Another Glimpse of Us | Phainon x Reader
Summary:
Phainon gets transport into an "Alternate" reality of Amphoreus
Tags: Alternate Universe - College AU, Slow burn, Misunderstandings, Childhood Friends, Mystery, Modern Setting, Reverse Isekai, Third POV, AFAB! Reader, Reader isn't mentally well
Word Count: 4.4k
Multi-chapter fic. Will I keep updating? Idk
Most people often say, "opposites attract." Yet they forget to wonder about how, when two are too much opposites of one another, there is no compatibility to be found, leaving individuals who love too differently to be nothing together.
She remembered sitting on the gym bleachers when they were in elementary school, chin resting on top of her knees. Tiny shoes squeaked on the waxed floor as they played the game, but her gaze was only on Phainon. He wasn't the best player nor the fastest at the time, but when he played, his face shined on the court like the blazing sun—he always knew how to make people look at him.
She wanted that feeling—the one that she saw that day. So, she chased it in her own way with her art. Back then, she didn't know that envy could look so much like admiration.
Over the years, she improved her artistic capabilities. Her room had a paint aroma to it; canvases filled the walls, showing her progress. She also earned numerous accolades: a ribbon from when she earned first place in a local youth art competition, pinned to her bulletin board until it slipped off; a scholarship exhibition in high school—honorable mention, then best in show the following year.
Each time, her parents framed the certificates; each time, teachers would congratulate her; and each time, Phainon would hug her and say, “I'm so proud of you.”
And yet, she felt nothing.
She sat on the edge of the bed, darkness surrounding her. The only light source was the streetlights that reached her bedroom. Her eyes were blank, staring at all of the framed certificates, her achievements. She waited for the warmth, the excitement, the feeling that all of her efforts were worth it. Nothing came. If she had done something different, or if she had just picked anything other than art, would the outcome be different? Would she feel just as much passion as Phainon did?
That summer, she declined all of the art school offers. She took the exams, passed them, and enrolled in pre-med instead. If she wasn't satisfied with anything in art, why would she even continue it? If she isn't passionate about anything, she can at least have a job that can help others.
She barely spoke to Phainon as university was around the corner. She had stayed in her room, her body heavy against the bed, surrounded by piles of rubbish she couldn't be bothered to clean up. He would call and text, even go to her front door but he eventually stopped reaching out when she ignored him time and time again.
When the semester began, they landed at the same university. Though their departments were at opposite ends of the campus, [Name] would see him around; even if the university was large, it didn't mean paths wouldn't cross.
“[Name]?” She heard someone call out to her. She stopped a moment before she turned to see Phainon standing at a distance. His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes softened. He made his way to her. He grabbed her wrist, as if to stop her from ignoring him again.
“Where—where were you all summer? You haven't texted or called. You know you can talk to me, right?” His voice was strained and tight.
“I know.”
“And why haven’t you?”
Because I’m a coward.
She hesitated and said, “I was busy with painting, to add more to my portfolio.”
“But you changed to pre-med.”
It wasn’t a surprise, despite looking rather oblivious—Phainon was always observant. She couldn't suppress the twitch of guilt and shame in her gut.
“I was also studying for the entrance exams. I have to keep my options open.”
It sounded like an obvious excuse to hide the real reason for her avoidance. It was in [Name]’s favor that Phainon didn't call her out on her bullshit right away.
Instead, he let out an exasperated sigh, his hand moving from her wrist onto her hand. “I don't want us to drift apart even more. I’m sorry if I acted irrationally—it’s just that I’m worried.”
[Name] looked down on their hands. His were warm, calloused by the years of dribbling and shooting. She wondered if he could feel how cold hers were.
“You don't need to worry about me.”
“Too late. I already do.” he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “That's kind of what happens when you love and care about someone. You want to make sure they are well and safe.”
Do you really think that way?
“...I'm fine,”
“You're not, though.” He tilted his head, trying to make her look at him. “You won't look at me. You've barely looked at me since we talked.”
She forced herself to meet him. It was a mistake. His eyes were the same as always—bright and filled with unbearable sincerity.
“See?” His voice was soft. “There you are.”
But Phainon knew how to please people, knew how to say the right things. It was almost working. Almost. She knew him long enough to be able to see past it.
“I don't know what you want me to say.”
“The truth would be a good start.”
Her throat tightened. The truth. That she had spent the entire summer hiding, because she was afraid that her ‘passion’ that she strived for almost her whole life wasn't cut out for her? That she'd thrown away not because it was feasible, but because she couldn't stand being mediocre at the one thing she wanted to be great at and that she couldn't feel anything for it.
“I told you,” she pulled back her hands gently, “I was busy.” she stepped away from him.
Phainon’s hand stilled before he let his hands fall to his side. “You were busy. For three months. Too busy for a single text or call.”
“...yes.”
“I used to think you were overwhelmed with university and choosing your career. But now…” he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Now, I think you’re just pushing me away. Did I do something wrong?”
I'm the problem, you're never the problem.
“I wasn't— you didn't—”
“Then prove it.” His voice cracked just slightly. “Talk to me. Please. Just don't say you're busy—I know there's more to it than that.”
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Stuck in her throat. What was she supposed to say? That she envied him? That every accomplishment that he had made her felt worse because she didn't have the same passion as he did? That seeing him knowing what he wants to do makes her feel like an imposter?
“Phainon!” The shout came from across them. “Coach has been waiting for you!”
Her eyes drifted to where the sound came from. He had light strawberry-blond hair with red ends, and he was coming towards them. Mydei.
Phainon didn't turn around immediately. His eyes still locked on [Name]. Searching for something she wasn't sure how to give.
“We’ll continue this later,” He said finally, those were his last words to her before heading to Mydei. He paused after a single step, he looked over his shoulder “Please don't disappear again,”
Then they headed off together. Mydei clapped Phainon's shoulder, muttering something about a tournament, and neither of them said goodbye. She guessed it must've been important then.
She stood there for a while, long after the two had left. Her hands were still shaking a bit. [Name] didn't know why she was so tense over one conversation. But then again, conflict, for her, was a language she never learned to handle—so she answered it only by leaving.
🌆
The conversation didn't continue, much to [name]’s delight. The basketball team had an upcoming tournament—which meant the eventual confrontation was delayed, for now. Knowing Phainon, he wouldn’t let this drag further.
Speaking of him.
A notification appeared on her screen. His name. It had been a while since she last read his messages instead of swiping them away like she had done all summer. This time, she opened it.
The last message that was sent came from her: See you then.
She stared at the three words, she wished she could have said something that felt sincere, something that deserved his patience and kindness. Maybe an apology for her negligence. But she only found herself with flat, washed-out words that could not replicate what she thought of—because [Name] was a painter, not a poet.
Phainon hadn't seen the message, he must've been called to practice. She turned off her phone, slipped it into her bag, locked the doors with her keys, and then headed to class.
🌆
Each footstep that she took echoed through the hallway. It was unusual for her dormitory to be so quiet, she was used to hearing the boisterous voices or ruckus footsteps that would make her head strain. In this moment it felt at peace. Somewhat. But [Name] knew in her experiences—that peace was always followed by conflict.
Her hand had touched the door knob. But every inch that she rotated it felt off. Something felt wrong. Was it the air? It did feel colder than usual. She heard a ruckus inside her dormitory. Did someone break in? She let go of the door knob and was about to grab her phone and contact authorities. Until, she heard a familiar voice. Soft and gentle.
Phainon?
Why was he here? Shouldn't he be in Styxia? Before she could even make the decision of entering or getting help. Someone opened the door.
She had been right, it was Phainon. And yet, it felt like a lie on her tongue. He wasn't wearing his normal casual clothes—his usual disastrous color combinations nor the clothes that his friends pick for him—but some sort of fantasy world cosplay? It was a knight or maybe, an angel. It had scratches and dirt on it, like he actually wore it on a regular basis.
And the height. He was so tall, his head almost bumped the doorframe if he weren't bending slightly. Did he wear platform boots for this cosplay?
[Name]’s eyebrows furrowed, her eyes shifting from his feet to his face. Her mouth slightly opened from shock and wanted to ask so many questions. She saw his eyes visibly soften, like he was relieved maybe. His fingers seemed to twitch as if wanting to reach her, but he stammered.
Though he changed his mind, too desperate or curious. He then grabbed her wrist but he didn't hurt her, it was as if to check her pulse instead of preventing her from ignoring him. His breath hitch, like he had seen a ghost.
“[Name].” His hand squeezed her wrist just slightly like she was gonna disappear at any moment. “Why are you here?”
“Why am I here?” She repeated, “Why are you here? This is my dorm that you broke into!” [Name] hadn't meant to raise her voice but the strangeness of it all startled her.
“I didn't mean to.”
“Oh? So you just so happen to accidentally walk in and snoop through my stuff?”
“I didn't know it was your room.”
“Then how did you get inside then?”
“I…” He faltered, his gaze dropped to where he was holding her wrist. He releases it slowly, almost reluctantly. When he looked up again, his soft and confused expression turned into something practiced.
“Sorry, you're right. That was weird for me.” He stepped back, running his hand through his messy white hair.
[Name] crosses her arms, trying to calm herself down. “Why aren't you in Styxia for your tournament?”
There were a few moments of silence before Phainon spoke out. “Okay, you got me.”
She narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. “Got you how?”
“I wasn't supposed to be back until next week. The tournament ended early. I wanted to surprise you.”
She stared at him. It sounded like he'd do. He was impulsive and compassionate. But… something was off. What kind of tournament just ended early unless it was cancelled or your team lost? And he didn't look upset at all. If anything, he just looks desperate but not for a win.
Even if she wasn't into sports, she had gone to art competitions before. She wasn't completely ignorant—what he said was a lie.
“Then why didn't you just text me? Or knock? Why did you break in?”
“Because I'm an idiot,” he said, his voice was low and warm. The way Phainon always got when he was caught doing something stupid. It was his way of easing someone, charming them to let their guard down. “I lost my keys. And my teleslate died on the way back.”
Teleslate? The word was odd. It was something that would only be used if you got tasked to only speak in old Amphoreus language, but she barely was able to ask more questions before he continued.
“I just wanted to see you. To cheer me up from the awful experience on the way back here.” he took a small step closer. “I wanted to sneak into your room to surprise you… you know, how I used to hide in your room whenever your father would give us a break from how much I cling to you.”
He didn't know if she was exactly like his [Name]. The picture frames on the walls of her room told him that this [Name] had lived a different life, in a place that isn't exactly the Amphoreus that he knows. But she did recognize him. The way she looked at him was the same—albeit more startled. More frightened.
He just hoped that his experiences with his [Name] was the same as this one.
And this could also be an illusion that was built from his memories or perhaps his wish—his wish that she'd be safe in a world where the Titans and the black tide were a distant memory.
But something in him tells him that this was all real.
She stared at him. The tension of her arms didn't relax but it shifted from confusion to something he can't quite name.
“Yeah…” she slowly loosened her arms. “You used to do that. Dad almost caught you too… a lot of times actually,” A pause, her eyes narrowing slightly. “and why are you using an old word like teleslate? Did you bump your head as well on the way back?”
“Something like that,” his laugh, genuine unlike what he has been doing in this whole conversation. It made her heart stammer a bit even with her suspicions. “The trip was longer than I expected. I’m not feeling quite well.”
“Then you should've gone to the nurse's office than ‘surprise’ me here,” she said flatly. “Seriously, I know that you wanted to talk again in person but this is too much even for you.” Stepping back, putting distance between them.
She gestured to her room—The one that he'd manage to break in despite her being sure that she locked everything up with precautions.
“Go to your dorm if you're tired or go to the nurse if you actually are sick. I have a lot going on and I can't deal with whatever this is.”
Phainon didn't move. The playful mask slipped, revealing the exhaustion beneath for once. He really didn't expect her to react this way. He understood why she would—but [Name] wasn't like this. She wouldn't push him away.
“... Right,”
He should go. Every rational part of him knew that. He might say or do something that will make her call security—or worse, make her not trust him forever, tainting his chance with being her again, if this really was [Name].
But his heart and body didn't obey.
“Phainon. I'm serious, you're creeping me out.”
He was making this worse.
“Okay, I'll go.”
He stepped away from her, his eyes darting to the nearest exit. Phainon didn't look back at her. He couldn't. If he saw her again—alive and real. He wouldn't leave.
“I'm glad you're okay,” he said, so quietly she almost didn't hear him. “That's all I ever wanted to see.”
Then he left.
[Name] stood still. Her heart was pounding, she can't tell the reason why. She recalled his last words to her. “I'm glad you're okay” she looked at the opened door of her dorm. Empty.
Why wouldn't she be okay?
She shook her hand, irritated. What was up with Phainon? He was caring and compassionate and the next he was weird, creepy, and a liar.
She was starting to think that the man that she talked to wasn't Phainon.
🌆
Once Phainon stood outside, he knew where he was. The Grove. His eyes flickered to every area in his proximity.
If this was the Grove, and [Name] was here. Professor Anaxa would be here too. He didn't know who else he could trust in this world. This world's Mydei, maybe, but he must be somewhere—Castrum Kremnos, probably—but Phainon needed answers now and not later.
Although some buildings were different, its structure remained unchanged. His feet carried him to a route that wore into his muscle memory. As he passed by students, they whispered something unintelligible but unmistakably about him.
He briefly greeted them with a smile before turning away.
The classroom was mostly the same. Inside, almost everything was right. But as he stepped further in the room and looked more closely at the map on the wall, a cold dread tightened in his gut. The coastline was right—so close that his mind almost accepted it—but the cities were misnamed, misaligned, some missing entirely. The chill spread further down his arms despite the warm afternoon. Focus, he told himself. Everything might be answered if he just found—
His eyes drifted back to the other side of the room and saw someone alone surrounded by the empty desks.
But just like everything else, Professor Anaxa wasn't the one that he knew.
He looked more closely at Anaxa's face, he had no eye patch. His clothes were like the rest of the students here. Only the unkept cascade of long hair and the same blank expression remained, the only thing connecting this stranger to the man he knew.
He had come here for a guide. He'd woken up in an altered version of Amphoreus, he had no context or history to understand it all. But he was certain that something was fractured. If anyone can help him or piece together what this place was, it was the man who had been his mentor for decades.
‘Professor’ Anaxa noticed Phainon, his eyes held no surprise, only annoyance. It was deprived of the unconventional but not unkind challenge Phainon remembered.
“Why are you here again?” The words came flat and unimpressed, “Did [Name] ignore you again? I told you. Stop trying to force a conversation with her if she is clearly uncomfortable with it.”
He had no clue what Anaxa was talking about, he had no memories of talking to him before. But even this scolding gave him an answer. There is another version of him in this mirrored world, and had been making a mess of things.
At least he had some idea on what his other version's relationship with [Name]. Maybe this was the reason why she was shutting him down and distancing herself earlier.
After a long pause, Anaxa sighed and continued with a humorless edge in his voice. “And I finally thought it was over when you said you two talked properly this time.”
Phainon feigned a weary tone. “I know, you're right. I shouldn't have pushed.”
“What did you do this time to make her run from you again?” Anaxa leaned back, crossing his arms. “Did you track her down again? Wait outside her dorm like some tragic stray?”
“I didn't track her down, well I kind of did but I didn't mean to.” Phainon said sheepishly. “I came here to… clear my head. And I thought maybe you could help.”
Anaxa's eyebrows arched. “Help with what, exactly? You've been hearing what I've said to you but never actually listened and understood. You nod, you apologize, try to talk to her, but you go back right where you started. It is a cycle, Phainon.”
A flicker of unease filtered him—distant and yet uncannily familiar. This world's Phainon was trapped too. But according to what Anaxa had said, the difference was, this one built his own cage.
“I don't want it to be a cycle.” Phainon said, choosing his words carefully. “I'm trying to understand. Not just her. Everything here. Can't you feel it too? It feels off, doesn't it?”
Silence filled the room for a few moments. Had he come out as too desperate?
It was a small thing—Anaxa's eyes, which had been half-lidded with boredom, sharpened with interest. Focused. For a moment, he wasn't looking at his “friend” who had been pestering about a girl for the past months but something else entirely. Phainon was different today. Usually, he'd hunch when Anaxa lectured him, like a kicked dog waiting for the next blow. But at this moment, he seemed eerily composed and unaffected. Phainon's eyes kept drifting towards the map on the wall, he had been in this room dozens of times, and yet he was strangely fixated on the map this visit.
Anaxa had an inkling that Phainon wasn't trying to change the topic or distract him this time. He was actually serious.
“Off,” Anaxa repeated. Drawing the word out. He titled his head. “There's not anything that is off here, besides you—especially with that peculiar costume—but I digress.”
A slight smile visible from the corners of Anaxa’s mouth, not with warmth but with fascination. “You said the world feels off, elaborate. What specifically feels wrong?”
Phainon needed to answer carefully, or it might backfire like it did with her. “The Grove,” his hands gesturing towards the outside of the room. “It's the same, but the details are so wrong. Buildings that I don't remember.”
Anaxa didn't reply yet, he only nodded, signalling that Phainon should continue.
“It’s not just that as well. On the map—there's cities that I don't remember and some that I even know are gone. Like someone built everything from a half-remembered dream or mixed up a few things.”
Anaxa didn't waver, “Fascinating. And when did you notice these… discrepancies?”
“Since I got here.”
Anaxa hums. “You’re a freshman who's only been here for what…a few months? The Grove has always been like this since the university's foundation. With a few adjustments last school year, but nothing too major.”
“Unless… you’re referring to the old Amphoreus.”
The old Amphoreus?
Phainon froze and hadn't replied, the only audible response he gave was his breath hitching frantically. His eyes focused on the man standing before him who seemed to be both amused and fed up with him—but nonetheless Anaxa continued the conversation.
“You should know what I mean by that. Either you haven't paid attention to the history of our world since elementary or you have some concussion that you haven't checked out.” he sighed.
Phainon’s mind raced. There weren't any lessons of the ‘old’ Amphoreus when he was still a student in the Grove. He had no idea what it meant. But it was a potential answer for this world.
He was right to go to ‘Professor’ Anaxa.
🌆
[name] had spent the last twenty minutes tearing her dorm apart.
Drawers were open, closet rifled, she even searched under her bed only to find dust. What had Phainon seen? Had he taken something? Had he left something?
Nothing. Everything was still in fact, perfectly still from the moment she left earlier. Her papers, textbooks on the table, and her clothes were still in the closet. The adrenaline drained with a shaky breath. She had no one to go to with this problem, not a single friend. She'd spent the entire semester keeping people at arm's length.
Should have talked to someone. Should have—
Her eyes caught on the wall.
A red cube particle that pulsed against the plaster. like a dying heartbeat, like an infection inflicting the paint. There was a distortion surrounding it faintly. It radiated heat despite the room being cold.
She should have been afraid. Instead, she felt a numbing curiosity made her get closer. Her hand lifted, her fingers brushed the cube.
Her hand fractured.
There was pain. Her skin broke into a cascade of red geometric shapes, her fingers visible through the distortion, glitching in and out like a corrupted video. She snatched her hand back with a shout, cradling her hand against her chest. The glitching stopped, her hand whole again.
“What the fuck—”
The red cubes shrank, it contracted itself until there was nothing left. The wall was blank. She started at the spot where it had been. Slowly cautiously, she reached out pressing her fingers ever so slightly against the plaster. Nothing happened. It was normal.
It reminded her of the countless history lessons, the history that was driven into people’s memory. The black tide. It was one of the most prominent problems in the old Amphoreus. it consumed everything it touched, that spread across lands, corrupted people, ending people's lives.
Phainon had been in this room. Had he brought it with him? He was strange the moment that [Name] saw him—clothes that he usually would not wear, behavior that was too off to be the old friend she had spent decades with. Maybe she had been right. That hadn't been the Phainon that she knew.
What, then? A shape shifter? A simulation? No, she could remember the grip that he had on her wrist. The read particle though—that was something else. It didn't belong here just like the ‘Phainon’ she met earlier. And if he had brought it here, then he had answers.
She would have to confront him. It was the only way to understand.