens to be so kind to you and be attractive both in physical appearance and in regards to personality.
Honestly, the old grannies of Aedes Elysiae were right in their desire to have him as their future grandson-in-law; he's always so helpful to the community in this small village. Even when he's playing hooky with his parents, he would never turn his back to the people around Aedes Elysiae that need his help. He's never far behind in aiding the older women carry their groceries or harvests back home or playing with the cheerful children running amok along the dirt roads.
It just so happens to be that he's charming in his appearance too.
You wonder what his future partner would be like; would they get along with his family as well? Would they be just as beloved in this small village as he is? Would he be showing the affection that he shares with you to them as well? Or perhaps he would stop it with you altogether so that they wouldn't feel weird about your relationship? Would they also share meals with his family and be invited over for meals? Would they get to see the cute smile Phainon always shares with you when he meets their eyes?
Would he stop being your friend if they asked him to?
You know that wouldn't be the case; Phainon isn't one to ditch his friends for a loved one. At least… you hope that he isn't.
The thought of being distant with your dear friend because of a future significant other pains you, the thought of no longer being welcome to his family alone strikes your heart with a grief you didn't know could hit you.
"You listening, neighbor?"
Yet, when Phainon calls your name to bring your attention back to the importance of weaving wreaths, the anxieties eating away at your mind seem to ebb away. Like a lighthouse guiding the ships to the safety of their docks, Phainon has become your safe haven. You didn't realize how much he affected you and your daily life.
Just a call of your name and suddenly the fog of winter has cleared and spring has emerged to guide you to its warmth.
"Y-yeah, I am."
The wreath of flowers have come to fruition with the aid of Phainon and the colorful blooms are so beautiful woven into one another. If you had compared it to the flimsy one you had made earlier, you wouldn't have believed that that turned into something so pretty.
"I can't believe we made this…" You whisper in disbelief, holding up the braided flora in your hands. Phainon chuckles softly, a large hand holds onto your wrist so can he gently push the wreath away so he could see you. Twinkling sapphires meet your own, playful mirth swimming in every hue as the corners of his eyes crinkle with his beaming smile.
"No, you made this all on your own. I just helped you a little bit." His voice is just as warm as he is, like the sun had melted away into one with his soul. You wonder if he would entertain you if you told him that you'd want to listen to it forever.
"Oh, please. I couldn't have done this without you, Phainon," You counter back with a quiet laugh. The morning sun's rays shine through the window, casting a bright and homey glow into your kitchen. The blues and yellows of the flowers of your wreath pair well together; they remind you of someone. Blue like the vast ocean that holds the world's beauty in every wave and yellow like the golden sea of wheat that billow in the wind; each a reminder of your new life built in this small fishing village that you never would've expected to love so much.
Blue and yellow, like the wildflowers that grow on the grassy meadows near the forest bordering Aedes Elysiae—forget-me-nots, as Phainon had once told you before—and the ones woven into your beautiful wreath. Remembrance and connection.
Blue and yellow, like the colors that always bring you to peace. Blue and yellow, like Phainon.
Your hands raise the wreath once more, high enough to reach over your neighbor's head until it's placed gently on top a sea of fluffy white hair. Your fingers brush against the tufts; soft, just like Snowy's. He's looking at you with wide eyes, surprise etched into his expression and the softest dust of pink along the tips of his ears—was it getting warmer already? He looks like a prince of the forest with the braided wildflowers on his head; the perfect example of elegant beauty, a person blessed by the gods.
"But if this is all mine, then allow me to gift this beautiful wreath to someone worthy enough for it."
Phainon chuckles at your words, light and airy, before he lifts his own golden wreath. The stalks of wheat rest on your ears as his fingers gently place them down, calloused fingers softly brushing against the side of your cheek as he pulls away from your face. "Then, allow me to do the same."
With a bright smile, you spritely turn your head from side to side to model the golden wreath sitting on top of your ears.
"What do you think? Won't we be a pretty sight at the festival with these?"
"Yeah."
His breathy, quiet response to your playful question catches you off guard. Your eyes flit up to meet his and you're met face to face with the most tender expression Phainon has ever given you. His eyes are half lidded, smile barely curled up into something sweet, and, with the sunlight hitting him at just the right spot, he's glowing with something you can't quite put your finger on. He's made of starlight, and you fear you've become addicted to the warmth of his radiance.
As his eyes, that beautiful shade of blue that you've come to find your solace in, gleam at the sight of his golden wreath of wheat stalks shining brilliantly in your hair, you've come to a realization all on your own.
You like Phainon. You like him a lot.
—
You aren't exactly quite sure how you got here adorning a pair of borrowed overalls and some worn out boots as you crouch down in the golden grass. The woven straw hat sitting on top of your head blends you in with the surrounding flora and your slow movements could hardly be heard through the hot breeze that sifts through the field of grass.
Well… Correction. You do know how you got here. One cute neighbor requesting your help and taking advantage of his pretty face; how could you ever turn him down? Maybe you've grown too much of a soft spot for him. Who knows what kind of shenanigans he'll get you to do, like hunting down the baby chicks that happened to escape the coop right before the sun has set. Luckily, by the time you've got there, Hieronymus had managed to capture some of the little rascals.
Chirp.
Chirp. Chirp. Tweet.
The sound of tiny, little tweets catches your attention and your head snaps to your right. A handful of small, plump feathery chicks are bundled up beside one another hidden beside stalks of golden grass. It seems like a majority of the missing ones are here, thank goodness. But figuring out how to snag all of them without losing sight of any…
You inch closer, careful not to make any sounds or sudden movements. A hand slowly reaches outward with fingers stretched to hopefully scoop them all in one go and-
"Hey! Get back here!" You exclaim as you lunge forward. Two chicks have successfully been captured, but the other two have scattered off in two different directions. The captured duo seem to chirp and squirm within your grip and luckily the pocket in your overalls is deep enough to comfortably hold them so your hands could remain free.
Quick on your feet, you dash towards the escaping babies with clumsy grace; your city body isn't quite used to running around in boots and trampling through golden grass but here you are doing so anyways.
The chicks are faster and much more agile than you are clunking around in clothes you're unfamiliar with. But, thankfully, you've outsmart the young chicks and with one more jump forward, you've collapsed to the ground with heavy breaths, the remaining baby chicks squirming in your hands and the other two chirping incessantly in your front pocket.
Phainon greets you with a whistle as you return to the coop all rustled up; four baby chicks tweet and wiggle and writhe in your pocket. There's a smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips and his eyes rake over your body to take in every detail—your hair is a mess, there's dirt everywhere on your clothes, and you're sweating profusely from chasing around little chicks amidst the farm. Truly, you're the definition of beauty and grace at this very moment.
"Babies gave you a rough time, neighbor?" Phainon teases you, following your movements as you trudge forward and drop off the little fluff balls into the coop. They chirp incessantly before huddling into their mother's bosom after a shrill squawk.
"Yeah, all thanks to you," You grumble. You wipe away at the sweat on your forehead with your arm, causing a small chuckle to arise from the man beside you.
"Here, you're making a mess of yourself." A familiar small, blue handkerchief with a purple dromas embroidered in the corner is handed to you; correction, your own handkerchief is handed to you.
You take it, narrowing your eyes at the grinning man before you. "I was wondering where that went. You stole it from me?"
"More like keeping it clean and safe for you," He says with a simple shrug of his shoulders. "You're welcome, by the way."
It smells like him, you notice as you unfold the little handkerchief and hold it to your face—the all too intimate scent of ocean breeze, clean linen, and faint citrus flood your senses as you gently wipe away the sweat and grime of the day off of your face. When you meet his gaze again, he's giving you that look again; his head tilted at a slight angle, eyes softening at the sight of you, and smiling like you have all the answers he has been looking for.
It sends your heart racing.
"You missed a spot, neighbor." Phainon's voice is gentle, tender in all of the right ways as he raises his hand closer to your face. You flinch initially when his finger brushes against your skin, but his warmth is an addictive feeling. Fingers calloused from years of experience working as a farmhand wipe away the remaining dirt from your cheekbone; a delicate touch, as if he were handling the most precious porcelain. "There, pretty as always."
His words strike a chord within you, one so consonant that the overtones ring through every part of your heart. His compliment is small and yet your chest is so light, it feels like you could fly.
"So you think I'm pretty?" You jest, a feeble attempt at calming your nerves.
"I do." And he crumbles it all with two simple words. Warmth floods your cheeks, burning you up from the inside. You hope that he's joking, but your heart skips a beat seeing the sincerity gleaming in his eyes. His gaze never leaves yours; if anything, the seem to glow brighter at your reaction to him. His thumb brushes against your cheek again as his palm rests against your jaw to hold it—you can't hide your expression from him now.
"I really do think you're pretty."
"You shouldn't say things like that. People will get the wrong idea." Your gaze falls to anywhere but your neighbor. Phainon can most definitely feel the heat radiating off of your face at this point; your heart is hammering so hard against your chest, carrying the blood to the apples of your cheeks and the tips of your ears. You want to disappear and, at the same time, melt into his touch.
"That I like you?" He asks, a lilt to his voice. "They wouldn't be wrong then."
"Is it okay to kiss you?" Phainon's voice is barely above a whisper, but they're louder and clearer than ever to you. Your eyes finally meet his when he calls your name; endless blue takes your breath away. It's like a melody to your ears the way your name falls so easily from his lips—he has called it countless times but in this very moment it falls with a perfect cadence.
You nod your head.
When his lips finally meet yours… it's honestly quite clumsy. As the nerves eat the both of you alive, Phainon leans in a bit too fast and crashes into your lips. Your noses bump, your teeth clack against each other in an awkward way and, in shock, the both of you pull away with wide eyes and parted lips before hearty laughter fills the space between you two.
"I'm sorry, let me try that again."
His lips press against yours in a sweet, yet simple kiss. It's one that shares the months of yearning shared between the two of you in these months of rebuilding your life in Aedes Elysiae; soft, affectionate, and sentimental. When you begin to pull away, thinking it was over, Phainon's strong arms pull you back in for another kiss. And another, with his confessions of love murmured to you in between each kiss.
A kiss or two to celebrate a new love, and a new beginning.
izzy806
tangentwithtanner
prguitarman
ellievsbear
snowghoul
