ㅡThe Hero Who Could Face Titans Couldn't Handle a Little Flirting
✑ Happy Phainon Month! I've got lots of stuff here for Phainon. Can you believe something could surpass my love for Chung Myung and Rafayel but here he was, Phainon in all his glory. I was inspired by Robin's SP and Aventurine's SP! I love the summer vibe and I want to see Phainon experience the beach too....(ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿) no smut but you all would be spoiled by khaslana not today but soon (❦ ᴗ ❦ ✿)
✿ warning/s: fluff, angst (just a pinch hehe), kind of suggestive but not too much, established relationship, can be served as post-ampho if you want, no major spoilers, flirting, puppynon is here, reader has a game and phainon is losing his mind, he is also shy, we can admire his muscular form, hoyo give us another shot of his abs (◕ᴗ◕✿), phainon and reader is bully for each other, phainon just love to tease, picture not mine it’s from lightcone a dream scented in wheat, let me know if i missed something!
✿ character/s: phainon, fem! reader
"Hello, miss."
The voice arrived before the man did. It was warm, smooth, carrying the sort of confidence that sounded rehearsed in front of a mirror or perhaps, countless mental preparation.
The afternoon sun blazed mercilessly over the shoreline, turning the sea into a sheet of liquid sapphire and convincing half the resort to surrender beneath umbrellas instead of challenging heatstroke.
Fortunately, you'd made the wiser decision in nestling comfortably beneath the shade of a woven parasol, you lounged against the beach chair with a chilled drink in hand, the condensation slipping lazily down the glass while a slice of orange bobbed with every absentminded swirl of your straw. The salty breeze tugged gently at the shawl draped over your shoulders, carrying the scent of the ocean and distant grilled seafood and for the first time all day, doing absolutely nothing felt like an accomplishment worth celebrating.
Then a shadow drifted over you.
Not the ominous kind, of course. It’s one you’re familiar with, funny enough.
Phainon stopped beside your chair with suspiciously impeccable timing, just enough to spare your eyes from the relentless sunlight. He leaned down ever so slightly, looking every bit like the mysterious traveler who'd wandered straight out of a romance novel and onto the resort's private beach.
That was clearly the image he was aiming for.
His gaze settled on you, lingering for a heartbeat longer than he'd probably intended. The ocean breeze traced the silhouette of your one-piece swimsuit beneath the light shawl, strands of your hair dancing against your cheeks while your attention remained stubbornly devoted to your drink. Somewhere between the sparkling waves and your unbothered expression, his carefully memorized opening lines quietly packed their bags and vacated his mind.
Phainon caught himself wondering, rather inconveniently, whether you'd always looked this breathtaking beneath the sun or if the seaside had decided to conspire against him today.
The light spilling through the woven canopy painted shifting patterns across your features and the chilled glass resting so casually in your hand completed a picture so effortlessly serene that, for one dangerously long heartbeat, he forgot he was supposed to be playing the role of a charming stranger. It wasn't fair, really. A game was difficult to win when your opponent had the unfair advantage of simply existing.
For his pride, Phainon recovered before the silence stretched into something suspicious. The word recover is too generous. It’s much closer to the stubborn resolve of a man who refused to lose a game the two of you had enthusiastically agreed to barely five minutes earlier. If this little challenge was meant to test who could stay in character the longest, then he intended to see it through to the bitter end even if the first obstacle he'd encountered was realizing that his urge to shower you with affection, words or not, is harder than expected.
A smile settled easily onto his face, the kind that was practiced enough to look effortless. He slipped one hand into his pocket while the other gestured toward the empty beach chair beside yours.
"Mind if I join you?" The invitation rolled off his tongue with practiced ease, polished enough that he'd have confidently awarded himself full marks the moment the words left his mouth. It was the sort of line he'd encountered countless times while leafing through the romance novels you were so fond of — stories he'd casually borrowed out of sheer curiosity and absolutely not because he wanted to understand what made you laugh, sigh, or shake your head at fictional heroes.
If those paper-thin charmers could sweep their heroines off their feet with a single sentence, then surely this was a respectable opening. Simple, refined, pleasantly mysterious. In his mind, the imaginary narrator was already applauding his entrance. All that remained was for his leading lady to follow the script.
Your response, however, was another leisurely sip from your drink. The tiny paper umbrella bobbed. The citrus slice floated innocently. Somewhere, a gull screeched into the awkward silence as if narrating his defeat.
Phainon narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly.
There it was again. Somehow, despite making a rather dramatic entrance worthy of every romance serial ever penned, he was once more competing with your beverage.
Honestly, he should've expected this. It wasn't exactly unfamiliar territory. Whether it was a fascinating book, an artisan's trinket at the market, a particularly fluffy chimera wandering through the streets, or apparently a glass of iced citrus, your attention had an uncanny talent for wandering somewhere other than him.
Most people would've accepted that with quiet grace and moved on. Phainon had never been particularly gifted at backing down, especially not from a challenge as harmless as this. Behind his easy smile, a familiar spark of quiet competitiveness began to stir.
This is the opponent today, he sensed. That drink.
You finally turned your head toward him, meeting his gaze over the rim of your glass. The corner of your mouth curved ever so slightly, betraying that familiar glimmer of mischief. "If I say no?"
The question landed like a pebble tossed into calm water, sending ripples through his carefully maintained composure. For the briefest moment, he looked genuinely thoughtful.
"...Then," he said after a beat, a laugh threatening the edges of his voice, "I'd have to spend the rest of the afternoon convincing you to change your mind."
His smile deepened, easy and disarmingly patient. “I also think I'm fairly persistent."
The remark only held the quiet certainty of someone who clearly intended to make good on the promise.
"If you say no," Phainon mused, "then I'll simply have to remind you that this is a public beach."
With the confidence of someone presenting an airtight legal argument, he lowered himself into the empty chair beside yours, looking entirely too pleased with himself. The chair creaked softly beneath his weight before settling as he leaned back as though he'd been entitled to that spot from the very beginning.
"You know," he added, sounding far too satisfied, "I believe that means I have every right to sit here."
You stared at him. It wasn't that you'd admitted defeat in this banter.
It was just simply difficult to think of a rebuttal when he looked so absurdly invested in this ridiculous little game, the unmistakable excitement sparkling in his eyes every time you entertained his antics. There was an almost boyish eagerness hidden beneath his composed smile, as if he'd been waiting all morning for the chance to test every line he'd painstakingly prepared. Denying him now felt less like winning and more like telling an enthusiastic actor the play had been canceled halfway through the first act.
"Fine," you conceded with a tiny shrug, lifting your drink again. "Let’s say that chair near me is public property."
"Exactly."
The victory came far too easily.
Phainon settled deeper into the chair. The sea breeze wandered through his pale hair, leaving several rebellious strands dancing across his forehead before the wind swept them back again. With the afternoon sun pouring across the shoreline, it should've been impossible for anyone to stand out against such dazzling scenery — Unfairly, he did.
Perhaps it was the easy way he carried himself, shoulders broad and relaxed or the effortless confidence that came from wearing far less than his usual layers. The fitted swim trunks left little to the imagination, exposing sun-kissed skin, muscled arms and the unmistakable definition earned through years of relentless training. Every shift in posture drew quiet attention to muscles that moved with casual grace instead of deliberate display.
For someone whose very existence seemed destined to belong to the dawn, Phainon looked suspiciously at home beneath the blazing sky — as if the sun had wandered down from the heavens, decided mortal life sounded interesting today and chose the seat beside you for its first vacation.
A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the rhythmic hush of waves folding onto the shore and the distant laughter of other visitors. Phainon leaned back, eyes wandering toward the endless stretch of glittering sea with such convincing leisure.
The illusion lasted all of three seconds before his hand wandered casually across the space between your chairs. By the time your brain caught up to what was happening, your sunglasses had vanished from your face and found a brand-new owner. Phainon settled them neatly over his own eyes, adjusting the frame with infuriating satisfaction before turning to you. The grin tugging at his lips wasn't merely smug — it was the unmistakable expression of a man who believed borrowing someone else's sunglasses was an undeniable display of charm. It’s now a public property if you use his logic. How infuriating.
"Okay," you said slowly, lips twitching into an amused smile as you looked at the shameless culprit currently wearing your sunglasses. "You mean bully."
Phainon's grin only widened.
"I'll show you how to charm a person."
He lifted a brow. "Oh?"
You didn't answer. Instead, you rose from the beach chair, setting your half-finished citrus drink onto the little table between the loungers. The breeze immediately welcomed your movement, catching the ends of your shawl until it billowed behind you like a soft banner, fluttering against the backdrop of glittering waves. Without another word, you strolled away.
Phainon watched you go. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his conscience politely reminded him that prolonged staring was generally frowned upon as he took the abandoned drink sitting innocently on the table.
You'd wandered a respectable distance away before turning on your heel. The moment your eyes landed on him again, something subtly shifted.
Gone was the amused beautiful lady lounging beneath the umbrella.
Now you wore the expression of someone whose attention had just been stolen by an unexpectedly handsome stranger relaxing alone by the sea.
You approached at an easy pace, each step was careful against the sand, your gaze roaming over him with open curiosity. It was not hurried, not embarrassed but thoughtfully appreciative in a way that made his pulse skip for reasons he didn't wish to examine too closely.
So you were really committing to the role. Watching you saunter toward him with the same effortless confidence he'd tried to pull off barely five minutes ago, Phainon was abruptly forced to witness his own antics from the receiving end and, to his horrifying realization, he realized he had looked exactly nothing like this.
By the time you reached him, he was already sitting a little straighter.
Without asking like he did earlier, you lowered yourself onto the edge of his lounger instead of your own, close enough that your hip bumped lightly against his. The contact was brief, barely there and it’s enough to make his entire body tense a bit.
You leaned toward him, bright and faux innocent. "Why, hello there, handsome. Are you alone?"
Phainon froze mid-sip. The citrus drink never quite made it down properly, leaving him to cough once into his fist while trying and failing to remember how swallowing worked. His throat suddenly felt impossibly dry despite the drink and warmth rushed uninvited from the back of his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. When he finally looked at you, his eyes were wide in panic.
You waited for his response.
Phainon stared.
The corners of your lips curled higher. "Hello~?"
The playful sing-song finally jolted him back to earth.
You were close. Far too close. Close enough that the faint scent of sunscreen mingled with the salty breeze, close enough for sunlight to catch the tiny flecks dancing in your eyes, close enough that he could no longer remember why he'd ever believed this game favored him in the first place.
"Hi," he said, only to hear his own voice leap several notes higher than intended. He hastily cleared his throat, pretending that had absolutely not happened. "I mean... hey."
You couldn't stop the quiet laugh escaping you.
He rubbed the back of his neck then awkwardly busied his hands with the hem of his swim shorts, suddenly finding the stitching immensely fascinating. The confident beach charmer who'd stolen your sunglasses mere moments ago had vanished without a trace, replaced by someone who looked like compliments alone were enough to short-circuit his entire nervous system. With how he’s acting right now, maybe you’re not that far from the truth.
"You should speak more often," you said, your voice warm with exaggerated sincerity. "Your voice is very pleasing to listen to."
Phainon visibly malfunctioned. "Wha—! O-Oh.."
It was almost impressive how effortlessly a single compliment had unraveled him. Watching the color continue to bloom across his face, you nearly felt a twinge of sympathy for the poor hero. Tilting your head, your smile softened into something brighter, equal parts sweet and dangerously mischievous. "Would you like to talk a little more?"
"Yeah," he answered far too quickly, the word tumbling out before his brain had the chance to approve it. He visibly winced at himself, cleared his throat for what felt like the tenth time that afternoon and tried again with considerably more dignity. "I mean... yes. Sure." After a brief pause, as though remembering basic manners had just returned to him, he added softly, "Please."
Every attempt at recovering only seemed to make him sound more earnest than before. Somewhere along the way he'd leaned a little closer without realizing it, his attention fixed on you with the earnestness of an oversized puppy convinced it had finally earned praise.
The silly wager between the two of you had long since slipped from his mind.
Ice cream? What ice cream?
A pleased smile tugged at your lips as your eyes drifted toward his arm, acting you'd only just noticed it for the first time. Your fingertips came to rest lightly against his bicep, giving it an experimental squeeze that made the firm muscle flex beneath your touch.
"My," you murmured, sounding genuinely impressed as your eyes flickered back up to his. "Do you work out often or is this from labor?"
Your hand lingered for just a moment longer, tracing the outline of his arm with innocent admiration before you added, "Your muscles are amazing."
The compliment left your lips with such effortless sincerity that Phainon's entire train of thought quietly derailed. His gaze instinctively dropped to the hand resting on his arm, staring at it like it had suddenly become an unidentified phenomenon worthy of scholarly research. "I...Uh..."
His mind, usually dependable enough to solve problems far more complicated than this, abandoned every coherent thought in favor of a single, embarrassingly loud realization that you’re touching him. The thought echoed through his head with all the grace of a temple bell. "A little of both," he finally answered after what felt like an entire amber era had passed. "I lift sometimes and help out on my parents' farm."
It was, objectively speaking, a perfectly normal response — miraculously assembled by a man whose higher cognitive functions had temporarily clocked out the moment your fingers found his bicep.
He looked at you with dazed admiration. Whatever clever lines he'd painstakingly prepared had long since dissolved beneath the warmth of your praise.
He is done for.
Still hopelessly adrift in that pleasant haze, Phainon's hand lifted almost on its own. Hesitant at first, his fingertips brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face, tucking it carefully behind your ear as though afraid the breeze might steal it back. His hand lingered there for a quiet heartbeat before his palm settled gently against your cheek.
He searched your eyes.
The game had slipped away without either of you noticing.
Drawn by instinct more than courage, he leaned forward until the distance between you disappeared, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips — sweet, unhurried, and absent of any theatrical charm. It wasn't the kiss of a mysterious stranger on a beach.
It was unmistakably Phainon, your lover.
When the kiss finally broke, neither of you moved very far. The waves continued their steady rhythm against the shore, the breeze teasing loose strands of your hair as Phainon lingered close enough for his forehead to nearly brush yours. He looked pleased with himself, his expression soft and a little dazed.
You smiled and your smile grew just a little more smug. “I won.”
"...Oh." Phainon’s eyes are wide.
You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you as realization washed over his face in painfully slow succession. All afternoon he'd been so thoroughly swept up in your relentless counterattack that the original challenge, the one he'd confidently accepted with promises of smooth flirting and an ice cream wager are gone in his mind.
You folded your arms with exaggerated satisfaction.
Phainon stared at you for exactly two seconds before letting out a helpless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with the sheepish smile of a man who had, beyond any reasonable doubt, been completely and utterly outplayed. He slipped his hand into yours without another complaint as he rose from the lounge.
“I suppose," he said with the resignation of a man happily accepting his fate, "I'll have to buy my champion the biggest ice cream the store have."
"And?"
"And..." He squeezed your hand. "Maybe let you steal a few bites of mine."
You nodded in satisfaction. "Now that's how you charm a person.”
ʚɞ It's just like seeing her for the first time again ʚɞ
⚘ Pairings: Phainon/Khaslana x Reader
⚘ Summery: With the Era Nova completed, your beloved Phainon has long taken the role of Worldbearing Titan, now bearing the name 'Khaslana'. Even so, neither of you have refused to forget each other. And now, as you visit the Titan with the Tribios, you find yourself in a troublesome situation with a slumbering god.
⚘ Tags: Fluff, canon divergent, Titan!Phainon, the Era Nova is true in this AU so all the Chrysos Heirs are now Titans, fuck Lygus, established relationship, basically Phainon being lovesick while bearing the Dawn Device and everything, #ilovemywife
⚘ Word count: 1k
⚘ A/N: Happy anniversary to Phainon and this blog, it changed my life, so have this slop i miss him so much omfg
Beneath the Dawn Device’s unwavering radiance lies a bustling Okhema. Action-Hour has just begun, and the merchants alongside the shopkeepers waste no time in opening their stalls, their voices already rising into the morning air. Bright fabrics are unfurled, polished wares arranged with care, and the scent of warm food drifts lazily through the streets.
Children’s laughter rings clear as they gather beneath Aglaea’s golden thread woven high above, daring one another to leap higher, to reach closer, as though they might grasp divinity itself. And between it all, the little Tribios flit through the streets like fragments of light—tiny, radiant guides leading humanity gently toward its countless destinations.
“Snowy, wake up!” Tribbie calls, her voice bright and insistent as it echoes toward the slumbering god before her. Behind her linger Trianne and Trinnon—the remaining fragments of the Passage Titan—quiet yet watchful, their presence carrying a weight far older than the lively city below.
Beside them stands you—Trianne’s so-called 'Worldbearing Star'. A title you have protested more times than you can count, one that feels far too grand, far too misplaced upon your shoulders. Yet they insist. To Trinnon’s logic, if the Worldbearing Titan himself bears Amphoreus upon his existence, then it is only fitting that his beloved be the guiding star that walks beside him through every phase—life, death, and all that lingers in between.
However, Khaslana does not stir at Tribbie’s call. He remains as he is—motionless, unbothered, slumbering like an ancient monument carved into existence. One pair of his arms continues to uphold the Dawn Device, unwavering even in sleep, as though such a burden has long since become second nature. You would argue it is a habit inherited from his human self. Despite being a tireless Flame-Chaser in the past, Phainon had never once passed up an opportunity to rest when it presented itself—and it seems even ascension has not rid him of that trait.
Tribbie glances toward you with a look that can only be described as troublesome, mischief and mild exasperation mingling in her expression. Beside her, Trianne looks far less amused—her posture already stiffening, as though preparing to scold the Titan himself. Truly, such laziness does not suit the Worldbearing Titan… at least, not in her eyes.
“Wake up, Snowy. We have a guest,” Trinnon tries again, her voice calm and measured, carrying a gentler authority.
It proves just as futile.
Tribbie sighs, long and dramatic, as Khaslana remains entirely unresponsive. You consider stepping in—suggesting that perhaps they should try again later, that there is no need to force themselves to wake him from such a deep slumber.
But of course, they are stubborn.
Trianne floats forward, drawing in a breath until her chest rises with the effort. “Little [Name] has come to visit you, Snowy!!” she calls out, her voice ringing with half her strength, determined to pierce through the thick veil of his sleep.
For a moment, the attempt crosses the possibility of a failure. Then—at last—one golden eye flutters open.
Relief ripples instantly through the fragments of the Passage Titan, their tension easing as Khaslana slowly begins to wake. His other eye follows, heavy with lingering drowsiness, and the Tribios collectively release soft sighs of triumph. Beside them, you cannot help the quiet chuckle that escapes you, light and unrestrained.
Where others might tremble before the Worldbearing Titan, you find yourself laughing more freely than anyone.
Khaslana lifts his head, the motion slow but effortless, his awareness settling over the scene before him. For a being of such scale, such ancient weight, he has retained an almost startling amount of his humanity. And the moment his gaze finds you—truly finds you—his expression softens, brightening into something unmistakably warm.
“Oh,” he hums, voice still touched with sleep, “I have four lovely guests.”
His gaze drifts over the group, but it does not linger long on the others. Inevitably, inevitably, it returns to you—carrying something quieter, something unspoken, as though the rest of his sentence exists only in the space between you both.
And you are the loveliest of all.
Trianne huffs, clearly irritated, though it is a fleeting thing—one that will undoubtedly fade within minutes. “We may be lovely,” she snaps, “but you certainly weren’t, with the way you were sleeping!”
A soft laugh escapes Khaslana, low and unbothered, as he tilts his head slightly to better observe the four of you. There is amusement in his gaze, gentle and unguarded—until Trianne fixes him with what is meant to be a warning glare. In practice, it resembles more a child’s attempt at intimidation than anything truly threatening.
Before he can respond, she turns sharply and flies off, her indignation carrying her forward. Tribbie follows with a small shrug, and Trinnon hesitates only briefly before trailing after them, leaving you behind in their wake.
You can only smile fondly as you watch them leave, their voices fading into the lively hum of Okhema below. You know well that none of them have taken anything to heart—bantering with Khaslana has always been one of their favorite pastimes, rivaled only by the hours they spend in Aglaea’s presence. It is a familiar rhythm, one you have seen play out countless times, and one that never truly changes.
Out of nowhere, something brushes gently against you.
You turn, only to find Khaslana already watching you—his immense form lowered, bringing himself down to your level with a care that feels almost reverent. There is a softness in his gaze, something warm and unguarded, as though the vastness of his existence narrows to you alone. One of his fingers shifts slightly, brushing against you in a motion meant to mimic a poke—a small, almost playful gesture he once did so easily, and now can only imitate.
“My beloved has taken time out of their day to visit me,” he murmurs, voice low and threaded with quiet fondness. “How could I ever ignore such a call?”
The way he speaks—so earnest, so effortlessly devoted—affects you no less than it once did when he was still Phainon. A devotee in every life, it seems. Some things, even ascension cannot change.
A soft smile curves your lips as you rest your hand lightly against his finger, grounding both yourself and him. “A flatterer, through and through,” you tease gently, though the warmth in your voice betrays you. You have heard words like these a thousand times before—yet they never quite lose their weight.
As expected, his response comes not in words, but in action.
A free pair of his arms begins to move, slow and deliberate, forming a quiet barrier around you. The world beyond is gently obscured, his towering presence shielding you from the eyes of Okhema. To him, you are something far more sacred than even a Coreflame—something that should not be witnessed carelessly, something to be hidden away from the gaze of others. Though, as always, you are quick to recognize the exaggeration woven into his beliefs.
Still, you step closer. Raising your hand, you let it come to rest against a small portion of his cheek. The contact is featherlight, almost insignificant in scale—a touch so gentle it should not register upon a being of his size.
Yet, it does and Khaslana stills completely.
For a fleeting moment, it feels as though everything about him—his breath, his thoughts, the quiet hum of his existence—pauses, just to feel that fragile, fleeting warmth. As though the vastness of the world he carries fades into nothing, leaving only the soft press of your hand against him.
Silence settles between you. It lingers, unbroken, stretching into minutes as he remains there, unmoving, basking in the small flame of your touch. You can tell, even without him saying it, that he is fighting the pull of sleep. That familiar heaviness threatens to claim him once more—after all, even your voice alone has always been enough to lull him into rest.
“How was your day, Dawnlight?” the Worldbearing Titan finally murmurs, his voice softer now, almost drowsy. His sunrise-gold eyes flutter open again, seeking you out as though he fears you might disappear the moment he closes them.
Those eyes…
They have never changed. Still loving. Still unbearably, hopelessly devoted—no matter the life, no matter the form.
Once, long ago, Phainon had asked you the same question, his head resting against your chest as he sought refuge in the sound of your voice. Back then, it had been a simple wish—to fall asleep without nightmares, to let your voice be the last thing he heard before sleep claimed him.
Now, stripped of his mortal shell and reborn beneath the Era Nova, Khaslana waits for that same answer.
Not for the sake of conversation— But in the quiet hope that, if he listens closely enough, he might drift into sleep once more… and dream of a world where he can hold you once more.
You’ve been invited to your cousin’s destination wedding. Fortunately, the flight and accommodations are already taken care of. Unfortunately, showing up without a date isn’t an option. Asking your best friend, Phainon, to be your plus one seems like the perfect solution—that is, until your family assumes he’s your boyfriend.
⟢ FEATURES: phainon x f!reader, modern au, fake dating, fluff, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, LOTS of denial from mc (i swear the first half of the fic is just her denying everything haha it’s sickening <- wrote it), possibly ooc anaxa, phainon being a tease
⟢ WORD COUNT: 14,306
⟢ NOTE: my writing was dog water (inconsistent) here i’m not gonna lie so please excuse it bwahahahah. you know what took me so long to finish this chapter? anaxa. he doesn’t really have a lot of lines but i don’t know how to write him without being too??? not anaxa???? good luck to me writing the next chapter because he’ll be there too x___x and yes, you’re not seeing things! there’s actually going to be a third part to this (maybe even a fourth too with the rate i’m going ,,,) bc i feel like i’ve been working on this for too long and i’m kinda sick of phainon nyahahaha /lh pls enjoy!!!
⟢ CHAPTERS: one┇two┇three
⟢ ALSO ON: ao3
PHAIKE DATING PLAYLIST <3
The coffee shop is empty.
The lights are still on, but there are no customers left—only the low murmur of voices behind the counter. Caelus, March, and Dan Heng are clustered together, clearly mid-conversation, when March is the first to notice you. Her eyes light up immediately and she practically vibrates where she sits.
“Boss Ma’am! Mister Phainon!” she chirps, waving both hands like she’s been waiting for you all day.
Caelus follows her gaze next, grinning the moment he spots you. “You guys got back early!”
Dan Heng turns last. “Welcome back, Miss.”
“Yeah,” you say, setting your bag down by the counter. “We wrapped things up faster than expected.”
You glance at the clock on the wall. Too early to be exhausted, but too late for customers. You look back at them.
“Actually,” you say, “you guys can head out early tonight. I’m thinking of closing up soon.”
March tilts her head. “Closing up early?”
You nod. “Phainon and I need to talk about some things.”
In an instant, Caelus’s grin sharpens, March’s eyes sparkle like you’ve just dangled the promise of premium gossip in front of her, and even Dan Heng looks curious.
“We can help clean first,” Dan Heng says almost too casually. “There’s no rush.”
“Yeah!” March hops off the stool. “We can finish up the remaining dishes and wipe everything down. It won’t take long!”
Caelus stretches, hands folding behind his head. “Might as well make ourselves useful before you kick us out, right?”
The other two nods in agreement.
“You kids don’t really have to—”
Dan Heng cuts you off, even softly shaking his head. “It’s fine, Miss,” he says.
March claps her hands together. “Oh! Before we start… do you guys want drinks?”
You glance at Phainon, who only smiles at you. You sigh. “Just water is fine.”
“I’ll have the same,” Phainon says.
March clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “Only water? You old people are boring.” And then almost immediately, she brightens. “Coming right up!”
She darts toward the back, Caelus following behind her with enthusiasm and a dramatic salute sent your way. Dan Heng, on the other hand, trails after them more quietly. Their voices fade into the back, replaced by the clink of dishes and the sound of running water. And just like that, the front of the cafe is quiet again.
It’s just you and Phainon now.
You clear your throat. “Let’s sit,” you say, gesturing toward a table.
Phainon nods easily and pulls out a chair for you before taking the one across. He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over the backrest.
“Okay,” you begin, folding your hands on the table like you’re about to negotiate a business contract instead of fake date your best friend. “Ground rules.”
Phainon rests his forearms on the table. “Alright,” he says, “I’m listening.”
“So, first of all—we need a timeline. If anyone asks, we’ve been dating for… not too long.” You grimace. “If we say it’s been years, my mom will interrogate me about why I never told her.”
Phainon hums in agreement. “A few months then?”
“Three?” you say immediately. “I think three is safe. It’s long enough to seem stable, but also short enough to explain why it’s not… public knowledge.”
He smiles faintly, nodding. “Three months it is.”
“Second—” You bring up two fingers, “public displays of affection. We shouldn’t overdo it. It’ll look suspicious.”
“How much is ‘not overdoing it’?” he asks.
“Like… casual? Holding hands or maybe an arm around the waist is necessary. But—strictly—no kissing.”
Phainon looks contemplative. “Not even a peck?”
You stare at him.
He raises both hands in surrender. “Just clarifying.”
“No kissing,” you repeat, firm. “Absolutely not.”
It feels more like a reminder for yourself than for him, words coming out sharper than you intend, like you’re drawing a line using a permanent marker rather than a pencil.
Kissing is not casual—at least not when it involves you and your best friend who you most definitely do not have feelings for anymore. It’s not like lacing fingers together or resting a hand on someone’s waist for the sake of performance. And you already know yourself well enough to understand that you wouldn’t be able to file it under just pretend.
You’d think about it later—alone in your room, staring at the ceiling—and replay it frame by frame. You’d wonder whether it felt real to him or if he’d just been acting. You’d analyze the pressure of his lips, the tilt of his head, the breath between you. You’d probably memorize it and that would ruin everything.
You don’t think you can look at Phainon the same way ever again if that happens.
“Okay,” he says easily, softly.
“Good,” you say, quick. “Glad we’re aligned.”
Phainon doesn’t look offended. If anything, he looks thoughtful. “Alright,” he says. “No kissing.”
There’s something about the way he says it that makes your ears burn. You clear your throat. “Next—pet names.”
His brows lift slightly. “We’re also making up pet names for each other?”
“Yes,” you say, and you hate that your voice comes out a little firm. “Couples have them all the time. I think it’ll be weird if we don’t.”
He hums thoughtfully. “Okay. Let’s test some out then.”
That sounds like a terrible idea, but— “Fine,” you say, even though it doesn’t feel fine. “You go first.”
He doesn’t hesitate, “Baby.”
You inhale wrong. “Absolutely not,” you cough out, choking on absolutely nothing and everything at the same time.
He tilts his head. “Too much?”
“Way too much! That’s— no. I feel like our fake relationship would get exposed immediately if I tried calling you that.”
“Alright.” He taps his chin. “How about ‘babe’?”
You deadpan. “That’s even worse.”
“Worse?” His mouth curves first—slow and crooked—and he ducks his head slightly, like he’s trying and failing to contain his laugh. “How is that worse?”
“It just is!” you whisper-shout. “I would rather walk barefoot across gravel. I would rather fake my death.”
He finally bursts into laughter, and you hate that he’s enjoying this. You really do because he’s not even trying to hide it.
His shoulders shake a little, and he has to look down for a second like he needs to compose himself. When he looks back up at you, his mouth is still curved and the corners of his eyes crease again—those small lines that only ever show up when he’s genuinely amused. And as much as you want to be annoyed—because he’s teasing you and you’re trying to have a serious discussion about fake dating boundaries—you can’t ignore the stupid, traitorous flutter in your chest when you hear him laugh and see him smile at you like that.
You cross your arms to compensate, like that will physically contain the ridiculous skip under your ribs.
“I don’t see what’s funny,” you mutter, even though your voice lacks bite.
He exhales, and the sound does nothing to help. He’s laughing right in your face and you think you shouldn’t react like this. But there’s something about the way he does it—like he finds you genuinely entertaining. And you hate that your body responds to that.
You hate that you have to look away for a second because if you don’t, you might start smiling too.
“Stop laughing,” you grumble.
“I’m not,” he says, even though he’s biting back another laugh.
Liar.
“Okay,” he says once he finally reins himself in, though there’s still a smile tugging at his mouth. “Your turn.”
You narrow your eyes. “My turn to what?”
“To practice calling me using pet names.” He gestures vaguely between the two of you. “Last I checked, there are two people in a relationship. You can’t veto all of mine and not contribute. That’s not how this works.”
You open your mouth to retort, but he continues, “If we’re going to be believable, we both need to practice.”
He stares at you, just a little expectant. That little tilt of his head, the soft look in his face, the way his lips curl slightly—it’s like he’s daring you to refuse. And you realize: you can’t say no to that face. Not that face—not the one that looks at you like you’re the only person in the room, like he’s waiting for you to cooperate, like it would break his heart if you didn’t. Not when he’s smiling that infuriatingly soft smile that somehow makes your chest flutter despite every warning bell in your head screaming at you to stay logical.
“Fine,” you mutter, finally relenting, because trying to resist that expression feels like punching the sun. You swallow, immediately wishing you hadn’t admitted defeat. “…Idiot.”
He gasps dramatically. “Hey, that’s not nice!”
He leans back slightly, hand pressing to his chest like you’ve wounded him, but the performance is completely undercut by the crinkle of his eyes.
“I gave you nice pet names,” he continues, voice full of mock offense, “and you insult me?”
“It’s affectionate!” you insist.
“In what world?”
“In ours!”
Then he laughs again, shaking his head. “You’re terrible at this.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
You glare at him. “You’re annoying.”
“And you love me,” he says easily, grinning. “My turn again.”
Your brain stumbles.
What?
You? Love him? You absolutely do not.
Well… you do. You obviously do because he’s been your best friend since high school. Because he used to sit next to you during class and slide you snacks when you forgot lunch. Because he knows the exact tone of your voice when you’re about to cry and the exact tone when you’re pretending you’re alright. Because he’s seen you at your worst and stayed.
But that’s it. That’s all there is to it.
It’s not—
It’s not the kind of love that—
You do not love him like that.
You don’t blush because you’re in love with him; you blush because he’s teasing you. Anyone would blush because it’s embarrassing. He’s weaponizing pet names and telling you that you love him like this is some kind of experiment and you are simply reacting like a normal human being under psychological pressure.
You love him because he’s familiar. You love him because he’s safe. You love him because he’s been around long enough to feel permanent. And that’s normal—it’s reasonable and absolutely not romantic.
And yes. Okay. Fine. There was that phase—that one embarrassing and completely short-lived high school crush.
You were sixteen. He had just started wearing his sleeves rolled up for no reason. He laughed at something you said during chemistry class and you thought about it for three days straight. You overanalyzed the way he texted. And you wondered—briefly—what it would be like if he ever looked at you different.
But that was years ago! It was small and harmless—the kind of crush that happens when you’re around someone all the time and your brain decides to experiment with feelings just to see what sticks.
And nothing stuck. You got over it. You moved on.
You dated other people. You lived your life. You stopped thinking about what it would feel like if he ever laced his fingers with yours or whether he’d ever call you pretty in a serious voice. That phase passed quietly without drama, so that’s proof, right? Proof that this—whatever this is right now—isn’t anything.
You don’t have feelings. You’re not secretly holding onto something unresolved. You’re not waiting for him to notice you. You’re not hoping he means it when he says things like that.
You’re so caught up in your thoughts and feelings that you don’t even notice he’s moved closer until you feel a light touch against your cheek. You jolt.
Phainon’s fingers are there, brushing gently against your skin. “What’s wrong, lovely?” he asks, voice low and soft as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
Lovely. The pet name keeps echoing in your head.
What is he doing? What is actually wrong with him???
You stare at him.
He’s closer than before—close enough that you can see the tiny crease between his brows; close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. His expression is no longer teasing—it’s searching. He studies you for a moment longer, then his thumb brushes lightly along your cheek again almost absentmindedly.
“Hey,” he tries again. This time, he taps your forehead with a knuckle lightly. “Is my girlfriend still with me?”
He says it so easily and casually like it fits in his mouth—like it belongs there with him.
You are aware of your pulse in your throat, in your ears, and in your fingertips. You are aware that he is still leaning toward you, still close enough that you can see the tiny details on his expression. You are aware that your face feels so hot it’s almost uncomfortable.
My girlfriend. He called you his girlfriend.
Your mouth opens slightly, but your thoughts scatter in every direction. You can’t tell if you’re embarrassed or shocked or something worse. You can’t even tell if this is still a joke or if he’s just committing to the bit with terrifying confidence.
He studies you for another second, then concern flickers across his face.
“Did I break you?” he asks.
You blink once. Then twice.
You are, in fact, broken.
Your brain is trying to process that this is all just pretend. He’s just doing and saying things for practice. But the way he’s looking at you doesn’t feel like practice.
It feels like—
“I hope I’m not interrupting!”
You jump so hard your chair scrapes against the floor.
March stands a few steps away, tray in hand, eyes wide and sparkling in a way that says she absolutely thinks she’s interrupting something. And Phainon is still leaning over you, though he eventually pulls away like he wasn’t in a rush to move in the first place. And as if nothing strange just happened, he turns to March with an easy smile.
“No, you weren’t interrupting at all,” he says, light and unbothered. “Are those our drinks?”
“Yup!” she chirps. “I made iced tea instead because while water is healthy, it’s so boring!”
She sets the glasses down and two straws, but her eyes flicker between the two of you. The look on her face says she definitely saw something.
“There you go! Call for me if you guys need anything else!”
“Thanks. We will,” Phainon replies.
March presses her lips together like she’s physically holding something in—the smile on her face trembling—before she turns away. The look she throws over her shoulder is way too knowing. Then she pivots toward the back with suspicious speed, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process. The door swings shut behind her a little loudly.
You just know she’s about to tell the others and reenact whatever she thinks she witnessed. You exhale slowly.
“Oh, you—”
You cut in before Phainon can finish. “We should stick to calling each other by our names,” you say, because if you don’t, you’re worried he’ll casually drop another pet name that will fry your brain.
He pauses. “Oh.”
For a second, you think maybe you sounded too intense. Maybe you should’ve laughed, or framed it as a joke—at least something rigid—but the he chuckles like it’s nothing.
“Alright,” he says. “Are you okay now?”
And you answer, quick, “Yeah.”
He tilts his head slightly. “You sure? You looked a little…” He hums, searching for the word. “…out of it.”
You were not “out of it”. You were internally combusting because he casually said girlfriend like it was a regular noun and not something that rearranged your internal organs. But instead of admitting something as embarrassing as that to him, you say, “Yes. I’m fine.”
He studies you like he’s deciding whether to press. Then he shrugs and takes a sip of his iced tea. “If you say so. So what next?”
Right.
Focus.
“How about…” You pause, buying yourself a second to shove your pulse back into its cage. “How we got together? My mother would ask something like that.”
“Oh, yeah. She definitely will,” he agrees easily. He takes another sip, then adds, “Your mom’s a little nosy.”
That makes you laugh. It slips out of you, light and fond and helpless. “She is, isn’t she? She likes to gossip a lot.”
Phainon grins. “Looks like you’re actually fine then.”
Your face warms. “I just told you I am.”
“Well,” he says lightly, “can’t blame a guy for worrying about his girlfriend.”
There it is again—that word. It lands so casually in his mouth like he’s just saying “coworker”. Like he’s saying “friend”. Like it doesn’t echo in your head three times before settling somewhere dangerously soft in your chest.
Why does he seem so unaffected by it?
Is he really just good at pretending? Is this just method acting to him? Or is this what it looks like when you’re normal about things? When you don’t spiral every time a word brushes too close to something you buried years ago?
Maybe it’s just you. Maybe you’re the only one assigning weight to syllables. Maybe he’s just playing along like he promised. Maybe you’re the one making it weird.
You drag your gaze down to your glass.
Ignore it. Ignore him. Ignore the way your heart did that small, traitorous skip.
Focus.
You clear your throat. “Since we’ve been friends since high school, we can just say feelings developed gradually. Like… one of us finally said something eventually.”
“Yeah?” he says. “Which one of us did?”
“You?” you answer, though it comes out uncertain. “I think you’re the type to confess first.”
“Am I?” There’s something in his voice you can’t quite put into words, and you catch yourself trying to pin it down.
Was it a drop in his tone, a pause before he spoke, or the way the syllables stretched a little differently than usual? You can’t tell and that’s the problem—you feel it, but your mind has no word for it. It feels unsettling and strange because you’ve known him for so long that you think you could read him. You’ve built years of familiarity on that certainty. But ever since you asked him to be your plus one… something shifted.
One day you were just friends who understood each other without trying. The next you’re sitting across from him wondering why you can’t tell what he’s thinking anymore.
Before, you could look at him and just know. Now when you look at him, you second-guess.
“Well…” You fiddle with your straw wrapper, folding it in half, then again, then tearing it straight down the middle. “You’re definitely better with words than I am. And you’re braver.”
And that part isn’t even exaggeration—it’s just fact. He’s always been the one who speaks first. The one who raises his hand. The one who fills the silence instead of letting it swallow him whole. While you… you’ve always needed a minute.
He laughs, soft and almost pleased. For a moment, you wonder if you just imagined everything earlier. “That is true.”
You look up at him flatly, mostly because you need something neutral to hide behind. “You didn’t even try to deny it.”
“Why would I?” he replies easily, leaning back in his chair. “You said it yourself already.”
You narrow your eyes at him, but there’s no real weight behind it.
“So that’s our story?” he asks. “I confessed first?”
“Yes.” You nod, hoping the movement feels more convincing than you do. “You confessed first.”
There’s a small pause, just long enough for you to think the topic has passed. Then you hear him hum, thoughtful. “And what did I say?” he asks lightly.
Your brain short-circuits. “…What?”
“If I’m the one who confessed,” he continues, “what did I say?”
You stare at him, waiting for the grin that usually follows a setup like this. He just looks back at you. You scowl.
“We are not improvising a confession scene right now.”
“Why not?” he says. “If someone asks for details, we should have them.”
“No one is going to ask for the script.”
“Your mother might,” he counters. “My aunt might.”
“We can just deflect if my mother asks,” you shoot back. “And your aunt isn’t even invited to the wedding.”
Phainon grins, and there it is—that familiar expression, the same one you’ve known for years. It smooths something out inside you instantly; the strange distance you thought you felt earlier loosens its grip. You suddenly feel silly for even thinking anything had changed at all.
“This is already detailed enough,” you insist. “We have a timeline. We have who confessed first. We don’t call each other by nicknames. That’s sufficient.”
But your brain, traitor that it is, has already started filling in the blanks.
You picture him sitting across from you like this, except there’s no rehearsal, no agreed-upon pretense—it’s just the two of you and a question that isn’t rhetorical. You imagine him saying your name the way he does when he means something, before admitting he’s liked you for a while. That his feelings weren’t sudden. That the sudden realization just crept up on him one day and how he tried to ignore it and how he didn’t want to anymore—
Stop.
You blink and force the image away before it settles anywhere permanent.
“Fine. Maybe… maybe you said something simple,” you decide. “Nothing dramatic, no long speeches. Just that you liked me… and asked me if I wanted to try.”
“And what did you say?” he asks and his voice is softer now.
Your throat feels drier than it should. You take a second before answering, “I said yes.”
Because of course you did. In this version, there’s no hesitation—no second-guessing. You don’t overthink it. You don’t ask for time. You just say yes. Why wouldn’t you? It’s fake. This is fake. You’re just constructing a believable narrative for this pretend relationship. That’s all.
But why does it feel like you just admitted something real?
“Alright,” he says. “I like that version.”
You can’t look at him.
You pick up your glass and take a long sip of the iced tea even though you’re not particularly thirsty. The cold helps; it gives you something else to focus on because if you look at him right now—if you meet his eyes while your chest feels like this—you might start wondering whether he’s picturing the same version you are.
And that is not a road you’re prepared to walk down.
So you keep your attention on the glass. On the ice shifting when you tilt it; on the faint condensation dampening your finger; on literally anything that isn’t Phainon sitting across from you.
And then, suddenly, he asks, “Should we practice?”
Your brain doesn’t process his words at first, still busy replaying the imaginary confession you definitely should not have imagined. It’s like your thoughts are buffering.
Putting the glass down onto the table with a soft thud, you say, “What?”
“I said we should practice.”
“…Practice what?”
“You know,” he says, “like holding hands.”
You stare at him like he just suggested the two of you try skydiving indoors.
“Why do we need to practice that?” you ask, baffled. “We’ve held hands before—what’s so different about doing it now?”
You have, technically.
Crossing streets once traffic lights go red and he’d just grab your wrist and pull you along without looking back. At crowded festivals where he’d hold you close so you wouldn’t get separated in the sea of people. Or that time at the park when a very aggressive goose decided you were its mortal enemy and Phainon dragged you away—
“It’s different from before because we have to make it look like we’re actually in love,” he replies.
Oh. Right. Of course.
Hand holding as friends is way different from hand holding as a couple. And you said it yourself earlier already—public displays of affection shouldn’t be overdone, but holding hands is fine.
It’s literally the lowest tier of couple behavior. People do it absentmindedly while talking. People do it while grocery shopping. People do it while scrolling through their phones with the other hand. Which means your heart should not be reacting like you’re about to perform an open-heart surgery on yourself.
“Fine,” you say. And before your brain can spiral into another dissertation, you extend your hand across the table.
Then he reaches out.
His hand is bigger than yours—that’s the first thought that appears for absolutely no reason. You’ve known this for years—this is not new information—yet your brain treats it like a shocking revelation.
His fingers slide between yours one at a time, like he’s solving a puzzle and the correct solution is your hand. Then his palm settles against yours and your fingers instinctively tense for a second before relaxing again. His grip adjusts automatically, just secure enough that your hands stay together. Then his thumb brushes against your knuckles, as if he’s testing the feeling; or maybe he’s checking if you’re about to yank your hand back and run.
You don’t, but now you’re very aware of everything.
The texture of his skin. The way your fingers fit between his. The slight pressure where your palms meet. The tiny shift every time he moves his thumb. The fact that your pulse is currently pounding in your fingertips like it’s trying to escape.
Why are you noticing this much? This is literally just holding hands, and it’s not even like this is new. But as your fingers sit there, neatly laced with his, you vaguely remember sitting in class years ago and wondering what it would feel like if Phainon ever laced his fingers with yours.
And now it’s here and it’s happening and you wonder how sixteen-year-old you would have reacted.
You glance up.
Phainon is already looking at you.
“Looks like we’re ready then,” he says lightly, and you nod.
You nod because there’s nothing else you can bring yourself to say. All you can think about is the warmth of his hand intertwined with yours and the way they fit together so naturally as if they were made to belong there.
From the back, you hear March’s delighted squeal and Caelus’s audible gasp. The sound hits you like a gunshot.
You yank your hand away from Phainon so fast the chair legs scrape lightly against the floor as you twist around. Your hear hurried footsteps, a muffled “GO GO GO—”, something clattering, and the back door slamming shut with a loud bang! that echoes through the cafe.
Silence follows.
You stare at the door, then sigh—a long, tired, deeply resigned sigh that comes from the soul of someone who knows that somewhere behind that door March and Caelus are currently reenacting the entire thing to Dan Heng.
You slowly turn back around.
Phainon hasn’t moved; he’s still in the same position you’ve left him, except now he’s looking down at his hand—the same one that was holding yours a moment ago. His fingers flex absently, like he’s testing the space where your hand used to be.
You don’t think much of it. Instead, you narrow your eyes at him.
“You did that on purpose.”
His gaze lifts. “Innocent until proven guilty,” he says mildly.
“Oh, please,” you scoff. “You saw March and Caelus. Their heads were literally sticking out of the door.”
There had been hair—very noticeable and very pink hair. And beside it, an unsubtle tuft of gray that absolutely belonged to someone who has the subtlety of a marching band.
“You’re accusing me of a lot right now,” he says.
“You laced your fingers with mine after you saw them.”
He exhales through his nose, briefly looking down at the table like he’s caught somewhere between defending himself and enjoying the accusation too much. When he looks back up, he’s smiling.
“Maybe,” he says. And then he laughs.
“You’re so annoying.”
“It was still good practice though,” he says. “You want me to try holding you by your waist next?”
Your brain immediately supplies a very vivid mental image of his hand resting there—warm, steady fingers spread lightly at the curve of your side like it belongs there—and that alone is enough to make your cheeks heat up.
You glare at him to compensate. “Now you’re just making fun of me.”
He laughs like that was exactly the reaction he was hoping for. “You and your kids’ reactions make it fun.”
“Well, my kids have classes tomorrow, so let’s end things here,” you say, crossing your arms. Then another thought occurs to you, and you narrow your eyes at him. “And you—don’t you have work? Why are you always free?”
Phainon shrugs, easy and casual like the answer is obvious. “It just so happens that I don’t have flights when you need me.”
You study him for a second, not entirely convinced.
Your mind drifts back to something Aglaea said before—that you seem to be the only exception to his busy schedule. At the time, you’d dismissed it immediately. A coincidence, you’d insisted—bad timing on everyone’s part and good timing on his. But now that the idea has resurfaced, it refuses to go away easily.
You’re about to question him about it, but he speaks again before you can get the words out.
“Can I drive you home?”
The question is simple, but something about the way he says it makes your brain pause for a second and it’s not because the offer is unexpected. In fact, he’s driven you home countless times before: after late-night study sessions years ago, after work shifts when the buses are sparse, or after dinners with friends when everyone else disappeared one by one.
So no, the offer itself isn’t strange. If anything, it’s expected—which is probably why you only sigh and shake your head.
“It’s not like you’ll let me say no, anyway.”
“That is true,” he agrees immediately with absolutely no shame whatsoever. Then he adds, almost as an afterthought, “And I promised Aglaea I’d return you back in one piece.”
You stare at him for a moment, before rolling your eyes. “Wow,” you mutter dryly. “How chivalrous of you.”
“Well… what can I say,” he says, smug. “I’m a man of my word after all.”
You scoff under your breath. Then you push your chair back and stand, the legs scraping softly against the floor. The table between you is littered with the remains of your drinks and you pick them up automatically.
Yours is nearly empty, nothing left but watery ice cubes clinking against the glass. His, on the other hand, is still half full.
“I’ll let the others know we’re done here,” you say. “Should I ask if they want a ride?”
The moment the words leave your mouth, you notice the way Phainon’s expression changes. He stares at you like you’ve just said something stupid.
You blink at him. “What?”
He keeps staring. The silence stretches and you feel a tiny flicker of irritation spark in your chest. “What?” you repeat, more defensive now. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Phainon exhales through his nose, tilting his head slightly as if reconsidering his entire life. He lifts a hand and rubs the back of his neck. “Nothing,” he says, then sighs again. “Sure. You can ask them.”
The words come out calm, but there’s something in his tone that makes you narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. Still, you decide not to question it further and you flash him a smile instead.
“Great.” You gesture toward outside. “You can start the car and wait in there.”
Phainon straightens in his seat and immediately brings his hand to his forehead in a sharp, exaggerated salute. “Okay, Boss.”
“Stop.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“I swear—”
“Yes, Boss Ma’am.”
“Phainon!”
He grins, clearly delighted with himself. You shake your head, trying to look annoyed even though you’re smiling.
“Just go,” you say, as you turn toward the hallway leading to the back.
“Aye aye,” he replies.
Behind you, you hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, followed by the faint rustle of him grabbing his keys. A moment later, the soft chime of the front door rings as he steps outside.
When you step into the kitchen, the first thing you notice is that all three of them are gathered close together. March, Caelus, and Dan Heng are standing near the prep counter like a tiny council meeting has just taken place. The moment the door swings open, their heads turn in unison.
March’s entire face lights up, and she immediately waves both hands in the air like she’s been waiting for you. “You guys are done, Boss Ma’am?” she asks brightly, practically bouncing in place.
You walk over to the sink and set the two glasses down. “Yeah,” you reply casually as you turn the faucet on. “Did you have a great time eavesdropping?”
March lets out a tiny giggle and ducks her head, suddenly looking very guilty. “I wasn’t— well—”
Before she can finish fumbling through an excuse, Caelus jumps in. “I promise we didn’t hear anything!”
You glance at him over your shoulder. “Really?”
He grins sheepishly. “Well… we did see something.”
You sigh, turning back to rinse the glasses as you shake your head. “Right,” you say. “You and March made sure to let us know you did.”
March giggles again, this time covering her mouth with both hands. Caelus rubs the back of his neck, chuckling as well.
Then, Dan Heng speaks, “Are you and Mister Phainon finally together?”
The question catches you off guard, and a warm flush spreads across your face instantly. “Y-Yeah,” you stutter. You clear your throat, brushing right past it. “Anyway! Do you guys want to ride with us?”
March squeals. “Really?!” She spins towards the others, eyes sparkling. “Can we go with them please?!”
Caelus makes a face. “Let’s not—”
“We wouldn’t want to intrude, Miss,” Dan Heng says.
“What? Of course not!” you protest, waving your hands, sending little flicks of water into the air. “You won’t be intruding on anything. I asked, and Phainon said it was fine.”
The two boys exchange a look, then turn in unison to glance at March—who’s still staring at them expectantly, practically buzzing with hope. Dan Heng sighs.
“…Alright,” he says. “Since Miss said so, then we’ll take the offer.”
March lights up and jumps in joy. Caelus shakes his head.
“Great!” you say, smiling.
And it’s only as you turn back to the sink, reaching for a towel, did it hit you.
Finally?
Your hand stills for a moment. You frown slightly, staring down at the counter.
…What did he mean by that?
✉︎ My Favorite Cousin Ever
Aglaea: How did the conversation go?
You: We went over everything. Rules, backstory, what we call each other, PDA
You: How long we’ve been “dating”
Aglaea: I trust it went well?
You: I think so
You: Though he was weirdly calm about it all
Aglaea: That’s just how he is.
Aglaea: And you?
You: I don’t know, Agy…
You: I guess I’m a little scared
Aglaea: Of what? It’s just Phainon.
You: That’s the problem. It’s Phainon
You: I don’t want to ruin things between us 🥲
Aglaea: You won’t. Not unless you start overthinking everything.
You: You make it sound so easy, Agy
Aglaea: Because it should be. You’re the one complicating things.
Aglaea: Tell me. Do you still have feelings for Phainon?
You: I was over him, Agy
You: But then this whole fake dating thing happened and now I’m not so sure
Aglaea: 😪
Aglaea: And what are you going to do now?
You: I’m going to pretend nothing changed
Aglaea: That’s a terrible plan.
You: It’s the only one I’ve got
Aglaea: Then at least remember it’s fake.
Aglaea: Don’t start believing your own act.
You: I’ll try
Aglaea: Good. Now get some sleep.
You: Thanks, Agy 🥺 I love youuuu!
Aglaea: And I love you.
✉︎ Aglaea + Phainon
Phainon: Aglaea, hello!
Aglaea: Do you need something?
Phainon: Not even a hello? :(
Aglaea: Hello. What do you need?
Phainon: :D
Phainon: I come bearing a humble request! Do you happen to own any shirts or tops that match your cousin’s dress?
Aglaea: The same color or something that just complements it?
Phainon: Same color would be ideal!
Aglaea: Alright. I’ll find something in the same shade.
Phainon: You’re a lifesaver!
Aglaea: You know, matching outfits will make things more believable. Why not match the entire time you’re there? I can lend both of you clothes.
Phainon: That’s actually genius. I’m in!
Aglaea: I’ll inform my cousin. Anything else?
Phainon: Not at the moment.
Phainon: Unless there’s something you want to say to me? :D
Aglaea: There is, actually.
Phainon: What is it?
Aglaea: You’re an idiot.
Phainon: Unprovoked?? I’m being attacked for no reason :(
Aglaea: If you think this is unprovoked, then you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.
Phainon: That’s harsh! I’m sensitive, you know :(
Aglaea: No, you’re not.
Phainon: Haha, fair!
Aglaea: Good luck with your fake dating arrangement. You’re going to need it.
Phainon: Hahahahahahaha
Phainon: That obvious, huh?
Aglaea: Painfully so.
Phainon: Don’t worry. I’ve got it handled
Phainon: Have a little faith!
Aglaea: 😪
Aglaea: Good night, Phainon.
Phainon: Good night, Aglaea!
FEBRUARY 8
You leave for Lushaka today.
The flight is in a few hours. Your suitcase is already packed by the door. Your dress—Aglaea’s dress—is somewhere safe, handled by someone far more competent than you. And Phainon is coming to pick you up.
You stare at your ceiling, then drag a hand down your face.
The apartment feels quieter than usual, like it knows you’re about to leave it behind for a week. You move through your morning routine on autopilot—shower, clothes, a quick check of your bag for the fifth time (passport, a book, wallet, charger, your ticket even though it’s digital). You hover by your suitcase after, staring at it like it might suddenly sprout legs and run away.
Your phone buzzes.
✉︎ My Favorite Cousin Ever
Aglaea: Are you ready?
You: As I’ll ever be
Aglaea: Good.
Aglaea: Phainon will be there in 20.
You: How do you know that??
Aglaea: He texted me.
You: Why is he texting you??? Why didn’t he tell me???
Aglaea: Because I asked him to make sure you get to the airport in one piece and don’t forget anything important.
You: Hmph
You: And you?
Aglaea: You’ll see me at the airport.
The conversation ends there.
You shove your phone into your pocket and move faster after that—putting on your shoes, double-checking the stove even though you know you didn’t use it, glancing around your apartment one last time like you’re about to disappear for months instead of days.
Right on cue, there’s a knock on your door.
You absolutely do not rush to open it. You walk at a completely normal pace, wiping your hands on your dress before reaching for the knob. You open the door—Phainon is there.
He’s dressed casually: a simple shirt and a jacket, sleeves rolled up, and jeans. His hair is a little tousled, and when he sees you, he smiles. “Good morning. You ready to go?”
“Good morning,” you echo. “I’m all ready.”
He glances past you into the apartment, then back at you. “You sure?” he asks.
“I already checked everything,” you say, defensive. “Five times.”
He shrugs. “Sixth time’s the charm.”
You narrow your eyes at him, but step aside anyway, gesturing vaguely behind you. “Fine. Go. Inspect.”
He hums, slipping past you like he lives there. He does a quick lap around your place, peeking into the kitchen, glancing at the counter, the couch, the table. You hover near the door, arms crossed, watching him like you’re waiting for him to fail some kind of invisible test.
He pauses by your coffee table and picks up your keys. You freeze.
“Okay… so maybe I did forget something,” you admit.
He holds them up between two fingers, turning back to you with a look that’s way too pleased with himself. “Sixth time’s the charm,” he repeats.
You walk over and snatch them from him. “You’re so annoying.”
“And you’d be locked out when we get back,” he says, and you hate that he’s right.
“Whatever,” you mutter, grabbing your bag and heading for the door. “Let’s go before I forget something else and you get another ego boost.”
He laughs softly behind you, and you try very hard to ignore the way the sound settles somewhere warm in your chest. You step out into the hallway first, and you barely get two steps in before he reaches past you and grabs the handle of your suitcase.
You blink, caught off guard. “I can—”
“I know,” he cuts in, already pulling it along like it’s his by default. “I want to do it, though.”
You stare at him for a moment longer than necessary, then turn back around to lock and close the door because there’s nothing to argue about. He’s already doing it, and it’s not like you really mind.
The two of you walk down together. He rolls your suitcase down the steps like he’s done it a hundred times (he probably does, given his profession), and you trail behind. Outside, his card is parked just where you expected. He pops the trunk before you even reach it, and again—without asking—lifts your suitcase in like it weighs nothing.
You hover beside him almost awkwardly. “…you know you don’t have to do everything, right?”
He shuts the trunk and looks at you. “I know.”
“Okay… I just thought—”
“Like I said, I want to do it,” he says. “You and I both know I like helping.”
You sigh. “Of course you do. Your childhood wish was literally to fulfill your friends’ and family’s wishes.”
He grins like that’s exactly the response he wanted, then walks around to the driver’s side. You follow, sliding into the passenger seat out of habit more than anything else. His car always smells faintly like something clean and something warm—like fabric softener and coffee that’s no longer there but somehow still exists in the air.
You buckle in, setting your bag on your lap, and by the time you look up, he’s already starting the engine.
He glances at you briefly. “Seatbelt?”
You tug on it pointedly. “Already on.”
“Good.” There’s a small pause, then he asks, “You forget anything else?”
You think about it for a second. Your keys are in your pocket. Your phone is in your bag. Password, checked. Wallet, checked. Charger, checked.
“No,” you say, more certain this time.
He nods once, satisfied, then he pulls out and you’re off.
The drive to the airport is uneventful. There’s no awkwardness, no weird tension, no pressure. Nothing dramatic happens. The fake relationship arrangement doesn’t even get brought up.
At one point, you reach into your bag to check your passport again and he doesn’t say anything, just glances over and then back at the road. At another, he hands you a bottle of water without looking, like he already knew you were about to get thirsty.
You don’t question how he knows—you never really have.
By the time you arrive at the airport, it doesn’t feel like a big moment. You think it should. You’re leaving for a week. You’re about to see your family. You’re about to pretend to date your best friend in front of people who will absolutely analyze everything. But instead, it feels… normal.
Your family’s private jet means there’s no long lines, no crowded terminals, no rushing through security with a million other people. Still, there are steps—check-ins, confirmations, small formalities that need to be handled.
And somehow, even in that, there are moments.
He takes your suitcase out the trunk before you can even reach for it, and you don’t even bother stopping him this time. When you’re at the counter, he stands so close to you that if you shifted slightly or turned around, your arm would brush his and you’d be face to face with his chest. You hand over your documents. He hands over his.
At some point, he leans in over just a little and you feel his breath ghost over the shell of your ear, “You’re holding your passport upside down.”
You look down. You are.
You flip it quickly, heat creeping up your neck. “I knew that.”
“Of course you did.” You don’t look at him, but you can hear the smile in his voice.
You step onto the apron with Phainon, both your suitcases rolling smoothly in his hands. Your family’s jet isn’t hard to miss; it’s just parked a short distance away. You’ve seen it a hundred times before—rode it a couple times even as a child.
You hear Phainon whistle next to you. “That’s yours?”
Right. This is his first time seeing your family’s jet.
You let out a short laugh. “Yeah.”
“Must be nice,” he says. Then he gestures forward, smiling. “Come on, then, pumpkin.”
You grimace. “Don’t call me that.”
“Yes, princess.”
You elbow him lightly.
The two of you don’t get far before you spot them.
Aglaea is already there—beautiful, composed, and put together, like she belongs in every space she steps into. Beside her is—
“No way,” you say as you approach, because there is absolutely no way what you’re seeing is real. “You’re Agy’s plus one?”
Anaxa looks up from whatever he was doing, and his expression shifts into something faintly amused. “Good morning to you too,” he says. Aglaea sighs from beside him.
“No, but seriously— you?” You look at Anaxa, then at your cousin. “He’s your plus one?”
Phainon laughs beside you, clearly entertained.
Anaxa crosses his arms. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“Uh… Yes?”
“Right.”
“I mean— sure, we’re all friends,” you say, “but I thought Agy would be bringing Tribios. You two are basically like cats and dogs.”
“Can we not do this right now?” Aglaea pinches the bridge of her nose. “He’s here and he’s my plus one. End of discussion.”
“That settles that then,” Phainon says rather cheerfully. He nods toward the other two easily like nothing happened at all. “Did we keep you waiting?”
Aglaea shakes her head. “Not at all. We just got here ourselves.”
Anaxa then glances at the two of you, gaze lingering for just a second too long. You narrow your eyes at him slightly in suspicion. He smiles.
Ohh. I don't like that.
“So,” you say, turning back to Aglaea, “everything ready?”
“Yes. The crew’s already finished most of the preparations. We can board whenever we’d like.”
The four of you start moving toward the jet, suitcases rolling across the tarmac. You’re mentally running through your checklist again—passport, wallet, charger—when Anaxa speaks.
“I know about your arrangement, by the way.”
You stop walking. Phainon stops walking.
The wheels of your suitcase screech slightly as it lurches to a halt beside you. You stare at the back of Anaxa’s head because he’s still moving, completely unbothered, like he didn’t just drop a bomb on you.
You turn to Aglaea. “You told him?”
She doesn’t look at you right away. “He would have figured it out anyway.”
“But why?”
“I know it’s supposed to be something just between the three of us,” she starts, calm and measured, “but Anaxa isn’t going to tell anyone about your predicament. And is he not your friend, too? I think it’s better that he knows now than letting him figure the two of you out on his own.”
You open your mouth, then close it.
She’s not wrong—that’s the frustrating part. Anaxa has known you long enough to know when something is off, and he’s the kind of person who would notice things. If he’d spent even just half a day watching you and Phainon, he would have arrived at his own conclusions.
Still.
You look at him. He’s glanced back now, expression hovering between neutral and entertained. “I’m not going to snitch on you to your family, I assure you,” he says.
“You better not!”
“I won’t.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.” Anaxa glances at Phainon then, though brief.
Phainon clears his throat beside you. You turn to look at him. He flashes a placating smile at you, the picture of innocence.
“Right,” you say, mostly to yourself, and you grab the handle of your suitcase and start walking again because standing in the middle of the tarmac is not going to make any of this better. “Wonderful. Great. Everyone knows. Let’s move on now.”
Aglaea falls into step beside you. You don’t look at her. She doesn’t say anything, which means she’s waiting for you to work through it on your own.
“I’m not upset with you, Agy,” you murmur to her.
“I know,” she says.
You exhale. “I just would have liked a warning.”
“Would you have agreed if I’d asked first?”
You think about it honestly for a second. “…probably not.”
“Then you understand why I didn’t.”
You do. You hate that you do, but you do.
You walk the rest of the short distance in silence, and when you reach the steps of the jet, you let Phainon take your suitcase again without arguing—mostly because you’re tired of fighting small battles this early in the morning, and partly because it’s Phainon, and he was going to do it anyway.
When you step inside the cabin, it is warm and familiar and slightly too loud, layered with overlapping conversations. It’s got that particular energy of people who haven’t seen each other in a while and are making up for lost time.
You immediately clock most of the faces—cousins, aunts, uncles, and some family friends you recognize but can’t name immediately. The space is comfortable and well-appointed in that way that stops being impressive once you’ve grown up around it, though you notice Phainon isn’t beside you anymore—he’d peeled off just outside to handle the luggage with Anaxa.
Then your mother sees you.
“There she is!”
You barely have time to brace yourself before she’s crossing the cabin with your father right behind her, both of them wearing the kind of expressions that make you feel like you’re twelve again and coming home from a long trip.
Your mother reaches you first, pulling you into a hug that’s tighter than the occasion calls for, and you hug her back automatically, laughing a little despite yourself.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetheart.” She pulls back to look at your face, hands on your shoulders, studying you the way she always does—like she’s checking that everything is still where she left it.
Then your father steps in, quieter but no less warm, and wraps an arm around you briefly. “You look good,” he says simply.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Your mother spots Aglaea next and immediately pivots, opening her arms. “Aglaea! Come here.”
Your cousin steps forward and accepts the hug gracefully, returning it with the kind of practiced warmth that comes from years of being folded into your family’s orbit. Your father greets her as well, and for a moment, the four of you fall into easy small talk—how was the drive to the airport, how has the studio been, how long has it been since they last saw each other.
Then your mother turns back to you, and the shift in her expression is immediate. “So,” she says, “where is Phainon?”
Right on cue, the cabin door opens behind you.
You turn. Phainon steps in, slightly windswept from being outside, straightening the front of his jacket as he scans the cabin. His eyes find you first, and then he clocks your parents standings right beside you and smiles, easy, like he’d been expecting this exact moment.
Your mother makes a sound you would describe as delighted.
Aglaea smoothly excuses herself with a small smile before stepping away into the cabin, leaving you standing there with absolutely no buffer.
Your mother is already moving toward Phainon before he’s fully crossed the cabin, waving him over with both hands like she’s flagging down someone she’s been waiting for. Phainon doesn’t miss a beat—he meets her halfway and when she pulls him into a hug, he returns it with the same ease he does everything.
“It’s so nice to see you again, ma’am,” he says when she lets go, warm and genuine. “It’s been a while.”
Your mother lights up completely you almost have to look away. “Oh, you remember me! Of course you do—you were always such a sweet boy.” Then she waves a hand at him, almost dismissive. “And stop calling me that! Just call me Mom since you’re my daughter’s boyfriend now.”
Your heart skips a beat at that.
“Haha, okay, Mom.” The word rolls out of him naturally, and your mother looks like she could float. Then Phainon turns toward your father and extends a hand. “Sir.”
“Not sir—call me Dad now.” Your father bypasses the handshake entirely, grabbing Phainon’s outstretched hand and using it to pull him into a quick hug instead, with one firm pat landing on his back.
You watch all of this happen, smiling with your whole face because you are in front of your parents and that is the only acceptable expression to be wearing right now.
Phainon glances over at you from beside your father, and the look on his face is calm but also amused, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking and finds it genuinely funny.
You keep smiling. He keeps staring.
Your mother notices, of course, because your mother notices everything. She glances between the two of you and sighs contentedly, like she’s watching something she personally arranged come together exactly as planned.
“Well,” she starts, pleased with the world, “I’m so glad you’re both here.”
Your father settles back slightly, hands in his pockets, looking between you and Phainon with the quieter version of the same satisfaction your mother is wearing openly on her face.
“So,” your mother says, folding her hands together. “How long have you two been together?”
You glance at Phainon. He glances at you. It lasts maybe half a second, just something long enough for something to pass between you.
Just like what we practiced.
“Three months,” you both say at the same time.
Your mother blinks, then breaks into a wide smile, clearly reading the synchronization as something far more romantic than rehearsal. Your father makes a quiet sound that might be a laugh.
“Three months,” your mother repeats, as if savoring it. “And you kept it from me for three months.”
“We wanted to be sure first,” Phainon says, smooth and easy, and you could have not said it better yourself so you simply nod along like that was always going to be your answer too.
Your mother turns to your father with an expression that very clearly says I told you so without using any of those words. Your father receives it with the patience of someone who has been on the receiving end of that look for decades.
“Well,” your father says, returning his gaze to the two of you, “I’m glad you’re here, Phainon.”
Phainon smiles. “I’m glad to be here, sir—” He stops himself, and glances at your father. “Dad.”
Your father nods once, satisfied, like that was the correct answer.
“We won’t take up too much of your time now,” your father says. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up once we land. Your mother’s already made dinner plans.”
“Dinner,” your mother confirms, pointing between you and Phainon like she’s booking a reservation on the spot. “Just the four of us once we’re settled in Lushaka.”
“We’d love that,” Phainon says, and you nod beside him, smiling.
“Good.” Your mother looks satisfied in the way she gets when something she wanted has been granted to her before she even had to ask twice.
She reaches put and pats your cheek once affectionately, then Phainon’s arm, and then your father is already steering her gently back toward their seats. You watch them go for a second, then exhale.
“First obstacle done,” you say, though mostly to yourself.
“We’ll survive,” Phainon says, smiling.
The two of you make your way further into the cabin, looking for seats, and then that’s when it happens. Your aunt catches your eye from across the cabin and makes a beeline for you. Her gaze lands on Phainon and stays there.
“This is your boyfriend?” she says, not quite asking, reaching out to grab your arm.
“Yes,” you say.
“How handsome!” She’s already looking at him like she’s appraising something. “Oh, you did well. You did so well.”
Phainon laughs, gracious about it in a way you could never be. “Thank you, auntie.”
That does it—the auntie alone sends her. And where she goes, the others follow.
You spend the next several minutes being passed between relatives like a relay baton, except the baton is you and the thing being examined is Phainon standing next to you. There are cheek pinches—yours, not his, which you find deeply unfair. There are comments about how good you look together, about his height, his face, about how polite he is, about how your grandmother would have adored him.
One of your older aunts grabs both your hands and then his and holds them together like she’s performing a blessing. “You’re going to have such gorgeous children,” she says with complete sincerity.
You laugh because the alternative is you combusting. “We’ve only been together three months.”
“And? Your uncle proposed to me after two.”
You have no response to that.
Then another aunt claps her hands together and looks at Phainon directly. “So when’s the wedding?”
Phainon tilts his head, and the smile that settles on his face is relaxed and warm and just happy enough that you almost believe it yourself. “We just started dating, auntie,” he says, “but who knows—maybe if she catches the bouquet during the ceremony, ours could be next.”
The collective reaction from your aunts is immediate and extremely loud. Meanwhile, your face goes completely hot.
You turn to Phainon with your eyes wide and your mouth open and you smack his arm with the back of your hand. He doesn’t even flinch—he just laughs, bright and unbothered, like he didn’t just say that to a captive audience of your most excitable relatives.
“You—!” you start.
He’s still laughing.
“I can’t believe you,” you whisper, which only makes it worse because now he’s looking at you with such expression—the one that’s fond and amused in equal measure—and your aunts are watching all of this and sighing like it’s the most romantic thing they’ve ever witnessed.
You grab his arm and pull. “We’re going to sit down now,” you announce to no one in particular, already steering him away before anyone can ask a follow-up question. There are both delighted and disappointed sounds behind you. You don’t look back.
You find two empty seats near Aglaea and Anaxa and drop into yours with the energy of someone who has just survived something. Phainon settles in beside you, still smiling and unruffled.
Aglaea looks up from whatever she’d been reading. She takes one look at your face and understands. “The aunts?”
You nod tiredly. “The aunts.”
Anaxa glances at Phainon. Something passes between them, and you haven’t even looked much further to identify what it could mean before Anaxa looks back down at his phone without comment.
You sink a little lower in your seat.
The pilot’s voice comes through the speakers much later, letting everyone know they’d be taking off in the next minute or two. Around you, the cabin settles into that pre-flight quiet—the rustling of seatbelts, the last few conversations tapering off, and people shifting into their seats properly.
You buckle in, glance out the small oval window beside you, and then look at Phainon. “Have you ever been assigned to fly one of these?” you ask. “A private jet, I mean.”
He looks up from where he’d been adjusting his seatbelt. “Yeah, a few times. I don’t take them often though.”
“How come?”
He tips his head slightly, considering how to explain it. “Private flying is more luxurious on paper, but it’s a lot more exhausting than a commercial flight.”
You frown. “How?”
“On a commercial flight, I’m responsible for flying the aircraft,” he explains. “On a private one, I’m responsible for the entire aircraft. Loading the luggage—and that stuff gets heavy—cleaning the cabin, restocking everything, the toilets—”
“You clean the toilets?”
“I clean the toilets.” You stare at him. He shrugs, unbothered. “It’s part of the job.”
“What about when the client hires attendants?” you ask.
“It helps,” he says,” but it doesn’t change the fact that as the pilot, I’m still ultimately responsible for everything on board. There are physical and operational tasks that fall on me regardless of who else is there.”
You’d always known in the vague, general sense that Phainon’s job was demanding—the odd hours, the unpredictable schedule, the way he sometimes looked genuinely tired in a way that sleep didn’t entirely fix—but there was something about hearing it laid out plainly like that. And although he did say he doesn’t take these kinds of flights all the time, the luggage and the restocking and the responsibility that didn’t end when the flight did made it feel more concrete. He gave—gives—a lot to his job.
“That sounds really exhausting,” you say.
Phainon looks at you. Then he smiles and reaches over to flick your nose, gentle, before settling back in his seat. “You’re cute,” he says.
Your face warms and you rub the area he touched softly. “I’m being serious.”
“I know,” he says, still smiling. “That’s what makes it cute.”
You turn back toward the window because that seems like the safest place to look right now. You don’t say anything else, and neither does he. But when the jet lifts and the ground falls away beneath you, Phainon’s shoulder is warm where it presses lightly against you, and you find that you don’t particularly feel like moving away.
The cabin settles into its cruising quiet sometime after takeoff. Around you, conversations have tapered off, replaced by the sounds of people finding ways to pass the time. You’ve got your book in your lap. Phainon, somewhere along the way, had pulled out his phone and put his earphones in, and you’d both drifted into your own separate silences.
You’re somewhere in the middle of a chapter when you feel it—a slight shift of weight, and then his head comes to rest on your shoulder. You go completely still.
His breathing has already evened out, which means he’s genuinely asleep.
You look up.
Aglaea is already looking at you, while Anaxa is asleep beside her, head tipped back. You stare at her and she raises an eyebrow. You make a face that you hope communicates the full scope of what you are experiencing right now. She only blinks—like a cat who has found the situation beneath her to intervene.
How helpful…
You face forward again. Okay—you think—this is fine. People fall asleep all the time; sometimes on each other even. It’s a long flight and he’s tired—you literally just learned how exhausting his job is, so this is completely reasonable and normal and you are not going to make it weird by thinking about it too hard.
But I’m already thinking about it too hard!
His hair is slightly tickling your neck. His shoulder is warm where it presses against your arm. You are painfully aware of the weight of his head and his breathing and the fact that if you turn even slightly, you will be looking directly at his face.
So, you do not turn. You attempt to read the same paragraph you left earlier—only to fail four times. You read it a fifth time, but the words are all just shapes now and you can’t retain a single word. You close the book and set it on the table.
You stare out the window and try to think about nothing, which is to say you mostly think about Phainon sleeping on your shoulder and how your heart has been racing since then.
Eventually, your eyes get heavy.
Eventually, you fall asleep.
The first thing you register is a sound—a soft, short snap and it pulls you through the layers of sleep. Your eyes open slowly, and that’s when you feel it.
Your cheeks is against Phainon’s hair. Your arms are around him, hands loosely wrapped above his elbow, his arm tucked neatly against your chest like you’d decided somewhere in the middle of sleep that you needed something to hold onto. His head is still on your shoulder, still asleep.
You look up.
Aglaea is lowering her phone with the satisfaction of someone who has just accomplished exactly what she set out to do. When she sees your face, she says nothing. She simply sets her phone down the table calmly.
Your mouth opens, and she tilts her head slightly. Don’t wake him up, the look says. You close your mouth.
You look down at Phainon, still asleep and completely unbothered by all of this. Then you look back at Aglaea, who has picked up her book and is now reading it like nothing happened.
You exhale through your nose as quietly as possible, and reach over with the hand not currently wrapped around Phainon’s arm. “Phainon,” you say softly, and touch his arm. “Hey… Wake up.”
He stirs slowly. His head lifts from your shoulder. He blinks once, straightening up and running a hand briefly through his hair. Then he looks at you, still soft around the edges with sleep. “Are we landing?”
“No,” you say. You’ve already unlooped your arm from his without drawing attention to the fact that it had been there in the first place. “But we’re almost there, I think.”
He nods and leans back in his seat. He rolls his neck once, then glances over at you with a smile. “Did you sleep?” he asks.
“A little,” you say.
Across the table, Aglaea turns a page.
The jet touches down an hour later and everyone starts gathering their things, and you’re stuffing your book back into your bag when you feel Phainon’s hand brush against your shoulder—to let you know it’s time to move—and you nod and stand.
The heat hits you the second you step out of the vehicle, thick and salty and immediately making your dress stick to your skin. And the sky above Lushaka is so blindingly bright and blue you have to squint against it as you make your way down the steps.
The apron is already busy by the time you get there, family members spilling out in loose clusters, hugging and laughing and talking over each other, and you spot Elora almost immediately in the distance. She’s standing near the front with a man you assume is her fiance.
Your aunts and uncles go first, swarming toward Elora with delighted noises, and you watch from a distance as she gets passed around from hug to hug.
You, Phainon, Aglaea, and Anaxa hang back because you’d all gone to grab your luggage first while everyone else had already been shuffled ahead, and you’re honestly fine with being last—you’re in no rush to get swept into whatever this reunion is going to turn into. But then, Elora’s eyes land on you from across the open and her whole face lights up.
She starts walking over before you’ve even finished bracing yourself, and you feel your stomach drop because you know exactly what’s coming—you can already see it in the way she’s opening her arms. You plaster on the kind of smile you reserve for customers who complain about their coffee being hot even though they asked for it hot.
“You made it!” Elora says, arms already wrapping around you in a hug that smells like expensive perfume, and then she pulls back just enough to press a quick kiss to your cheek, and you just stand there for a while before finally lifting your hand and patting her back twice.
It’s awkward and you know it is and you can feel Aglaea’s gaze on the back of your head, but you can’t help it. Your body just doesn’t know how to do warm and easy with Elora.
“I’m so glad you came,” she adds, stepping back, and her smile doesn’t waver even a little.
“Yeah,” you say. “Thanks for having us...”
Her eyes flick briefly past your shoulder, and you don’t even have to turn around to know who she’s looking at. Elora’s gaze stays there, and then she tilts her head slightly.
“Is this your plus one?” she asks.
“Yes,” you answer. “He’s—”
“Phainon!” She cuts in before you can even finish, and the way she says his name comes out delighted, and she’s already stepping past you to get a better look at him. “Am I right?”
“That’s me,” Phainon says easily, and he offers her a smile that’s polite enough to pass for genuine if you didn’t know him as well as you do; though you catch the way his eyes flick briefly to you before settling back on her.
“Wow,” Elora says, drawing the word out. She looks at him the way you’d look at a car you’re thinking about buying. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! Never in my life would I have thought I’d get to meet my cousin’s boyfriend ever.”
Ugh, you think, I hate her!
She says the word boyfriend like she’s trying it out, even though you never once used that word in your RSVP. You just said plus one and left it at that, and you feel irked because she took one look at a name in an email and ran with the most exciting version of the story without even bothering to check.
She’s the one who put me in this mess!
“Right,” is all you say, but she’s entirely unbothered and uninterested in whatever else you have to say. Her attention is solely on Phainon now.
“So how did you two meet, exactly?” Elora asks Phainon. “I’m dying to know!”
“High school,” Phainon says. “We’ve known each other a long time.”
Elora smiles, bright. “That’s so sweet! Honestly, I’m just surprised, you know? You’re clearly very handsome, very put together—” she gestures vaguely at him, “—and I guess I just didn’t expect someone like you to end up with someone like… my cousin.”
The words land easily and casually, wrapped up in a compliment so you can’t even call her out on it without sounding like you’re the one being difficult, and you feel your face go warm. Not from embarrassment, but from something closer to irritation—the old and familiar kind you’ve spent years learning to swallow rather than spit back out.
Phainon doesn’t miss a beat. “I got lucky,” he says simply, and he reaches over, settling a warm and steady hand at the small of your back. “And she’s not hard to notice, really.”
There’s a deliberate emphasis on those last few words, small enough that Elora might not even catch it, but you do. And so does Aglaea, who you can hear making a small sound behind you that’s suspiciously close to a laugh she’s trying to hold in.
Elora blinks, and something flickers across her face briefly before she smooths it back into that same easy smile. “Of course,” she says. “I just meant it as a compliment.”
“I figured,” Phainon says, still smiling. And you think, not for the first time, that you’re really glad he’s on your side.
Elora is quick to move on from Phainon—like flipping a page before anyone can dwell too long on the last one—and her attention swings toward Aglaea and Anaxa standing just behind you, luggage still in hand.
“Aglaea!” she says, voice climbing back up into that bright and delighted register, and she steps forward to pull your other cousin into a hug that Aglaea returns with the same practiced warmth she gives everyone. “You look stunning as always. I swear you get more intimidating every time I see you.”
“You flatter me,” Aglaea says.
Elora giggles and then her gaze drifts to Anaxa, who hasn’t said anything yet. “And you must be Aglaea’s plus one,” she says, extending a hand toward him. “I don’t think we’ve properly met yet. I’m Elora.”
“Anaxagoras,” he says, shaking her hand once.
“Anaxagoras,” she repeats, testing the name. “That’s certainly a memorable name. How long have you and Aglaea been together?”
Anaxa doesn’t even blink when he says, “Long enough.”
Which, technically, isn’t a lie since they have been friends for years, but it’s vague enough that it tells Elora nothing at all, and you have to bite back a smile because you know exactly what he’s doing—giving Elora just enough to chew on without actually feeding her anything.
“Well, you two make a striking couple,” she says, undeterred, clapping her hands together. “Honestly, I don’t know how you all keep finding people who look like they walked out of a magazine. Must run in the family.”
Her eyes flick toward you for a brief second when she says it, long enough for you to catch it. You feel Phainon’s hand press slightly firmer against your back, like he caught it too—but neither of you says anything. And then Elora seems to remember something, glancing back over her shoulder before reaching out to tug a man close by the sleeve.
“Oh, right, I almost forgot,” she says, pulling the man into the little circle you’ve all formed. “Everyone, this is Nikolas. My fiance.”
Nikolas steps forward with an easy, almost sheepish smile—the kind that immediately feels warmer than anything Elora’s said in the last five minutes.
“Hi,” he says, giving a small wave like he’s not quite sure if a handshake or a hug is more appropriate and would rather not overstep. “It’s really nice to finally meet you all. Elora’s told me so much—I feel like I already know everyone.”
“Good things, I hope,” Aglaea says, and there’s the faintest curve of amusement at her mouth.
“Only good things,” Nikolas says, laughing a little.
He turns to you next, and his smile doesn’t shift into anything performative the way Elora’s does. “You must be the cousin who owns a cafe,” he says. “It’s great to finally put a face to the name.”
“It’s nice to meet you too,” you say.
He glances at Phainon beside you before speaking, “And, of course, the boyfriend. Nice to meet you too, man.”
“Likewise,” Phainon says, and this time his smile looks easier and much more genuine, like he’s already decided he likes Nikolas a lot better than the bride.
Elora claps her hands together at once, drawing everyone’s attention back before the conversation can wander any further. “Okay, we’ll catch up properly tonight, I promise, since we’ve got a family dinner planned once everyone’s settled in,” she says. “But for now, everyone should head to the villa first and get some rest. It’s been a long flight and I don’t want anyone falling asleep during appetizers.”
“We’ll see you tonight then,” Aglaea says, already steering the group toward the cars waiting at the edge of the apron.
“See you tonight!” Elora calls after you, and Nikolas gives one last easy wave before the two of them turn to greet the next cluster of relatives making their way down the steps.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Beside you, Phainon leans down slightly to your ear, voice low enough that only you can hear it, “Nikolas seems nice. How does someone like that end up marrying her?”
“Even I don’t know the answer to that,” you mutter and he laughs, and the sound helps loosen something tight in your chest that’s been sitting there since the second Elora’s arms wrapped around you.
The limousine rolls to a stop in front of the villa, and the driver comes around to open the door for you and the others. You step out, and behind you, Phainon is still climbing out of the car, looking around like he’s trying to memorize every detail of it before it disappears.
“Okay, so,” he starts once he’s beside you, voice pitched low with something like disbelief, “riding in a limo is actually insane. Like… genuinely. I don’t think I’ve ever sat in a car that had a mini fridge in it before until now.”
“Phainon, it’s just a car,” you say, though you’re smiling a little at how wide his eyes still are. If he had a tail, you just know it’d be wagging uncontrollably right now.
“It’s not just a car to me,” he says. Then he gestures back toward the other two limousines pulling up behind yours, doors opening and relatives spilling out onto the gravel in twos and threes. “And your family owns three??”
“Five, actually,” you say a little absentmindedly, already reaching for your bag. “The other two are probably back home in Amphoreus.”
Phainon just stares at you.
“What?” you ask, letting out a huff out of amusement. “You look ridiculous.”
“Five,” he repeats, like the number physically hurts him to say out loud. “Your family owns five limousines and I only found out about them now. And we’ve been friends for how long?”
“A long time,” you say.
“Yes, a long time,” he echoes. “And in that long time, you never once mentioned that your family owns a small fleet of limousines. I’ve known you since we were thirteen—thirteen!—and I’m only now learning this.”
“Well… The topic never really came up during past conversations,” you say, shrugging. “Our family owns a yacht too, if you want to know, and I think that’s far more interesting than a limousine.”
He shakes his head slowly, looking almost betrayed. “Okay, but then why did you even go to a public school? If your family has this kind of money, you could’ve gone anywhere. Some elite private academy with a uniform that probably costs more than my rent.”
You don’t even think twice about the words leaving you or how they might land when you say, “Then I wouldn’t have met you.” Because it’s genuine and it’s true—the same as the skies and waters of Lushaka being blue.
And Phainon goes still.
You glance over at him and he’s not looking at you anymore. He’s looking somewhere off to the side, ears going faintly red, jaw working like he’s trying to find something to say and coming up empty every single time, and you feel a smug satisfaction settle in your chest in your chest at having finally, for once, been the one to fluster him instead of the other way around.
“Are you—” you start, teasing, but before you can finish, Elora’s voice rings out from somewhere near the villa’s entrance.
“Everyone, if I could have your attention for just a second!” she calls, waving an arm to draw the group closer. “I know you’re all tired so I’ll make this quick. I just want to show you to your rooms so you can all rest before dinner.”
The crowd shifts and drifts toward her, and Phainon clears his throat beside you, still not quite meeting your eyes and mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “that’s so unfair” before he grabs both your suitcase and his and starts walking—just a little too fast—toward the villa.
Elora leads the group through the villa room by room, pointing out names on little cursive place cards taped beside each door, and one by one relatives peel off with tired, grateful sighs. Eventually, she stops in front of a door near the corner of the hallway, tapping the little card taped to it.
“And this one’s yours,” she says, glancing between you and Phainon.
You blink at the door, then blink again when you realize that there’s only one card—both with your names written on it—which means there’s only one room and you need to share it with Phainon. The thought of staying in one bedroom with your fake boyfriend hadn’t even crossed your mind until now.
“Wait,” you say, almost in disbelief. “Just one room?”
“Well, you’re a couple,” Elora says in a tone that says like this should be obvious. “It’d be strange to put you in separate rooms, wouldn’t it? People would talk.”
Your mouth opens, but absolutely nothing comes out because your brain has apparently decided to short-circuit at the exact moment you needed it the most. You can feel your face heating up—can feel the way your grip on your bag tighten. But Phainon is already moving, sliding smoothly into the silence you left behind.
“Of course,” he says. He speaks so easily and unbothered like he already prepared for something like this to happen. Like sharing a room with just you and him is absolutely okay and normal for him. “Thank you so much for showing us around, Elora. We really appreciate it.”
“Oh, of course, anytime! I just want everyone to be comfortable and I figured—”
“We should probably get settled in before dinner,” he cuts in—still smiling, still polite—already reaching past you to push the door open. “Thanks again!”
And before Elora can get another word out, his hand finds the small of your back and he’s steering you inside. The door clicks shut behind you with a soft, final sound that leaves the two of you standing alone in the middle of the room.
Outside, you can just barely hear Elora’s voice moving further down the corridor—”Aglaea, Anaxa, you two are just down this hall”—already onto the next set of names and doors, the two of you forgotten and left behind in favor of the rest of the tour.
Your eyes catch on the bed immediately. One bed, and it’s not even a particularly large one. You look at it, then back at the bed, doing quiet, frantic math in your head about positions and space and how exactly two grown adults are supposed to share something built for one person without it being A Whole Thing.
“I can sleep on the floor,” Phainon says, setting both your suitcase down near the foot of the bed. “I’ve slept in far worse.”
You look at the floor. It’s tiled and hard and looks unforgiving. Then, with a sigh, you say, “Phainon, it’s fine.” You set your bag down before you can talk yourself out of it. “I don’t mind sharing the bed with you. I trust you.”
He looks at you, assessing. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” you say. “So please, no need to sleep on the floor.”
“You’re accepting this much easier than I thought,” he says, and there’s something curious in the way he says it. Like he expected more resistance, more flustering, more of the reaction you gave Elora in the hallway moments ago.
You think back to what Elora said—about people talking, about how strange it would look like if you and your supposed boyfriend weren’t even sharing a room during a whole week of family events—and you sigh again, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“It’s not like we can really do anything about it,” you say. “Beside, we can think of this like a sleepover. You know… like the ones we used to have before with the others.”
Phainon raises an eyebrow. “Those were more like torturous study nights. Anaxa made sure of that.”
“Still,” you say, “we all slept together in the same room.”
He sighs, dragging a hand through his hair, though there’s no real protest left in it. “Fine,” he says. “Though maybe we should put a pillow in between… Just so I don’t accidentally squash you in the middle of the night.”
“You are pretty heavy,” you say.
He laughs at that, shaking his head as he drops down onto the other side of the bed to test the mattress. “Wow. Okay.” He looks over at you, grinning. “Well, now that that’s settled, should we unpack for now? Or do you want to rest first?”
You glance at the suitcases still sitting by the foot of the bed, then out the window where the light outside has started shifting into gold over the water in the distance.
“Let’s unpack,” you say. “If I lie down now, I don’t think I’m getting back up before dinner.”
“Fair point,” he says, already pushing himself up off the bed and reaching for his suitcase.
You watch him for a second before you get up too and grabbing your own, and the room settles into something easy and quiet. It’s just the two of you moving around each other, familiar in a way that almost makes you forget—for a moment—that any of this is supposed to be pretend.
end note: i actually didn’t know how to end this chapter and the ending seemed kinda rushed but i’ve been writing this chapter for too long now and i feel bad for those who have been waiting since january akdbahfhsh
thank you to maemae for giving me the idea of “there’s only one bed” trope!! bwahahaha i can’t wait to do something about it…. (rubs hands together) 🪰 and for those who voted for phainon falling asleep on reader, yay for you! 😋
the amount of research i had to do for this chapter was ABYSMAL (not really) but it was actually so fun learning new things LOL i felt like a nerd (in a good way!!) writing the conversation between the mc and phainon during the plane scene. it’s not really relevant to the fic but phainon is a senior first officer. they’re basically the co-pilot and second in command—right after the captain (either the junior captain or the senior). in my head, both mc and phainon are in their late 20s (either or between 27-29yo. also imagine pining for someone for 11+ years 😅) and phainon can technically upgrade to a junior captain position but he just chooses not to because their schedules are a lot more flexible than that of a junior captain and they still need to work during weekends and holidays while a sfo is guaranteed to have off days on weekends. i think it suits phainon a lot, especially in this fic if you consider the fact that his schedule is almost always free when it comes to mc :D
also… you apparently don’t need tickets for privately owned jets but i’ve explicitly written last chapter how elora bought tickets for everyone (ᵕ ´ᗜ`) my bad!!! i should’ve researched much earlier before writing the email parts euuuu. i will not be removing it though so let’s just pretend the e-tickets are needed ,,,
content: nsfw, college student!phainon, professor fem!reader, masturbating, oral (fem receiving), secret relationship, dirty talk, mentioned phainon as soft dom, implied rough sex, public sex
note: ik ive been inactive i dunno what to write. i've started reading erha again and i was thinking of that particular trope shizun fucker or smth like that and thinking that phainon lowkey suits this trope. imo, he looks like a puppy as well. so basically this is self-indulgent. i also forgot how to write so if this turned out weird, i'm so sorry 😭.
i can definitely imagine the whole picture wherein phainon is a good student. he doesn't miss class, he's got decent grades — basically the epitome of that one college student who's good looking and a walking perfection.
everyone wants to be his boyfriend but according to his friend group, it seems that he's not interested in dating. there are no reasons given whatsoever and he always rejects those who confessed to him.
here's the thing though. he likes someone. and it's one of his professors. it's his darkest secret and he's not afraid to admit that to himself. he likes you. he wants to both worship the ground you walk on and fuck you senseless.
he can't help it. after your class, phainon would go straight to his dorm — thank the aeons he doesn't have a roommate — locks the door, get comfy in his bed, and jack off on the thought of you. he would immediately picture you on his mind and how perfect you looked today: hair tied neatly, the gray blouse you wore that is a bit tight that he sees your curves along with your dark pants. gods, he imagines you drooling while phainon rams his cock inside you, you whimper his name that sends him into a frenzy and eager to hear more of those pretty little sounds you make.
fast forward to when he's finally in a relationship with you: when he feels brave, he would definitely fuck you on one of your desks, your mini skirt hiked up that's just enough space for him to lap his tongue on your pussy. phainon is starved. he wants to be buried in between your legs and eat you out like there's no tomorrow. he would insert two of his fingers inside your mouth to try to shut the noises from spilling to avoid getting caught while he picks up a rhythm in just slipping his tip inside and out. he wouldn't give you the whole thing just yet.
i imagine phainon would start from calling you the sweetest endearments while he's gently pleasuring you, being a soft dom then shift to dirty talking and fucking you hard and rough. phainon praises you for taking him so well, peppering kisses all over your face and neck to soothe you from the pain because you could never adjust well to his size.
when the shift happens, he would point out how one of your students is making you feel so good and no other student of yours can fuck you as good as him. he'd whisper how dirty you are because your student is fucking you before and after class.
it would be hard for the two of you to hide that forbidden relationship from the others because of how hungry phainon is for you. he would follow you around begging for your attention like a puppy and once the two of you are out of sight, he pounces like a rabbit in heat.
❝ die donne scheint mir aus den händen, kann verbrennen, kann dich blenden. ❞
translation - "the sun is shining out of my hands, it can burn, it can blind you."
yandere! god! khaslana x! fem! reader
Before there was light, there was darkness.
And before the darkness, there lay a void.
It lay empty throughout the cosmos, save for a few glimmering figures which lingered within the vast space of blackness. Throughout the ages, these figures came together to forge life and death, time and space.
Goodness and wickedness, as they saw fit.
No one knew how these almighty creatures came to be - they have simply always existed ever since they themselves could remember, and the humanity which they had forged was content with this answer. These creatures, which humanity would grant the title of "Gods", or "Titans", had made a pact with each other, a sacred oath which could not be broken for as long as eternity was intact. They had all taken on the burden of taking care of humanity in one form or the other.
Passage, Law, Time, Earth, Ocean, Sky, Reason, Romance, Strife, Death, Trickery and Worldbearing - these were the concepts which held the world afloat.
The humans, which were woven with such delicate care with the golden threads of the Titan of Romance, made of clay with the power of the Earth Titan, and blessed with Reason, would come together and commemorate their creators on certain days of the year. Flowers, gifts, prayers and desperate tears would be given to these gods, as their creations chanted and sang in tandem, begging for their words to be heard and answered.
Some of the gods did not mind the words of their creations, finding them to be delightfully charming. The Titan of the Sky, in her ever gentle nature, was always one of the first ones to respond, bestowing a soft rainy dew upon the land. Meanwhile, the proud one bearing Strife was the stark opposite, often not heeding the calls of the bloodthirsty warriors, finding their cruel desires repulsive.
It was all the same song and dance, over and over again, especially to the Deliverer.
He went by various names - Deliverer, The Worldbearer.
Or, as the humans had liked to say, Khaslana.
It was all the same to him.
His duty was to hold the world in his strong hands, ensuring that no harm befalls upon the vast land which he and his comrades took such great care to nurture. His grip was powerful and mighty, akin to a father holding his firstborn child on the day of its birth.
Khaslana adored the humans with every fiber of his mighty being, something which the Titan of Reason liked to mock him for. It was not as if Lord Anaxagoras was a cruel creature, but Khaslana's sheer passion and intensity were simply staggering.
Anaxagoras often pondered that if it ever came to it, Khaslana might just stain his hands with blood for all of the humans they had created. He was a gentle creature deep in his core, and the shine in his bright eyes was impossible to ignore. Like the sun, it shone with pride and tenderness, and he never complained about the burden of holding the world all alone on his back.
Never. Not even once.
And yet, there was an ache in him. It began as something small, an insignificant feeling which could be swept away with a snap of a finger. The Worldbearer always kept his head up high, his grin never faltering as he kept the world safely tucked away on his strong back, fingers gently pressing into the earth, as to not startle any of the critters who may wander in that land. The Titans of Trickery and Passage would come his way to pay him a visit, boasting and sharing their stories of adventures in the human realm, and Khaslana ate up their words as if they were the most delectable sweets.
The cracks were visible even way back then... And no one had truly noticed. Tribbie and Cipher did not pay attention to the way in which Khaslana's eyes seemed to glow brighter than usual, his eyelids dipping for a fraction as a hint of darkness took over, all the while his fingers tightened upon the world for a moment too long.
He had inadvertently caused an earthquake that day.
This notion saddened Khaslana once he realized what he had done. The Gods had been worried briefly, but small slip ups can happen, and the harm was minimal in the long run.
All was well, or that was how everyone had said.
That was not what the Titan of Strife thought. He had kept his lips shut during that emergency meeting, his mind wandering all over the place as he eventually came to the conclusion that Khaslana would never, not in a single lifetime, make a mistake as egregious such as this.
Something was amiss.
And Mydei was going to find out exactly what was troubling the Deliverer.
He was curt and brief with the Deliverer, claiming that it was pointless for him to lie. The Titan of Strife wished to understand what it was that caused the Deliverer to slip up... But he had said nothing, as he laughed humorously in Mydei's face.
"It is as our comrades say." Khaslana spoke, the vibration of his mellow tone ringing like chiming bells in the warm summer air.
"All is well."
Mydei could do nothing but huff and leave - there was nothing for him there... At the moment.
Even when the Deliverer was at his best, like recognizes like.
Strife knows strife.
Khaslana was hiding something from them, and it would take a while for him to speak up - it was simply how he was.
It was his nature.
So be it then, thought Mydei to himself, a bitter and worrisome feeling settling inside his chest.
"You will crack." was Mydei's last word to Khaslana before he departed from that conversation.
And oh, how the Deliverer started to crack from that day onward.
In due time, he became much more reclusive than he typically was, which stunned the other gods. His tense shoulders would freeze whenever one of them would stand before him and speak, those molten eyes of his searing into their forms as if he wished to evaporate them all right there on the spot. This transformation was slow and gradual... And to the Titans of Romance and Strife, it eventually became completely and utterly unbearable.
Khaslana was never angry with them, not necessarily. He had never told them to leave, never once uttered any curses or foul words their way, but what struck a cord with them happened around the time of the summer solstice.
Humanity was buzzing with excitement, as were the titans as well. Khaslana typically was most fond of this specific solstice instead of the winter one, as he found the shining sun on his godly form far more pleasant than the cold air which greeted him in the darker days of the year. The prayers of the humans also would make his heart swell with pride, as he took far too much joy in the silent whispers and cheerful songs which were sung in his honour.
This year, something had just... Changed.
A fortnight before the solstice, Lady Aglaea had paid him a visit, her golden form radiating the path towards the Worldbearer, the sound of her heels clicking against the stars as she greeted Khaslana fondly, her blind eyes settling down on him.
But even if she could not see, her golden threads could feel everything within the universe - and Khaslana was no exception.
His mind kept wandering, and even if she could not physically see, the way in which Khaslana was tripping over his words made Aglaea worry. However, she decided to not say anything directly, lest she alarm the beast before her. Quietly, her delicate fingers wrapped themselves around the golden thread she had woven all those aeons ago and tugged, carefully monitoring the beating sensation of Khaslana's heart.
A chill went up her spine as her mellow eyes suddenly widened, making Khaslana trip over his words even more, as he had no clue what could have possibly disturbed the Lady Goldweaver so much.
"That sensation..." thought Aglaea to herself, recognition settling inside her as her fingernails dug deeper into the invisible threads, the heat of Khaslana's heart only making them even stronger.
It was unlike anything she had ever felt. Love was a feeling, a choice between mortals. It could cause them both blessing and ruin, hope and despair. It was all a tapestry of madness and illusion, some which would gladly take on no matter how much they bled or cried.
A human being was nothing without love. They were made to want, to yearn for something other than their own existence.
Right here and now, the almighty god which held the world at the tips of his fingers was burning with desire.
Aglaea did not dare to question him, fearing what his reaction might be. She knew all too well just how powerful Khaslana was, how if he so desired, could turn all of the gods into dust with the snap of his fingers.
Who was he even, if he did not burn?
That was a question which Khaslana had asked Aglaea centuries ago, as the pair chattered for what she thought was mere leisure at the time.
His heart, the magnus opus of his whole existence, scorched with nothing that could be described as a pure and naked want. It was something akin to a warrior gazing at a bathing nymph, Aglaea could practically taste how Khaslana's sanity was slipping with each passing moment. It was a charred tang which was stuck on the tip of her tongue, threatening to swallow her on the spot.
She departed not long after that.
The Titan of Romance was completely out of her depth here, but she simply must take action. She had to discover just who was this mortal which Kahslana was so taken with, and then decide what the appropriate course of action was going to be.
With the help of the Titans of Passage and Time, Aglaea had descended down the Earth, her sensation completely masked by Reason, as to not alert the Worldbearer. In the blink of an eye, she had turned herself into an elderly, mortal woman. Her full, flowing gowns were replaced with old and tattered capes, as her once delicate and soft skin now became ragged with human age. To the naked eye, she was no better than a old traveler, but the heavens knew better.
Thus her quest began - and just as swiftly as she set off, her search had ended by the time the sun had set.
She was shocked with where the golden threads had led her. Picking them apart was easy as breathing to her, particularly since Khaslana always had his special sort of trail everywhere he touched. Aglaea had expected her journey to take her to a beautiful castle, with a gentle lady waiting at the top, a pearl comb in her hand as the noblewoman would most likely be singing ancient hymns at the reflection in her mirror.
Instead, she had found herself in a quaint village in the west. As far as the eye could see, golden wheat fields filled the scenery, the scent of faint, earthy cooking lingered in the air, while happy children roamed the cobblestone streets, their parents working in the fields which would bless them with a great boon soon.
Aglaea made sure to stay hidden in the crowd, as she continued to pull and tug onwards, all the while gently minding to not run into anyone. Her threads suddenly became sharp, causing her to wince. Trickles of golden blood split down her hand as she went her way, determined to put a stop to this all.
In the distance, there was a house.
It was a simple constriction, the aesthetic of it matching the entire village but the air there was different. Various colorful blooms filled the grass in front of the wooden house, while the fruit on the tiny trees were nothing short of delectable. Even with her lack of vision, Aglaea could sense just how much care was put into every corner here.
Suddenly, a creak was heard, and Aglaea gently dipped behind a bush as her threads roared with vigour, their stiffness now bordering on maddening.
A soft hum filled the air as a young woman stepped out of the home, a small basked of berries in her hand as she made a straight beeline towards the bustling town, but not before turning her head upwards. Aglaea pressed herself as close as she possibly could, as the thread in her arms dug deeper than ever before, the golden blood searing hot against the summer sun.
From the distance, she could make out the woman chanting gentle prayers to the Worldbearer, the sound of her voice being carried by the wind all the way to Khaslana's eager ears.
Even from here, Aglaea could sense how hard he must be smiling at this exact moment.
A pained gasp suddenly escaped her, as Aglaea fell to her knees. Horror filled her being as the once soft threads only continued to plough through her immortal veins, as if they wished to just embrace and take whatever they could. It took all of her willpower to not shriek at the gruesome pain which was forced upon her, as she tugged at the threads around Khaslana's heart.
How long has this been going on?
This mighty Titan was at the mercy of a human woman - her word was gospel to the Worldbearer.
And she was not even aware of it.
With a powerful gust of wind, Aglaea had made herself scarce from the human world, begging the Titan of Passage to return her back to their immortal real of gold.
A council must be held. Immediately.
According to legend, these sorts of meetings were typically held for the events which held the utmost importance. Such events usually would include some possible world shattering event, humanity was falling apart or some other cataclysmic horror was gnawing away at the universe. If they were lucky, the gods would perhaps come together and feast on the delectable offerings from the mortals, with a cup of sweet wine to cleanse their pallet as well. If the occasion called for it, they would dance together until the sun would set and rise once more, but these soirees were hardly ever held in tandem, let alone with all of them present.
In that moment when Aglaea summoned them all, she pondered if she could throw the Worldbearer a proper celebration, a last hail Mary in order to soothe him and his aching soul.
In all her glory and comfort, she never took time to consider the fact that no one had truly been celebrating Khaslana - let alone loved him.
She sat at the head of the table as her dull eyes landed on each and every guest, the wine in her aureate cup suddenly turning sour the moment her woven threads pulsed once more.
Khaslana said nothing - what could he even possibly say?
Seeing his usually sun kissed face turn sombre was a sight to behold at this table full of gods. There was no denying it, and neither did he try to do so.
Wordlessly, Khaslana had pressed his hand right on his chest, pressing the palm of his hand straight across his heart. The gods started at him with fear, as Khaslana's agony became more and more unmistakable.
He was in love.
Helplessly, as if held captive against his own will, Khaslana had become chained to this little human who could be turned to dust if any single person at this table snapped their fingers. He shuddered in his seat, as Khaslana took in a deep breath through his nose.
"She has pierced my soul..." said the god, his voice heavy with unearthly devotion. The spark in his golden eyes seemed to come to life, as if he was picturing her standing right before him. It was a sickly sweet sight, as if bitting into an overly ripe fruit, the jucies dripping down ones chin as Khaslana spoke once more.
"I am half agony, half hope... I have loved none like her."
That night had been arduous and heavy, no one was pleased with anything which was exchanged. After epochs of servitude, Khaslana had requested the unimaginable - to be released from his post in order to properly meet this human. He truly wished to let go of this earth, just for a brief moment of time.
He has been nothing but perfect - he cannot handle his quiet suffering anymore.
Khaslana will burst like a flame, and die as one, all alone in the darkness if he keeps this up.
No one could refute this. None dared to counteract this argument of his.
A consensus was made that night, not necessarily by choice but all would comply with the will of the Worldbearer. This was the one thing he would not bend on, no matter how much he may bleed and hurt. He would take on the form of a man and finally see the mortal woman with his own two eyes - this was his one and only wish.
Khaslana wished to feel her with his own flesh, gaze at her wish such warmth that the sky would be jealous, and devour her on the spot with nothing but his teeth and greed. For the first time in an eternity, he had granted himself the luxury of greed.
His comrades had helped him create a human body, tailor made to his preferences. Snow white hair, sky blue eyes and a powerful physique to match his otherworldly strength - all this was made by the clay of the Titan of Earth, and was bestowed with the gifts of Romance and Reason in order to fit in with human society. All of his comrades had lend him a helping hand, something he was deeply grateful for.
Perhaps the most helpful hand was the one no one could have predicted - Strife had volunteered to hold up the world for as long as Khaslana was absent. Mydei was aware of this grueling task, but he was more than prepared for it.
His comrade needed him now more than ever - who was he to deny him? Even with this just reason, he could not help but to recall the hints of fury in those eyes back when he first approached Khaslana.
It was only a matter of time before he would snap in half.
The Titans had made a pact - Khaslana had one year to stay with his beloved. Not more, not less.
All he did was nod wordlessly. With the flourish of his new cape, he had set off.
Come sunrise, a new man now walked across the earth. He called himself Phainon, and he was always ready to lend a helping hand to any person in need. The hero had settled down in a quaint little village, which often baffled the locals but none took offense to him - in fact, he was greeted with open arms into their community.
Phainon smiled at them all, as he ate their food and followed their traditions as one ought to - but his heart knew what it longed for.
She was always there by his side, always so close and sweet. The two would spend countless hours in the golden wheat fields together, giggles and laughter breaking the tranquil silence as Phainon's new heart became stronger than ever before.
More. He needed more.
Strife was taking its toll on holding this world together, that much was evident. Wars and bloody battles had become more common now, as travelers who went in and out of the village would share tales and accounts of how brutal monsters and warriors would clash, their ends always seemed so nigh.
People chanted and offered sacrifices to the Worldbearer, asking whether or not had they done something wrong, and Phainon listened to them all. The world was cracking due to his absence - and in a strange sense, he could not be bothered to care.
Not here, not now. Not when he had finally discovered his own slice of heaven, always there right at his fingertips.
Time was cruel. Time was against him, the year was coming to a close too soon, too fast.
But what Time did not know was that Khaslana fought dirty. Before he departed, he snatched the a coin from Trickery. It was not a piece of mortal currency, but rather a minted lie - a shimmering token Cipher had forged to pay passage through the laws of the universe. To a mortal, it was gold - to a Titan, it was a loophole.
If he could not beg Time for mercy, he would use Trickery's coin to buy a debt which could never be collected.
When the time had come to send him home, Phainon had playfully said that he ought to flip a coin to see whether or not he could stay longer. Finding his despair charming, and frankly bittersweet, the Titans who came to collect him wished to humor Phainon.
All of them were rendered speechless once the coin was stuck in mid air, thus making both their words and his mute.
He was staying - the coin could not make a decision, and they had all allowed this wager to occur. And the Titans were not allowed to backtrack on their promises, no matter how miniscule.
Phainon had heard the sky creak that day, a warning from Mydei. He knew that his brother in arms was suffering, and he felt guilty. He truly did.
But he could not let this go. Not now.
He was not ready.
For the time being, Phainon was to remain in this world, not as a god, but as a man. He had the wits, the strength and the power.
His one and only foe was time.
So be it then.
He would destroy that as well. Over and over, he was willing to shatter the passage of time and space just to have his love by his side.
The only force in the universe which could stop him, was Death.
The moment I saw that fan art... I was just so, so INSPIRED! There was also a sudden influx of specifically Kahslana fics on my feed, and I could not help but to add my own two cents to this trend. Heavens above, I adore Phainon. This man is in my head rent free 24/7. This is also a big birthday gift for myself - June 25th is my birthday, and in 2026 I turn 24 years old! Wow! What a serious number for such an unserious person!! I also rushed the end because I REALLY wanted to hit my birthday deadline... I hope you can all forgive me for that.
Art credit: @box-artist. Your art is so amazing, and I want to thank you for granting me the privilege of using it in my silly little fic. You are the best.
Divider credit: @uzmacchiato. You poor soul, if you end up reading this, I can only imagine how annoyed you must be with me, because I keep using your dividers LOLOLOL. That's your own fault though, for making these dividers so cute and perfect.
Thank you all for reading! Comments and ideas are always welcome! Stay flamin'!
(cw: suggestive, reader is implied to be smaller than phainon)
It must be the stress, for you to be pinned down to the couch by a lovely man who’s bigger than you.
How did you end up like this again? You can’t quite recall. All your mind ever supplies are the feelings of frustrations when things did not go your way throughout the week—there was the stupidity from your team that you can’t quite grasp that led to the delays; a friend of yours owing you a favor who then went MIA for some reason, and the snuffed out flame within you that was supposed to be fueled by your preferred beverage, or else you wouldn’t get any work done this week.
Spoiler alert: there was little to no progress, despite the indulgence of your drink, and it’s already Friday. Normally, you would be having a panic attack ( because gods, you are way behind schedule! ), but even your soul is too tired for something like that. Unfortunately, you do not have the time to trek a mountain and scream your lungs out.
When you arrived home—to the small, comforting apartment you share with Phainon—it was the only moment the universe gave you for some needed reprieve. And said reprieve was a super hot boyfriend in all his endearing glory.
Phainon already changed into his baggy clothes, and had his glasses resting on his nose bridge. Gone were the smart casual fits and contacts he usually wore, but then again, he was still super hot. When he saw you from the couch, Phainon paused some movie he was watching. In real time, his mouth opened wide into a huge grin and he immediately ran towards you with arms already open.
“Honey, you’re here!”
You allowed yourself to be shadowed and crushed into a tight embrace by the enthusiastic man, who for sure was aware of how strong his grip was. You also allowed Phainon to yap your ears off, despite wishing all day for a semblance of peace. Though to be quite frank, Phainon’s voice was hella soothing to the ears and you were hella in love with him you really couldn’t quite bring yourself to zip his lips.
Though, you did have a plan on how to do that, just not the rude way.
Pulling away from the hug, Phainon was still smiling—overjoyed to see you. He still had one arm curled around your waist, and then, oh, his large, warm hand cupping your cheek. You didn’t know why, but at that one touch, your eyes stung. Phainon did not seem to notice yet how you blinked once, then twice, and you weren’t sure of what he was saying next.
Your ears only picked up the: “I made some soup that you liked so much. Of course, I needed some assistance from Mydei, because well, you know. He’s a better cook than all of us, but, but, rest assured that I did all the work!” Yeah, you still weren’t sure why your eyes stung and your vision seems to blur, but you blink it again. Once. And twice. “After eating dinner, what would you like to do next, honey? It’s Friday, so that means we can stay up all night, if that’s what you wish. We could get started on watching that series you’ve been eyeing for a while—”
“H–hey, Phainon?” Oh. Fuck. Your voice cracked. Great.
And the thing was, Phainon was perceptive. This was one aspect that some folks missed. The elation in his face disappeared—and it was replaced by furrowed brows and lips curving downwards. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Is there something wrong, hon—”
And also, if there was one thing to distract him with, you could always use yourself.
“Do you wanna make out?”
5 minutes later there are two lips smacking passionately on the couch.
Right, so that’s what happened. Yes, you’re stressed. Super stressed. And very very tired, and you do not want to burden your boyfriend who’ll also get stressed over you once he learns that you haven’t been feeling so good. You don’t want to add ‘Reassure Phainon That There’s Nothing to Worry About’ on your list, so you pull Phainon closer to yourself. Letting yourself enveloped by none other than Phainon of Aedes Elysiae.
The kiss deepens, and your tongue meets his. Phainon releases a groan, before melting right into you. Yes. This is it. At least distracting Phainon is going according to plan—
“—Hah, honey, you’re doing this again, mmph—” You yank him again to prevent him from talking, and you wonder if he’s talking about you taking the lead in kissing, not until he pries himself from you again ( though he looks so pained from doing that ). “The-there’s something wrong, isn’t it? Hey—”
You tug him by the choker, and he elicits a sound that’s only reserved for your ears. You smooch him again, and there’s no doubt that Phainon is delighted by this, with him kissing you back once more with a contented moan, not until he whimpers, and shakily grabs your wrist. Again, he detaches himself, though it looked like he didn’t want to, so his face is still inches closer to yours.
Breaths are intermingled, and you do everything in your power to seduce him by pecking him again, but he whines, “Honey.”
You open your eyes, and there it is. The expression of concern plastered on his face. He’s still so hot, despite it all.
Yeah, this is not the time to admire your boyfriend.
A heavy sigh escapes you, “Can’t you just shove your tongue down my throat or vice versa until dawn?”
Phainon suppresses a snort. He caresses your face. “Tempting, but no. Not now. Honey, you clearly have something on your mind.”
You pout, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“But you’re not feeling like yourself, and that breaks my heart,” he admits. His thumb slowly rubs your skin. “For the past few days or so, you haven’t acting like you usually do. I apologize that I only took action now in spite of me already realizing what was happening that early, but you were always gone and I assumed that these were just mere inconveniences that would easily go away, but clearly it did not. Now that we’re free, I—”
Already aware of where he is heading to, you sigh again, “Don’t feel guilty. These are my issues, Phainon.”
“I know.” Phainon dips his head down, refusing to meet your gaze, and the organ in your chest sinks at the sight. “But I can’t really help it.”
Your boyfriend is wonderful. Yes, this is now the time to admire your boyfriend, because he’s just so kind, so wonderful, so thoughtful—and this may be an exaggeration, but he honestly deserves the world. He deserves all the good things from all the shit he has gone through. You’ve seen how he shattered and how he picked himself back up, and a part of you doesn’t really want him to bear the challenges you face, especially when he had been through so much that was perhaps a hundred times worse.
But he’s stubborn. Very much so. He huffs, “We’re not kissing again, not until you tell me what’s wrong.”
You stare at him, with wide eyes and parted lips. Did he just- oh. He’s serious. Determination emanates from him, and by the way, it’s still so hot, yet you can’t believe what you’ve just heard. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not,” Phainon says, and a bit of anguish reveals itself. “And this pains me more as much as it pains you because you look so beautiful underneath me I really want to ravish you until dawn. But taking care of you comes first, and I want to remind you that I’m your boyfriend, and you can tell me everything.”
“Phainon, you ravishing me until dawn is already taking care of me, to be honest.”
He gasps, “Not today, you deceiver! That won’t work on me! Now, open up!”
Your mouth quirks up. Okay. You should have a little fun with this, then. “My mouth so I can suc—”
“Noooo! Honey, come on! Don’t do this!!”
As Phainon continues to whine from above you, you can’t help but snicker. Oh. Your stupid tears are welling up again, and sooner or later, you would break your own rule of not wanting to burden Phainon.
But is it really so bad?
He is your boyfriend, after all. And if he had problems of his own, you'd want to know, too.
His arms cage on both sides of your head, and man, he really is so hot. You definitely did not zoom in on his biceps.
Going back, what is happening now? Ah, yes. Phainon’s currently admonishing you about your strategy of sweeping him by the feet ( metaphorically, because you physically cannot carry him or else you’d get squashed — though that seems like a fortunate way to ascend to the heavens to be honest ), before claiming that it will be futile starting this second since he has caught on.
“Do you really not want to share it with me?” He asks, with his lips pursed. And with a small voice, he asks again, “Do. . . do you not trust me?”
You pinch the side of his eye glasses, before taking it off. “That’s not it.” He makes no sound, and merely waits for your next move. “That’s not it at all, Phainon.”
“Then, help me understand?” Phainon shortens the distance between the two of you. His hold on you tightens, and you sense his anxiety. And this is really what you had want to avoid all along. “Please?”
“Phainon.”
“. . .”
He does not say anything anymore, and you just know that he really is serious. Wanting to calm his nerves, you give him a soft smile. “Okay. Though you have to promise me that once I let it out, you’ll have to commit to what you just said earlier.”
Phainon tilts his head. “Which is?”
“You ravishing me until dawn.”
He explodes in a darker red. The white-haired man on top of you sputters, “You’re still onto that!? Honey!”
“Are you not?”
“Well, yes, I am–but—mmph!”
You just kiss him again.
Maybe it really is not so bad to share your troubles with Phainon. This is just how it works, doesn’t it? It’s better to be honest now instead of keeping it all in.
When you pull away, Phainon’s a bit dazed, and you chuckle.
“We have a deal, then.”
( You do make a mental note to not overshare everything though. You just hope Phainon won't delve too much into the inconsistencies and holes in your story.
However, spoiler alert: Phainon is really perceptive for your own good, so consider this a failure. )
Seventeen // Took My Bitterness and Made it Sweet [Brother's Best Friend! Phainon x f!reader]
Summary: One summer day when you were thirteen, your older brother Mydei brings a boy over to play. You don’t expect anything good out of boys, but somehow, the boy- Phainon, you learned his name was, seems to want to know you better and include you in everything. Every time you expect nothing and think he’s just here for Mydei, his guileless yearning to be closer to you continues for years. Your denial of feelings and Phainon’s easy and confident persistence seems to complicate whatever was within your heart even further.
A/N + Warnings: Modern!AU, reader is introverted, reader is 1 year younger than Mydei and Phainon, LONG AF 21K WORDS IM SO SORRY, trig identities, Mydei slander (bc he's your brother), extremely self indulgent. I wrote half of these sections while I was in school, so apologies if there are inconsistencies in the writing
Tagging the lovely @zozo-01 since she stuck with this ever since she tagged me in snippet sunday (Thank you Zo, I love you <3)
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Age: 13
At the young age of thirteen, you've already written off boys. They were smelly, mean, and dumb... you could go on. Which is why, when your brother Mydei brought home a friend for the first time, you were not expecting to like him.
It was a random summer afternoon when you were lounging in your room, listening to music while you draw. It wasn't long until you felt like you heard the front door open and close, along with an extra set of footsteps...? You thought you were hearing things- perhaps it was your mom who was walking. But just a second later, you heard an unfamiliar voice.
It's another boy, you think.
For a moment you forget the animosity you have against boys. The memory of your brother dejected and purposely isolating himself last year rings clearly in your mind. Your family had left your town of Castrum Kremnos and moved to the more populated city of Okhema to get a fresh start, especially because of the grief caused by your father. However, this also meant that Mydei would be leaving his friends.
Though you have not had many interactions with them, you knew they were good friends and meant a lot to your brother, even if he didn't want to admit it. A dull ache lingered within your household despite moving to the free and prosperous Okhema.
So you decide to give this mystery boy a pass.
Your tablet flashes, signaling low battery, and suddenly you realize the predicament you're about to be in. Shit. You left your charger with Mydei after his broke, so now you have to go in his room to ask for it.
Did you really have to go in? Your mind goes back and forth between saving your tablet and staying in your room and waiting it out. Looking back in your room, avoiding interacting with the mystery boy and your stinky brother seemed really tempting. You had hobbies! You could definitely find something else to pass the time. But a part of you can't help but be curious, and before you know it, your feet were dragging you to Mydei's room.
You walk as lightly as you could, trying not to alert them of your existence before you were ready to go in. The door was half open, and you hear the low murmur of their voices, along with the electronic sounds effects of what seemed to be punches or shooting. You gulp, overthinking of whether Mydei would even hear you over the video game noises. You knock anyway.
"Yeah?" Mydei's voice calls out. You breath a sigh of relief- at least he heard you. You grab your nonexistent courage and push the door to enter. Keeping your head down, your footsteps hover lightly on his floor as if you were sneaking in. And then your breath catches in your throat.
The mystery boy- A boy sits on the edge of Mydei's bed beside him with a controller loosely in his hand. He looks up at you the same time your brother does, and you get a full glimpse of his face. He was sitting, but he looked around the same height and age as Mydei. White messy hair framing his face, bright blue eyes, and an even brighter smile. Why was he smiling at you?
And was that the scent of wheat?
Your brain barely catches up to the overload of the mystery boy, but Mydei fortunately snaps you out of your trance.
"What do you want?" Mydei's voice is curt and straight to the point as always. You catch the mystery boy stifling a laugh, nudging your brother and whispering something like "how gentle", to which your brother nudges him back subtly. You don't know why but you feel self conscious all of a sudden.
"I-I need the charger." You mutter. Ew. You become aware of how awkward your voice comes out.
"It's on the desk." Mydei replies, quickly focusing back on the video game. You cringe. The desk? The one all the way across the room? Where you'd have to pass this weird smiley boy? Your anti-social self loathes this, and you wish you could cuss at Mydei for not getting the message but alas there is a guest.
Men. They certainly stress women out. Even your own brother.
You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you swiftly cross your brother's bed to snatch the charger. Okay, you did it, just quickly in and quickly out, easy right-
"Hey."
The white haired mystery boy calls out to you, and you flinch like those cartoon robbers caught in the police lights.
"I'm Phainon." He says with a smile. "Do you wanna play with us?"
Your pupils dart quickly between the boys and Mydei's TV, where some sort of FPS game was paused. The thought crosses your mind so fast, you almost flinch in disgust at the thought of playing this violent video game with boys. Yuck!
"I- what?" You grimace, though it comes out meek. Phainon only continues smiling, lifting his controller to gesture at the game.
"We're about to enter a lobby, you can join us if you like." Phainon only continues smiling, lifting his controller to gesture at the game. The invite makes your heart beat faster- though you're not sure if you should be flattered or weirded out that you're being included. Mydei seems to voice the latter.
"Why would we do that?" Mydei's words come out blunt as usual, though you don't fault him for it because you also couldn't find a reason to join them, especially when you didn't really enjoy your brother's video games. More importantly, you felt like it was gonna be awkward.
"Um, I'm okay. I don't really like shooter games." You reply, slowly backing off with the charger in hand. Weirdly, Phainon perks up more, still talking to you.
"Then we could play something else. Do you like Mario Kart? Or Party?" Phainon suggests. You and Mydei both give him a grimace like true siblings.
"We don't have to include my sister in everything." Mydei says. From the way he said it, you felt like Mydei briefly told Phainon about you, which doesn’t help with your face burning at the thought of being mentioned.
"I-It's fine, really. You guys play." You say, taking the last word to finally exit. You're at the threshold of Mydei's doorway when Phainon steals the last word, calling out one last thing.
"Maybe next time then."
You almost flinch again, your steps abruptly stopping, and shit. It signalled that you heard him, so now you had to answer. You slowly turn, putting on a smile.
"Yeah... sure." Your answer wasn't confident, and you realize you might have come off as fake- like you were putting on a customer-service smile with an empty promise.
And yet, Phainon- this smiling boy, continues to beam at you like he actually believed you.
You don't trust yourself to not embarrass yourself any further with that interaction, so you you quickly pull your brother's door closed and retreat back to the safety of your room. You sit on your bed, charger clearly forgotten and your posture rigid as a soldier as you reflect on what the hell just happened.
Your heart was beating too fast. Too fast, but... not for a boy, right?
It's ridiculous, you think. Phainon was the guest here- a stranger. There was a supposed to be a sense that playing video games with them was some sort of uncharted territory when he was your brother's friend. But it’s like it has been reversed.
You've met boys before, obviously in your elementary school. They were smelly, mean, and dumb... loud, reckless, and careless... Yet Phainon was strangely not like them. And you were sure as hell knew that none of them ever looked at you like that- like it was normal for you to be there, or that it made sense for you to join. You press your palms to your face, as if wiping it would get rid of your overcomplicated thoughts.
This is so stupid.
Somehow, you get the feeling that you weren't going to forget him.
A few hours later, you realize you actually aren't going to forget the boy. Especially when you find him setting up the dinner table.
Your mother called you and Mydei down that evening for dinner, and you pause for a moment in the hallway as you see the white haired boy still here. You caught a glimpse of him just washing his hands, meaning he was definitely staying to eat. He answers your mother with a cheerful "yes ma'am!" and you make a face- both at the thought of Phainon joining your family for dinner, and the fact that he just called your mother "ma'am".
Your mother calls you and Mydei to set the table as usual. You realize how giddy Phainon looked as you saw him from the corner of your eye, sleeves rolled up and posture upright like he was ready for your mother’s cooking. He suddenly realizes you too.
"Oh, hi again." Phainon's eyes blink at you as he turns away from drying his hands.
"Hi..." You quietly nod to him, and he smiles at you again. By this point, you felt that he could probably tell that you were weirded out by him a little- being a guest and all yet being so comfortable with people he just met. You don't even remember the last time you were comfortable in your own skin. And yet here you were, standing awkwardly at your own dinner table in your own house, while this random boy acts like he belonged here all this time.
For once you latch onto the task of setting the table gratefully, busying yourself with forks and knives in order to not to pay the obvious elephant in the room any mind. You definitely don't realize the way he kept glancing over, and you certainly don't realize how he pulled your chair out for you.
Once dinner was set, your family takes their seat and starts on a nice home-cooked meal. Your mother gets curious and starts asking Phainon questions, since she too realized this was the first friend Mydei brought home. You keep your head down mostly, as you weren't really a part of this conversation. Funny enough, Mydei stays quiet too. Birds of a feather you were.
"How long have you two been friends?" Your mother asks towards your brother and Phainon. Though of course, Phainon takes the lead and answers.
"Since the beginning of the school year. Mydei has been helping me with studying for history." Phainon beams, his head nudging towards Mydei to acknowledge him. "He's really good in that class."
Mydei grumbles something unintelligible in response. It's weird... weird how Phainon's praise for your brother warms your heart. You knew that your brother was good at history, that much was true. But nobody was perfect (and as his sister, you knew firsthand of Mydei's particularly annoying traits such as his attitude). Phainon goes on about how he met Mydei from how he admired Mydei's competitiveness in gym class, but Mydei of course mistaken it for rivalry. You internally cringe at the thought of more boys being over competitive in sports.
Still, the sound of Phainon talking about your brother like he was perfect was... different somehow, genuine- even though that wasn't part of the question your mother was asking. You poke mindlessly at your food, a small smile slipping out as you recognize the hidden weight behind Phainon's polite answers.
Your mom continues to pester Phainon and Mydei with questions, with Phainon answering and your brother contributing the bare minimum. At one point you swear you see your mother rolling her eyes fondly at Mydei's lack of answer. You knew she likely shared the same sentiment as you- thinking how your brother was secretly happy for making a new friend.
"What grade are you going to?" Phainon's voice interrupts your thoughts, and you blink up, realizing that he was suddenly talking to you.
"Oh- eighth..."
"Eighth? Cool. Are you looking forward to high school?"
"I don't know..."
"That's okay. I think high school is gonna be fun! What's your favourite subject?"
"Um, art."
"That's awesome." Phainon says it like he actually means it, which makes your grip on your fork tighten. "Do you draw a lot?"
"Yeah I guess..."
"What kind of stuff do you draw?" Holy moly. You start cringing more, feeling some sort of embarrassment as Phainon presses on with the questions. He really wasn't letting this conversation go.
"Um... just things..." You shrug. You’re not really sure you want to say out loud that you draw silly anime characters at the dinner table. There's a pause, where Phainon just nods at you. It's like deja vu, where you expected the talk to end here. And yet-
"I'd like to see them sometime." He says, smiling. Your heart seems to catch on to the deja vu, doing that strange little jump again like before.
You don't understand it.
You don't understand why he wants to know more about you, or why he's being so polite, or why he keeps trying to include you, or why he's smiling so much. Why it ironically feels physically hard for you to look him in the eye. Going to a friend's house for the first time is typically awkward, is it not? But nothing seemed difficult for Phainon. In fact, everything seemed relatively easy for him.
Dinner continues with your brother and Phainon bantering and bickering like boys do while your mother smiles fondly. Once you finish, you walk quickly back to your room, wanting to be back in the safety within your walls, where you will not be bothered by some stinky-
“Hey!” Phainon calls out to you, and you flinch, stopping in your tracks. His footsteps pad across the floor, with Mydei silently beside him. “I still don’t know your name.”
“It’s (Y/N)…” You reply softly. You would think that your brother would have introduced you, but alas there he stands, anti-social and nonchalant like all boys try to be. Well, almost all boys.
“Well (Y/N), do you wanna play Mario Party with us?” There was the question again, but rephrased with your name with the addition of a more family friendly video game. He was purposely trying to include you, wasn’t he? You pause for a moment, thinking. Phainon grins, pressing on. “Your brother told me that you need help unlocking a minigame in the two versus two mode.”
“But there’s three of us…”
“Yeah. It can be me and you versus Mydei.” Phainon remarks casually. Before you could quirk an eyebrow at the strange pairing, Phainon continues. “Your brother already claimed he would still win.”
And it’s strange, you think. How the stars are perfectly aligning, so much so that it almost seems suspicious. Something prickles at your pride. Mydei has always been competitive with you, but to be honest, playing Mario Party with your brother has started getting boring. Here Phainon was, offering a fresh perspective by fueling Mydei’s competitive spirit and wanting you to join.
You blink blankly at your brother. “…You wouldn’t win partnered with an AI.”
“Yeah? Wanna bet?” Mydei growls immediately after. It earns a chuckle from Phainon, as he gets a first hand experience of you and Mydei being essentially the same person, and furthermore a glimpse of your own sarcasm against your brother. Phainon looks over at you, beaming.
“So, what do you say?”
You look at the boy, whose posture remains hopeful that you would join. Your stomach fluttered again- why? At this point you realize how bad it would be if you declined him again like you subtly dismissed him before. But he was... intelligent, you think. Intelligent in how he phrased his words.
"Partners?"
Phainon is already pushing Mydei's door open like he owned the place (while the real tenant grimaces). His other hand is outstretched to you, and somehow you see the change now. The invite was no longer a push, but a sign of him waiting. This was weird. He's too warm... too-
"Yeah." Before you knew it, a smile slowly spreads on your face, and you take his hand. He somehow lights up even more, giggling with you as he tugs you into Mydei's room, with the shared goal of beating your brother.
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
Age: 15
Two years ago was when you’d say you officially became friends with Phainon: That day he was first invited to your house by Mydei.
You remember playing Mario Party with the boys, which turned into a whole marathon of video games. But you also ended up learning about Phainon. How he actually lives very far from school, in the countryside of Aedes Elysiae. Little things like how he wanted a video game console, but found it useless if he no one to play with- hence why he was so excited to get the invite from Mydei to play video games at your house.
As you finally come into your own in high school, you don't freeze up anymore whenever Phainon comes over. He’s starting to get taller and his voice has lowered, but you barely realize it because of how often you see him. However, there was still the notion that Phainon was more of Mydei’s friend than he was yours. They were classmates first after all, but now that you knew him better, you felt like being in his presence more.
"Mydei, I need help with homework." You blurt out as you dump your bag on the couch as you come home. Mydei and Phainon were already there, sitting at the dining table, heads buried in their notebooks. Mydei clicks his tongue.
"What homework?" Your brother grumbles, already dreading your request and dramatically setting his pencil down. Phainon peers over at you behind him.
"Trig stuff." You reply casually. Mydei lets out a groan.
"No."
"What?!" You shout, immediately getting defensive. In times like these, you're reminded how obnoxious your brother is. Not that you ever forgot. "I have a quiz soon."
"I'm busy studying for my own test. Figure it out yourself." Mydei says. You catch the subtle sound of Phainon snickering behind your brother, and you get suspicious of whether he was laughing at you. Little do you know, the white haired boy caught a glimpse of Mydei's notes- messy and full of frustrated scribbles, because he too was struggling with trig stuff. Of course, he didn't want to admit it.
"Mydei, please. You're not saying no because you suck at trig too right?"
"No, I'm not." Mydei replies curtly. It was a lie of course. Again- birds of a feather you and Mydei were... both struggling with maths. You thought you could at least rely on your brother since he had at least a year of experience. But still, he waves you off. "Ask someone else."
You were about to open your mouth to argue, when-
"I can help." Phainon leans out for you to see him, offering his services easily. A beat of silence goes by until you and your brother both shout what?! without any shame.
What was it you said earlier? You don't freeze up anymore whenever Phainon comes over?
The hairs on the back of your neck prickle again, and you start feeling self conscious... like when you were thirteen meeting Phainon for the first time. Your notebook and past quiz that were prepared in your hands, slowly hide themselves behind you as if to back off. You knew your notes were messy- maybe even more than your brother's. But worst of all, your equations were half finished, red marks on your previous quiz with see me after class as the cherry on top.
You really don't want Phainon seeing this.
“I-It’s fine… I don’t want to bother you guys.” You try slowly backing away, hoping the boys would get the message that you changed your mind. Phainon only continues to smile, disregarding your stance.
"It's okay. I don't mind." He shrugs, already walking to the other side of the dining table so you could sit next to him. Shit.
Your brother rolls his eyes, seeing this as a sign for him to leave and study in peace. Wait, Mydei- He wasn't supposed to leave you alone with Phainon! He's so stupid!
"Whatever, I’m going somewhere else to work. Just don't fail her." Mydei glares one last time before dragging his stuff into his room and slamming his door like a princess, leaving you alone with Phainon.
"I won't." Phainon says simply, his arm resting on the back of the chair. He looks up at you, who was still standing there, and you flinch.
"Do you wanna come over here?" He asks. Your cheeks go warm at his... gentleness. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but there was a tiny part of his voice that sounded like he was teasing you. Still, you walk over, stiff as cardboard as you awkwardly sit in the chair next to him with your disappointing notes in hand. Immediately, you become aware of how close Phainon was, so you unconsciously shift your chair a little further from him, purposely distancing yourself. An awkward silence occurs for a good minute, until Phainon notices something and laughs quietly, looking at you.
“...What?” You stammer, your pupils flickering back and forth between him and the floor.
“Hm?” Phainon tilts his head as if he was an innocent puppy, though you knew he was far from innocent. Did he have to keep staring at you like that?
“What are you looking at?” You ask almost curtly, attempting to shoo him away.
“What am I looking at?” Phainon repeats your question with a knowing grin.
God, why did Phainon have to be so stupid? He truly didn’t know the effect he had on you- making you forget how to speak despite him coming over to your home for years and teetering off embarrassing yourself whenever he spares you a little glance.
But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? It wasn’t just a small glance to you.
Things like going the extra mile to help you with something you struggled with, being persistent in including you… Realistically, it didn’t mean anything special but oh, at the same time it definitely did. Why else did you start staring at the mirror for longer, wondering if you should fix your hair a little before going down? Why else would you think about changing into something that makes you look less like a bum? It was a little crazy now that you think about it. Mydei would definitely say something about it for sure. Something like “Why the fuck did you change your clothes when we’re in our own house?” to which was a valid argument- one that you didn’t want to have. So you usually end up doing nothing, but overthinking it anyway.
Phainon speaks again, seeing as you’ve seem to have gone silent for some reason. Thankfully, it stops your intrusive thoughts, but in turn makes your cheeks heat up a little.
“I’m looking at you because you’re sitting so far from me.” Phainon’s mouth curves upwards, his tongue teasingly between his teeth. He gives a playful pout. “Are you scared of me?”
You watch as Phainon grin turns into a playful pout. You realize what he meant with you sitting all the way at the end, accusing you of avoiding him or something.
Still, you deny it. “N-No…”
“Well then-“ Phainon lets out a soft grunt, and you get a little startled when you notice his foot hooking through the leg of your chair to bring you closer. That home-y scent of wheat wafts through your nose as soon as he got you where he wants.
"Okay, show me what you've got." He says. You cringe, still cosplaying as cardboard as you slowly slide your embarrassing notes and past quiz over. He looks it over silently, and you hold your breath.
"Hey," Phainon looks at you with a certain softness, something you definitely weren't expecting after your atrocious quiz score. "This isn't bad."
"I-It's not...?" You think he's making fun of you. Phainon shakes his head with a smile.
"No. To be honest I struggled with trig identities too. I think you're overthinking it, let me show you how I did it..."
Phainon teaches you how to approach the math questions you struggled on, and you start questioning whether he was lying about struggling on this too. From how he was explaining it to you, it's like he never struggled at all.
Then again, the only tutor you've known is your brother, so your standards are pretty low.
It's somewhat hard to concentrate as Phainon points out certain things and watches you do questions. He's close- really close. He's leaning towards you. Your shoulders would be brushing if you hadn't purposely leaned away. It was so much so that you notice the little crease in his brows and the way he bites his lip when he's concentrating.
"See? You're getting it."
What was this...? It’s literally just Phainon. Your heart starts doing those stupid little flips again, but you’re not sure if it’s just your brain mistaking it as nostalgia. Because it was the same way he was kind and patient with you two years ago. The same way he stayed for you at your dinner table despite you being difficult. The same way the smell of his hometown consumed you. The same way he continued to smile at you like it costs him nothing.
"What?" Phainon asks, softly glancing at you. You snap out of your trance and realize you were staring at him- daydreaming. How embarrassing.
"N-Nothing." You reply too quickly, ducking your head. Still, your eye flits back to him to peek, and he was smiling anyway. A warm feeling courses through your body, and you suddenly feel extremely comfortable. An idea comes up. "Can you help me with my English essay after?"
Phainon laughs, indulging you. "You need help with that? I thought your brother would be better with words."
You make a face at him, thinking, since when Mydei was good with poetry?
"You know- words like fuck and dumbass." Phainon clarifies. You laugh, realizing he was being sarcastic.
"That's exactly why I need help." You explain, and Phainon chuckles with a nod.
While you were being tutored, you shyly asked him why the heck he was even doing this- why he was willingly tutoring you when he had his own things to do, and didn’t have to in the first place. He only smiled a little, saying, “I like helping you.” You sputtered, exasperated as you questioned him, not being able to wrap your head around why that was a valid reason. But the implication was forgotten because he just made things easy for you. It doesn’t pass Phainon’s mind, but to be honest, he didn’t mind.
At some point, your eyes start drooping and getting heavier. Your textbook and notebook pages get blurrier. You feel your neck giving up on you, making your head lurch forward a few times.
“You falling asleep?” A soft voice whispers in your ear.
“No…” Even the dullness of your tone betrays you.
Phainon chuckles, and you get a little embarrassed. No, you cannot fall asleep at this point. Not when Phainon was right beside you. What if you drooled? Or snored? Mydei was always complaining about your snoring, and even though you were in denial, you get self conscious at what could happen. You force your eyelids open, but they only get heavy once more.
Before you knew it, your head fell to rest on a squishy pillow. The pillow briefly shakes beneath your cheek just before you passed out. How embarrassing- you eventually did use him as a pillow. You need to get up, but you don’t. It was mostly because you were tired, but perhaps a teensy tiny part of it was because you never wanted to leave.
You were drifting deeply into dreamland for who knows how long, and by how soundly you were sleeping, it seemed like you never wanted to wake up. That is, until something soft taps at your shoulder. Your eyes don’t really open until the tap happens a second time.
“There you are.” A soft chuckle reaches your ears, and you finally realize the predicament you were in.
The first thing you saw was Phainon, and you realized that he was sitting much closer than expected, and close enough that you could make out the little crinkle in the corner of his eyes as he smiled down at you.
“Hi.” He says again, softly greeting you, seeing as you haven’t fully woken up. Your brain seemed to be blissfully empty in this moment, simply savouring the view without informing your body to move. It doesn’t last long though, since Phainon slowly tries to extract himself from you without jostling you too much. “Was my lesson really that boring?”
You don’t even have the energy to respond, your eyes barely opening, though you hear Phainon’s voice fading in and out.
“I have to go now. (Y/n)-” Phainon chuckles sheepishly as he attempts to pull his sleeve caught from under your weight. “(Y/n), you need to wake up for me. Your brother’s gonna get mad at me again.”
“Mmph- y-you’re leaving now?” You suddenly scramble to fix your hair, sitting up properly to look at Phainon who was already reaching for his jacket. He turns back to you with a smile.
“It’s late.” He simply says. And he was right. As you looked outside, you could see the sky already pitch black. Just how long were you out for? What time did you fall asleep? Did you really lay on Phainon’s shoulder for that long? The thought makes you blush. You glance down at your forgotten trig homework, and see a bunch of sticky notes written with arrows and small notes for each question.
“Oh.”
Phainon seems to notice the mortification slowly creeping on your face at your brilliant response. He laughs under his breath.
“I’ve written down some notes for the last few questions you had. I hope they’re helpful in some way.” Phainon seems to be in deep contemplation, like he was thinking back to his notes and hoped they sufficed. He decides not to overthink it or potentially stress you out even more. So he smiles and waves, heading towards your door. “See you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight…” You managed to squeak as he left.
As your front door clicks shut, you collapse forwards on the table, simply staring at your scattered homework in silence. The living room felt strangely warm despite Phainon having already left. The scent of wheat lingered, his presence lingered, the half empty bowl of snacks, the blanket draped over you and the armrest. The feeling of his shoulder beneath your cheek.
Mydei casually walks down the stairs, his eyes flickering between the door and you, and you flinch. He leans forward on the table, looking down at you with the same arms-crossed, unreadable expression on his face. Though it was the same perpetual look of mild judgment he always gave, this time you felt like he could be suspecting something else.
“What…?” You say with a hint of attitude in your tone, side-eyeing your brother who clearly had something on his mind. You hated when Mydei did this.
“Nothing.” Mydei shrugs, reaching forward for the now stale popcorn. The silence continued to stretch, making you uneasy. “...Were you sleeping on his shoulder?”
“I- No…“ Smooth.
Mydei’s eyes narrow at you, getting skeptical from your very convincing answer. Fortunately, he scoffs and doesn’t address the secret you thought he was going to, but unfortunately, he decides he’s not going without a jab at you. “God, sleep on your bed next time.”
Your eyes widen in embarrassment, realizing that Mydei did indeed catch you sleeping on his best friend’s shoulder.
“S-Shut up Mydei!” You knowing he was teasing you for drooling on Phainon’s shoulder.
Mydei doesn’t even breaking eye contact with you. His gaze remains fixed, blinking blankly like he’s expecting something yet also wanting to ask something. You’re caught between deciding to stay silent or throwing another pillow because you knew he was teetering off pointing out a certain something between you and Phainon. Why couldn’t you talk to your brother about other things? Trying to have a normal conversation with Mydei was like trying to argue with a brick wall that occasionally made blunt remarks and observations about your life.
“You seem happy.”
You stared at Mydei, your heart skipping beats- though you weren’t sure if it was because you were anxious or the fluttery feeling of actually admitting what Mydei was likely referencing. The thing about having a sibling was that you would be fluent in their lies, but the biggest problem was that they would be fluent in yours too.
Because later that night, after denying everything to Mydei which you were sure sounded suspicious- you realized the thought had finally taken shape.
Fuck. You looked forward to seeing him. And it’s not like you haven’t, but after months of avoiding the question altogether, you slowly started to come to the terrible conclusion that your heart was craving his presence. There was no way you were going to get rid of the thought since you acknowledged it.
You knew Phainon didn’t come here to tutor you, and he too had work of his own and things to study for. Phainon had stayed. And even though you made him explain the concept four times, and continued cringing over trying not to break over trigonometry, your previous feelings of thinking you were a bother eventually seemed to disappear. He was patient with you, and never sounded annoyed, which in turn ruined your life in the way that you never stopped thinking about this moment.
You felt like you could depend on him comfortably without judgement or impatience. And he would let you take up as much of his time as you asked him for.
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
Age: 17
Ever since that night when Phainon helped you with your homework, you felt like you could be more carefree around him. Before, Phainon was just Mydei’s friend. Just a boy, who was annoyingly good at everything and nice in a casual way that easily made people gravitate towards him.
At seventeen years old, you think you know better. You were an adult, applying to universities, and thinking about careers.
You think you've matured. Which is why crushing on Phainon feels childish now.
You've admitted it internally in your head, that you've had a crush on him. A baby one at least. Over the years, you've watched him grow and you considered him a friend like your brother did. But somewhere throughout the multiple times he came over to your house, you found yourself finding every part of him attractive. It wasn’t your fault though, that he hasn't stopped with his whole golden boy persona. He was good at everything, liked by everyone, and fine, you'll admit he's cute. But he's eighteen now, already graduated and in university. So, you start seeing less of him.
And because you've matured, you pushed your silly little crush deep deep down early in the year.
Besides, there was a guy in your grade who you've been liking for a while now. You talked often with him, and he was funny and clever. You play the same video games, and share the love for art. He was super attractive too, and him teasing you lightly and seeking you out only made you fall harder. But you mistake the laughter and banter for warmth- for the kind of connection you yearned for.
Near the end of the school year, you finally admitted it to the boy. Your feelings, out on a plate that trembles from your shaking hands and pounding heart and... he laughs.
"Wait, you thought I was serious?"
The words hit you and you instantly become hollow. You don't even remember the rest of what he said. Something about how he never saw you in that way. But all you could focus on was the little scoff, the awkwardness, the laugh. The humiliation replayed in your head all day, and you realized too late that the teasing was never friendly, and that your feelings were more disposable than you thought.
By the end of the school day, you feel nauseous. Ironically, not from the pit in your stomach but from how you didn't know how to keep your face from not looking nauseous.
And to make things worse, you had to keep a not-nauseous face in front of your brother... and Phainon, who were both picking you up after school.
You think you were doing a good job- purposely walking three steps behind them and looking down, lest they see you secretly wiping your tears. But as the three of you walk to the bus station, Mydei's eyes widen as he catches the sight of your reddening nose.
"You okay?" Mydei asks suddenly. You blink up, and fuck- even your eyes couldn't hide how puffy they felt.
"I'm fine." You reply. But your voice is croaky, and your sleeve suspiciously in front of your nose.
"You're crying." Mydei observes.
"I said I'm fine." You turn away defensively. Mydei's jaw gets tight, and he steps closer to you.
Panic and anger starts flaring up between you and Mydei, the two of your snapping and cutting off each other.
"What happened."
"Nothing."
"Who did it then?"
"Nobody."
"I know it wasn't fucking nobody."
"Just drop it Mydei!"
Phainon steps in gently with his hands raised between you and your brother. "Hey, let's just get to the station, okay?"
You almost forgot Phainon was there. You didn't want to know what he was thinking, and in the moment you didn’t care. Mydei glares at you, growling as he turns to keep walking to the station, reluctantly following Phainon's advice. You follow the boys silently, your heart hammering. It's embarrassing you think, how you've just argued with your brother out in the open like a child. You were eighteen for fucks sake.
The bus ride was painfully quiet between the three of you, and you didn't dare look up from your feet. After a while, Mydei speaks again.
"Was it that guy?" Your brother's voice low, but clearly aimed at you. You start getting nauseous again.
"No." You lie. It was small and desperate. You almost cry when you see your brother shaking his head from the corner of your eye. Was he disappointed in you? For lying? Because of the guy in your class? You weren't sure. Still, you knew you should never have told him. Mydei says nothing.
When you finally reach your home, you don't wait to rush straight to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you. You drop onto your bed, face flat into your sheets as you sob into them, hoping they muffle the sound. You feel so stupid.
Meanwhile, Mydei stomps into the house, shoulders rigid with anger as he violently sits on the couch, his fingers pinching his brows. For once, Phainon is nervous to enter further into your house. Even with uncertainty and a small ache in his chest, he approaches Mydei.
"Are you okay...?" He asks, slowly putting his bag down. A long silence passes, and Mydei doesn't even look up at him.
"Do whatever you want." Mydei says, not even answering Phainon's question. Okay- so obviously Mydei (and you) weren't okay. Phainon sits beside him anyway. He eventually convinces your brother to go wash his face to cool down.
An hour passes, and Phainon realizes he was alone. Actually, he realized it a lot longer ago, when he heard the sound of the bathroom door closing... and then Mydei's own door.
This should be awkward for him. Being promised a normal hangout but now being left alone in a house that isn't his, where both his friends were upset. Against his better judgment, he softly walks down the halls to your door. He hesitates a little before knocking lightly.
"Hey... are you okay…?" He asks.
On the other side of the door, you gulp, swallowing your sobs for the nth time. You stay silent, both from not knowing what to say and not wanting to face him.
"I-I don't need to come in." Phainon continues cautiously, and you keep quiet. "I just wanted to know if you were okay..."
You shouldn't be replying to him, not now. Even so-
"I'm not." Ew. Your voice comes out watery and snotty. Weirdly enough, something in Phainon's chest breathes a sigh of relief at hearing your voice.
"Can I sit with you?" He asks immediately after. "We don't have to talk."
You hesitate again. Every nerve in your body is telling you no- that you should keep the door locked and not let him or anyone see you like this. But Phainon's voice was gentle, just like you've always known, and- ...this is so dumb.
"...Fine." You mumble, creaking your door slightly open.
Phainon immediately pushes the door wider. His heart sinks when he sees you with red swollen eyes and hunched shoulders. But you don't even notice- in fact the only thing you do notice is the ghost of a hopeful smile just before he crushes you with a hug.
"Hey," He murmurs, as if greeting you after not seeing you for a while. "I've got you."
You stiffen for a second. The hug wasn’t even that tight, his grip light and loose like he was afraid of breaking you. His hold remained respectful, and so you let yourself melt into him, chin resting on his shoulder even if it was for a few pathetic seconds.
He pulls away eventually and gestures for you to sit back on your bed while he sits on your chair. You’re hoping Phainon doesn’t notice the disgusting tissues piling up in your trash can.
“Do you… wanna talk about it?” He asks softly. And it’s really none of his business. But at this point you’re desperate and you’ve already let him in your room. So, you tell him.
You tell him everything despite the moments making your face hot with humiliation. From how you thought your shared interests and teasing with the guy meant something, to how you stupidly convinced yourself it was mutual. Somewhere along the line you also slowly realize how delusional you must have been. The boy simply didn’t like you because he didn’t see you in that way- no fault in that. But was it so bad to think that something could have came from it?
You shakily recall how much you trembled during your confession, voice and body and all. It should have been a sign since then. So, the answer is yes.
“I feel so stupid.” You blurt out, rubbing your eyes again. “
“Don’t say that,” Phainon coos softly. “It takes guts to confess. I’m sorry it turned out this way.”
“You are…?” You sniffle.
“I thought he would have liked you too.” He explains matter of factly. “Anyone with the same dynamic would have.”
Suddenly, a bitter type of anger twists within your stomach.
I thought he would have liked you too. Anyone would have.
Phainon’s words were kind, but you felt that they were too kind for the utter stupidity you subjected yourself to. You think about how some of your classmates knew of your playful rivalry with the boy and started encouraging it. You think about the nights you spent up texting your friends, secretly giggling and squealing over every little interaction and replaying conversations you had with the boy. You think about how much time you wasted.
And then it hits you- how stupid you look right now. Crying, eyes swollen, puffy nose, and your voice all watery and wobbly… with Phainon watching all of it. Heat starts flooding your face again, and before you knew it the bitterness was tumbling out of your mouth.
“You don’t know anything.” You mutter quietly. But Phainon hears it.
“What-“
“You don’t.” You stand up suddenly, your change in demeanour now prevalent. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
No wait-
Your seething words get to Phainon, the corner of his eyes turning downwards, heart aching. You immediately feel the guilt and shame, but it’s too late.
“I’m not.” Phainon replies quietly. Somehow, his tone was normal- unaffected even after the bitterness from you. For a second your heart wants to double down. But your words tell a different story.
“Yes, you are.” You refuse to make eye contact with him, but your message remains clear. “Just- Just get out. Please.”
There’s a pause where a small part of you hoped that Phainon would stay. But of course, your words have already left your mouth and told him otherwise. Phainon stands up, a deep sigh coming out of him. He nods once with a bittersweet smile as if accepting something he doesn’t want to.
“Okay… I’ll give you space.” Phainon says softly. He hesitates at your door for a bit. “I’ll be outside if you still want to talk…”
Phainon finally leaves, making sure to close your door for you. Almost immediately, you start crying again, though the embarrassment lingers longer than the tears. Curled within your blankets, your mind can’t help but replay the moment, finding a new detail to hate each time. You shouldn’t even be crying this much. Even as you found yourself liking this boy throughout the school year, you internally told yourself to prepare for the chance of heartbreak. You couldn’t expect everything to be a happy ending, right? Yet as you become aware of the sorry state of yourself now, it seems to be more painful.
Because maybe, a small foolish part of yourself thought that he might say yes.
The more you thought about it, the more humiliating this whole thing felt. The butterflies, the daydreams, the hopeful little fantasies you built in your head- how arrogant were you to think someone would like you back? The answer should have been obvious from the beginning.
On the other side of the door, Phainon stands there for a moment with a heavy heart as he hears your muffled sobs and sniffles. He’s about to turn and walk back to the couch when suddenly- a familiar pair of footsteps approaching make Phainon snap up. Mydei.
The boys both look at each other with wide eyes, not knowing where to start. Phainon’s mouth opens though nothing comes out, while Mydei stands there with an unreadable expression and his arms crossed.
“I-I wasn’t- I mean- I was just…” Phainon trails off, not really making any sense.
“I know.” Mydei replies while letting out an exhale. Phainon’s half relieved but also half confused. He knew Mydei was quite protective of you, but he surprisingly wasn’t mad at him for talking to you after a meltdown. Mydei opens his eyes, but avoids looking towards your bedroom door. “Was it about that guy…?”
Phainon is torn between telling his best friend and respecting your privacy. It was hard when Mydei was already this perceptive- what else was there to hide?
“Nothing gets past you, does it?” Phainon sighs with a meek smile. A neutral answer, yet it told Mydei everything he needs to know. Your brother doesn’t press on for information, only deeply exhaling again while walking towards the living room.
“I’m bad at this.” Mydei mutters, flopping on the couch. Phainon curiously trails after him. “You’re better than this than me.”
Phainon blinks, then rounds the couch to sit beside him. “That’s not true.”
“She talked to you, not me.” Mydei says flatly, rubbing his hands on his face. Phainon swears he saw the corners of Mydei’s eyes still recovering from redness(?) but he decides not to comment on it. He thinks back to your red eyes, and how he wished he could have comforted you more.
“I know you… never really liked that guy in the first place but,” Phainon says, giving a hopeful smile. “She needs you more than me. Even if she doesn’t say it.”
“And…? I’d just make things worse.” Mydei lowly protests. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Yeah, you probably would.” Phainon pokes at Mydei, and his head snaps towards him giving him a glare. Phainon chuckles, though he knew his friend would know that he was half joking. Phainon offers a weak smile. “But at least it meant you tried.”
A beat of silence hangs in the air, but it wasn’t heavy this time.
“I’m sorry.” Mydei says, his voice low. Phainon’s ears perk up, unsure if Mydei really meant that.
“What did you say-”
“I said go home.” Mydei deflects, facing away from him. But even with the unsaid words, Phainon knew his friend had a lot of heart, and didn’t mean to cause this conflict and awkwardness. Mydei picks up Phainon’s bag and throws it at him. “I’ll talk to her later…”
And finally, Phainon breathes a sigh of relief, having a gut feeling that this would resolve itself soon enough.
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
Age: 18, start of university
It’s been about almost a year since that argument you had with your brother about that stupid crush.
Mydei did end up knocking on your door that night, and you had a talk. It wasn’t perfect by any means- there was still some frustration and shouting. Mydei kept telling you how he knew he should have trusted his gut on how that guy was bad. You kept telling him that it wasn’t his business, and that you could take care of yourself. You weren’t a little kid anymore.
Eventually, the anger fizzled out and Mydei remembers that the whole reason for this conversation wasn’t about being right.
You both sit in silence for a while, until Mydei gives you an awkward side hug, murmuring about how that guy sucked. If it was anything you could agree on now,
“You’re not serious about beating him up are you?” You ask incredulously.
“Yeah I am. Got a problem?” Mydei replies without an ounce of care. You roll your eyes.
“Um yes, there is a problem. An ethical one.” You say like it was obvious- because it was!
“Who gives a shit?” Mydei shrugs. You can’t help but laugh at Mydei’s straightforward yet completely honest answer, because truthfully you would probably think the same if it weren’t for repercussions. You knew you couldn’t change anything from what happened, though a part of the embarrassment still remains deep in your heart. You decide to do your best and move on- and more importantly, you didn’t want to argue with your brother, or stay mad at him for his way of thinking.
Later that night, you also made sure to text Phainon, and you get a reply back pretty quickly.
(Y/N): I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I really appreciate you coming to comfort me, even if I wasn’t accepting of it.
Phainon: There’s no need to apologize. I understand you were hurt.
For a moment you stare at the screen. Even with all these years knowing Phainon, his gentleness still astounded you.
Phainon: You’re tougher than you think. Always have been.
You smile at the text. Stubborn would have been a better word, you think, especially with Mydei as part of the context. Still, this was the last time you saw Phainon before entering university, which made things slightly awkward. Things are resolved, but you still can’t shake off the fact that the last impression you had was bawling your eyes out in front of him, and then snapping at him right after.
The summer passes quietly after that. You don’t see Phainon much since you were preparing to start your own journey in university. You were ready for things to change.
Well, most things. Mydei was still protective of you, and you suddenly see a (less nice) carbon copy of your mother following you into the post-secondary life.
Make sure you lock your doors, I don’t care if you’re just going for a coffee down the street. And don’t walk home alone when you have night classes. Holy moly, it was barely even the first day and he was already giving you orders like it was boot camp. Still, you don’t fault him for it. You figured you’d catch yourself forgetting something like that eventually, since these seemingly “normal” procedures might not be the first thing you think of.
Speaking of your first day and Mydei- he insisted on picking you and your friend up after the orientation party.
“Please don’t tell me that stupid mascot was there.” Mydei groans.
“It was.” You reply, giggling as you and your friend hop in the backseats.
“I thought they’d stop doing that, bringing him to all these campus events.” Mydei scoffs, then mumbles something about how the mascot was just dancing in a corner. Clearly the mascot was haunting his dreams.
“Hey, he’s doing his best.” A familiar voice laughs.
Your nose catches onto the realization first, the familiar scent of wheat drifting past you as you shifted into Mydei’s car. You abruptly look up from tugging on the seatbelt and realize- oh. Phainon was here too in the passenger seat. Wait- he looks… different. He wasn’t completely unrecognizable but his voice got lower, and he seemed much more confident which was somehow possible.
Well this was unfair. What was that line you heard from that one video game again? “Doctor- you’re… huge!” And you think that because holy fuck he was huge. From what you could see, his arms got all bulked up with muscle, shoulders extending past the width of the passenger seat of your brother’s car. What the hell happened over one year? Phainon goes through puberty and he gets taller and hotter. You go through puberty and you get pimples and a menstrual cycle. Or in other words: fuck you I guess.
“Is that Phainon? The guy you mentioned?” Your friend whispers to you, which snaps you out of your trance.
“Wha- I mean yes-”
“He’s cute. Super cute.” She whispers with a knowing grin. You’re hoping her statement falls on deaf ears but to your dismay, Phainon turns around, and you finally see his handsome face and smug grin.
“Was I supposed to hear that?~” He asks, looking at you straight in the eye. It wasn’t even the first day yet and your brain was already getting fried. Over a boy of all things.
“No.” You seethe, smacking your forehead at your friend’s whispering that could have been quieter. Phainon laughs.
“Don’t inflate his ego.” Mydei adjusts the rearview mirror, casually making a jab at Phainon. Though, it doesn’t really do anything when Phainon was still smiling.
“So, did you ladies have fun?” Phainon asks smoothly, looking back again, addressing the both of you. Your friend doesn’t answer, and you somehow get the feeling that she wanted you to talk, making your face subconsciously heat up.
“Um, yeah I guess.” You say awkwardly. You don’t know why you get shy when you respond, slowly sinking further into the seats as you struggle to even look at him. Phainon’s the same he’s always been- warm smiles, teasing lilts to his tone just to get you to talk to him, the scent of wheat. Still, your friend nudges your arm, telling you that she too noticed your speechlessness in front of him. Something is different. He is different.
As the car ride goes on, it’s fairly silent. Even though Phainon was sitting in the passenger seat, you couldn’t help but feel aware of your surroundings- like if he was gonna turn around or ask you something again. You tell yourself it was just to prepare yourself if he decides to look at you again. You hate that your eyes trace over him.
“Are you gonna start going out like this every weekend?” Phainon’s poses this question to you and your friend, though his eyes linger on you mostly.
“I dunno… Why?” You inquire, your shoulders slightly tensing when you watch Phainon’s lips curve into a teasing grin again.
“Just curious,” He shrugs. “Maybe you’d be better than Mydei who stayed in his dorm all the time when he was in first year.”
Mydei grumbles, giving Phainon a light shove as his friend giggles.
“There’s nothing to go out so often for.” Mydei proclaims with his arms crossed. His eyes then flicker to you in the rearview mirror, deciding to attack you for no reason like every older sibling does. “You couldn’t even go out without getting lost."
“I’m an adult Mydei.” You protest with an eyeroll as your brother embarrasses you (though he really is just a worrywart).
“Debatable.” Mydei scoffs.
“Mydei!” You yell. Phainon chuckles watching your short banter, then cuts in himself.
“She can handle herself.” Phainon gives Mydei a reassuring smile. There it was again- just a small little boost of confidence, that stupid faith he had in you that casually made you lose it. Not this again.
Still, even as the car pulls next to the curb and you’re ready to flop on your bed and gossip with your friend all night and more importantly brush off these feelings-
“Bye!” Phainon rolls his window down, waving at you. “Don’t stay up too late!”
Your feel that tingle at the back of your neck as you’re stunned at how Phainon said that phrase, though you barely have time to process it.
“Oh my god…” Your friend latches onto your arm, startling you for a second. She hunches over as she walks to your shared dorm together, looking at you with a knowing smile. “Are you gonna address the elephant in the room, or should I just say it?”
“What are you talking about?” You ask in a monotone voice as you unlock your door. You were hoping it wasn’t about-
“Uh hello? This Phainon guy, obviously.” Your friend says with an eye roll as if the topic was plain as day. “You didn’t tell me you guys were a thing.”
“We’re not,” you sputter. “He’s just a friend. My brother’s friend to be exact.”
“Yeah? Well this friend looks pretty happy to see you.” She hums, clearly not convinced. You both walk over to your her bedroom where you sit to talk. You roll your eyes, though you couldn’t stop how your body unconsciously tried turning away from her to hide your face. “He literally turned around to talk to you every five minutes. Did you even know he was gonna come to your orientation to flirt with you?”
You sputter at her bluntness, also not liking the way you got flustered so easily by her observations. But now that you think of it, why did Phainon even come along just to join Mydei to pick you up after your orientation?
“That wasn’t flirting.” You argue, cutting the conversation short and not willing to entertain any more questions. “Anyway- are you gonna tell me about the drama that happened at prom or what?”
You and your friend end up chatting into the late hours. More importantly, you end up skillfully avoiding and not responding to that statement she made. Truthfully, your own thoughts terrify you.
Deep down, a part of you knows that if Phainon was gonna keep talking to you like that- like he was teasing you, being all confident, and smiling and implying he wanted your company, you’re not going to be able to pretend it means nothing.
You remember yourself one year ago, when you confessed to that boy in your school and how embarrassed you felt when he laughed and scoffed. You remember how dumb you felt for misreading things, and believing that it was something more. You can’t let yourself do those things anymore.
Unfortunately for you, confidence looked really good on Phainon.
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
Age: 18 (a few months later)
You think you settled into your classes and university life pretty well. Looking back at your orientation day, it felt a little ridiculous how much you spent worrying about Phainon’s perception of you. You were convinced that after you pushed him away that night when you were seventeen, that you had ruined everything. Or at least, that’s what you expected. You knew Phainon wasn’t the type to hold grudges or lie, but with the way he looked and talked to you that day, it was if he was entirely unaffected.
As the semester goes by, you realized you were in your head too much after all. You were lingering outside with your friends, already complaining about a group project that was assigned when suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder.
“Hey, found you.”
It’s Phainon.
“Oh, hey.” Your eyes widen when you realize it’s him. Your eyes trail up to finally meet his gaze, which looked a little too pleased with himself. Was he even aware of how he somehow just became unfairly attractive over one summer? Meanwhile, your friends’ jaws drop at the same time when they notice him spawn out of nowhere, and immediately interpret this as a signal to move two meters away.
“How are classes going?” He asks with a calm smile. You suddenly get a sense of scale of how much taller he got, now that you were with him standing up and not in a car. It was slightly embarrassing to you, how he was hunched over slightly to talk to you better.
“Okay I guess,” You say, shrugging. “Getting busy.”
Your friends watch, half in awe and half-deadpanned as you give Phainon a boring answer. And still, he smiles, remaining engaged as he talks to you.
“Good, good… Do you already have plans for the break?” Phainon asks, almost sheepishly.
“I dunno, probably staying home with Mydei…” You reply. Phainon seems to inhale a little deeper before speaking again.
“I know finals are coming up soon… but I wanted to revive an old tradition, if you’re game?” Phainon asks. You cock your head to the side, unsure of what he meant. “The winter market, back near your home.”
Ah, right. You do remember the winter market- one you went with Mydei and Phainon when you guys were younger. You guys were barely teenagers, insisting you could go out by yourselves, and end up spending a majority of it listening to your brother whine about the cold. Still, it was a much simpler and nostalgic time you considered a core memory.
“Do they still do it?” You ask, your eyes widening at Phainon bringing up something so nostalgic out of the blue. “I don’t know if I could convince Mydei to go… At his grown age I think he’d still complain about the snow.”
“He would do that.” Phainon chuckles breathily, knowing Mydei’s behaviour as well as you. “But I already convinced him to go.”
“You did?” You ask, your eyes widening. You truly underestimated Phainon’s power.
“Well, he did grumble about it for a good five minutes…” Phainon admits, scratching the back of his neck. “But he said he wanted to bring some of our friends, if we were going.”
Mydei has friends?
“Oh… your other friends…” A part of your confidence crumbles at the mention of your brother’s and Phainon’s other friends. You want to go- though you hadn’t really thought of why your heart was urging you to. At the same time, you’re not sure if you’d want to be in a group with randoms you didn’t know. For all you know, they could be just as stinky as your brother! Your response turns slightly dismissive. “I don’t know… I’ll check with Mydei if he’s going first.”
“He will. And if he says no I’ll make him go.” Phainon gives a devious grin and a thumbs up. Your uncomfortable posture turns more relaxed and you smile, seeing exactly what this was- the same game you’ve been playing for years. He was trying to invite you again.
“I’ll think about it.” You say finally. Phainon smiles wider, the corners of his eyes crinkling like he subtly won you over.
“I’ll hold you to it.” He leans closer with a wink, and you think your brain stops functioning for a good second. He then straightens, giving you a casual wave before walking off. “See you then.”
You watch as his figure walks away, spotting one of his friend groups nearby and jogging to them. And-
“Oh. My. God.” Oh yeah, you almost forgot that your friends are still standing there.
They squealed and whispered animatedly, all nosy about your ties with this hot guy and theorizing on whether you’ve been dating or if the flirting was normal. The bombardment of questions and exclamations obviously pointing out Phainon’s… Phainon-ness made it hard to conceal your nerves. Wait- why were you nervous again?
“You guys-” You attempt to compose yourself, but your stammer already gives out your subconscious feelings. “You guys are delusional. Just because some attractive guy happens to be talking to me doesn’t mean anything romantic.”
“So you think he’s hot.” One of your friends chides, completely ignoring your argument and latching on a random detail. You pause for a moment, your mouth agape as you realize the small slip you made. You shake your head dramatically to dismiss any other thoughts, but your roommate beats you to answering that.
“That’s (Y/N)’s friend, Phainon.” Your roommate so graciously corrects with air quotes around the word friend. You have no idea why your cheeks start to burn up when your roommate sarcastically addresses Phainon as your friend. Or was it just an intrusive thought that you seemed like more than friends? Either way, you hope your flustered expression is not seen by your friend group. “And I’ve been saying the exact same things to her, but she’s denying the… well- whatever’s going on between them.”
“He’s literally my brother’s friend.” You roll your eyes as you correct her, emphasizing the involvement of Mydei in this whole ordeal. “As in he’s known me since I was like thirteen?”
“Uh-oh, that’s dangerous~” One friend sing-songs with a smug grin. “That means he’s already got a leg up in the game. And judging by what I just saw, men like him are hard to find. Y’know- kind, hot, knows all your habits?”
You want to roll your eyes again and ready to deny all these claims your friends are making, but you find yourself replaying that whole conversation with Phainon just now. Knows all your habits? It was certainly dangerous but not in the same way your friend stated. It was more like dangerous in the way that you didn't want Phainon remembering every embarrassing thing you did in front of him and being close enough that he would bring it up. You think back to how he kept trying to include you and ask you questions about yourself, and when you realize the exact same thing just happened-
“Sooo, what did he talk to you about?” Your friend interrupts your spiralling, and the rest of the group turns their heads to you expectantly.
“He asked if I wanted to go to a winter market thingy we have back home.” You say casually. Your friends squeal- making you groan at their overreaction.
“And? What did you say?”
“I said I’d think about it.” You shrug. Your friends dramatically sigh with disappointment, their hands sliding down their faces.
“Okay- why did you say you’ll think about it? This is like… textbook winter arc in a shoujo manga where the leads go on a date and share hot chocolate.” Your roommate says incredulously. You roll your eyes, ignoring her obvious teasing as prepare to explain.
“It’s not a date.” You protest with an exhausted sigh. “Mydei and a few of their friends are going too.”
“Damn, that’s a lot of wheels.” She scoffs. The rest of your friends giggle.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You deadpan, the joke going over your head.
“Nothing.” She beams. “Anyway, what’s wrong with other people going?”
“It’s gonna be awkward as hell…” You groan, gritting your teeth as you drag out the words. Being as introverted as you are, situations like this felt iffy for you. You really don’t want to seem difficult, but if he was inviting other people you didn’t know, you felt like the odd one out.
“So?” She scoffs, grabbing you by the shoulders lazily. “He’s going. He wants you there. He basically just asked you out. Isn’t that enough reason?”
You pause for a moment, your roommate’s argument surprisingly getting to you.
“...That doesn’t mean anything.” You finally utter. Your friends groan in unison.
“Oh shut up, he’s cute! Just let yourself like him!”
Your eyes widen at the bold command. Your friends burst out laughing, enjoying your embarrassed reactions from this so called gossip. It really sucks how now you couldn’t contain the tiny smile that creeps onto your face.
Before you knew it, your thoughts spiralled and you couldn’t stop thinking about how Phainon smiled at you, or how easily he was able to spot you here on campus. Your gaze flickers briefly to Phainon’s direction again, where he was talking with his friend group. You end up staring for too long because Phainon seems to feel your eyes burning into him, and he turns his head to look at you. You awkwardly look away, not knowing whether to play it off or keep looking- either way it was gonna make you suspicious. But Phainon doesn’t seem to think so, because he sends you a small smile and a wave before going back to speaking with his friends.
And now, with your friends observations combining with your own buried feelings, you’re realizing how hard it’s getting to believe that he was just a friend. You thought you’ve convinced yourself that you saw him as strictly a friend of your brother’s that you just happened to get to know. You thought you weren’t going to make another silly mistake about a boy. But… you’d be lying if you said you never thought he was… kinda…-
“Also- don’t you think (Y/N)’s brother is kinda cute?~”
Ew. Your friends continue giggling, not caring that they just called your brother hot in front of you. Yup, daydream-y thoughts gone.
Nothing else needs to be said when a guttural scream tears from your throat.
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
Age: 18 (Winter break)
A couple weeks after stressing over exams, you find yourself standing in the middle of the winter market. For some reason, you felt like being here in and of itself was another way of admitting the real reason you were going- another way for your friends to tease you about you-know-who.
Speaking of friends, you realized something about Mydei’s friends.
You stuck to Mydei that night as you waited for the rest of the group to arrive. The market was glowing with the same warm lights and cold air, festive music drifting through the crowd. When they arrived, you greeted them all politely, offering a small smile. But you notice something-
All of Mydei’s friends were gorgeous.
What the fuck? As if it couldn’t make you any more anxious than you already were, they had to be stunning too. Even in the cold winter weather they dressed like they came out of a shoot for Vogue. You look at your own attire and feel hyperaware of how your coat makes you look like a puffball, and you tuck your hands in your pockets.
You see a girl with whitish hair that bleeds into a light purple, a cheerful girl with pink hair tied in two pigtails, a group of four that- wait… were those the twins? Stelle and Caelus? Oh god- you didn’t know they were a part of this hang out. Okay, it was probably dramatic to have this intrusive thought of hiding right now- but you couldn’t help it. They were well known across campus, and you couldn’t fathom them having connections to your brother of all people.
“Hey,” You feel somebody tap your shoulder and you turn around quickly- it’s Phainon. “You came.”
“Oh. Yeah.” You nod, breathing out. Your heart does that stupid flip again as you see Phainon- cheeks rosy already from the coldness, and flashing a toothy grin like it meant a lot to him.
“He’s just a friend. My brother’s friend to be exact.” “That’s (Y/N)’s friend, Phainon.” You remember yours and your friends’ phrases being thrown around when Phainon was being introduced. You tell yourself again the same thing- that he’s just a friend, and this didn’t mean anything. That Phainon was just being friendly like he always was, and that whatever fluttering feeling you’re getting in your chest was just some naive hope that needed to be buried away again.
The group moves slowly through the market, a safe distance enough to explore the booths and keeping sight of each other. You mostly stay near the back, hands tucked in your coat pockets as you listen to the group more than talking.
Before you could take notice of it, one of the girls falls into step with you.
“Hi! I don’t think we’ve met.” It’s the pink haired girl. “I’m Hyacine. You’re Mydei’s little sister, (Y/N), right?”
“Oh- hi. Nice to meet you.” You reply, adjusting your scarf to try and not seem anti-social. She then taps Mydei on the shoulder, who was walking in front of you two.
“Mydei, you’re sister is way cuter than you!” Hyacine clasps her hands theatrically and beams.
“Um… thanks?” Mydei blinks, then turns back. Hyacine laughs, and even you manage a small giggle. You kind of appreciate her humour (and jab at Mydei) and hope you didn’t come off as a stranger anymore.
Before you could overthink it, Hyacine tugs you over to one of the booths, asking if you liked cute things. You stumble a little as the girl drags you to who knows where, though you reply saying you do. You notice the little unicorn plushie on her bag, and felt that it was on brand for her.
“Over here!” Hyacine giggles, not caring that you both were obviously straying from the group. There was no time to protest as you both weaving through the crowds until you both stop at one of the artist booths. You look around at what Hyacine wanted you to see, and see various keychains, stickers, and cute little handmade plushies lining the table. They were soft, mismatched coloured little creatures, sitting as if waiting for someone to adopt them.
“These are so cute!” Hyacine’s eyes light up, flickering from plush to plush. She silently hoped you felt enjoyment from this too. “Oh- and this one too.”
“They are.” You blink, picking one of the plushies up. It was a small pastel coloured star with a crooked smile. You thoughtfully turn it in your hands as you admire it. You wouldn’t lie if you said it didn’t intrigue you…
“Oh (Y/N)- that one matches your jacket!” Hyacine exclaims, pointing at the similarity.
“Huh? Oh yeah, it does.” You glance down at your attire and the coincidence that the plush you grabbed was the same colour. You didn’t even realize, but it was as if it was a subconscious gesture.
You stare down at the little star’s cute face and dangly legs. It was cute, and you certainly appreciate the maker’s craftsmanship. But you sigh, putting it down. “Mydei would probably scold me if I bought another one.”
“Aw, really? But he’s gonna be lonely. He even matches you!” Hyacine pouts, then shows you her unicorn plush. “You could match like me!”
You’re about to give an apologetic smile, but you think about the giant horde of stuffed toys you have at home and in your dorm and you feel like-
“What are we looking at?” Phainon’s voice comes from behind you, and you turn your head a bit too fast to where he was peering between you guys. Phainon bends slightly to take a closer look, snow dusting the shoulders of his coat. You get a whiff of his cologne and you have to look away. He looks relaxed in that unfairly easy way of his, even for doing something as basic as looking at stuff.
“We’re looking at stuffies!” Hyacine says joyfully. You shrink into your scarf a little, hoping Phainon doesn’t find it childish that you’re looking at plushies. “(Y/n) likes the star.”
“Hyacine-”
“The one with the little legs?” Phainon says simply. His eyes then flicker down to the one in your hand. “Were you gonna buy that one?”
“Oh-” You’re almost startled at how quickly Phainon noticed the plush in your hand, and you set it back down on the table. “Yeah- I mean… it’s cute, but I already have a lot of plushies at home.”
Phainon seems to be deep in thought as he stares between you and the star plush, but doesn’t say a word. You’re hoping he accepts your excuse and moves on.
“Where were you? And everyone else?” Hyacine pipes up, tilting her head at Phainon.
“I was looking at the ceramics. I lost everyone else a while ago, but- oh, Cyrene said to regroup at the seats near the hot chocolate stand.” Phainon explains. A shiver runs through your spine as you briefly remember what your roommate said about this hangout being straight out of a shoujo manga. “You ladies can head back there when you’re finished. I’m gonna try looking for the others.”
“Okay, see you in a bit!” Hyacine waves to Phainon, then turns back to you. “Are you sure you don’t want to buy anything?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” You say with a bittersweet smile. “I’ll probably forget about it in a few days.”
Hyacine nods, not wanting to pressure you. You turn away from the booth and walk with her towards the designated meeting place within the food vendor area. It was getting later, but from the way you were bumping shoulders with people, it felt like the amount of people were increasing. You both eventually find a few of the others at one of the picnic benches and join them to wait for the rest to arrive. You sigh, as you finally get a chance to sit down. Simply walking around a marketplace somehow exhausted you more than you thought.
For a moment, you close your eyes to rest from the clamour. Suddenly, you hear a little jingle coming from near you and you open them at the soft sound.
“Hey.” Phainon stands in front of you, one hand holding a small fabric gift bag tied with sparkly string and tiny metal ornaments. From the lighting of this area, you could finally see the snowflakes clinging to his hair- even though they were the same colour. He sits down beside you, looking almost amused at your startled expression.
“Hey, did you find everyone?” Hyacine leans over from the other side of the picnic table.
“Most of them. I think Cyrene found the others I didn’t.” Phainon replies. On cue, Mydei and a few others walk past and take their own seats at the table. Phainon’s attention shifts back to you, still holding out the bag.
“What’s this?” You ask suspiciously taking the bag. You felt your heart beating faster, not believing it was what you thought it was.
“For you.” Phainon replies simply, waiting to see your reaction.
“What did you get her?” Hyacine gasps with glee, leaning closer in anticipation. The curiosity overwhelms you too, and you freeze as you peek into the bag.
The little star plushie stares back at you.
“You- You bought it?” You ask softly, though your eyes going wide gave away that you were surprised. Phainon watches your expression carefully, and tries not to smile too much. “Phainon, you didn’t have to.”
“You liked it, didn’t you?” He counters, leaning his elbows on the surface of the table. And oh, how you hated how his casual response mirrored what your friends said to you a few weeks before- about something as simple as this being reason enough. Phainon never seemed to stop, like helping you was the easiest thing in the world.
You stare down at the plushie, then between him and Hyacine. “I told Hyacine I’d forget about it eventually.”
Phainon tilts his head slightly. “Would you have?”
You idly look at Phainon, whose eyes seem to burn into yours with intensity, turning the question into a challenge. It makes you more flustered.
“I-” You stammer, your jaw going slack, not being able to form an answer. You end up sighing with a smile, realizing any excuse you might make would be null in the end. You clutch the plush a little tighter in your hands. “...I guess I wouldn’t have.”
Phainon grins softly at your surrender, the market lights reflecting off his face beautifully.
By this time, the entire group had finally come together and decided to chill out here. You continued talking to Phainon, and for a while, you forget that you were here as a group- like it was just you two.
“Are you doing okay?” He asks you. “You seemed a little distant earlier.”
“I’m fine.” You say automatically. Phainon hums, not convinced. Somehow the tiny pout he sports makes you want to be vulnerable and tell him the truth, so you continue. “I just- it’s hard keeping up with everyone.”
Your reason sounded strange, but Phainon understood what you meant. He nods, but doesn’t push you, giving a reassuring grin. “You can just hang with me.”
The offer is casual, yet it makes you feel warm in the cold weather. And once again it’s like deja vu- where you felt like there was absolutely no reason for him to include you or make you feel comfortable in any way or for any reason. Yet he does. He always does.
“How did first semester treat you?” He says, changing the subject as he bumps his knee lightly against yours.
“It was pretty normal.” You shrug. “I made a few friends, complained about professors and group projects a little. Exams were stressful, but nothing too out of the blue.”
“Complained enough to write a bad review on them?” He asks, clearly instigating. You watch as Phainon’s eyes twinkle mischievously, and you knew the website he was referring to. You snort before you could stop yourself, and Phainon grins faintly at the sound, visibly pleased he was able to pull it from you.
“How else do you think I’m gonna spend my break?” You ask with a bit of sass. He laughs, nodding with approval. Phainon then shifts closer to you a little, his posture becoming more upright. It was subtle, but enough that he was creating a space where his attention felt undivided now.
“You know…” He starts lightly. “We used to hang out more before university started.”
You’re caught off guard by his sudden observation. You didn’t expect him to speak up about the weird distance between you guys, but he was right. The last time you properly saw him was… before that day you bawled your eyes out and then shoved him away when he tried to comfort you. You cringe at the memory. God, you hope he forgot about that and remembered a different day when the two of you and Mydei were happy and playing games or something.
“I- have we…? What about… orientation?” Your grip on the plush tightens a little out of nervousness. You knew damn well orientation didn’t count for shit. Still, you attempt to feign obliviousness to ease some of the discomfort you felt inside, but Phainon chuckles, catching on immediately.
“Yeah? And you probably saw the mascot more than me.” He pouts jokingly.
“No I didn’t-” You stammer, but suddenly stop yourself when you realize he could be right. You internally beat yourself up at the thought.
“I’m just teasing.” Phainon laughs softly, then continues in a quieter tone. “Still… I kinda miss talking to you.”
And there it was. For once your heart wants to remember what it feels like to be wanted like this. You watch as Phainon straightens and closes his eyes for a second too long before continuing, as if he was trying to gather some confidence to prove the intention behind it.
“So,” His smile returns, charming as you’ve always known. “Do you wanna hang out sometime? Just us.”
Just as you thought your heartbeat could slow down, Phainon always seems to do something to prove that it was alive- that something inside was existing. Despite your shock and silence, Phainon doesn’t corner you with his proposal.
“We could go to a cafe, and I could buy you dessert… Or we can play video games over the break… Anything that doesn’t involve that stupid mascot.” He adds easily. Phainon gets another laugh out of you, and you somehow feel lighter. A beat of silence goes by again, and you watch as Phainon looks at you in anticipation.
“Yeah, I’d love that.” You say breathily, a smile escaping you. Phainon exhales, looking strangely relieved, like he-
“Phainon-” Another voice suddenly interrupts, and you both whip your head to the source from across the picnic bench. It was another pink haired girl- albeit a slightly deeper shade of pink than Hyacine’s. Her name was Cyrene, if you remembered correctly. “Wait, are you blushing?” The girl tilts her head at Phainon, and you almost choke on air. Phainon bursts out laughing.
“I’m not.” He turns to Cyrene, insisting with a charming smile, putting his hands up in mock surrender. You take a closer look at his cheeks now that his face was turned more to the side. You swear you saw a bit of pink… was he- no, surely this was just the cold getting to his skin.
“Well you sure blush like you were just caught flirting.” Cyrene snaps back with a bit of attitude. You’re not really sure what to do in this situation, and seemingly neither does Phainon as he looks like he’s being teased by his friend. Cyrene then turns towards you with a soft smile.
“My name is Cyrene. You’re (Y/n), right?~” Cyrene asks, and you nod in response. You found it peculiar how everything she said sounded both playful and sweet- like a song. She looks at you with her eyes bright and cheerful. “You’re really pretty, you know that?”
“I-I am…?” Your cheeks go warm as you short circuit at the sudden compliment. Hyacine who had been off engaging with the others returns to insert herself in this conversation, and nods along, agreeing. Wait, Hyacine- she was supposed to be on your side!
“Mhm~ So…” Cyrene drags out her words with a devious smile, wagging a threatening finger at Phainon. “If you are flirting, you do know Mydei would beat you up, right?”
“I would.” Mydei lazily chimes in from a few seats down, diagonal to you. You almost forgot he was here. Phainon’s skill at isolating you guys was certainly effective. Your brother’s two little words give you mixed thoughts: one making note of how little hesitation or humour there was in his tone, and another where you seriously have concerns of your brother threatening to beat someone up again. Perhaps a trip to a rage room was due soon.
“See? He just said he would kill you.” Cyrene enunciates, clearly understanding that her friend didn’t seem to register the what she was implying. Oddly enough, Phainon just chuckles.
“And, I wouldn’t blame him.”
The rest of the conversation becomes a blur. You start losing track of what they were saying after Cyrene groaned at Phainon for being an oblivious puppy in knowing the consequences. What a bizarre answer… …Consequences of what?
You think back to the compliments Hyacine and Cyrene paid you, saying you were cute and pretty. You thought it was just girls hyping another girl up- as girls do. But then you think of Cyrene calling out Phainon for blushing and threats for him potentially flirting, and wonder if she was teasing him… or if she actually meant it. There was a part of you that was in disbelief, inching closer to the fact that… you might actually have a chance.
On top of all that, there was Phainon’s own reply, confirming that he’d take a beating from your brother if he actually did cross a line. You tell yourself you were reading too much into it again.
“So… I’ll see you soon, right (Y/n)?”
That night after everyone bid their farewells, and you and Mydei returned home in your childhood home, you quickly crash into the warmth of your bed and whip out your phone. You contemplate whether calling your roommate was gonna lead to her lovingly bullying you again, but you end up telling her everything anyway.
“I don’t know what else to tell you, girl.” Your roommate sighs endearingly at you through the phone. “He made an effort to invite you, he looked for you, bought you a present... I don’t think you’re imagining things… so what do you have to lose?”
You notice that you’ve gotten too excited from how high your heart rate must be. Your smile falters (not realizing that you were even smiling this whole time in the first place), and you remember your own consequences.
“...That’s just the problem.” You sigh back, sitting up properly now. “I don’t want to be delusional again. I can’t just launch myself into… whatever this is and make up assumptions that aren’t real.” You grab your little star plush Phainon got you from your bag. You glance down at your star plushie again, fiddling with its stupid little legs, thinking- why does a star even need to have legs?
Your roommate’s voice softens. “But it feels different, doesn’t it?”
You don’t end up answering her.
“I’m not expecting anything.” You say finally. Despite these months of your stubbornness with the topic of Phainon, your roommate doesn’t argue. She just smiles knowingly on the other side of the line, and lets it go.
You conclude the call by telling her the rest of the whole marketplace experience, and her own winter break shenanigans. Later, when your room is quiet, you lie back on your bed, holding the star plush up to the ceiling.
You look at its silly dangly legs, finding something so out of place cute that makes it different from the rest. Stars were supposed to stay high above everyone else, beautiful from a distance.
But perhaps this star had been made to reach people anyway.
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
Age: 19, second semester
Winter break came and went pretty fast. You and Mydei spend it mostly at home, spending time with your mom. Phainon went back to his hometown for the break as well. Like you said yourself, you weren’t expecting anything to happen during this time.
That is, until, a week after your second semester started, you started receiving texts from Phainon already. You remember your eyes widening at your phone screen when Phainon asked you if you wanted to do something during the weekends. From something as small as asking to join him in playing video games, to him insisting on accompanying you to a bookstore for your manga series, you said yes. Some small part inside you craved spending time with him, and you realized you did miss him a lot all this time. You felt like you reconnected with Phainon- just like when you were kids.
At the end of the semester, one of your peers decided to host a mixer and invited everyone in the class. The invitation sat in your messages for a while before you accepted it. A mixer… Just the thought alone of being invited sent a quiet thrill in your spine.
Now, standing in front of the mirror, there was a brief moment where you wondered if you looked like you were trying too hard with your outfit… or too little. You wore something that showed a little more skin- a little more mature and confident, something you didn’t usually wear. Still, you decide not to dwell on the issue for long and head out.
By the time you reached the location, there was already music and familiar people from your class there. People were clustered up, animatedly talking, hopefully having fun after the stress of final exams. A girl from your class waves you over, and passes a light drink to you. Soon enough, you overcame the initial anxiety and it felt freeing to mix in with the group.
Well, only for the first ten minutes.
You were going to excuse yourself to say hi to another acquaintance when a white-haired mass suddenly came into view- a particularly tall and handsome white-haired mass.
Phainon? Here of all places?
Your stomach drops and you quickly duck near a corner, careful not to spill your drink or look crazy sneaking around. You peek over and see Phainon with his back turned, leaning against the kitchen island as he engages in conversation with other people.
Your pulse was getting frantic, but you take a deep breath to try and calm yourself. Oh, but who were you kidding? If Phainon saw you here, you were sure that he would report you to Mydei within the minute.
Phainon walks away from the kitchen counter, going off somewhere else, and you go the same direction as him to not cross paths with him. Could it be possible to avoid him this whole time? God, it was stupid when you thought about it. You basically just got here, and it shouldn’t even be scary to see Phainon here. But you weren’t really in the mood to see his smug grin or get lectured by your brother. Maybe you could hang with someone else and hide-
“That’s an interesting strategy.” A voice murmurs in your ear.
Phainon was already standing behind you, bending down to your height and way too close as amusement curls at the edge of his lips.
“Ah- Phainon! You scared me!” You hiss, your face going warm with embarrassment as you jolt backwards. Phainon only grins wider at your startled reaction. You become defensive, eyeing him up suspiciously. “What- why are you here?”
“I know the host.” Phainon says easily, then cheekily fires the same question to you. “What are you doing here?”
“Nothing.” You grit. Phainon chuckles and shakes his head at your answer, and you internally smack your forehead. Out of all excuses, you had to say the most suspicious one?
“Nothing but drinking, you mean?” Phainon inquires, pointing at your cup and clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. “Mydei won’t be happy to hear this.”
Your face freezes at the mention of Mydei potentially knowing you were here. “I-It’s only five percent alcohol!”
“Ooh, how scandalous.” Phainon laughs, and you puff your cheeks in frustration of him teasing you.
“Oh shut up. I came here by myself so I’m not here to get drunk.” You say, rolling your eyes.
“Even more scandalous.” He says with a whistle, and you groan. Phainon’s eyes soften, sensing he’s teased you enough. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Mydei.”
Phainon’s words surprise you a little. Oddly enough, he let's you have fun and doesn't report you like you thought he would.
As the night went on, you were pulled into conversations and stupid debates, laughing at some of your peers’ weird dance moves. Every now and then, you’d catch sight of Phainon somewhere across the house- sometimes talking to other people, sometimes smiling at you, and sometimes bumping your hip beside you as he indulges the conversation with you.
The buzz of the music gets louder as the night goes on. You participate in the fun, but eventually you start feeling tired. Phainon notices and he taps your shoulder, leaning down, telling you something… but you don’t hear anything. Because he was so close, you suddenly realize the golden sun tattoo on the side of his neck- when did he get that? As Phainon spoke, you felt a little rush inside you, making you space out. You tried making sense of your surroundings but you soon realize that he was taking over all your senses. What you could see, what you could smell… muting all of them into one: him. Was he experiencing the same buzzing feeling? You watched as his lips curved up into a grin, whispering something to you. You stare at his lips- a faint blush colour, soft and plump… you wondered what it would feel like if you…
You nod plainly in response to him, though his words clearly weren’t getting through to you. Phainon realizes you were spacing out and he chuckles lightly and stands back up, holding his hand out. You blankly take it and he guides you out of the party. Also, did you just think of-
“You okay? I asked if you were getting tired.” Phainon breathes out, his voice finally reaching your ears.
“Hm- oh, yeah, I’m fine.” You perk up as you snap out of your daze. “I am a little tired…”
“I’ll drive you back then.” He says, already taking his car keys out. He phrases it not even as a question, like he would do it for you regardless. “Do you have everything?”
You nod, and you both get into his car. The drive back to your dorm was strangely quiet. It was slightly awkward since your peer’s house wasn’t even that far from your residence, so the ride was gonna be short. However, it felt like there was something else underneath. It was something heavy, but not an uncomfortable-pit-in-your-stomach type of heavy. It was something more charged.
The blinker clicks lightly while the streetlights gradually slide across Phainon’s face in fleeting moments. His jaw, his mouth, the curve of his hands gripping the steering wheel. You looked away before you could get caught staring. God, you were going crazy for sure, you think.
Your pulse still hasn’t settled. Was it adrenaline from the party? Maybe so, but even then it shouldn’t make you think of kis-
“We’re here.” Phainon softly sing-songs. You get out of the car, and Phainon decides to walk you to your door. Again, not a question.
When you both walk into the building together, you realized it was sort of awkward with the both of you being silent this whole time. Even more so as you arrived in the narrow hallway just outside your door. Phainon walks behind you, close enough that his presence alone fills your space. As you stop at your door, you decide to say something, though he’s closer than you expect when you turn to him. You clear your throat, your hand fumbling inside your purse to find your keys to regulate yourself.
“Thanks for the ride.” You say, looking up at him gratefully. “And… thanks for not snitching on me.”
Phainon huffs a quiet laugh. “Anytime.”
You smiled despite yourself, like it was a subconscious thing- maybe it even a contagious thing, knowing Phainon was here. Even as you briefly look down to take your keys out, Phainon was already looking at you, like he had something to say, but he doesn’t.
You were about to unlock your door and say goodbye, but somehow your body doesn’t want to listen. You don’t feel like doing it. Your dreamy daze continues, your eyes dipping over Phainon’s outfit. You suddenly felt aware of how good he looked in a white skin-tight shirt and jeans- did he always wear things like this? You catch a glimpse of the sun tattoo you saw earlier beneath the collar of his shirt, and you even swear you see a broad gold ring on his chest- another hidden one beneath his shirt. It makes you even more curious- but more than that, it made you want him.
Before you knew it, your body had a mind of its own, leaning in without shame with your hands shyly but certainly reaching for him- to be closer to him. Your fingers brush his, and your breath hitches, the sparks making you second guess if you should even be doing this. But when you finally bring yourself to look up at him, his gaze was already looking down to your mouth.
“(Y/n)...” HIs voice drops, barely louder than a breath. His expression softens, yet his pupils were blown wide, as if there was something unguarded slipping through. He leans in, slow and careful, giving you time to pull away. Your breathing and your heart beats faster than ever. This definitely wasn’t just the adrenaline from the party.
Suddenly, a small click is heard and Phainon mutters a curse and pulls away quickly.
Wait…
You were stunned for a few seconds, watching as he pulled back. Before you could think of how to react, your door swings open to reveal Mydei looking sleepy yet confused. Oh yeah, your roommate already went home for the summer, so now you had a giant cat invading your space. You told Mydei you were gonna go out with some friends and then go back home with him after- you forgot you left him lounging here for a while.
“Where were you?” Mydei quirks an eyebrow at you, and gives an even more skeptical look at Phainon. “And what are you doing here?”
“I was just dropping her off.” Phainon says lightly, though you could tell he was trying his best to not sound shaky. You weren’t sure how it was possible for him to reply and make up something so calmly. Especially since the skin of your hand was still buzzing where you touched his just seconds ago. “She just got caught up saying bye to some friends.” Mydei gives him a weird look, but doesn’t question you both, and you give a sigh of relief.
Your brother and Phainon make small talk, both asking if they were heading home for the summer. Meanwhile, you remained silent, in your own little bubble unable to calm your racing heart.
“Get some rest.” Phainon addresses you with a simple wave, and just like that, he was gone. God, you wanted to… you wish you could…
“Why is he even still here on campus?” Mydei interrupts your train of thought as he holds your door open for you.
“O-Oh… I dunno. I bumped into him on the way back.” You say casually, walking into your dorm. Lies. “Why are you here so early…?”
“It’s night time.” Mydei retorts back. “Anyway, are you done packing your stuff?”
You nod, and quickly grab your bags and head back home with Mydei.
The drive was silent, but for you it wasn’t. Even though you were exhausted after the mixer, you couldn’t seem to be able to rest during the long drive home. You look out the window, a small smile plastered on your face as you replay that brief yet charged moment in your head. The way he leaned in, the way you could feel his breath on your lips as he whispered your name…
You almost kissed him.
Was it always like this? Your heart was beating fast as it always did, but for once you didn’t feel surprised. It felt more like… you were finally letting yourself do something you always wanted to do. Like you’ve been waiting and wanting something, and that it was okay to want things.
Maybe it was just the realization that Phainon was always perfectly within your grasp.
⋆⋅☼⋅⋆
Age: 19, Summer Break
Phainon: Good morning.
Phainon: I’m sorry about last night.
It’s been a good twelve hours since you and Phainon almost kissed. At first you thought you had hallucinated it, and that you became delusional for real. Just as you had believed that this was just a figment of your imagination, Phainon never texted you- until this morning.
(Y/n): Phainon, I don’t understand.
(Y/n): Was it something I did…?
Phainon: No, god no. Never.
(Y/n): Then why are you apologizing?
You felt your smile drop, the warmth from last night following suit, slowly leaking away.
Phainon: Because I'm sorry if I crossed a line.
Phainon: You didn’t do anything wrong. I just didn’t want things to be awkward between us.
And it’s just so funny, isn’t it? How you’ve kept yourself safe on your own little island, with walls built so high and an army to guard your heart. And the one time you decide to let them down and embrace the sunlight, it hurts so much more.
Confusion seems to consume you, making you anxious. The thought that you might have been too forward and was reading it all wrong feel like deja vu, specifically the same bitter feeling that you were so used to. The mere thought that Phainon didn’t want this to happen, makes your stomach coil. However, underneath the dreadful feeling was something else- because this wasn’t about you. Although you had this uncomfortable twinge of fear you refused to admit out loud, it wasn’t for yourself, but for Phainon. You stay rigid in your bed, staring at your phone. What exactly was Phainon thinking of that you weren’t?
A week later, you start getting antsy because you realize how quiet your summer vacation began. You continue to get nothing from Phainon. You gave him the benefit of the doubt, assuming he was probably busy with things back home. But as your phone sits on your desk, the screen continuing to be dark and empty, you find yourself constantly checking it, and it didn’t take long for your mind to spiral.
It’s ironic how noticeable an absence can be.
Later, just past noon, you start to smell food being prepared, so you go down to investigate. You realized your mom was going all out for some reason, seasoning steaks and cutting vegetables as your kitchen became a room with groceries stacked high. There seemed to be something in the oven already as well. You get curious and decide to ask Mydei what your mother was preparing for.
“Hey.” You ask as you walk into his room, seeing him lounging and playing a video game lazily.
“Hey.” He responds. Mydei eyes you a little for a second then goes back to focusing on his game. “You’ve been in your room for a while.”
“Yeah…” You sigh a little sheepishly as Mydei points it out, straightforward as always. “Do you know what mom is preparing all that food for?”
“We’re barbecuing tonight, remember?” Mydei replies smoothly without looking up from his game. “I’ve got a honeycake in the oven too.”
Mydei was in charge of the cake apparently, and already had it in baking in the oven. You soften at the thought. And then you don’t because he might have put boogers in there.
“Oh… that’s a lot of food.” You remark. Something feels off for some reason, ironically like an emptiness despite the feast being prepared.
When you walked into his room, you considered asking your brother what he would do if he was hypothetically faced with the situation you were- with Phainon that is. But then you already think of his response and- “I dunno, they both sound like idiots to me.” Yep, no help at all. To think you almost considered bucking up the courage to ask your brother for advice, when it should be better to question his reliability.
Instead, you ask him a more direct question-
“...Is Phainon coming?” You ask. Your cheeks get a little warm, but satisfying your curiosity was more important.
The mention of Phainon seems to get Mydei’s attention a little more. “...No?”
It’s ironic how one little word could get you to frown so easily. But it simply didn’t sound right to you. Ever since you were teenagers, Phainon has came over consistently to your house, showing up to practically everything. Barbecues, birthdays, movie nights… or even the simple weekends where nothing special was happening, he ended up staying longer than expected. And when you all became older and busier, he always made the effort to show up at least once. There had never been a question of whether he was coming.
“Oh…” The disappointed response tumbles out of your mouth before you even thought about it. You tell yourself that Phainon wasn’t obligated to come over, that he had his own life and responsibilities. Heck, he wasn’t even your friend first- he was technically Mydei’s but…
Still…
“Why do you ask?” Mydei asks, pausing his video game, sensing that you were concerned about something deeper.
It still felt wrong to you.
“Because… I thought he’d be coming. He always comes over during the summer…” You reply cautiously.
“So?”
“So... he’s your best friend.”
“Isn’t he also yours?” Mydei retorts back skeptically.
“Well yeah… but usually you invite him over.” You say meekly.
“I asked him already.” Mydei sighs. “Said he was busy.”
A lump forms in your throat. God, what were you supposed to do now? There were too many things unsaid, and even more things you wanted to ask. A part of you felt like Phainon’s response was an excuse- that if you didn’t get him now, that he’d just get farther from you. Were you going to have to wait until who knows when to talk to Phainon again?
As your hand idly trails along your brother’s bedroom wall, it was like you’ve experienced this before. You, at thirteen years old, gathering all the courage you had (none) to nervously enter in your brother’s room to get your charger back- all at the expense of meeting Phainon. You remember how shy you were when Phainon tried talking to you that time, how weirded out you were when he tried to include you out of the blue. You were at the same place you were then- at the threshold of Mydei's doorway until Phainon stole the last word, calling out one last thing.
"Maybe next time then."
Before you could overthink it, you push yourself off the wall and face Mydei again.
“Can you ask him again?” You ask, and Mydei gives you a weird look.
“Why would I- he’s gonna say no again.” Mydei says. Now, why would his dear sister actively request Phainon’s presence? Even you, the sister, do not know.
“Tell him I want him there.” You reply. The quiet determination in your eyes almost shocks Mydei.
He blinks at you for a split second, like he understood the meaning behind it. Your brother doesn’t question you for once. He doesn’t get suspicious, or feel the need to protect you.
“...Fine.” Mydei sighs and picks up his phone again, and you watch as his fingers tap the screen to send the new text to Phainon. You stand there biting your lip, not even sure if this would work. You can’t even believe that Mydei actually agreed to do it.
You thank your brother, and finally walk out of his bedroom, knowing the response might take time. But not even a second after you step into your own room, a buzz comes from your phone.
Phainon: Hey, I’m on my way. I’ll be there around 5.
Phainon: Thanks for inviting me
A glimmer of hope finally starts to exist within your mind. Phainon was coming, simply because you asked. And maybe you were right about him- maybe he was just waiting for you, just like he always has.
A few hours later, your doorbell rings. Your mom is the first to dash to the door, dropping everything to greet Phainon with a bone-crushing hug. Of course, Phainon’s used to it so it does little to affect him.
“Phainon! Oh my goodness, look at you!” Your mother coos, the same endearments making Phainon chuckle. She continues gushing about Phainon as if he was family already- which in a sense he was. “You’ve grown so much- and so handsome too! Mydei, can you believe it?”
You can smell your brother’s eyeroll from here. Meanwhile, Phainon smiles easily, nodding and murmuring something polite and charming. You haven’t even gone down to greet him yet, but little does anyone else know, hearing his voice- the mere existence and knowledge that he was here sent a thrill through you.
You hear your mother tell the boys that the barbecue will start soon, and they should wash up. The boys insist on helping your mom and they argue in a good-natured way. They split up and start preparing different things, with Mydei helping your mom prepare the grill. You hesitate for a moment, but take this as a cue to finally talk to Phainon.
You walk out from your bedroom, and as you linger at the top of the stairs looking down, Phainon seems to subconsciously pause mid-motion. Your heart still skipped when he looked at you- hands tucked into his pockets and white messy hair catching the sunlight from outside your backyard’s door. He subtly turns his head to you, and his smile was still there- soft, slightly hopeless, and nervous, like he was bracing himself for this moment just as you have.
“Hey…” He says lightly. It’s only been one week since you last saw him, yet it feels like it’s been a year. He even greets you like it’s been a year, and you knew he was feeling the same thing you were. You step closer, and you watch as his eyes attempt to hide the tension.
“Hi…” You take a deep breath, the feeling of determination not helping you steady your nerves. But truthfully, you cared more that he was just here with you. His hopeless smile seems to be contagious as you start to sport the same one as you sigh with relief. “You made it.”
“Yeah…” Phainon breathes out. Oddly, his smile gets wider, like he was happy to end up coming to your home.
“...Can we talk?” You ask hesitantly. As always, Phainon surprises you, as he willingly walks closer to you, as if to follow you wherever.
“Of course.” He replies smoothly. You give him a nod and slowly lead to towards your bedroom for a more private conversation.
You close your door after Phainon walks in. He seems to curiously look around your room, noticing the little trinkets and photos that have changed over the years. He hasn’t been here for a while.
“Can I sit?” Phainon asks, patting your bed. You nod and say yes, and you both sit on the edge. You didn’t know where to start- diving straight into the obvious thing seemed too heavy.
“Mydei told me you were busy…” You remark. “I thought you weren’t gonna come.”
“I know.” He admits sheepishly. You felt the honesty beneath his words as he tries to ease any negative feelings you might harbour towards him for his initial excuse. “I just thought that… I had crossed a line.”
“Crossed a line?” You repeat. Phainon pauses, then sighs endearingly. Your question was innocent, yet posed a different meaning for Phainon. For the first time in weeks, he feels the weight of what he’s kept inside.
“Remember what happened after the mixer?” Phainon asks. You nod, and he continues. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Done what?”
“You know what.” He says with a light chuckle and nudge to your arm to ease the tension and awkwardness. “I… I almost kissed you.”
“But I almost kissed you too.” You remark guilelessly. Your gaze was unwavering, and you can feel him register the resolve behind it. You weren’t going to drop this were you? Of course you weren’t. So Phainon exhales slowly, giving a small awkward smile as he lowers his guard a little.
“...And that’s the problem. You’re Mydei’s sister. You’re not just anyone to me (Y/n)- you’re important. I can’t risk ruining what I have with you and Mydei.” Phainon sighs, rubbing his forehead like this was making him sweat. With how he was behaving, you get the feeling that he likely felt guilty- like a bastard who shouldn’t be liking his best friend’s sister, making it equivalent to a sin. Phainon seems to know something you don’t. Phainon sputters a little as he’s stuck between going off on a nervous rant and being gentle. Then he finally brings himself to explain further. “I-I mean… what would you have done if we really leaned in? Do you even know how to kiss?”
“No…” You admit. “But you seem like you’d be good at it.”
“You really think so?” Phainon laughs softly, seeming curious at your remark. Oddly enough, his tone gets softer like a whisper as he presses you for another question. “Why do you say that?”
“You’re… you know…” You stammer, trying to latch onto something specific, but truthfully you could say anything. You take a good look at him and he’s still perfection incarnate. Phainon laughs softly again.
“I think you think way too highly of me.” He smiles, his tone slightly teasing like he found your answer amusing. You might even go as far as to say that he might’ve sounded a bit shy when he said that. Phainon’s hand lays on the bed, his pinky millimeters away from yours. He leans back a bit, as if to get a better look at you too. “How would you know if I’ve kissed anyone?”
You think again for a moment, except this time you didn’t have an answer. Phainon looks back at you patiently.
“I don’t know.” You admit quietly, but determination lingers in your eyes. Did you really know? No, of course not. No matter how perfect you thought he was, there was no way you could know if he had that kind of experience. So there was only one way to.
“But I want to know.”
Phainon’s breath catches in his throat, genuinely speechless for a moment at your response. He simply looks at you, the noises of the evening starting to disappear. His blue eyes seem strangely brighter than usual, like they were seeing every past version of yourself. And now here you were, your present self saying words that mirrored his own when he first met you, yearning to know more about each other. Just a girl standing in the hallway, waiting for someone to notice her, and a kind boy simply smiling back at her, who always has. He suddenly lets out a chuckle, small and breathless as he finally surrenders his noble front.
“Come here then.” He coaxes softly, his lashes seemingly fluttering in slow motion as his eyes open. You blink in surprise.
“What?”
“Come here.” Phainon repeats, his expression softening. His smile doesn’t falter, in fact- only getting wider and making the corners of his eyes crinkle in that boyish way you’ve always known. Somehow, you understood, and you start to surrender your own noble front as you move closer to him, unashamedly smiling just as bright as him.
Phainon’s eyes trail your own as your thigh touches his. His hand comes up carefully to cup your cheek. There was no more hesitation in either of your movements. No more almosts and no more waiting- only the split second pause where you both realize this was the closest you’ve ever been, breaths mingling and eyes hazy as if you both couldn’t believe this was happening. You lean in even more, just the same as you did that night, and Phainon does too, just like you always knew he would.
He leans down, and presses his lips to yours, letting his restraint crack just to taste what he’s been waiting so long for. You both close your eyes, savouring soft warmth of each other’s lips. Even the little smiles and chuckles, and now your hands softly laying on his chest were enjoyable.
You pull away for a brief moment, yours and Phainon’s lips leaving with a soft smooch sound. There was a flicker of disbelief in your eyes, with Phainon’s looking equally as stunned. But the easy smiles that come after make you realize how it came so effortlessly for Phainon- nothing but affection.
You both stare at each other, a little breathless and a little shy as if it was a way to come back down to Earth. But neither of you seem to want to let go. Phainon’s hand remains near your cheek, while yours remains loosely gripping onto the hem of his shirt.
“I’m glad you wanted to know.” Phainon says softly with an awkward but loving smile. He gets a laugh out of you too, and even now he finds himself craving the sound more. He’d like to make you laugh like that more in the future. Now if only… “Shit- your brother’s gonna kill me.”
You watch as Phainon looks away slightly, his face going pale except for a sheepish blush. The consequence dawns on you as well, but in this moment as you’re still high on dopamine, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel it.
“He’s gonna kill me too.” You shrug, trying to make him feel better. “And you say it as if you’re not one of his favourite people.”
“You’re his sister, he can’t be mad at you. Not for long at least.” Phainon says while sighing. Even though this guilt eats him up, he can’t help but smile. “Me though… I might need to pay in my next life.”
“But he’s never threatened to disown you.” You challenge. Phainon lets out a hearty laugh at your honesty, knowing his best friend could get quite creative with insults.
“Maybe not, but I feel like I’m about to find out.” Still, even if you both were about to be disowned by Mydei, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Phainon look this happy to be disowned.
“We should head down now.” Phainon says softly, as the laughter dies down. You nod, though neither of you really move, both still sitting on your bed, smiling like dopes. You both laugh again, until Phainon stands and offers you his hand to stand up as well.
You take it without hesitation, and he pulls you up gently. And he doesn’t let go- neither of you do actually.
His fingers fit between yours easily, like it was meant to be this way. You and Phainon begin to walk towards your bedroom door to exit, though he seems a little hesitant.
“(Y/n)- how exactly are we going to explain to Mydei about this…?” He asks nervously, looking mildly embarrassed. You shrug, still not really caring.
“He’s just gonna have to deal with it.” You say casually, reaching for the doorknob. “Also, maybe don’t mention my brother within five minutes after we kiss.”
A cheeky grin spreads on Phainon's face, finding your response utterly defiant yet endearing. He chuckles, shaking his head while smiling helplessly. A thousand teasing responses are circling within his head, though he opts to sprinkle a little sarcasm in there. “My bad. I’ll try to do better next time then.”
“Oh? There will be a next time?”
A guttural scream tears through your throat (again?). MYDEI?!
Your’s and Phainon’s jaws both go slack, speechless as you both remain frozen in the threshold of your doorway. There stood your brother, deadpan with his arms crossed… wearing an apron and oven mitts.
“Wh- MYDEI!!” You scream, mortified. You want to throw something at him, but the only thing beside you was a Phainon. “How long have you been standing there?!”
“How long have I been standing here? I think the better question is why you both aren’t downstairs.” Mydei’s tone reeks of sarcasm, very much not in the mood to take any bullshit from either of you.
You realize Mydei was right- the entire house smelled delicious with the smells of good food was wafting everywhere.
“There are steaks being grilled outside. I made honeycake...” Mydei lists, looking genuinely perplexed. Then his eyes look between you and Phainon, looking absolutely disgusted. “And yet here you both are… …kissing?”
You think you see Mydei shiver and gag slightly when he says the k-word, which should have been funny but right now you feel too defensive to think about that.
“MYDEI!!”
Mydei barely has time to react when you suddenly decide to launch yourself at him.
“Hey-” Mydei sputters, grunting as you smack his arm, and then his shoulder. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
“What is wrong with you?!” You snap back and hit your brother more though it doesn’t really affect him since he was holding you back.
Meanwhile, Phainon watches the petty catfight of a sibling argument with a fond smile on his face. With Mydei looking disgusted while wearing an apron and oven mitts, fighting against you who was aggressively clawing at your brother like a cat, Phainon internally declares that he has never seen a more stupid thing in his life. Goodness, was this the glory that Kremnoans were known for? Somehow, it endeared him even more.
“I don’t get why you’d be busy kissing when there’s good food downstairs.”
“STOP SAYING IT!”
“I made you a honeycake… for this?”
“I know you made honeycake! You mentioned it fifty times in the past two minutes! Is this seriously your priority?!”
“My priority?- Look at yours!”
Was there really any point to this argument anymore?
After a few more lovely seconds of arguing, Phainon sighs fondly and clasps his hands, one of yours and the other on your brother’s shoulder. You and Mydei oddly stop bickering, both looking at Phainon’s expression which could only be described as fond disbelief. This entire scene was ridiculous, but somehow also his favourite.
“Alright alright, let’s just go down now. Hm?” Phainon smiles, hoping to ease the playful bullying. Mydei continues to glare at him. Right message, wrong messenger…
“...I’m gonna kill that guy.” Mydei seethes, looking straight at Phainon yet addressing you.
You want to start fighting your brother again, but to your surprise, Phainon laughs harder before you could react. Then, with the same gentle amusement from years ago, he reaches over and lightly pats Mydei’s shoulder.
“I’ll hold you to it.”
The words feel familiar, because they are. You look at him now- his eyes crinkling with mirth as he said nearly the same thing months ago. For some reason, as you watch Mydei glare at Phainon- the bastard you just kissed had the audacity to smile at him, the silent look they gave each other somehow explained something you were secretly worrying about this whole time but never had to.
Mydei probably knew, you think. You’re not sure how long he’s been suspecting it, though when you look back at your own antics it was probably obvious anyway. You cringe internally, not wanting to think about your brother knowing about this thing with Phainon for who knows how long.
“Now- can we go eat before someone gets murdered?” Phainon asks tenderly, interrupting the chaos. It’s ironic how Phainon seems the happiest here, while you and Mydei both grumble and surrender. He’s still smiling, still patient with you and your brother. Phainon laughs again, and you all head downstairs together- though this time, Phainon doesn’t let go of your hand.
And naturally, you don’t think to let go either.
Your porch lights seem to glow with the same warmth that you’ve felt over the years. Your mother lovingly scolds Mydei for disappearing, and Mydei only grumbles saying nobody appreciates his cooking.
You feel thirteen again as your memories overlap with reality. The smell of home cooking, summer air drifting through the windows, your brother being broody… And Phainon- a boy who started out a mystery, a teenage boy who simply sat at your table smiling like he already belonged there. You come to realize something: Phainon had never been a guest at this house.
All those years, while you were busy mourning things you thought weren’t meant for you, something else was growing beside you the whole time. He became so much more to you, simply because he wanted to be, and because you finally let him.
And for Phainon? Of course it was easy for him. He had always been reaching for home in the first place.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Notes:
For reference, this fic is called Seventeen :)
I rewrote a couple of parts so I will reblog some of the deleted parts and extra notes here later so they don't go to waste in case anyone wants to see the alternative direction
Anyway thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed <3
Edit: THERE ARE SO MANY ERRORS I'M CRINGING SO BAD
Nobody had ever fucked you quite like Phainon did.
In the comfort of your own, sweet home, in the restaurant bathroom or at last night’s party, you better be sure one round isn’t enough for him. But could you really blame him? You couldn’t exactly judge him for loving you longer than your stamina could hold out. Or for wanting you best when you were splayed in front of the mirror like that.
And you should’ve known he bought it for another reason in mind. You should’ve seen through the puppy eyes, the begging, the cuddling and then the restaurant date. But you didn’t. And now, well…
Sat in his lap, hand on your hip he lifted you up and down on his dick like you weighed nothing, your weak, pleading form trembling when your eyes caught the scene in the mirror which was every time, with how Phainon kept his other hand glued square on your jaw, forcing you to look.
“Spread your legs s’more,” he coos, voice warm and breathy against the crook of your neck, heavy lidded eyes glued on your reflection. He just loved having you like this. Chest heaving slow and hard, overwhelmed by the vicious smell of liquids and of your perfume– he didn’t know how he was supposed to hold himself back.
"I can't–" The word breaks as his teeth sink into your skin, marking you, just as he did on the inside. His cock pounds into that sweet, sweet spot, every smack against your slick folds turning your head into mush. "Too big– Phai, it's too–"
“But you’ve taken me so many times, princess.” He pouts, licking the salty tears off your cheeks with gusto. “Is it the mirror making you shy?” He teased, pushing his weeping head deeper into your hole, a soft groan escaping him and sinking into your sensitive skin.
You tried to gaze away– overwhelmed by your obscene reflection but Phainon tightened his grasp around your jaw, raising his hips once, hard, hitting that spot inside you that made you gasp for air, bullying it over and over until his girth literally made your lungs burn.
“Please, princess, look–” He muttered, that needy undertone translating into every one of his despicable, ripping thrusts, revering you with kisses, “How beautiful you are taking my dick–” He says it against your throat. The blush staining his skin red has trailed all the way down his collarbone now. "How perfect you look when I'm fucking you."
Then a pause. His hips slow– just enough to make you whine.
"Won't you do it for me?"
The words die in your throat. He’s fucking you– filing you to the brim so despicably, loud, lustful moans replacing them instead, your eyes watching how your back arches into him, the way your hips traitorously stutter down instead of up when he tries to pull out, needy for every inch of him inside you.
And you can’t stop yourself from spreading your legs further.
He’s mesmerized at the sight of you, pounding, every aching shove driven by all his strength, feasting on the hypnotizing view in the mirror, your gushing liquids that covered your shimmering, wet entrance, oozing down the dragging length of his cock so prettily he could cry.
Through lewd, sloppy sounds that bounced off the walls you could only focus on his roaming gaze, on how his eyes fluttered when you clenched around him, drinking you in completely, and utterly lovestruck.
And then something shifts.
His grip on your jaw falters. His hand falls, trembling, and instead of forcing you to watch, he presses it against the other side of your waist, holding you in place as he keeps pounding, reaching further with your legs spread now while his head drops into the curve of your neck. The warm droplets of sweat slide down his Adam's apple, heaving desperately, slowly, completely different from the rabid pace of his hips, barely making a sound anymore.
And the smooth curve of his smile feels divine against your skin.
“Phai–!” You manage, and he’s already chuckling, not even trying to hold himself up anymore. His breathing is as shaky as his shaft inside, ramming into you, pulling hopeless, incoherent babbles out of you, his name above all. You feel him everywhere– overtaking and fucking you senseless until all there is left is how he’s molding your insides, how he feels against you.
And his gaze returns to the mirror.
“S’not enough,” He says, voice barely above a whisper, looking at the reflection of you– eyes glassy, hands buried in the sheets, hoisting every breath you can barely catch. “So wrecked f’ me.”
“M’ close– I–” You plead, frantically, all red from how his gaze shamelessly roams over you. “Phai–!”
“So sensitive, ” His large hand slides up your waist, feeling every curve and cupping your tits. A breathless, wrecked laugh spills from him, hot against your ear. "And so fucking pretty.”
His thumb finds your nipple, rolling it with a purposeful, cruel slowness that has your hips jerking. “Do you look at me in the mirror too?” He asks, and your gaze languidly shifts to Phainon, barely able to form a thought anymore.
And that was genuinely the last straw.
He’s flushed to the base of his shaft, big arms flexing every time he brings you up on his dick with an ease that felt unfair against your struggling. Hot and fucked out, so so unfairly handsome, eyes fixed on how you’re looking him at that moment, breath coming in uneven gasps that stutter every time you clench around him, gaze hazy with pleasure every time he hits that spot that makes you squirm over him. You watch his hips stutter, watch his jaw go slack, watch the way he's barely holding himself together.
He came at the same time you did, his hands sliding down to your ass, lifting you off his cock, his cock painfully hard and throbbing as the tip exploded with hot threads of sticky white. You moaned, liquids mixing with his, pooling at the base and dripping down onto his thighs, obscenely overstimulated as the pleasure rounded every inch of your body.
“I think it was a good investment.” Phainon smiles against your skin, kissing your cheek. You sigh, feigning annoyance but can’t fight the smile pulling at your lips.
“As long as it’s not the last time we use it.”
@sundered-star here it is, hope you like it...
This was supposed to come out last week but I got admitted to the hospital ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ
dividers by @cafekitsune and @omi-resources
art by Haemagong
Likes and reblogs are really really appreciated <3
even when i'm quiet, i love you baby, i promise - phainon x gn!reader
naturally, it's impossible to know how to appropriately react to finding out that your lover has intergalactic levels of power.
well, you always had known phainon was destined for great feats and even greater heights, but it was daunting to confront that reality now. he looked so... untouchable with his wings and halo that spanned an armslength, the sight of his second form engrained into the crevices of your mind as you try to comprehend how that beautifully frightening being is someone you have the nerve to deem a lover.
the truth of amphoreus was one blow to your gut, and the second one was approaching now. you know the sound of his footsteps like the flowers know the sun, like the leaves blow to the wind, like the way amphoreus was always fated to reach the new dawn.
one with him in it this time, and that was a gift in itself.
he emerges from the shrubbery not too long after and you watch as his eyes light up, phainon naturally gravitating to you. even after all this time, all these cycles, he gazes at you like he's falling in love for the first time.
"i've been looking for you," is all he says as he sits down next to you on the stone ledge. you glance down at your hands in your lap and hum. "why are you hiding all the way out here? it took me a while to find you."
"i wanted some peace and quiet," you tell him, "i didn't worry you, did i?"
he shuffles closer, knee touching your outer thigh. you don't miss the way that he tries to shrink down, as if finding a way to be in your line of sight, magnetised to your personal space. "no, i just wanted to be with you. what are you thinking about?"
you could be honest. you could be coy. it's a matter of time before the truth comes out to him, he's always known how to pull it out of you.
however, this time it feels like he knows what you're thinking about, he's just waiting for you to confirm it, but his patience was wearing thin.
the dromas in the room; you still haven't asked him about his other form, nor have you properly talked to him since amphoreus took shape again, too overwhelmed by the bizarreness of peace, too helpless in the face of... just being able to do what you wish to do, too uncertain of how to move when there is no time limit on happiness.
this state of tranquility is here to stay. no more chasing prophecies, mad titans, undergoing trials, the warm sky overhead was a testament to that.
"there's a lot that i am thinking about," you say, watching the clouds float overhead.
"am i... in any of those thoughts?"
"plenty. majority," you glance back over to him.
"it feels like you've been avoiding me, y'know," he grumbles and he shuffles around a bit before his head finds comfort in your lap, effectively pinning you to the spot, as if securing it so that you wouldn't run away.
from the conversation or from him.
"i'm still the phainon you know, i'm still your phainon, and i know there's so much i still owe to tell you, but at the end of the day, and if you allow it, i'll come back to you, no matter what."
it's funny that such a powerful being- a majestic, divine, being such as himself, found it worthwhile to proclaim your ownership over him, to devote himself to such an arbitrary thing such as love when he could burn through stars and galaxies and find himself at the apex of creation.
your fingers follow the pathway to his hair and begin playing with the strands.
"can i... see your other... form, please?" you ask.
"are you sure? i mean, i could never deny you of anything but," he raises himself off of you, meeting your eyes. "i don't think you should see me like that."
"please?"
his eyebrows furrow for a second before he nods. he didn't want to make you ask a second time, weak to your whims in the first cycle, and still just as weak after the conclusion, quickly rolling off you and onto his feet.
suddenly, the man standing before you completely transforms in the blink of an eye. a flash passes, not bright enough to hurt your eyes, but fast enough that white hair has turned into blond, his past regal blue, white and black gowns have turned into stone, chest carved with golden cracks form.
his golden eyes are intimidating, a face so perfectly sculpted that it feels like you're seeing the stone statues you loved admiring as a kid. only this time, his presence is so captivating yet chilling, an oppressive warmth radiating from him as he watches you admire him.
"you're... breathtaking."
he laughs. quick, breathy, but relieved that you are yet to run away.
he might not know what to do with himself if you did.
"this ghastly form is nothing more than a vessel for all the rage and hatred that has manifested for thirty three million cycles. you shouldn't... see me like this too long"
you frown, shaking your head. "i want to. it just breaks my heart that life has given you so much pain."
"it's worth it because we are here now."
you open your arms, inviting him into your embrace. gently, with the same care that one would approach a sleeping chimera with, he melts into you. you bring your forehead to his, interlinking your hands behind his neck, feeling khaslana's warmth thrum underneath your touch.
this is the face you could spend your whole life knowing.
"after everything that has happened, i should be the one comforting you," you murmur, traces of a smile lingering in your tone. "i love you. that much will never change."
you watch as your words settle into his mind and he closes his eyes, a breath of relief passing through his lips. then, he kisses you, slow but consuming because now that he has all the time in the world, he can spend forever with you, and he plans on savouring every second.
𐙚 SUMMARY:In this lifetime, he is no hero. He is no god. He does not bear the weight of the world—only the quiet, ordinary weight of responsibility. A life too mundane, yet a life full of warm memories. Phainon learns how to raise his daughter while caring for you, the love of his life. Through six grounded steps, Phainon does not save the world. He learns to hold it gently, one bottle, one memory, and one bedstory at a time.
𐙚 A/N: im on fire im so obsessed with phainon I didn't go to school today to write two fics......... BUT IN MY DEFENSE I WAS ILL AND IT DIDNT STOP RAINING TIILL IT WAS 10 AM SO I HAVE AN ACTUAL EXCUSE TO NOT GO. butttttttttttttttttttttt..... didn't do assignments. idgaf atp sit back and enjoy
𐙚 W.C: 3.7k
How did Phainon become the best dad in the world? He only followed six steps—just six!
Step One: Learn how to hold her
1. Cradle gently. Always support the neck. Your daughter calla was born in late autumn, when the air outside was dry and restless and the light came in gold through the window blinds. Phainon’s hands trembled the first time he touched her—slow, careful, as if her bones might scatter like powdered glass. You watched him tuck her into the crook of his arm with the reverence of someone handling something sacred.
Calla curled her tiny fist around his pinky like it was already hers. He looked stunned. Breath hitched. He was a man not used to being speechless, learning how fast silence can mean love.
2. Get used to watching. Phainon didn’t sleep that first night. Your husband sat next to the bassinet and watched her chest rise and fall. Every few minutes, he leaned forward, fingers barely above her stomach, just to be sure. You woke to find him still sitting there, blanket draped over his shoulders, whispering her name under his breath like it was a spell he needed to learn by heart.
3. Write it down, even if it’s messy.
By day two, he had started keeping a tiny notebook in his pocket. It wasn’t neat. It wasn’t poetic. It was mostly timestamps: 2:41 AM: hiccup. 3:27 AM: sneezed 3x. 6:00 AM: got trapped in the blanket. You teased him at first. But he didn’t stop. Later, you caught him drawing a tiny sketch of her face next to the word ‘miracle.’
You found him again the next morning, curled awkwardly in the rocking chair with Calla asleep on his chest. His hair was a mess. One sock was missing. The notebook was open on the floor, scrawled halfway through a sentence. But he looked... peaceful.
“She fell asleep on me,” he said, as if apologizing.
You smiled, leaning in to pick up the fallen notebook. “You drooled on page four.”
“I was exhausted,” he muttered.
“She still looks okay with you.”
“I’m getting better at it,” he said softly. His eyes dropped to her. “I think she knows.”
He brushed his thumb lightly over her cheek. You sat beside them, close enough to hear the slow breath shared between them.
It was new. It was exhausting. It was terrifying. But Phainon wasn’t flinching anymore.
She stirred. He adjusted. You leaned on his arm.
Step two: Keep the house running
1. Wake up first. Check her breathing. Reheat the milk. Phainon started setting alarms five minutes before the goblin usually stirred. So it didn’t matter that he hated mornings. It didn’t matter that his left arm still tingled from where she slept on it. He makes sure to roll out of bed quietly, check her chest for those soft, steady breaths, then shuffle into the kitchen. Warm bottle. And then two scoops, not three. Shake, test on wrist. He got it wrong the first week—too hot, too cold, too foamy. But he learned.
2. Take over what you forget. Don’t comment on it. He started checking the stove behind you. Rewriting the grocery list when you skipped ingredients. Moving your shoes from the hallway before you tripped again. It wasn’t a conversation. He didn’t tease, didn’t hover, didn’t ask are you okay?. He just did it. When you left a laundry basket outside for three days, it was suddenly folded on the couch, the onesies rolled up like tiny burritos. You didn’t even notice until you smelled the softener.
3. Keep the tone soft. Laugh when she laughs. Let the silence stretch.
Sometimes you forgot mid sentence what you were saying. Sometimes you’d trail off with a wooden spoon still in your hand, blinking at nothing. Phainon never rushed you. He’d pick up where you left off if you remembered, or shift the conversation gently away if you didn’t. He learned to fill the quiet with humming. Calla always giggled at that—especially when he hummed off key.
The kettle clicked. Phainon didn’t turn it off immediately. He waited in the hallway, listening.
Calla was shrieking—happy shrieking, the kind only infants made when they discovered their own voice. You were trying to distract her with a plushie, but she was more interested in your hair, which she’d somehow managed to grab in both fists.
“Ow,” you murmured, smiling despite yourself. “She’s stronger today.”
“Can't believe you're losing to a kid.” Phainon chuckled from the doorway.
You snorted. “Help me.”
He walked over, hands raised like he was approaching a crime scene. “Alright, Commander Calla. Hands off the hostage.”
She laughed. He untangled your strands with surprising gentleness.
You sat back against the crib wall. “I was going to do the laundry.”
“I already did.”
“The dishes?”
“Already drying.”
Your brows furrowed, “I swear I washed the dishes…”
Phainon sighed, “No, love. I did, just five minutes ago.”
“Huh?”
When your eyes darted to the sink, it was squeaky clean without a plate greasy with soy sauce.
“Huh,” You bit your lip as Calla grabbed your finger through the crib, “Weird.”
Step Three: Pay attention without taking control (important!)
1. Notice patterns, not incidents.
It’s good Phainon didn’t panic the first time it happened. Normally, people forget things. He’d forgotten Calla’s pediatrician’s name three times (the doc was an asshole anyways). So when you blinked down at the laptop on your lap and couldn’t name them for five seconds, he waited. Watched. Didn’t draw attention to it. But he made a note.
2. Don’t jump in, you wait until they ask. When you blanked on the bottle’s formula ratio, he didn’t correct you. He watched you count one scoop, hesitate, then say “Is it two?” and laugh. “I’m sleep-deprived,” you said. “Or getting old.” He nodded, smiled, and passed you the second scoop.
3. Learn the difference between being careful and being afraid. Phainon began building quiet systems. Tiny labels on things. He made color coded reminders on the fridge. There’s a highlighted bookmark with a sticky note saying, “You stopped on page 211.” He pretended calla needed them. Said it was for her when she got older. You played along.
The next day, you forgot the word for “scissors.”
You had them in your hand. You were trying to say something, something about trimming calla’s little pink paper crown—and the word just slipped out of your brain like water through a crack. You paused, staring at your fingers.
“It’s fine,” you muttered a moment later. “I meant scissors.”
Phainon glanced up from the floor, where he was helping Calla stick stars onto a paper sky. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you said too quickly. “Yeah. Just a brain fart.”
He didn’t push. Just handed you a new glue stick.
Later that evening, he watched you go quiet during a show—when a side character appeared and you squinted, confused. You said, “Wait, who’s she again?” then laughed. “Sleep deprived,” you said. “My brain’s pudding lately.”
He smiled. But he wrote it down in his notebook that night. Quietly. Just one word: Pudding.
The next day, he added new labels to the kitchen: milk, kettle, sugar, rice. Phainon drew tiny doodles next to each one so it wouldn’t look like pity. There’s even a crooked smiley face on the coffee jar.
When you saw it, you rolled your eyes. “You’re labeling the house like a preschool.”
“For Calla,” he said.
“Sure it’s not for me?”
He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I just don’t want her to think sugar goes in soup.”
You stuck your tongue out at him, and he grinned like that was all the confirmation he needed.
But later that night, when he heard you whispering the formula ratio to yourself under your breath—twice, then three times—his chest ached.
You weren’t laughing that time.
Step Four: Stay gentle when it gets hard
1. Don’t correct, you guide. When you forgot the bottle in the microwave, Phainon didn’t scold you. He simply took it out before it overheated, swirled it twice, and handed it to you with a smile. “Still warm,” he said. “Just in time.”
2. Build backups. Not large fences.
He started preparing a second set of bottles every morning, “just in case.” He left sticky notes not just for you (they’re yellow this time), but from Calla, signed in crayon: 'Mommy, remember my blanket!' It made you laugh.
3. Laugh when it’s safe. Hold still when it’s not. When you called Calla “Clara” by mistake, then immediately corrected yourself with a forced grin, Phainon made a joke about time travel. “She’s been secretly switching dimensions,” he said, ruffling her hair. But when you didn’t laugh, just stared down at your hands… he didn’t say anything else. He just sat closer. Let the silence be soft.
It was late afternoon when you paused mid-sentence and blinked at the refrigerator like it had spoken.
Phainon looked up from the kitchen. “You good?”
“Yeah,” you mumbled, biting your cheek. “Just… trying to remember if I fed her lunch.”
“She had applesauce at twelve. And that weird beet thing.”
You breathed out. “Right.”
He didn’t say you forgot again. He just pulled out a tupperware and handed you the leftovers. “Want to try some? She spit it out dramatically, so obviously it’s gourmet.”
You chuckled. “Then that’s gourmet beet disaster.”
Calla, now big enough to sit up with a little wobble, banged her spoon on her tray and shrieked with laughter.
You smiled.
But that night, when you tried to read her a bedtime story and stumbled on the first line—Once upon a... and then nothing, your throat closed.
You stared at the page like it had betrayed you. Like the words were in a language you used to know.
Phainon sat beside you and turned the page for you.
“...dragon,” he murmured softly, like it was just part of the story. “There was a dragon who blew out pink fire, protecting the castle from evil thieves.”
Your fingers gripped the edges of the book.
He didn’t touch you, he just kept reading. Slowly. Softly. One line at a time.
By the third page, you joined in again.
You didn’t say thank you.
But you leaned your head on his shoulder and whispered, “You’d make a good narrator, a damn good one.”
And he whispered back, “Only because you taught me the stories.”
Step Five: Stay when the sun sets early
1. Learn the new rhythm, even when it doesn't make sense To him, calla was easier to soothe than you, these days. She was growing. Her legs are longer, her voice louder, and her questions sharper. You were slipping. Quietly. Slowly. At first, it was just phrases. Then it was faces. Then the rhythm of whole days. The world tilted when you spoke sometimes. A phrase misaligned. A sentence cut short. But Phainon never corrected you. He followed your tempo. He matched your stride. So when you asked the same question three times, he answered it three times, each time with the same tone, the same patience, like it was brand new.
2. Design a map for the days they forget where they are (another important one)
He rearranged the house without saying anything. Labels in your handwriting, carefully traced over by his. A laminated list on the fridge: Breakfast, pills, water. Calla’s bath. Lemon tea. More crooked doodles next to each (all in either pink, blue, yellow, or violet). Calla helped color them. She liked the part where the sun had a sleepy face beside “bedtime.”
You once sat on the kitchen floor staring at it, tears brimming, and whispered, “It’s a cheat sheet.”
Phainon knelt beside you and touched the corner of the list. “No. It’s a map. For when you get lost.”
You cried harder.
3. Let the silence say what words can’t There were days you didn’t speak at all. He’d see you just sit by the window, tracing invisible shapes on your thigh, eyes half-focused on the garden you used to care about. Phainon was the one taking care of the garden, you keep forgetting to. Calla would waddle over, hand you her scribbled pictures, then climb into your lap like nothing was wrong. Phainon watched from the hall. So sometimes he’d take a photo. Not to remember you fading, but to prove that, even on the worst days, love still gathered quietly around you like dust catching sunlight.
It was raining when it got bad.
Calla was crying in the next room. Not loud, she was just the confused, sleepy whimper of a child waking too soon. You had gone to get her.
You didn’t come back.
Phainon found you in the hallway, barefoot, clutching a pillow against your chest like a lifeline. Your eyes were wide. Not scared. Not teary. Just… blank.
“She was crying,” you whispered.
“She’s okay,” he said softly. “You already held her. You sang to her.”
You looked down at the pillow like it might transform and grow a pair of eyes. “Is this her?”
You just sagged into his chest, and the pillow slipped from your fingers.
Later, when you were asleep on the couch, wrapped in a blanket you didn’t remember owning, Calla clambered onto his lap and asked, “Is mama sick forever?”
Phainon didn’t answer right away. He held her close. Buried his nose in her hair.
Then, quietly he said, “She’s still here. That’s what matters.”
Phainon had decorated the house quietly. Streamers in yellow and pink. A paper crown. Her name on the wall.
She ran to you holding her little cake plate. “Mama, look! Six candles! I’m six!”
You blinked down at her, confused. “Is it…?”
Your voice faded.
Phainon stepped in before she noticed.
“Time for a dance party,” he said, scooping her up. “Go on, show us your best moves.”
You smiled, stiff. Shaky.
Later, in the quiet of the bathroom, you pressed your hand against the sink to steady yourself.
“I forgot.”
Phainon knelt down and rested his head against your hip, eyes closed.
“Only for a second.”
“A second’s enough.”
“No,” he whispered. “It’s not. Not when I still have you.”
You didn’t say anything.
You just turned off the lights, curled into his chest, and cried so quietly it barely echoed.
He started humming to you more after that.
Songs you’d made up for calla. The little nonsense melodies that just looped. He played them while he cooked, while he brushed your hair, while you napped beside the laundry basket.
He kept all your old voice recordings, the ones where you were giggling in the middle of telling a bedtime story or teasing him about his loud snoring. Sometimes he played them in the kitchen while he washed dishes, pretending not to be crying into the soap bubbles.
Sometimes, when you heard your own voice, you’d smile.
Sometimes, you didn’t recognize it.
One night, you asked him if the stars were always this bright.
Phainon looked up. “They haven’t changed.”
“Oh.” You paused. “Maybe it’s me.”
He didn’t correct you.
He just took your hand and held it like it was the only thing anchoring the sky.
Step Six: He lets you keep living, even if it’s different now
It didn’t get better in the way people hoped. There wasn’t some magic pill, no reversal, no dramatic recovery where you suddenly remembered the date or brewed tea with perfect timing. Obviously, the ttruth was quieter than that. It’s just that some memories never came back. Some sentences still trailed off. You forgot words in the middle of them. Once, you asked Phainon where your daughter was while she was holding your hand.
But the worst of it passed.
You still got bad days, yes. Mornings when the fog didn’t lift until noon. Evenings when you cried for no reason you could name. But you weren’t vanishing. You were still here. And Calla was growing.
So Phainon adjusted. Again.
1. Never wait for the old normal to return. Make new ones, every single day. Mornings became slower. Softer. Phainon would prep breakfast before either of you woke—toast sliced in neat triangles, a post-it beside your cup reminding you: Add honey, not salt. (You did that once.) He’d kiss your temple and ask how you slept. Most days, you smiled. Some days, you asked, “Did we already talk?” And he’d smile back and say, “Not yet. But we are now.”
Calla, now four, understood more than she let on.
She started calling them “loop days.” When you seemed quieter. Tired. When your words got looser.
“Papa, is it a loop day?”
“Maybe,” he’d say. “Let’s make it a good one anyway.”
2. Tell her the truth, even when it's hard (and especially when it's hard!!)
He didn’t lie to Calla. Not once. Not when she asked why her mom stared at walls sometimes. Not when she asked why you forgot that she liked pink and not purple.
“She’s still your mama,” he’d say, tucking her in. “Her brain just gets really sleepy sometimes. That doesn’t mean her heart forgets you.”
Calla would think for a bit, then nod. “She still loves me sleepy.”
“Exactly,” he’d say, brushing back her curls. “Exactly that.”
3. Let you help, let you love, and even if it’s not perfect. Calla started drawing more. Pictures of the three of you holding hands, but sometimes she made your face with a blue swirly cloud instead of a mouth. When Phainon asked why, she said, “That’s for when mama’s words are hiding!”
You cried a little when you saw it.
Not loudly. Just quietly. Hands to your mouth, staring at the paper like it had rewritten the world for you.
4. Keep telling her stories of who you were, and who you still are. Phainon started keeping a journal. It’s not just for himself. For you. For Calla. A collection of your favorite things: the recipes you used to recite by heart, the way you used to hum when watering plants, your childhood dream of becoming an astronaut. He read parts of it aloud sometimes. On the porch, while you napped. While Calla scribbled in her own tiny glitter notebook beside him.
“This is the story of the bravest girl I ever met,” he would say.
Sometimes your eyes fluttered open. And sometimes you said, “Tell me again.”
So he did.
Every time.
One winter morning, the heater broke.
You’d both forgotten to get it checked.
Calla came into the living room in double socks and her favorite dragon hoodie, rubbing her eyes. “Papa, it’s cold.”
“I know, bug. We’re working on it.”
You were curled up on the couch, staring at the window like it was made of stars. Your hair was tied unevenly, your slippers on the wrong feet (one is blue, the other is green), but you looked peaceful.
“Do you remember the name of that soup you made last winter?” Phainon asked gently, kneeling by the coffee table. “The one with garlic and those weird glass noodles?”
You blinked. “Hmm. The broth was light… I remember the steam, it made me sneeze.”
“That’s good. That’s something.”
“...And… I added lemon last, didn’t I?”
Phainon smiled. “You did.”
That night, you made it together. You forgot the salt. Calla added too much parsley. But it was warm. And everyone had second servings. And afterward, Calla dozed off with a noodle stuck to her cheek, and you laughed so hard you cried.
It wasn’t perfect. But it was real.
And then one spring evening arrived, Calla came home from school holding a glitter covered project.
It was a poster. Neon purple, slightly crooked, full of stickers. At the center: a drawing of your little house. Crayoned faces. Her wavy hair. Your loose sweater. Phainon’s brows.
At the top, big letters:
“The best dad in the world!”
He blinked at it. “This is for me?”
She nodded proudly. “We had to draw our hero.”
Phainon knelt down, folding her into a hug.
“But I didn’t do anything big,” he said, half joking. “I didn’t fight dragons. I didn’t build spaceships.”
“You helped mama not disappear,” she whispered into his chest.
That was the moment he finally cried. Not quiet tears this time. Full ones. His shoulders shook. You reached across the couch and gripped his hand.
You still forgot things. But not everything. You remembered Calla’s laugh. The way she tapped her fork twice before eating. You remembered Phainon’s hand, always steady on your back when you faltered. You remembered how you loved him. Still loved him.
Even when words were hard.
Even when days blurred.
That part never faded.
The next weekend, you three took a walk.
A short one. Just down the street. Calla skipped ahead with a stick she found, waving it like a wand. You held onto Phainon’s arm. The wind felt nice on your skin. You didn’t remember where the old bakery used to be, but you remembered the taste of lemon tea, and how he always ordered one for you without asking.
You leaned your head on his shoulder.
“Thanks,” you whispered.
He looked down. “For what?”
“For holding everything. When I couldn’t.”
He shook his head.
“You’re still here,” he said. “You’re still holding me.”
So, how did Phainon become the best dad in the world?
He only followed six steps, just six.
And none of them were ever grand. None of them fixed what couldn’t be fixed.
But they built something gentler. Something enduring, something warm and soft.
A home that reshaped itself around grief without breaking.
A daughter who never stopped feeling loved.
And a partner, who forgot more things with each passing season, but never once forgot what safety felt like when held in his arms.
In the end, Phainon never needed the world to call him a hero.
He just needed Calla to smile when he tucked her in at night.
And you—to reach for his hand, even if you forgot why.
Notes: This was easy, i alr started writing since 6 am. Fanfic writing has become a full time job atp. But idrgaf. I need to train my writing skills for a portfolio anddddddddddd yeah. I promised my friends
Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡
whatcha want
phainon, mydei, anaxa (headcanons+fic): they try to woo u, they fail
phainon intimate fanfic and him asking for consent all the time (longer)
Summary: Moles were said to be imprint of past lovers — Phainon was convinced that all the moles in you were caused by him and that he'd find you in every lifetime. A fic in which you find one another regardless of the cycles or memories.
Tropes/Tags: Hurt/comfort, tiny angst, happy ending (I think), Flame Reaver mentioned. Lygus is a hater. 0ther Chrysos heirs mentioned.
Wordcount: 5.3k
⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ Drag Path - Twenty One Pilots // The one that got away - Katy Perry
The death of the goldweaver brought yet another news of desolation to the citizens of Okhema. To Phainon — the man known as the deliverer to the masses, it was another responsibility, another wish of a dear friend, to be carried on. Amphoreus was running on borrowed time, though he’d like to grieve the loss of a mentor, there was no time to dwell. As Aglaea had often mentioned, losses are a constant on a Flame-chase journey.
And losses had been all he knew. The death of Cyrene, a dear friend of his who hailed from the same hometown. Phainon could faintly recall how Cyrene used to build scarecrows alongside him, or how she used to foretell kids fortune with those cards of hers. Aedis Elysiae — his home and all of his friends being sunken by the black tide. The execution of Anaxagoras, a teacher he held great respect for despite the man’s eccentricity. And now Aglaea.
Phainon had to carry their death, he had to bring remnants of his friends over to the new dawn he had sworn to bring upon Amphoreus. At the very least, if their wishes had come true, it would be evidence that they had once lived.
“I know you’re carrying a lot right now, but, what troubles you so that a frown was all I’ve been greeted with?” Where could he find the string that could unravel his whole thought processes? Phainon tried, he really did, but the thoughts on his mind were akin to a bundle of threads all tangled up with no ends in sight. At least for you, his partner who had remained steadfast, he’d like to chatter his thoughts away. However, even he lacked the luxury to be weak in his safest place.
Fresh off the shower, you crawled onto the sheet. The bed the two of you shared for years now sunk under the weight of your knees. It was extremely rare for Phainon to be at bed before you — between the worldbearing core of the titan or a fight against the flame reaver, Phainon had not rested nearly enough. He’d be asleep by the time you were too, and awake before you had the chance to rub the sleepiness away from your eyes. You’d know if he was there by the indent on the pillow or of the mattress, for his warmth had gone cold by the time you awoke.
He felt your fingers danced across his cheeks. It was first hesitant, sending tingling touches, before enveloping the side of his face. Phainon leaned into the tenderness, amidst the battle he had fought, the never-ending flame-chase journey he had thrown himself in — he seemed to have forgotten that demigods were also part human.
“It’s just, tomorrow’s the final day of the flame-chasing journey.” Phainon positioned his right hand on top of your palm which was embracing him. Your thumb rubbed in circles across his cheeks. Your touch had always been irresistibly soft, incessantly soothing, saccharine like a dream he wouldn’t trade for anything else. A smile momentarily returned to his feature, a single touch of yours could melt away his greatest concerns as a far away dream which was still yet to come. It was dangerous to indulge, but like a moth drawn to flame, Phainon was still half mortal.
With his eyes shut tight, Phainon let the dulling of one sense amplified the others. “What if I can’t deliver the promised tomorrow?” Your thumb halted, the pulsific rounds of circles distorted by the cold gush of wind which had now replaced your warmth. He hated it but he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. He could bear the world’s disappointment — no, he had long prepared himself for it, yet Phainon could never dare to imagine your face doused in the thickest rhythm of disappointment.
His formal title — The Deliverer, one which should have been for the history book, one which had been revered by the citizens of Amphoreus. He didn’t know when had such a divine title convoluted into a damning chain. Nevertheless of its weight, nevertheless of how said weight had been crushing upon him, the deliverer must not break, the deliverer must not succumb, the deliverer must keep hope up. For he who delivered hopes of tomorrow, must be one who believed in tomorrow.
Phainon felt the hand that had been motionless cupped his cheek, the fingers which had always been gentle, pinched on the skin of his face. His eyes were jolted awake by the force he had hardly seen his lover used on him before. In a moment of his wakefulness, Phainon’s cyan eyes interlocked with yours, the doubt that you would soon one day be disappointed in him burnt away into ashes in that moment. The way you had looked at him… Phainon could not find a word fitting enough to describe its intensity.
Your irises fluctuated, strange enough although your vision seemed to dart sideways, the centre of your eyes had remained fixated on Phainon. He saw the way your eyes wanned, how the curve of your lips did not quite meet the joy you’d normally exhibit. “If the tomorrow of Amphoreus is so frail that it relies on an individual alone, I don’t think I’d ever need it.” he understood it then, you’d carry the world with him. If he was tired of the world, you’d share the heaviness of his heart.
“Quite the blasphemous statement it is, Professor Anaxa would be proud.” The lightness of his chuckle surprised himself, it was a laugh once lost to the wind of Aedis Elysiae. Phainon wrapped his arms around your waist, effectively pulling you down alongside the softness of the mattress. With a yelp, you stumbled right into his arm. The endearment of his laughter, almost boyish — reminiscence to the youth the two of you shared while you both studied all about Chrysos heir in the groove of epiphany. He had been a boy then whose worry of the future was a distance away. Now, as you peered into his face, your fingers brushing upon the fluff of his hair, the past seemed so far away. It struck you then, this could very well be the last night for the two of you.
As if in a daze, your fingers raked his features, attempting to drill your body into remembering him. You traced his brows, then the prominent bridge of his nose, following his lips which had gotten chapped, and the bones of his jaw. Phainon wouldn’t have known what was on your mind, he was no mind reader, yet he mimicked your course of action. His fingers would stop at the moles you had, sweetly caressing each one with his thumb.
“They said moles were a result of kisses imprinted from your past life lovers.” You remembered how a bunch of students had told professor Anaxa such a ridiculous theory before, the demigod of reason had not bothered to entertain such a lucid theory which held no logical validity. It was a romantic notion, to be marked with love as others were to say — however, you had blurted it out as a means to distract Phainon from the impending final battle.
Phainon raised one of his brow, eyes searing into the moles on your body — those of which he had uncovered, and the ones he may yet to discover. “I must have kissed you a lot in our previous lives then.”
You scoffed out loud, your lover’s unparalleled confidence would surely put any jesters red with embarrassment. “Bold of you to assume it was all you.” Contrary to what you had said, if the theory stood to be true, you wished the moles on your body were all a byproduct of his incessant love.
Phainon shook his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the temple of your forehead. “It would only be me, I would find you in all our past, present, and future.” It sounded like a vow, of how he’d come back to you every time, of how he’d remain triumphant. You cuddled further into his embrace, Phainon welcomed you with every fiber of his being, arms digged deeper, eliminating any spaces that stood between the two of you.
“I don’t care about the world’s tomorrow. Therefore, deliver yourself to me Khaslana. Tomorrow too, the day after tomorrow, and the many days after.” Don’t let us end. Your grip clenched upon the collar of his sleepwear, the fabric raked downwards, exposing the tattoo of the sun etched upon his skin.
He cocooned your hands in his, effectively losing the grip you had on his shirt, before lifting it upwards for him to kiss. The brief roughness of his lip met your soft skin, “I promise you.”
“But you won’t be here when I wake, will you?”
Phainon let out a weak smile, a laughter with no echo. That was sufficient for an answer. He couldn’t stay for long. The deliverer had a world to save. Despite your dismay, sleep caught onto your soul, and the night dawned a hollow dream upon your mind. As soon as he had noticed your slumber, Phainon left trails of pecks on your visible moles. From the behind of your ear, to the ones located on your collarbone, to your wrist, and more. Lastly, he yanked the blanket upwards, ensuring you were sufficiently tucked from the cold, before planting a chaste kiss on your forehead,
Phainon prayed then, If the world were to burn tomorrow, may the fire never lit where you were.
_Lies Unfolded_
Cipher’s centuries-long lie was unravelled with her death. The genuine state of Amphoreus was revealed and the public were riddled with confusion and fear arose from the citizens who had believed in the false prophecy’s eternal protection. For the survivors, it was a recurring nightmare, one which had taken before and was prepared to devour once again.
The blue sky had been a lie all these times, the land believed to be a safe haven had long been corrupted. As Cipher’s lie gradually peeled away, the black tide surged impartially, engulfing whichever and whoever had contacted the mass of darkness. Friends mutated into monsters, their flesh ripped and jagged away by the corruption. While their consciousness faintly flickered away, they had become one with the mindless black tide.
Phainon, the trailblazer and Hyacine had gone to retrieve the last titan core. There were barely any demigods left on the land. The remaining Tribios struggled to hold the panic that had been widespread among the people of Okhema, their already diminishing voice held no clarity amongst the chaos, falling silent on unheeding minds. Briefly, you had heard of the Tribios muttering amongst themselves, something about the death of the demigod of trickery. It wasn’t difficult to patch the pieces together, the demigod of trickery had actually managed to fool the whole Amphoreus.
As a Chrysos heir yourself, you aided the Tribios with their plans to evacuate the citizens. Despite the lack of titan core, or your normalcy, you wanted to be of help. Phainon was fighting his own battle for the world he loved, you couldn’t just sit still and watch his efforts withered away. If you couldn’t help them conquer the sky, you’d surely maintain the ground.
The chaos of the fall of Amphoreus swept you by your feet. You were running endlessly, shouting louder than your vocal cords had ever exhaled. “We will hold the black tide here, go meet Phainon by the fountain.” The tribios said, the sight of their back that was so small had been pillars to the city for centuries. You nodded frantically, just as the Tribios wished, you had to ensure Phainon and the rest surrendered the last coreflame safely, as a means to end the raging black tide.
By the time you had exhausted all of your strength to arrive at the Vortex of Genesis, you saw Phainon with the trailblazer. Alongside, there was Lygus standing a few steps behind. The core of the sky titan floated on top of the fountain, emitting a faint ray of light. You exhaled a breath of relief, the first breath of peace amidst the heaviness that had submerged Amphoreus today,
That single breath alerted the others of your presence. Lygus in particular, chuckled cordially, the expression he was emitting contrary to the mechanical and calculated look on his face. Lygus out of everyone, had always been an enigma, not the kind of enigma like professor Anaxa — Lygus felt dangerous. He was a schemer, one whose motive was a mystery.
“You’re here this time.” Lygus began, his words right off the bat did not make any sense. “For such an insignificant byproduct of the scepter, you twisted yourself into NeiKos496 equation rather often. It is quite a desolate sight to see everytime.” The man was talking in jitters and garbage, one that he seemed to delight himself into. For every time Lygus intended to convey a point, he always made his point extremely difficult to be understood, often resorting to big languages and complex wordings. You thought he did that to appear far more eloquent and intelligent. This time though, his wordings struck you more than odd.
Before the question could materialize from your lips, your eyes met Phainon’s. Your eyes wrinkled, condensation of tears threatened to form as you felt the heat rush to your face. “What a tragic sight.” Lygus commented, a series of darkness materialized behind him, and before you could warn anyone else, the sight of Lygus' head rolling down the floor drained the emotions on your face, leaving only paleness and terror as the rumored Flame reaver emerged from the darkness.
“So in the end, you succeeded… Executioner.” Phainon materialized Dawnmaker out of thin air, his grip on the sword tight when faced against his sworn enemy. The Executioner Phainon had mentioned was a being clad in a purplish hue of darkness, a strange resemblance to the black tide. When the Executioner inched closer to where you stood, your knees trembled, the minimal strength you had left faded into nothingness against the Executioner’s imposing presence.
You had heard of stories, how the Executioner’s had best the demigods. Of how his strength was superior to dozens of demigods all combined together. Even as the Executioner stood silently, only a step away from where you were, you couldn’t dare bring your gaze upwards. His presence was heavy, stifling, incredibly powerful. It was the kind of presence that commanded the air of the room itself.
Hence, you hadn’t expected the Executioner’s next course of action. You had braced yourself to share the same fate as Lygus, teeth all gritted. Instead, a chilling coldness sent shivers down your spine, the source of said coldness was from the Executioner’s hand which had cupped your cheek. His glacial fingers traced the pooled up tears away from your eyes, and it traveled to the back of your ears — the one known as the Flame Reaver rubbed at the mole positioned behind your ears.
Only when Phainon had charged at him did the man finally tore his touch away from you. The prickly crisp of cold lingered, you had been too afraid to see, too afraid to look upwards at the one who had taken the lives of your friends. “Wait.” Your voice was weak, drowned out by raging clashes of the metal swords.
“Phainon!” You yelled, hoping for a brief respite from the fight. If what Lygus rambled had any sense of truth in it, If there were dozens of past lives before the current one, If moles were an imprint of past lovers. You had to stop them.
Deep in the clashes, not even the yell of his name could bring him back to the present. Even so, you had to keep trying. You sucked in a breath, larger than any you had taken before. Your throat had been hoarse from all of the screaming, all of the crying, and all of the pretense to be strong against the black tide — any more scream and you’d think your vocal cord would cease its function, yet Phainon had to know. If what you hypothesized was true, it could change everything. “Khaslana!”
At the same time, Phainon had driven the tip of his blade into the Executioner’s body, penetrating the rotting flesh deeper. The Executioner had been the one to first heed your yell, with his mask crumbled away, revealing a graying image of Phainon who bleed a dark purple instead of gold like the usual demigods.
“Why not… let wrath… incinerate fate…?” The Executioner summoned his weapon into Phainon’s hold, urging the white-hair man who was bound by the fate of the deliverer to deliver the last plunge.
“Khaslana, no!” You ran, tripping on your own steps, having fallen yet still attempting to rise before the irrefutable happened.
Phainon plunged a final blow towards the Flame Reaver, as urged by it himself. A burst of purple exploded from the body of the Flame Reaver sending the trailblazer and you likewise flying away from the impact. Your body rolled into the ground with a thud, the impact was loud, few bones might have broken from the damage of the roll, however, you were still alive. As you regained your sight from the previous gush of purple, you noticed that your fingers were now semi-transparent.
“Are you guys okay?!” Phainon’s roar resounded across the room, sending ripples towards the stagnant water by the fountain. You couldn’t find your voice, even as you parted your lips, you could not speak a word. What started from your fingers slowly invaded your whole body, parts of your body glitched between invisibility and tangibility.
Having momentarily broken free from the Flame Reaver, Phainon with all of his strength crawled to where you lay. His attempt to hold you fell to the wind, his touches could not reach you and fear overran his system for once, the hope he had carried all this time scattered like the lives he had failed to protect. “Not you too, please. I can’t lose you.” Phainon’s movement turned hysterical, his hands trying to grasp at yours, intending to hold your semi-corporeal figure before it faded away. Repeatedly, no matter how many times his touch slid away from your skin, he’d obsessively try to tether a part of you to his hold to prevent your disappearance.
Tears rushed down his cyan eyes, the wetness dampened his cheeks, with rivulets streaming down uncontrollably. “There’s no tomorrow without you, stay with me, I beg of you, to any gods or titans out there. Don’t take her away from me.”
Regardless of his plea, your body faded into dust of starlight. Phainon grappled at the dust, hoping to collect the light that was once you, into his arms. For him to hold, for him to bask in, for him to remember — that your warmth was with him until the very end.
“Haven’t you taken enough?!” Faintly, though no longer corporeal or with a form, you could hear the fury reverberating from Phainon’s scream. Next time, I’ll find you Khaslana. And that was the last of your consciousness.
_The True Final Cycle_
“My wish is to fulfill everyone else’s wishes.” In a field of wheat, you could see a boy running around, his white hair rustled alongside the sway of the wind. As you inched closer, the sight of said field seemed to be pulled away in a lengthened perspective, even as you ran or closed the distance, that scene was still out of reach. The little boy’s words reverberated, something about him fulfilling everyone’s wishes, a small chuckle accompanied his naive wishes every time.
Your vision distorted then, showing signs of decay with colorful purple and green lines blurring along the view of the field. And every time you sought your hand out, to hold the boy’s hands, to bring him along with you — you jolted awake, sweat breaking from your forehead.
“That dream again…” You murmured, chugging the cup of water resting by your bedside in a hurry. The taste of the water was cooling, and mildly refreshing from the dream that had made you sweat buckets. It was odd, truly, it wasn’t the kind of dream where you had to fight for your life, or a dream where you were chased by your biggest fear, yet your heart ached all the same.
Briefly, you glanced upon the view of Okhema from the gigantic balcony of your room. From afar the sky had been dark with clouds that had not moved for years, yet you knew better that once you got close, you’d be able to see the pixels that made up the fake sky people of Okhema lived under. There was no holy city no more, only cities made up of static electricity flowing instead of stream of water, only cities with twilight as its default — sure the black tide had completely frozen over, but so had their livelihood. Were there any differences between living and dying now?
For years, the citizens of Amphoreus had been waiting. The Chrysos heirs, those who had undertaken the titan’s core, had told them of The Deliverer. Of how in order to fully save Amphoreus from the wicked scheme of Lygus who was now sealed in the Exomyth, they must all wait for The Deliverer. Therefore, all of the citizens chose to live in decay, choosing to place a bet on The Deliverer they had yet to see.
The Deliverer. When the world came to a doom, everyone had become religious, seeking for a higher entity to wash the world anew, hoping that the figure called The Deliverer would bestow their presence as soon as possible. The title was familiar on your tongue, the words danced a tune of old times, however there were no memories to recall, all you knew was this stagnant world awaiting the end of times.
Therefore when the trailblazer appeared — when the one the heirs had called as the Deliverer made their return to Amphoreus, it wasn’t quite what you imagined. They weren't quite the same as the image conjectured in your mind. However, to them, you must have looked questionable. Your memories were equally muddled, pieces of your yesterdays had been all jumbled up. One day, you first saw The Deliverer make their appearance. And now, you were together with them in this area that looked like a massive desert.
“Did she follow us all the way here?” March whispered, if that was the case Dan Heng would have noticed from the get-go. But no, to them you materialized out of thin air, an anomaly within the anomaly they found themselves entangled in.
“I… was on my bed just now, I swear!” You fumbled around, the words escaping your lips were unbelievable and it felt like excuses but the other girl with pink hair, who for some reason, you had this inkling that you had met her before, she simply giggled. The sound of her laughter carried upon the wind, a sweet melody in the midst of chaos.
“Just like us, she’s breaking away from her own set of equations. Except, it was to find Khaslana. It truly is the romantic ending he deserved.” Cyrene stared at you for longer than what was comfortable, it was rare for her to get to meet you in the hundreds of thousands cycles. For Cyrene had always met her demise before you appeared in their lives, with an exception of the very first cycle. It was like meeting an old friend, one who used to share her prized possession, idle gossip, and finest tea with.
“Khaslana? Who’s that?”
“Follow us will you? We’re on the way to meeting him.” The band of people disregarded your confusion, they were speaking in terminologies that were hard to follow, and you were swept in the current they were flowing in. As you traveled alongside them, you saw how they met the other heirs on their way, conversing with the heirs naturally — as if they had known each other for ages. No, in fact, even the woman who called herself Cyrene spoke to you as if she had known who you were.
The moment Cyrene shot at the familiar statue, all of you were entirely transported to a world full of red and darkness. There were stairs leading up to a gigantic space. Being in this area was different, a sense of wrongness filled your body — you instinctively knew it then, this was not a place a person like you were meant to be at. Gravity was crushing you down, each step you took was heavier than the previous. You looked at the others, at the ease in which their feet climbed those stairs.
Whatever place this was, it had denied your presence. Therefore you knew, it wouldn’t take long for you to be erased from this place which you were not privy to. Albeit, as you powered beyond the stairs, a familiar face soothed away all the falsehood and sense of wrongness which shrouded your mind. Yes, every step was still equally weighted. Equally tiring, and equally chirping away at the force which tethered your life. However, your body disobey the rationality which bounded your mind.
“Khaslana.” The name Cyrene had once mentioned poured away. You didn’t know where the unfounded certainty came from — you knew him. He was the boy from your dream, the boy who had only wanted the wishes of everyone he loved to be granted.
“You… just how… you’re not supposed to be here.” The white-hair man's eyes darted on your figure, he rubbed his eyes harshly with his fingers, thinking it was a ploy of destruction to mess with his mind. But you hadn’t disappeared, you were still there right in front of his eyes. He knew it could be a mirage, a deception made to weaken his resolve. However, he found himself running towards you, arms already extended — Khaslana was always ready to be the place where you fall into. And fall you did.
The moment your skin touched, surge of electricity traversed down your spine and hundreds thousands years of memories, an uncountable amount of kisses, the reliable back of the man who had always swore to protect you, it all flowed into your mind, not intrusively — never intrusively, it was centuries worth of precious and warm memories of your beloved. The memories welcomed you like a cozy hug and a warm cup of chocolate milk, as if you’re home after years of travel.
Khaslana on the other hand squeezed your shoulders tight under the giant engulfment others would categorize as a hug. He’d brush the hair that was obscuring your face away ever so tenderly before planting a gentle peck on the crown of your head. All while you were in his embrace. As your memory returned to you in steady waves, you found your arms wrapped on his neck, Khaslana’s hand tight on your waist and into your back — a silent promise of never letting you slip from his fingers anymore.
“Words cannot begin to describe how much I’ve missed this. How much I’ve missed you. Us. Living has been an agony without you.” Khaslana’s dependable back had always been firm, like a wall that was made to protect for eternity. You knew how much of a facade that was, therefore when he trembled in your hug, when his breathing turned uneven and jagged, you knew your lover had been through hell and back.
“Thank you for being strong, thank you for carrying the world as its sun, thank you for keeping me here.” You whispered back to him, a soft lean of your head nudged against the area of his chest. “In your heart.”
“Not even destruction or death can erase memories of you.” Truth was, you were the main variable which had held Phainon together. Even as he burnt away his body to challenge the Aeon of destruction, even as he held the world of Amphoreus together to buy time for the trailblazers, there was not a single second where thoughts of you did not cross his mind. He had done it all to promise a tomorrow for you. A tomorrow where you’d be by each other's side.
“I found you this time.” You chuckled, faintly remembering the promise you had set upon yourself when you discovered the Flame Reaver’s identity.
“And I’ll find you next time.” Phainon rested his forehead on yours, a glimmer of light emitted from both of your bodies, it was similar to when you had disappeared back then in the Vortex. However, there was no fear and no regret which accompanied.
“Khaslana, may the new dawn bring you back to me.”
He nuzzled the tip of your nose together, though the senses they could feel had been overwritten by the system intending to erase their existence — Khaslana had done it enough to memorize the warmth of your touch, and the intimacy of his actions. He was prepared this time, to step forward from the today and the past he had been stuck in all this time.
“See you tomorrow.”
_As We’ve Written_
“Wait, we can’t close the book yet.” Cyrene chided the trailblazer who had held the quill for what seemed to be forever.
“We’re missing someone right.” The trailblazer agreed, just a single look from Cyrene was enough to make them understand her intention.
The two pondered for a while, their memories of Khaslana and you were of an unprecedented amount. Wherever you went, he was there, and likewise. Cyrene contemplated on writing about how Khaslana had rehearsed his confession for the million times, to the extent where Professor Anaxagoras had accidentally walked in on the shameful sight of his renowned student with a bouquet in hand.
After a while, Cyrene and the trailblazer settled on a single paragraph. One that perfectly encapsulated the nature of their two friends. Cyrene’s lips curved upwards, seemingly satisfied by the words they had written.
“Khaslana and her were always meant to find one another. Isn’t this the perfect page to end our romantic story?”
“It sure is.” With a heavy heart, the trailblazer closed the book, leaving the quill which had marked down the existence of amphoreus behind.
"Every Chrysos heirs knew of their dear Khaslana’s newly forged relationship which he had tried to keep hidden. It was as transparent as the day, Cipher noted that the boy required additional lessons in trickery. Mydei and Castorice noticed how their friend’s face had gleamed radiantly, the steps of his feet so light that the Tribios worried about how Khaslana could fly off the ground. Despite your knowledge, their curiosity was not sated. Therefore with Aglaea’s aid, they were all now hiding behind the gigantic marble pillars on the groove of epiphany. Altogether, they witnessed how Khaslana had laid upon the grass with you resting on top of him. You were sleeping soundly as accompanied by Khaslana’s racing heartbeat and beet red ears. Not noticing the presence of others, Khaslana began to chatter, singing praises of how much he found you to be precious. Quite notably, he had called you the sun which illuminated his life. And the blessing of his heart. And the one who had granted him boundless courage to coarse through the flame-chasing journey."
Like many said, losses are a constant on a Flame-chase journey. But even if all is lost to the wind, memory endures.
A/n: It wasn't meant to be long but enjoy this raw unedited first draft! Reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated 𑣲⋆
meeting phainon was like meeting your real-life prince charming. he's handsome, kind, and did I mention hot? you would have definitely continued simping over him if not for what those comments beside his head revealed to you (wc 1.9k)
note: inspired by those chinese short stories where the mc sees 'bullet comments' like in live streams
tags: normal au, stalking, hidden cameras, yandere
The first time you met Phainon was on a hot, summer day. You remember clearly the sweltering heat of the sun, its rays burning hot over your living room despite the open windows. Even with the fan turned on at the highest speed, it did nothing to alleviate the discomfort (actually, it was made even worse because the spinning blades just tunneled hot air straight to your face). All in all, it was a shitty day. You lay on the couch in just shorts and a bra, switching through random channels on the TV while fanning yourself. It would have been a typical day, if not for the knocks coming from your door.
That's weird. You don't have any visitors. It couldn't be your friends because they all went back home, leaving you alone in this miserable city.
"Hello? Is someone home?"
A melodious voice rang from outside. Though faint, it caught your attention.
Holy shit, his voice is hot!
Startled, you got up and almost ran to the door before remembering your outfit. Grabbing a random shirt, you stumbled messily towards the entrance while simultaneously putting it on.
"Um, hello? Wait, is no one here right now…?"
The man's words drawl out as you open the door. In your haste, you accidentally slammed it, creating a loud bang! You would have been wallowing in embarrassment right now if not for the sight in front of you. By the gods, this guy has to be one of the hottest people you know. White, glowing hair reflecting off the sunlight like a halo; clear, cyan eyes that shimmer like the sky; tall, lithe yet athletic physique judging by the muscles clinging to his tight shirt; and that strong, pretty face that gives off an attractive, boyish charm.
In a daze, you didn't catch yourself staring until the man waved his hand in front of your face. Blood rushed to your face in embarrassment at being caught ogling a random stranger. Before you can apologize, he just laughs like it's something amusing. And dear god, even that chuckle made your heart flutter. In your ears, that bright, cheerful sound felt like music.
Can someone really be this perfect?!
The man hands you a small box. You don't even know when you extended your arms, but he dropped it on your palms. It was warm.
"The name's Phainon! I just moved in today. What's your name?"
Meeting Phainon was like meeting a real-life Prince Charming. He's kind but not a doormat, confident but not arrogant, and friendly but not pushy. Since that day he gave you the meal, you've both exchanged numbers and have been in regular contact ever since. In the mornings, you'd greet each other on the elevator. You eventually came to learn that he's recently transferred to your university, studying Aerospace Engineering. He's also in the campus debate club — and a good one at that. Sometimes, in campus, he'd cheerfully ask to join you for lunch when you're both on break. Of course, you'd never reject him (why would you? food is best eaten when admiring a pretty face), scooting over for room while ignoring your friends' teasing glances.
The guy's a literal ray of sunshine. He's funny, handsome, and extremely reliable.
Especially the last one.
Today, the pipes in your bathroom gave up and randomly burst. Thankfully the landlord was quite a nice lady and immediately took the initiative to call over a plumber without blaming you. Unfortunately, luck was not on your side because for some goddamn reason, all the ones in your area were unavailable today. Unfortunately, this means she'd have to close the supply valve to prevent further flooding. The only silver lining is that it's only the sink pipe. Were it anything else, you'd look like an old woman with deep wrinkles from how much you're frowning.
Thank the heavens because Phainon — your dear, ever reliable neighbor Phainon — offered to help when he heard about it. Here he is in your bathroom, inspecting the pipes.
Phainon.
In. Your. Apartment.
"Hm…"
"Is that a 'hm?' or a 'hm?!' ?"
Phainon chortled at your comment. "Perhaps a bit of both. Partner, these pipes might need a little bit more help. I need my equipment for this."
"Oh god." You buried your face in your palm, groaning at the thought of paying extra to fix it. If it's as bad as Phainon said, then it definitely wouldn't be cheap. Just imagining how much you'd have to shell out already gives massive headaches. If he can't fix it, you're doomed.
"Is it really that bad..?"
"Well, we wouldn't know until we try, right?"
Phainon stood up from crouching on the ground. "I might spend some time here to fix it. Will that be okay?"
"Oh, yes, of course—"
Suddenly, a stream of floating comments like in live streams appeared right in front of your face beside Phainon. More and more came every second making them difficult to read, but you were able to catch some of them.
bigphailover231: Oh my god, this is when he installs cameras in her bathroom!! BABY'S FIRST ACT <3333
strawberry_cupcake: OJMGGGGG IM SO EXCITED!!!!!!!!!
imjusthere: you guys enjoy this???
Fuck, are you hallucinating right now? Was it from the two redbull cans you drank this morning—
Wait. Cameras?
"Partner, you good? H-e-l-l-o [Name], you're dazed right now." Phainon waved his hand in front of your face, tilting his head at your expression, looking amused. "If you're not comfortable with that, that's fine. I don't want to force you."
bigphailover231: 'I don't want to force you' TOP 3 BIG LIES OF ALL TIME LOL
Yeah, okay, I'm definitely going insane right now. First, there's no way comments can appear out of thin air. Second, Phainon would never do that. Goodness, I need to sleep!
"Sorry, I'm just a bit tired. Go ahead! Thanks, Phainon. You're a really big help."
Phainon returned your smile with one of his. Like always, it made your heart flutter. However, as you return to your room and Phainon went back to his to get some equipment, you can't help but feel a tiny knot form in your gut.
Initially you tried to dismiss it as some energy-drink-induced hallucination. All you needed to do was stay off Redbull and Monster drinks for the next week— and maybe getting some actual sleep. However, as the days pass into weeks, they just continue to appear. Most of the time it's when you talk to Phainon, but sometimes you'd catch them in the corner of your eye. You've never been a believer of the supernatural even as a kid, but now you're starting to seriously doubt it.
Campus? A glimpse from somewhere over the other side of the lecture hall.
Random cafe? A blur from the next booth.
Groceries? A chime from what you assume to be an influx of them.
Every single day, you'd either see it or hear it and it's driving you insane. You don't know when it started but your attraction for Phainon faded from admiration to a now-settling, deep uneasiness. You really, really don't want to doubt him, but the sheer accuracy of these comments are making it impossible not to. If these are just hallucinations, then why the fuck are they so accurate?
In the middle of the campus lecture, when the professor finally gave a break, Phainon 'accidentally' bumped into you.
waitingfornewscenes: yeah no, this guy changed classes just for [Name] LMAOO
needforSPEED: bro couldn't have chosen a better excuse?
"Hey, partner! Didn't know we have the same professor, haha! I had to change classes because of some issues. Wanna study together?"
In the cafe while hanging out with friends and trying new sweets, Phainon came out from the next booth and looked 'surprised' when he saw your group.
yadayadaaaaa: COINCIDENCE MY ASS????/ next he'll say 'i didn't expect to see you here!' i bet omfg
imjusthere: holy stalking
"I didn't expect to see you here. You like this cafe too? What a coincidence!"
In the supermarket getting groceries, he'd be there buying vegetables too. 'Coincidentally' he's not buying much and would be willing to help.
bigphailover231: offering to carry groceries??? day 10 of manifesting a man like Phainon… real life is a scam </3
strawberry_cupcake: right there with you, sis </3
Each and every time this happens, that tightness in your gut grows larger and larger. When you remembered the comments talking about hidden cameras, you desperately scoured every nook and cranny of your small apartment to look for them. You closed all the lights and investigated by shining the phone flashlight everywhere carefully, watching for the telltale glint of those lens. When you found two in the living room, one in the bathroom, and three in the bedroom, you almost vomited right then and there. Unfortunately, when you reported it to the cops, they said they can't do anything about it because 'nothing happened.' That moment lost your little trust for police enforcement completely.
Slowly, you started to withdraw from friends and going outside in general. Just the thought of seeing those comments or hearing its notifying chime brings undeniable anxiety. If you could, you'd stay the hell away right now and couch-surf with friends. Regrettably, they're all strapped for cash right now and couldn't afford another roommate. Plus, this was already the cheapest single-bedroom apartment without being absurdly far from the campus. And even more, you can't just move out and find a new apartment with roommates because you can't afford it. In other words, you're doomed.
But as much as you want to stay at home, the bills don't pay themselves. Thankfully, your part-time work didn't involve much customer service so you could stay in the kitchen rather than the front register. However, it only barely helps with the paranoia. You didn't want Phainon to be suspicious of your changed behavior so you tried to distance yourself subtly. His puppy-dog eyes glistening with unshed tears and hurt would have moved your heart if not for the comments floating beside his head.
It was late at night when you finally returned home. The skies were dark and only the street lights illuminated the area. Desperate to save as much money as possible, you practically ran speedwalked back to your apartment. The moment the door closed was also the moment you finally breathed a sigh of relief. Tired, you shrugged off the black jacket onto the floor and didn't even bother picking it up. Taking off your shoes, you immediately went to the bathroom to brush your teeth. And when that was done, you sluggishly dragged your body to the safe haven of your bed to finally get some rest.
Exhaustion finally caught up as just laying on the bed for a few minutes, beneath a blanket and surrounded by pillows, was enough to pull you to sleep. Your eyelids felt heavy and you were about to welcome the soft embrace of dreamland when, suddenly, a familiar sound chimed in the air.
In that very moment, your body stiffened as your eyes snapped wide open.
You looked around frantically, careful not to move too much. However, as your eyes scan the room, the sinking realization that he couldn't hide anywhere settled like ice in your veins. First off, you're not rich enough for a closet. Second, there isn't any furniture big enough to hide behind. Which means…
; yandere, this is based on a cliche trope so do with that as you will, pathetic phainon but #he gets his way, plot device sunday, manipulation, brief mention of self-harm + suicide threat (it's used as a manipulation tactic), proofread to the best of my ability...
; becoming enamoured with phainon is an inevitability that you had no chance of ever resisting. but it stings how he'll never see you beyond a dear friend from kindergarten. the moment you move on, however, begins a shift in your dynamic with him -- he wants you back, desperately so.
; push-and-pull trope with phainon. oneshots masterlist can be seen here.
I. Love is a bitter fruit grown from trees.
“I’m Phainon! What’s your name?”
The first time you met him, his small hand reached out, waiting for you to take it. You did.
A duo is often composed of an extrovert and an introvert: at the age of seven, you knew full well who was who between you and your newfound friend, Phainon. He has a birthmark resembling that of the sun located at the side of his neck. It suits him well, you can’t think of anything but the sun when describing him. He shines like one, is warm like one, and basks everyone with his golden presence like one.
You wondered often: If he is the sun, then what would that make you?
Ideally, you’d be the complementary moon for him. During childhood, you tried to force it down your own throat by using the yellow crayon for him, and the blue one for you in your schoolwork doodles. Sun and moon, yellow and blue, light and dark – phainon and you. Growing up a bit more, you soon came to realise that you are no moon.
You’re more of a sunflower who basks in his sunlight and greedily soaks up all his affection. You’d hate to be the moon, for this meant you’d only rise when Phainon is gone – you prefer staying right by his side, a sidekick he can always count on.
A sidekick wearing your heart on your sleeves, shy but never quite ashamed of the sincere feelings you’ve held for him growing up. A flower bud that slowly unfurls into a full bloom.
As your mother would lovingly refer to you both, you are: “Two birds of a feather!”
Your childhood memories of Aedes Elysiae, blurry some of them may be, are bathed in everlasting gold. While Phainon dragged you off to go play heroes or look through Cyrene’s cards together, you remember dropping pollen of your romantic affection, scattered across planes of time like trails of breadcrumbs left for him to decipher.
While the sun dipped into the horizon, you inched closer to him day by day, the fluttering in your heart evolves into a palpitation you can never stop, and small gifts handcrafted to show your admiration all gently whispered to him to ‘please, take the hint’. But reminiscent of an immovable stone, Phainon remained blissfully oblivious to the signs.
Cyrene certainly got them; her narrowing eyes and poorly hidden giggles as she sent you and Phainon away were enough of a testament. “I’m not feeling well today, you two can go on without me!”
You’d linger at the edge of her front yard, unsure how to proceed with her help. At Phainon’s call however, you move to follow him – “okay, phai!” – trying to contain the dandelion seeds dancing around in your stomach when he leads you by the arm, not letting go despite arriving at your destination. You didn’t want to let go either, even with the sweat building up in your palm.
High school sprouts in your backyard as a tall and looming beanstalk that would force you both to grow up even more.
Phainon’s high-pitched voice starts cracking like eggshells, making way for a deeper tone yet still carrying that warm lilt he always had. You grow taller, still incomparable to Phainon’s own growth spurt, but a good few inches nonetheless. Your sense of style reshapes itself, old interests thrown out for newer ones, and the patch of land where you’d all play heroes together becomes forgotten, the trampled blades of grass outgrowing their original length.
You start favouring the comforts of your room over the blazing heat of the sun, beginning to find sweat as something you can’t stand and only coming out when Phainon pleads with you to do so.
He shines brighter in High School – his presence a beaming beacon of light as he walks through the hallways and enters classrooms. Being the sunflower that you are, you faithfully stayed by his side. Fawning crowds come and go, you don’t.
Your infatuation is exposed to those who aren’t Cyrene; childish people who never grew past the mental age of twelve tried to pick on you for always ‘Sticking to phainon like some damn leech! Don’t have any other personality traits or something?’ – the teasing didn’t last after Phainon punched one of them square in the face. His heroic act only dug your cove of feelings a little bit deeper.
He’s your best friend and first love, a pillar of comfort you grew up with – you can’t imagine your life without Phainon. You pick up more hobbies, he joins more clubs he never expected he would, and you share your new life experiences with each other during lunch. Sometimes separated, but never for too long.
Several months flicker by, and during one of your high school Valentine’s, you received gifts from men who aren’t just Phainon.
Despite his locker overflowing with pink, glittery love notes and heart-shaped chocolates handmade out of sincerity, his gaze was pinned to the white envelope and bouquet of flowers you carried - neither of them is from him. His own gift is already hanging off your backpack, the cute sunflower keychain that it is.
“From a friend?” He asks, finally closing his locker before he risks more glitter explosions on the ground.
“I doubt it,” He’s the only friend you have in this school, embarrassing it is to admit. Cyrene studies elsewhere. “But they’re cute.”
You see his tongue in cheek, and you dare let a seed of hope plant in the root of your heart. Is he… jealous? That makes you giddy. Tentatively, you ask, “You think so too, right, Phainon?”
He grimaces, glancing one last time at the items in your embrace before smiling, “Yeah, they are. Anyway, done with your locker? Let me carry your bag now.”
You nursed that seed of hope from then forth, slowly but steadily hoping more and more for the plausibility that he returns your feelings. It wouldn’t be too far off, surely – even if you’re not meant for each other in the end, you still want to try with him. You water that seed by dropping more subtle hints to Phainon, and you fertilize it by observing your best friend like an animal in a zoo, analyzing his minuscule actions and trying to correlate them to the mannerisms of ‘a guy with a secret crush on his best friend’.
To be young is to be naive.
You didn’t need much. A simple ‘you should go for it! I’ve been rooting for you two since we were all children!’ from Cyrene carved out your decision to confess to Phainon near the end of high school.
In the end, ripped straight from the dramas you watched out of curiosity, you confess to Phainon at the height of spring after getting your high school diplomas; the scent of flowers in full bloom makes you sick with nostalgia and nerves simultaneously. Your family is off conversing with his parents, while you dragged him to a secluded spot in the school.
“Uhm… I’ve liked you for a long time now, Phainon. I’m not expecting you to return my feelings but…” You leave it open-ended, too afraid to settle your confession definitively. You love him, actually - but love is a strong word that some don’t like to acknowledge. For his sake, you won’t either.
A warm, gentle spring can never stay for too long. In the same breath, you, too, are forced to abandon the sunlight you’ve known for several years at the sound of his discordant chuckle – the awkward smile etched on his face as his eyes could only look down at you in what you assume to be pity. You avert your gaze from his blue eyes, opting to stare into his birthmark instead.
“Hey, of course I like you too - you’re my best friend! But we can always stay as friends, (Y/N). You’re dear to me, you know – maybe not… like that, I just don’t want things to change between us.”
You experience the first and biggest heartbreak of your life just hours after graduating from High School. Your best friend Phainon does not reciprocate your feelings and instead wishes for your relationship to stay the same, locked into the tight box of ‘close friends’ he never plans on breaking. The seed-turned-plant of hope in your heart withers down to a sad, pathetic, dried-out flora.
That’s okay. You’ll be attending the same college as him, located far, far away – even if it’s not, you have to be okay.
After a few tense seconds of utter silence, you smile – the most carefree smile you can muster in that moment before enthusiastically nodding at him, “I get it! Don’t worry, Phainon. I totally get it. Uh, hey, I think Cyrene’s calling me. I have to take this phone call for a bit, okay? Let’s meet again later!”
You bury that confession six feet under in your backyard, covered and only seen by inches of soil as you maintain your close friendship with Phainon. Best friends, close friends, friends - you are not to cross these labels unless you want to lose your close companion.
The months of free time leading up to college are nothing unusual, you spend it as you would in the past: Phainon picking you up on the front porch to spend the entire day together. It’s either his or your room where you’ll pour sweating buckets over study materials and banter over multiplayer games on his console.
Your heart still beats like drums just being in his vicinity alone, and it took you days of preparation to act like you’re unbothered when he invites you to his room – the walls and shelves containing time capsules from years before. Pressed white daisies you gifted him on his 10th birthday peeks out as his bookmark, and your kindergarten doodle of him as the sun proudly hangs above his bed, displayed as if it’s an artifact from the Belobog museum.
The most heartwrenching item is the printed photo sitting on his desk: it’s little him kissing little you’s frosting-smudged cheek at your 10th birthday party. The shock on your face is captured and frozen in time, a memory you both laugh about every month or so. 10th birthday… It’s the same age you realized you see him as more than a friend.
Seeing it for the umpteenth time never fails to steal the air from you; the ache never gets easier. You wish you could truly put these romantic feelings to rest in a coffin and seal it shut with a lid, never to be opened again.
“Phainon, next time… let’s spend the day in my room.”
Seeing bits and pieces of you scattered around his room hurts more than him verbally rejecting you.
He grins, all teeth and gums, “Sure!”
Even branches grow into a tree of their own, just as a fledgling must leave its nest.
Spring came and went, high school a chapter closed, and you’re now faced with attending school – college, you remind yourself – an ocean away from the familiar warmth of Aedes Elysiae. The wheat fields that were once taller than you, and Phainon’s house right next door, are all left behind momentarily. You can’t pocket your hometown to bring with you in Penacony, but at least you still have Phainon.
“Everything all settled?” He gently lets go of your dorm’s wooden table, finally in its correct position, “This layout is fine, right?”
“It is,” You hand him a towel, itching to help with wiping off his sweat, “Thanks, Phainon. You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to, anything for you.” Anything for his dear best friend. He bumps your side before sitting down on the living room couch. You wanted him to stick around for a while longer, but he’s already out your door the moment he hears knocking – (‘Oh, your roommate is here! I need to go now, remember to call me if you need help, okay?’ he pats your shoulder on the way out).
The patch of skin he briefly touched is still tingling when you see someone walk into the living room, luggage trailing right behind. A tall man with shoulder-length gray hair and kind yellow eyes bows at you in greeting. He’s wearing a white cardigan with a blue sweater layered on top, the color alone reminds you of your best friend despite the difference in shades.
“Hello, pardon my sudden entrance.”
“...Hi.” You don’t know how to talk to people beyond Phainon and Cyrene - standing around here is making you shy. “Uhm, my name is (Y/N)... And you are…?”
“I am Sunday,” His hand extends for a handshake, and you hesitantly follow suit. “It’s nice to meet you. I sincerely hope we get along.”
You nod, staring back into pools of liquid gold while shaking his hand, “...Yeah, let’s. And please don’t mind the succulents on the windowsill.”
II. A close-knit friendship withers in winter, in its place is a new one.
Much to your relief, your late-night fears of college drifting you and Phainon apart never come to fruition. It has the opposite effect, to your surprise. While not overdramatically countries away, Phainon’s dorm room is located a floor above - a notable difference from when he lived right next door to you. The added distance often has him visiting your dorm room unprompted (you kindly gave him a spare key in case of emergencies) and easily greeting a confused Sunday who just finished his classes for the day.
“Call me your third roommate – don’t worry, I help around!” He’d joke. Using your headband to push his hair back, wearing a baggy tee and gray sweatpants, he makes himself at home. Sometimes doing his own homework or brings his gaming laptop along.
After the initial surprise, Sunday doesn’t mind his company – you certainly don’t.
Phainon waits for you outside your room to walk you to your class. He makes sure you sit next to him in the classes you share. He insists you join the same org as him, and predictably, you do.
You thought you buried your less-than-platonic feelings in your backyard; you truly did. But Phainon has your heart racing in excitement, rekindling the dying plant of hope. You still like him – truthfully, you never stopped liking him. But he’s closer to you now, a feat you previously thought to be impossible. The distance of just one floor away makes the heart grow fonder. Dare you say, clingy?
But he still remains your best friend. A clingy, touchy one – but your best friend.
Sunday discusses the topic on a slow, school-less night. You’re in the living room finishing up the last plates needed to be washed when he suddenly chimes in, tone so sure of his words, “Ah yes, I remember now. Please tell your boyfriend to stop entering our dorm past 11 PM. The faculty recently deployed a curfew; it’s best we follow it.”
The ceramic plate in your grasp almost crashes headfirst to the floor. Out of embarrassment, you refuse to turn around and face your roommate. Boyfriend. Boyfriend – only one person is a repeat visitor in your dorm room, and he’s nowhere near being your boyfriend.
Meekly, you set the plate down and correct him, “I’ll inform him, but… Phainon isn’t my boyfriend.”
The silence that wafts through is more humiliation added onto your person. What is Sunday’s facial expression right now? Shocked? Ashamed?
He answers it for you: “I see… This is quite mortifying, my sincere apologies.”
But he continues, “You’re both seen together, and he visits you so often, not to mention the look you give him, I got the idea that…– I’ll be sure to be more observant in the future. Again, my apologies.”
You’re wiping the table clean when you reply, still angling your face away from his eyes, “It’s cool, don’t worry! No harm done! He and I are best friends, yes… the bestest of friends!”
You feel him raise a brow at that, “I don’t mean to pry, however…”
Cyrene always chided you for being a pushover to those around you. In this instance, you hear her disapproving frown when you fold like a wet blanket, “Whatever it is you’re thinking –! I-it’s probably right.”
Wilted sunflower that you are, you mournfully face him with your eyes cast to the floor.
“Ah. You like him?”
You slowly nod, a small part relieved that you now have someone other than Cyrene and Phainon to confide in. “Don’t tell him, please…”
“I won’t.”
His bird-patterned socks enter at the edge of your vision. You slowly look up. Sunday is smiling at you, although a bit tense.
“Perhaps it’s a bit presumptuous of me considering we’ve only known each other for months, but… They say I’m a good listener. If you don’t mind, could you tell me more?”
Sunday is a Borage you unknowingly planted, only just now peaking when you need him most. Sitting side by side on your dorm’s small couch, you gain an outsider’s perspective on your years-long pining toward your best friend. He hears of your rejection and your still-persisting feelings. In the end, the advice he offered to you is:
“He may not be stringing you along, but you still foster optimism in your heart. So long as you have it, you will never move forward past him. If you ask me… confess your love a second time; see if his opinion has changed.”
You gulp, “And if it doesn’t?”
He smiles, gentle as clouds, “Broaden your horizons permanently. Distance yourself if you must; your friendship will pick up once you settle your feelings.”
Winter break is soon; you’ll need to go back to Aedes Elysiae in a few months’ time. However…
“If it’s not too much. A-and I understand if you don’t want to! But, could I ask you to…”
Sunday’s words continuously ring in your mind, repeating circles of “confess your feelings” and “move on,” bouncing off of one another. Coincidentally, Sunday is out for the afternoon when Phainon barges in a week later. Something about groupmates and ‘I wish you were in my group’ going one ear and out the other as you nod at him in autopilot.
He picks up on your unusual behavior not even ten minutes in: brows raised to the sky and eerily getting close and personal with you, surveying your face like it’d shed off all the information he wanted. He retracts a few seconds later, less joking when he inquires, “Something on your mind? Missing Aedes Elysiae?”
Hanging out in your small room like this, laptop opened to play some pirated action movie, and his class notes scattered around your bedsheets like autumn leaves…
You shake your head, feeling the moment to follow Sunday’s advice is now. This is the perfect timing – no one else around to see your heartbroken face for a second time, and no Cyrene to find out you’re still hung up on him.
“Phainon, I…”
He shuffles closer to hear you better – traitorously, your heart clenches in affection.
“Yeah?”
You take a deep breath, screwing your eyes shut, “I think I still like you.”
You downplay your feelings for the sake of self-preservation.
His breath hitches, “Ah, that’s–”
“I’m sorry.” You apologize, remorseful at how uncomfortable he must be right now, “I really tried, but…” A deep breath, “I’ll move on from you soon, I promise.”
“Oh,” He pauses, staring anywhere but you, “Uhm… sure… I’m glad to have you, you know?”
You nod, too fragile to face him.
“...You’re my first and dearest friend. I truly, really liked you, Phainon.” You love him so, so much.
“You’re dear to me too, (Y/N). Forever and now.”
You’ve heard of an overseas concept where a person in an unrequited love begins to sprout flowers from within. You feel like that’s happening to you right now with how unbearable heartbreak is – yellow carnations form from your bleeding heart, wormwood seizes your lungs in a tight embrace, and pink roses mix with your innards. You’d cough out the feeling if you could; empty your stomach from all the flowers and be done with it.
Predictably, he’s quiet for the rest of the movie – immediately coming up with an excuse to leave your dorm room once the end credits begin rolling in. You break down into tears the moment the lock clicks in place. You cry for hours, long enough for Sunday to come knocking on your door, just knowing you managed to do it when he readily offers you one of his giantmoa pudding tarts.
Eyes puffy and snot stubbornly running down your nose, you take a bite and thank him through a mouthful of pastry. It’d taste better if you weren’t so heartbroken. He gently rubs your shoulder in comfort.
“It’ll be alright.”
He’s right– But Phainon has always been by your side, rain or shine. The following months of his absence from your life will be akin to traversing a dark forest with no light source.
But there’s light at the end of the tunnel; a rainbow at the end of the storm. When Sunday bans you from helping with chores that night, you know your heart will heal in time.
“Thanks a lot… sunny.”
He sighs in mock exasperation, “I see you’ve picked up on that nickname too.”
The sun: Hey
The sun: I came by to pick you up, but for some reason, your roommate’s lying?? He said you’re not going back to aedes elsysiae this winter break??? And even denied me entry???
The sun: crazy right
The sun: I’m right outside waiting for you rn
The sun: do you need help packing up? :)
You: No
You: He’s telling the truth.
You: I won’t be visiting for now. Maybe next semester break?
The sun: what
You haven’t read his one-word reply when your phone screen transitions to his contact photo with the text ‘The sun is calling…’ displayed below. You sigh, reluctantly sliding to accept.
Even with speakers turned off, you hear him without pressing your phone against your ear: “What do you mean? Did something happen? Don’t tell me you and Auntie got into a fight…! Don’t worry! I’ll act as the middleman like usu-”
“Uhm, Phainon.” You cut him off.
“Yeah?”
“It’s nothing like that, please don’t worry.”
He makes a sound of confusion, painfully close to a whimper, “So then… why aren’t you visiting our hometown with me?”
‘Because you’ll be there’. “I’m busy with some personal matters here, don’t worry about me. Say hi to Snowy for me, okay?”
“No, I’m absolutely worrying about you – why not? We can visit them next week instead if you’re busy! Why… why miss out on the entire winter break? Won’t you be lonely here?”
“No need, really! Enjoy aedes elysiae for me. And I won’t be lonely… so stop worrying so much, you softie. I have sunny with me.”
“Sunny…? Your… roommate? Sunday? He’s staying here for winter break, too?” He sounds choked up from disbelief; you’d laugh if you weren’t battling against your resurfacing feelings from talking to him on the phone. “Sunday?”
“Yes, he’ll take care of me. I swear!”
“...”
“...Phainon? Hello?” Did the call end already? You glance at your screen, frowning in confusion when you see that the call is still ongoing. Is he lagging on his end? But he’s outside of your dorm.
“If you need anything,” He suddenly speaks up, “Anything – call me, please. If your roommate makes you sad or uncomfortable, tell me right away, okay? I’ll call you again the moment I’m back in aedes elysiae. Stay safe, I love you.”
You flinch at his admission, knowing he didn’t mean it like that. “I know… safe travels, Phainon.”
“Phai.”
“Huh?”
“Call me Phai. Isn’t that what you used to call me when we were kids? Why’d you stop? Let’s bring it back.”
You lie on your bed, pondering. Why did you stop? Perhaps since it was a nickname from childhood, you let go of it and hoped Phainon would see you more than just… his friend since diapers. It didn’t work, clearly. So you don’t mind calling him that shortened version of his name again.
“Okay… Safe travels, Phai.”
Despite your emboldened decision to ask Sunday to stay with you for winter break, you are still, at your core, a floundering, unsociable person. You have your moments of being bold and talkative, but it’s covered by leaves of quietude and slight stutters. Socializing is not your strong suit. You’re not at the stage of being totally buddy-buddy with your roommate, but you’re slowly getting there.
You’re glad you met Sunday. Had it not been for him, you’d still be stuck hopelessly waiting for a day that’ll never come: a phantom of the past who’s deathly afraid of the future.
In the span of your one-month winter break, you get to know him better. Your roommate, who’s a good listener is also an older brother to an idol trainee, has a trio of friends who roomed together a floor below, likes sweet treats, and ran away from his adoptive home after graduating high school.
Your profound respect for him only continued to grow, stalking across your shared living space like vines. While Phainon’s frequent messages, consisting of photos of Snowy and with your family, make your heart twinge in longing, you start ignoring them for the sake of progress. He’ll understand why a year from now, and you’ll both laugh about it like the pair of best friends that you are.
It’s not college that severs you and Phainon – it’s you yourself, but cutting off a branch from your tree does not mean it’s not allowed to grow a new one elsewhere.
III. Regret burgeons when everything is said and done.
Phainon: I feel like you’ve been ignoring me lately
Phainon: did i upset you?
Phainon: :(
The Gen Ed courses you took unfortunately landed you in some shared classes with Phainon, the ‘sunny’ side is that they’re coincidentally shared with Sunday and his friends too. While anxious to meet them, he thoroughly reassured you that they’re nice people.
“Just a bit… loud sometimes, I hope you don’t mind.”
You don’t – anything to physically get away from Phainon. The one-month winter break may have taught you to rely on him less, but seeing his face again might cause you to fold like paper. You see his unanswered texts when you close your eyes, and you hear his voice right before falling asleep. You miss him, but you know what must be done. When he visited you on the day he left Amphoreus, you and Sunday worked together to pretend that no one was home when he came knocking.
He stayed for hours before going up to his own floor.
Sunday sits on your left, and Stelle (A kind woman who is equal parts loud and quiet) on the other. Your new acquaintances, Dan Heng and March, are a row ahead.
“I’m telling you, (Y/N)! His nickname really is cold dragon young!” March cackles in glee, making sure to point at Dan Heng in case you mistake him for someone else.
He sighs, pushing down her finger, “That was years ago, ignore her.”
Stelle chimes in, lazily putting her arm around your shoulder and whispering, “Because he had a gachalife phase.”
Cold dragon young hisses at her to shut up, only to serve as fuel for their cackling. Entertained, you let out a few quiet chuckles at their display. You can never be happy for too long – the classroom door soon creaks open, familiar tufts of white hair peeking in not a moment later. The realization that it’s undoubtedly Phainon has you clammoring in your seat, sitting rigidly in attention.
Sunday gently rubs your back, eases you back to your current circle, “Sorry…!”
“It’s okay,” Sunday whispers back, sharing a glance with you.
“Ah, (Y/N)! There you are! …And everyone too, hello!” Phainon greets from up front, hastily picking up his pace to approach your group. Facing you, he wastes no time firing question after question, “Where were you yesterday? I waited around and tried the key you gave me, but it never worked. Did your phone break? I couldn’t contact you at all, I was so worried!”
You smile at him, “Phai, it’s nice to see you again. Sorry, we replaced our door lock with a new key for uhm… security reasons, I’ll try to get you a copy sometime. And no… my phone isn’t broken, I was just busy, that’s all!”
He audibly sighs in relief, “...Really? That’s good, I’m glad – I missed you a lot, you know?” Adjusting his bag strap, he nods to the unoccupied seats in the first row, “Come on, let’s sit.”
Stelle speaks for you, “Oh, she’s sitting with us.”
“Hm? Right! Thank you for taking care of my best friend, but we’ll get going now–”
“No, I mean she’ll be sitting with us for this class.”
Phainon cocks his head, “Sorry, can you repeat that?”
You meekly affirm, “I’m… sitting with them. Uh, they’re really nice people, Sunny introduced me to them!”
“Huh?” He looks like a lost puppy on the verge of being abandoned, “...But our seats?”
“I’ll try to sit with you next class!”
You never do: you sit next to Sunday in every single one of them and ignored the bewildered look on his face each time.
He beelines for you after dismissal, blue eyes so eager and pleading when he asks you, “Let’s get dinner together – my treat? It feels like I haven’t seen you in centuries.”
Only for you to scratch the back of your neck while shyly glancing at Sunday, “Uhm… we already made plans after school. Sorry, Phai.”
“Oh.” He steps back, letting you and Sunday pass by him to exit the room. His blue eyes follow you until they can no longer. He’s left with himself when he mutters a bitter:
“I get it.”
“Let me carry that for–Ah, Sunday…?”
He’s a second too late, but Phainon stubbornly clings to your bag’s front pocket, the very bag that the other man is already carrying. You’re still in the bathroom when the professor dismisses the class. Wanting to do his usual duties, Phainon intended to carry your bag, but… someone already beat him to it. He smiles at him, polite, “Thank you friend, but this is my thing, if you’d kindly–”
Sunday’s lips curve into what seems to be a subtle mocking smile. He adjusts the bag closer to him before replying in a composed manner, “How chivalrous of you, Mister Phainon. However, it’s not needed. See? I can carry it for her.”
Phainon sees it as clear as day.
Childishly, Phainon thinks he can carry it better than he can. It’s what he always did for you since he still had some front teeth missing from his smile; it’s his duty, not your roommate’s.
He reluctantly lets go when you come up to thank Sunday, blatantly ignoring him just a few feet away. He enthusiastically greets you, but he still exists as an imaginary concept in your eyes. What’s going on? He ponders, watching you chat the world away with Sunday. What happened before that winter break that caused you to grow so tremendously close to that guy?
You said you’d give him a new copy of your dorm room, but you’re ignoring his texts, his existence, and now – letting someone else do his usual tasks. Seriously, what gives?
Sunday’s like a parasite attached to your hip, it unnerves and angers him.
Are you… trying to replace him? His heart threatens to drop just thinking about it.
You are.
You really are trying to replace him.
Sunday sits next to you, Sunday lives with you, Sunday eats with you, Sunday talks with you, Sunday texts with you, Sunday laughs with you – Sunday, Sunday, Sunday. Every time Phainon is graced with your presence, it’s quick to sour from your notable companion by your side. Your new circle of friends too, Phainon sees it clear as day: you don’t want to be around them all the time, but you’re peer pressured into doing so. If Phainon was by your side… he would never let that happen to you. He’d punch them into blindness should they dare to make you inconvenienced.
Two birds of a feather – that’s what your mother called him and you; A pair of friends so close you might as well be surgically joined together in the middle. When Seven-year-old Phainon first reached his hand out to you, his brain made the unconscious decision then: you’d be the sole irrevocable part of his life. Flowers bloom and wilt; they experience a death of their own, but under Phainon’s sunlight, he promised that he’d never let a sunflower like you be anything less than thriving.
He leads and you follow, only so he’d be the one to be hurt when braving the unknown. Scraped knees and bruised patches of skin are nothing because you’re not hurt. He shines so you can comfortably hide under the shade – you’re not one for people, he’s fine with the way you are. He adjusts around your existence, a mold of comfort that perfectly fits none but you. He’s your fighter and protector; sword and shield.
Skipping rocks on a nearby lake, teasing Cyrene together, learning from her cards, and discovering a poor abandoned puppy who’d eventually be named ‘Snowy’ are all flashing strings of gold in his memories. Moments carefully planted in his own backyard and given regular maintenance lest he start neglecting them.
He loves you, of course he does. There is nothing purer in this world than his love for you; a flower specially nursed and plucked with the greatest care, a beauty unparalleled for it’s fertilized from the attention you give him.
His room is centered around you; every item given is meticulously stored and given a special place. The polaroids, your kindergarten doodles, the yellow crayon you gave him, your pressed flowers – he still has it, even brought it along to his dorm room, where he’s embraced by your presence every night before sleep.
He loves you, he knows this well in his heart. But Phainon is simply not worthy of you. His love for you is pure, but he, as a person, is not. A Sun can also be damaging to a sunflower – he is the filth to your pure, the actual darkness to light.
Is it because he refused your confession?
He preserves you because no one in this world deserves you, but must you go ahead and leave him for dead after finding a different sun to seek sunlight from? Sunday… What does he have that Phainon does not? Is he the better him? Does he treat you kinder than he does?
Sunday is far from holy. If anything, he’s the snake trying to lure you to ruin. You don’t know any better, hence why Phainon is around to protect you.
This is the biggest hurdle you’ve ever faced together, and with his heart being torn to pieces by your own gardening tools, he’ll make it right. He always goes. He’ll make it right, he’ll get you back, and you two can go back to the way you were before – just more. Friends, best friends, lovers, and everything in between, he’ll really give it all to you.
Sunday… he’s poisoned your mind and rotted your pure soul.
IV. Desperation is a seed planted long, long ago – still, spring has come.
“Thank you for sticking around me, Phai.”
He’s in the middle of starting a pathetic fire using twigs and stone when you blurt out cryptic words beside him. He hums, continuing his work, “What do you mean?”
“Can’t I just say thank you!?” You fluster, quickly standing up and pacing around the edge of the forest you’ve both designated as your ‘camping spot’. “Mama said it’s nice to thank people! So, uhm- Thank you for being my friend, please never stop being my best friend!”
“‘Course I won’t!” Phainon toothily grins, fluffy white hair gaining a slight bounce from his motions, “Actually, I’ll never abandon you. Ever!”
You perk up like a sunflower dancing in the wind, “Really!?”
The fire finally sparks to life, small and flickering, but there. At the same time, he gazes deep into your eyes, only knowing nothing else but sincerity at such an age, “Yeah! I swear!”
A yelp, “Swearing is bad!”
Phainon’s eyes blearily blink open. His dorm room ceiling greets him first thing in the morning.
Phainon stalks and waits like a deep-rooted willow tree. He strikes you when he knows you’re alone. It all falls into place: Sunday’s trainee sister is dropping by a different part of the city over the weekend; logic dictates that he won’t be coming back to his dorm room until then. Your close proximity to Sunday will momentarily halt, and Phainon is free to slither in.
He’s waiting right outside your dorm room when you come walking down the long hallway, body language all languid, even resting against the paint-chipped-off stone pillar while scrolling through his social media feed,
You’d spot him a mile away, and seeing him without Sunday by your side makes you hesitate all the more. Your stupid heart starts speeding up.
“I just want to talk,” He calls out, pocketing his phone to spread his arms wide open for a hug, “I miss you, is that too much to ask?”
You slowly approach him, “...No, I missed you too.”
You miss him. You miss him. You miss him. You’ve been holding your sunflower keychain as your nightly comfort or else you’d end up calling his number at 2AM.
Phainon smiles, “Really?”
“Yes… I just got… busy, that’s all.”
He smiles wider, blue eyes turning into blue crescent moons, “Really?”
“...Yes.” His hand gently pries the keys out of your hand; you let him.
You hear Sunday screaming on your shoulder, telling you that your blase facade is quickly falling apart at the seams. Unaffected, unmoved – you’re nothing of the sort right now. You’re a sunflower who’s been starved of sunlight for too long.
With a click, he opens the door for you and softly murmurs, “You’ve been hurting me a lot, (Y/N). You know that, right? But I understand, it’s not your fault.”
You step inside, letting him lock the door behind you, “Not… my fault?”
He shakes his head, hands firmly grasping your shoulders to sit you down on the small couch, “No, it’s mine.”
Immediately you protest, “That’s not true. We just drifted apart–”
Once more, he shakes his head before dropping to his knees before you. The sudden action makes you flinch, growing more uncertain when he holds your hand in his. Phainon’s eyes remind you of butterfly peas from up this close.
He’s quiet when he speaks, a deep rasp overtaking his voice, “...You don’t understand: I miss you.”
You understand what he means. Parting from Phainon is disorienting. Sunday and his friends may have managed to fill the gaping hole in your heart, but it’s incomparable to Phainon’s presence.
Are you a bad person for not finding satisfaction in your new friends? Are you sick in the end to still crave Phainon after being rejected two times? Is this what you get for sticking by his side for so long?
It probably is.
He continues speaking, “I’m sorry for pushing you away; that was never my intention. I wasn’t lying when I said you’re dear to me – you truly are. I never wanted to pursue a relationship with you because, I– I’m too lowly for you. I would only taint you.”
You run your fingers through his hair, reminiscing on all the nights you spent crying over him – it still bleeds like fresh wounds, “That’s ridiculous, Phainon. I’m not some holy figure to taint. I was just a girl in love with her best friend.”
“I know, but you… you don’t understand. You’re everything to me.”
“You’re everything to me, too, that’s why I loved you.” You still do.
“I think of you first thing in the morning. I brush my hair wondering how I’ll spend the day with you, I eat breakfast, thinking what yours was at that moment, I kept the homework you threw out. I always hate it when I talk to people who aren’t you. I still have the twigs you gave me during our 6th-grade camping trip. The reason the pressed flowers you were planning on giving out during high school graduation went missing is that I stole them – I didn’t want anyone else owning a piece of you. I make sure you’re always too shy to stand up for yourself, so I can save you. I… I hate Sunday for getting into your head – it should only be me. I should be the one you hate and love. I – you’re everything to me.”
His grip tightens, blunt fingernails leaving indents on your own fingers, “I’m sorry, please take me back. I’m unworthy, but I don’t want you to be happy with anyone else. I started cutting myself when you refused to go back to Aedes Elysiae with me – I don’t want to live in a world where I’m not by your side. Please. I’ll kill myself if you leave me. I really will.”
You swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth.
If Phainon is the sun that will incinerate you and your sunflower petals for getting too close, the question it poses is: Do you let it consume you whole? To forgive and forget, starting a new chapter anew in the process?
kill yourself or let (y/n) have friends and move on from you
a hybrid samoyed phainon x female reader modern au
overview: he may be a new dog, but he’s more than ready to show off his wild side. make sure not to be fooled by his eyes, because this pup knows how to get what he wants.
or maybe you’re into that? come, book him now. let that fantasy turn into reality!
wc: 4.4k
notes: guys. guys. please. i’m a decent person i promise but it is what it is ok phainon makes me feel things and and pl—
kidding aside, if this concept isn’t your fancy, feel to free to look at the other side. stayed up until 4 am to finish this. idk what went inside my brain tbh. also cw suggestive!
This is a sign to walk dogs every Sunday in Okhema City!
Volunteer and make their day even better. ❤️❤️
If you’re interested, feel free to contact us through our page and on our site: @WalkYourDog on Astralgram | www.walkyourdog.com on the World Wound Web.
Click. Click. Click.
Inside your bedroom, specifically situated in your own sheets, you release a breath that you’ve been holding. You stare in intrigue at the publication material currently displayed on your PC screen: on a bright, bold shade of yellow, it says, Volunteer Dog Walkers needed! accompanied with a vector of an adorable golden retriever biting a leash. Or, well, supposedly holding the leash.
You tap thrice on your mousepad.
Warmth spreads in your chest as you browse through endearing photos of happy dogs. Happy dogs of different kinds who were, presumably, walked by previous volunteers. Numerous supporters flooded the post—their traction wasn’t bad. They had lots of heart reactions. Comments. Some were calling how lovely the dogs were, and how great their company was, to the point that they’d ‘volunteer’ again.
This, of course, is excellent for someone like you.
It’s considered a green light in your eyes if the internet has given Walk Your Dog, a rating of 4 to 5 stars for their service, because this means this is the real deal, and that there’s nothing to worry about.
So, how did you get into this position again?
Well, simply put! There were things still yet to be explored. You don’t know a lot about said world yet ( the world seems so big now and full of possibilities ), and since you’re stepping into adulthood, it wouldn’t hurt to get to know more about it.
And besides, this is most definitely not motivated by your friends who have their own side quests. This is definitely not because you feel like you have to prove to anyone that there’s something going on with your life, and that you’re not just stuck on doing your academic duties and responsibilities.
Castorice joined a book club. Mydei and his bros enrolled in a cake baking class. Cipher gets often invited to trivia nights.
And you? What’s going on with your life?
You tap on your mousepad again.
I’m going to volunteer. And I’m gonna walk a dog, you’ll say. And it’s going to be great!
You are most definitely not peer pressured. You repeat again. You are definitely not proving something. This is what people at your age do. Do activities. Discover more hobbies. Learn about what the world has to offer.
The site loads, and you read what the webpage reveals to you.
Walk Your Dog
We are Okhema’s #1 Dog Walking Service.
We are open 24/7.
Drama and Scam Free environment!
Browse and enjoy our dog walking experiences!
In Okhema Activity Park, you find yourself sitting on a bench under a tree.
It’s hot as hell, but you’re grateful for the wind every now and then. And besides, the weather is not going to ruin your mood today—because you’re hella excited to walk a damn cute dog, and not just because you’ll also get to post it on social media, for your friends to see that you are not just occupied by a thesis, or your internship, because that’s just boring.
You are practicing balancing your life well before graduation, and that’s good.
Because it means you’re not behind. And because there’s more to life than cramming academic work.
As you wait, you momentarily recall the past few nights’ events:
In walkyourdog.com, you surely took your time in choosing your options after signing up. There were plenty of super cute dogs to walk, and in all honesty, you really wanted to walk all of them.
But you didn’t have that much money ( student budget is waving ), and it really wasn’t recommended by the agency. They have strict rules, which is understandable, and according to them, only special volunteers can get to have that choice. You’re not entirely sure of what they mean by that, but you figured that it was probably reserved for regular volunteers, or volunteers who have done them a great favor. So first timers were not part of the equation.
What you see is what you get. Always!
Feel free to contact our email, [email protected] or our number, 000-0355-0336 for additional inquiries and bookings.
OUR DOGS
100% REAL and RECENT PICTURE GUARANTEED!
Seriously, there were a lot of super cute dogs, but most of them were already booked. It amazed you that their service was so top tier that the dogs were not available. This could only mean that despite how cruel the world can be, there was still hope for humanity—because they were willing to make an effort. They wanted the dogs to be happy through volunteerism.
And this really inspires you.
The community is awesome.
So even though most of the dogs were already booked, you got lucky—because you landed on one.
Phainon was the dog’s name when your mouse hovered on his panel. You swooned when you saw the pup’s pictures—Phainon was an adorable fluffy samoyed, and you could already envision walking the cloud. You’d seriously take lots of photos when you get your hands on him, and you’d definitely bury your face on the dog’s snowy fur.
You also plan to record the dog’s woofs, because aeons, samoyeds were seriously just so CUTE. Well. At least that’s what Astraltok shows you. Some of them may be a bit too exaggerated or perfect looking, but nothing could go wrong when it comes to dogs.
So, yeah. Phainon. The fluffy samoyed. Walk Your Dog claimed that Phainon was a great companion, and that he’d make sure to make your time with him worthwhile. They also emphasized that being with him would surely be unforgettable, and this excited you even more.
You felt so proud of yourself that time. You were going to have so much fun with the dog, and you were definitely not going to brag about it on social media.
Phainon may be a new dog, but he’s more than ready to show off his wild side. Make sure not to be fooled by his eyes, because this pup knows how to get what he wants.
Or maybe you’re into that? Come, book him now. Let that fantasy turn into reality!
Phainon the Samoyed had a weird description, sure, but you still progressed in volunteering. You also made note of the additional information that was also in the dog’s profile, like his age being 21, and his measurements, but you ascertained it to the service being creative. Perhaps he was 21 in dog years, and he was 5’11. . . well, if the pup probably stood in two feet. Kind of terrifying to think about, but samoyeds were big dogs, weren’t they?
Anywho, you weren’t too particular with the details. All that matters is that you’re going to walk and bond with a super cute fluffy dog today, and you’ll be broadcasting in Astralgram, because you have a life. All that matters is you’re doing something good for the pet community, and that you’re doing pretty well as a member of the society.
Ping! Your phone flashes you a notification, and you suppress your squeals. Phainon is about to arrive soon! 💕
Actually, no, you can’t hide your squealing. You’re very much thrilled by what you’re about to do in the next few minutes, because you’re finally going to meet the fluffiest ball ever. You’re gonna kneel to its level, squish its super duper cute face, bask in its presence, before skipping away to walk it for two damn hours.
It’s gonna be one hell of a time for you, and you’ve mentally patted your back for such a good job.
“Hi, good morning! Are you—” A breathy, yet deep voice calls for your name, and you pause. “The one who booked for Walk Your Dog?”
You turn around, already beaming and expecting the white samoyed. “Yes—!“ Only to not see said white samoyed anywhere, but a gorgeous, gorgeous tall man with white, fluffy hair and the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. A gorgeous, gorgeous man who apparently hides a lot of beef under that tight, compression shirt, and you gulp. Then, you shake your head, focusing in on the present. What the? Who is this? Is this a staff from the service? “Um. Sorry. Where’s the dog?”
The man blinks, puzzled. You don’t know why he’s also confused, and for some reason, alerts inside your head start to go off.
Wait a second.
He rubs the back of his head. “Oh! Well. You see, I’m the dog.” White, no—snowy, pointed ears perk up from his tuffs, and your lips part at the sight. Wait. You catch an even fluffier tail behind him wag, and this time, your jaw drops. To the floor. “I’m Phainon. I’ll be the samoyed you’ll be walking today!”
Your knees give in.
And just as planned, you did kneel in front of the samoyed.
Again, you don’t know a lot about the world. No one does. No one is that perfect.
So can anyone really blame you for being stupid?
Well, Cipher would surely laugh. Aunt Tribios and Aglaea did give you both a life lesson once, that not everything you see is what they seem, and they’ve never been more right. How did you miss it? How can you be so dense?
Now everything’s making sense.
“You see, there’s this thing called hiding in plain sight,” Aglaea said before, when she was stitching a torn up shirt of Cipher’s. “There may be one person, or a group of people who would utilize this strategy. You both ought to be careful. Make sure to stay vigilant at all times. If your gut tells you that there’s something off, then there’s something off.”
Well, how were you supposed to know that Walk Your Dog was a secret escort service in Okhema!?
“No, you’re not just using your brain,” is what Mydei will say if he learns about this. Then Castorice will admonish him and console you. But you have no plans of telling them that your plan of proving to the universe that you have something going on backfired, because you scored a date. Or a hookup. Holy shit.
“W-Wait, Miss, what happened?! Why are you on the ground?” You’re spiraling so much that you haven’t registered it yet that the samoyed hybrid also knelt down with you. That the samoyed is trying his best how to handle you. Everything’s making sense. Oh my god. The fucking site. The fucking site!
The fucking site that had so much weird ass descriptions.
100% REAL and RECENT PICTURE GUARANTEED.
A great companion, and that he’d make sure to make your time with him worthwhile.
Phainon may be a new rescue dog, but he’s more than ready to show off his wild side. Make sure not to be fooled by his eyes, because this pup knows how to get what he wants.
Unforgettable.
Or maybe you’re into that? Come, book him now. Let that fantasy turn into reality!
21.
Oh my god, his age. It’s not in dog years. It’s actually his fucking age, and—you gape at him. Horrified, by this epiphany.
5’11. He’s fucking 5’11.
Yeah, humanity was a mistake.
Humanity had a bunch of weirdos.
“Miss?”
You feel your heart cry out. No fucking way he looks this adorable too because fuck, dog hybrids are seriously one of a kind because you’re endeared even though you’re severely weirded out by this whole situation. He has his ears flopped, and tail drooped down.
What a wonderful hybrid. He seems earnest in his worrying for you, with his hands fumbling around your form, not knowing where to touch.
You swallow, before gripping his wrists. Wow, he’s warm, and he’s solid. He’s real. And he’s gorgeous. Fuck, you think you’re about to fall into some sort of rabbit hole.
He freezes, before blinking again. His eyes are on you, and you swallow again, panicking.
“I’m sorry, there must’ve been a HUGE misunderstanding. Huge,” you tell him, with lips quivering. You don’t know why you said huge again, but you blame it on him for having larger hands. ( If he held yours, you’re sure it’ll be concealed by how large they are. ) People who are passing by in Okhema Activity Park witness your pathetic attempts of repenting, and you wish for the soil to devour you whole. But you must face the consequences of your actions, ‘cause that’s just how life works. “Please, forget that this happened. And I know what it’s like for you guys, and—well, I haven’t experienced it, but I’ve heard stories, so just. Take my money. Phainon.”
You even said his name, and you watch how his eyes go a little wide at that, as if stunned. As if he’s fascinated by what had just transpired. You don’t know why he’s making that face, but you assume that this case you have with him is a first for him.
His ears perk up, and his tail wags briefly, before he returns to the expression he had before.
What the hell.
His ears lower back down, and he purses his lips.
“. . .So, we’re not going for a walk?”
You feel as if a heavy boulder was thrown against your back. He’s CONCERNED about the fucking WALK!?
You’ve really never felt more stupid in your life.
As of the moment, to at least prove to the world that you’re doing well as a member of society, you’re not crossing the pedestrian lane even though there were no cars passing around.
The stoplight is red.
And on your side, is a panting, giddy pure bred samoyed beside you, while holding his leash.
Walk Your Dog said, the pup knows how to get what he wants.
You’ve explained to him briefly that you genuinely thought that this was a literal dog walking service, hence the immediate cancellation of this session. You thought that Phainon the Samoyed would laugh at you, judge you for being such a goddamn idiot, before taking his money away.
But no such thing happened. Instead, he merely laughed. It was so dreamy you weren’t going to lie, you had to stop yourself from clutching your chest. Then, the understanding hybrid remarked, “If that’s the case, allow yourself to walk me still. I just couldn’t take your money without doing anything.”
To which you retorted, “I’m giving you an opportunity, pup. To earn free money.”
He just grinned with his eyes closed. “And I’m also giving you an opportunity to get to know each other. Or to get to know about the service. Wouldn’t that be fun? Well, that is, if you’re interested. So, what do you say?”
A normal person would’ve just rejected the offer. And insist for the hybrid to take the money because you unintentionally wasted his time. And yet you relented, because again, Walk Your Dog explicitly said that Phainon knows how to get what he wants.
You couldn’t believe you were so weak.
Plus, you did say that it wouldn’t hurt to learn more about the world.
“Please? I promise, I’m gonna make it worth your while.”
How familiar, you almost lurched.
It didn’t help that he used the scrunched eyebrows and almost shimmering blue eyes combo, too.
Fucking dogs, you swear.
So when you said fine, you ignored the fact how your heart performed somersaults when he beamed. His perky white ears made an appearance, and his fluffy white tail wagged again behind him.
You raised your hand before he can even speak, “But I have one request!! Um, can you turn into a samoyed? Please?”
It was already so weird, but thank the aeons Phainon did.
He laughed again. Why was his laugh hot? Damn it. “Sure! If that’s what the client wants.”
More like what he wants, ‘no? You suppose Phainon is in his most comfortable form because he’s clearly enjoying the walk with his tongue out. It’s a cute sight, really—and you are resisting the urge to take a damn photo for your dignity, but you fear you'll collapse soon.
Also, you’ve walked Phainon. Dogs like walks. And dogs like exploring and meeting new people.
But for some reason, even though people coo at Phainon to get his attention, and he gives them in return, Phainon more so keeps on looking at you, or fully fixates on you.
Must be part of the dog package or something, you ponder quietly when you dip your head down, and meet his adorable fluffy face while you saunter the streets together. His tail wags cheerfully, and your hand twitches. Oh god, control yourself, girl. That’s a hybrid. What you’re going to do is weird. Odd. Strange. And whatever synonym you can think of.
After 30 mins of walking, you’ve decided to take a breather in another bench in Okhema Activity Park. You recall how embarrassed you got when you were strapping the leash on Phainon’s collar in his dog form, because again, that’s a hybrid—he turns into a human, don’t ever forget, and it’s already so weird that you’re putting a collar on a species that also turns into human, but this is how this service worked, apparently.
( Also, it’s amazing how the sun mark on his neck can also be seen in his full dog form, but through his fur. )
Speaking of the samoyed, he was just gazing at you again, and you don’t know what he’s thinking about. Not until he bonks your knee with his head, and you lift a brow questioningly.
You nervously ask, “W–What?”
Another bonk.
“What, Phainon? Do you want to—to pee, or something?”
If he did, he already did. And you have an inkling that Phainon is not that gross. He has decorum still. Most likely he’ll be hiding somewhere else just to flush it all out.
Then, Phainon whines. Be still, your heart. Oh my god. Why is he so cute? And why are you so mean? There’s a real, pure samoyed looking at you with the saddest eyes ever. You’re evil for not doing anything.
“I—I don’t know what you want,” you admit to him. “If you want something, say it. You can’t talk in that form?”
He huffs. Must’ve been a yes. And since he can’t talk, Phainon’s fluffy head searches for your hand. His heated breath brushes over your skin, and before you know it, he gives you a lick.
“Woah, hey! Why are you—“
Phainon whines again, and it hits you. You gawk at him for a moment, still contemplating if you’re going to proceed with what you have to do. Then Phainon rests his chin on your knee, begging, and there’s an arrow that strikes you from behind.
Aeons.
“A-ah,” you stammer, before a shaky hand elevates, shadowing a bit of the dog’s face. “My bad. I just thought it’ll be odd for me to pet you, considering the situation—“
Another whine. How many more whines will it get? You don’t know if you’re seriously going to crash out because you’re anxious by the fast course of events, but also charmed at the same time because Phainon’s so cute and you don’t want to mess things up. This is the full truth.
“Okay, okay. Fine. Sure. I’m—I’m gonna pet you. Just hold still, okay?”
And it’s not a groundbreaking climax. He complies, and you slowly rest your palm on top of his head, testing the water. Seconds pass, and wow—wow. It’s fluffier than you can ever imagine. It is like a cloud. He is like a fluffball.
Phainon leans onto your touch, and you watch how his tail wags side by side again. In those Walk Your Dog marketing materials, you’ve gotten a rough idea of what dogs look like when they’re happy.
And Phainon seems thoroughly overjoyed by the petting.
You shatter. You just can’t handle it anymore. Another hand raises, and you, in full force, start to squish the samoyed’s face, irrevocably captivated. You have been won over by the samoyed.
Luckily for you, Phainon didn’t mind.
30 minutes of walking flew by—and again, you’re sitting on a bench, but this time, you have the samoyed beside you. Residents of Okhema have stolen pictures, and even asked for your permission prior to this. You let them because you don’t own Phainon.
A few minutes ago, the samoyed quietly. . . yet freely cuddled itself close to you. He pressed his snout on your arm, and then on your neck. It was a weird sensation but you yelped when his wet nose touched your cheek.
Two eyes blinked when you took a look at him. As if he was examining your reactions. As if he was finding out what you were about to do next.
Again, it was weird ( you have no idea how much you’ve used the word weird ), but you sighed, and carefully leaned back against him anyway. Soon enough, your head was resting on the pup’s side, and your eyes were slightly blocked by snow fur.
Then, Phainon gives a deep woof, and you close your eyes.
You hear the thumpthumpthump, but pay it no mind.
It will be over soon. You did not waste those two hours. The dog insisted the walks. You have photos and videos to share now, too.
“Did you have fun today?”
You instantly detach yourself away from him after that. He’s back to his hybrid human self. Feeling your cheeks heating up, you nod bashfully. “Um—y-yeah!” Then, you narrow your eyes at him. “Can you also give me a head’s up at least when you’re transforming back?”
Phainon snickers, “I’m sorry. You seemed so content that I didn’t want to disturb you.” Then, he smiles lightly. “Which means you did, since you did not even notice me transforming back?”
Now your face gets even hotter. “What. No!” Phainon’s ears are up again, and his tail is wagging, again. Fuck. “I’m not a weirdo.”
Phainon just laughs again, “Sure.”
“I am not!”
“Mm,” He hums, and your heart skips when that smile remains on his lips.
You avert your gaze away, not knowing how to feel about that.
There’s a few minutes of silence. To avoid feeling awkward, you listen to the sounds inside Okhema Activity Park. The leaves rustling from above. The kids’ voices as they run around the grass. The bells ringing from passing bikes.
And Phainon’s gentle breathing beside you.
“You smell really good, you know,” he says, and of course, you’re taken aback.
“B-bwuh? What?”
You stare at him as if he grew two heads. You’re waiting for the I’m just kidding, but his expression hasn’t changed a bit. In fact, he’s genuine.
“I said you smell good. You smell nice.”
Now who’s calling me weird? Or maybe because this is just how hybrids are. You don’t know their biology. “I don’t know what to feel about that.”
The amused Phainon smiles wider. “Trust me, it’s a compliment.”
“To be honest I’m a bit freaked out.”
“Understandable.”
You look away again. You want to tell him to turn into a samoyed so this won’t be awkward, because you’re intimidated by his size, because does he know that his pecs are about to pop out from his compression shirt, or or that he’s shining so brightly you can’t look away, or or —
“It’s still so comical how you thought that this was a literal dog walking service,” Phainon suddenly brings up, and you glance at him. “Walk Your Dog is clever with their strategy to attract their potential clients or target audience. At first glance, it may seem innocent at the surface, not until you dig deeper. Did you really not realize that we’re not all what we seem?”
“I get it. There’s no need to rub it in, Phainon,” you pout at him, and you miss his ears twitch. “There’s still a lot of things that I don’t know about the world, okay?”
Phainon releases another chuckle. “Okay. I won’t hold it against you.”
…
There are numerous thumps as the samoyed’s tail continuously wags behind him. “But seriously, how come you’ve never realized?”
You groan, “Phainon!”
@ intergalacticbaseballer
Walkyourdog services is actually 10/10 btw
@ evernight
What?? You actually tried it?
@ intergalacticbaseballer
Yeah
It was fun
@ permansorterrae
I actually don’t want to ask the details.
Feel free not to share with us.
@ intergalacticbaseballer
Did you know that booking a 2 hour session is a quickie?
@ permansorterrae
No. And I really don’t want to know.
@ evernight
But I want to!
Tell us more LOL
@ intergalacticbaseballer
WELL THEN
@ permansorterrae
Come on.
@ intergalacticbaseballer
If a hybrid dog thinks that you smell good, it’s an indication that you’re a potential mate
So if you keep on booking them for example, there’s a very high chance that the hybrid may terminate their employment to pursue said potential mate
Which is, to be perfectly honest, absolute cinema
I’d love to watch that drama
@ evernight
That’s actually really professional of them
At least there are no work violations
@ intergalacticbaseballer
Right right!
Though imagine the mess if the hybrid continued to work under work your dog??? Super messy
Anyway
I have another info to share abt them
@ permansorterrae
Why do you know so much about the hybrids and their service?
@ intergalacticbaseballer
Got to know during a 12 hour session, baby!
🤪
@ permansorterrae
We really didn’t need to know about that.
@ intergalacticbaseballer
But now you do.
My friend, if you ever try out Walk Your Dog,
@ permansorterrae
I promise you, I won’t.
@ intergalacticbaseballer
If the hybrid keeps on biting and biting you, that also means they want you as their mate
They’re claiming you, marking you as theirs
Hybrids don’t normally do that with their clients
But they will if they see a potential mate, or if the client is into that
@ permansorterrae
Again, why do we need to know this?
@ evernight
Because I’m curious!
“So.” Tonight, you are facing Cipher’s shit-eating grin in the coffee shop where you guys regularly meet after each semester. Sipping her iced drink, she says, “Someone’s been active. You having fun walking a dog these days, huh?”
Your heart pounds. It’s no secret that you’ve been posting about the samoyed recently. You’ve shared in Astralgram how you’ve been spending time with the pup every two weeks, or sometimes even every week, when you’re missing him. You go on walks, or even eat out together—unfortunately your pup is a big eater, it’s concerning sometimes.
You won’t forget that one day when he asked if he could take a bite of your burger, and he literally devoured the whole thing. His tail was wagging so happily despite you admonishing him for the biggest crime he ever committed.
But still, your friends do not know.
They do not know the truth.
“Yeah. Walking the dog is actually helping me get into shape. I walk him every two hours whenever I have him.” You tell them, and you swirl your preferred order with your teaspoon.
Castorice sends you a wonderful smile. “That sounds wonderful. If you wouldn’t mind, maybe we could join you one day when you walk the samoyed?”
Oh, no. That’s not possible. Over your dead body. They cannot know. Even though you and Phainon plan to act all normal, these three friends of yours will eventually realize what’s all underneath it.
But still, remain calm. Remain composed. Like Mydei, who has just his eyes shut tight, and arms crossed, though he’s evidently listening.
“S–sure, one day, one day,” You laugh a little. “But I’ll have to warn you—he’s a bit of a biter. Nowadays, he can’t stop biting me for some reason. It doesn’t hurt. And it doesn’t bleed. I feel like it’s more of a playful bite, if anything.”
“He could probably still be thinking that he’s a puppy,” Cipher explains with a shrug. “All dogs have that phase. They still think that they’re like young babies.”
An image of Phainon, in his full samoyed form, or even in his hybrid human form, making himself comfortable in your lap, or laying on top of you, appears in your mind. That couldn’t be further than the truth.
“Phainon, you’re so heavy! Stop it!”
He just laughs, and ignores you anyway. It’s already too late for you to push him away because he found the perfect spot to melt against you. He sighs in delight.
“Good night.”
“What?! No, Phainon—get off!”
“Haha, call my name again?”
You were suffocating so overwhelmed that day because of a gorgeous slash beefy hybrid samoyed man on top of you, and yet you wouldn’t have it any other way.
And when the topic shifts to a new one, you give the floor to Cipher and Castorice as they share updates from their new adventures. It is not long before Mydei elbows you lightly on the arm, and you look up at him, curious.
“What?”
“You’re glowing.”
Your face steams. “Wha-?”
“Glowing.” He narrows his eyes at you. “Is walking the dog the only thing happening in your life right now?”
Your task of letting the world know that you have something going on is successful, but you also have to bear the outcomes that will be gradually thrown your way.
After all. . . walking the dog, in this new context you’ve found yourself in, meant two different things.
WARNINGS: obsessive tendencies, mentions of murder and death, graphic depictions of violence, gore, descriptions of blood and vomit, slight body horror, mentions of weapons, non-consensual affection. YANDERE/DARK CONTENT AHEAD. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. 7.1k words.
ALSO CONTAINS: direct references to the game 'No, I Am Not A Human'
The thermostat in your house seems to be working wonderfully well for the kind of situation it's currently stuck in.
The whirring of the air-conditioning unit it's attached to fills your ears. The thermostat seems to do its job, with the occasional beeps chiming in. Its LCD is displaying changes to the temperature, but you barely care about it, as the room has always felt the same kind of cold to you for months now (so you think the little numbers on the display hardly have any audience to inform anyway) but despite that, the machine continues to hum, its sound mixes with the monotonous reporter on your TV.
“An unidentified cosmic event has caused the Sun to release energy far exceeding the safe levels in the UV index. Please be informed that temperatures in daytime hours are now considered fatal.
Whirr, hum, whirr, hum. The white box is trudging its years-old components to make sure your skin doesn’t melt off. The sun had become a̗̾ͣ͘n̡̻̱͎͙̦̯̿ͯ͊ͤ̉o̪̥̞͇̖ͨ͋ͫͅmͨ̚͞a̠̠̫̙ͫͪ̀̈l͌̈͆͌ͬ̓̌ơ̯ͧͮͣü̱͓̱̭̩̾̊̇́͞ͅṡ̜̝͎̥͉̞̬̂ͬ too hot apparently, too hot that the sun rays people used to bask into now burns them into a crisp.
Along with the sun reverting back to its archaic reputation of being the deadly laser that formed this godforsaken earth (it seems to have changed its mind now — not surprising really, after witnessing the shit humans have been up to lately), there also seems to be a long stream of problems coming along with it.
“IPC officials have scouted at least twenty thousand dangerous individuals c̳͊̄͑͞r̩͕̦̹̩̘̲ͥ̿ͬẹ̢̓ͬ̉̀̏̆a̫͠t͇̣̞͖̽ͨ͆͠u̸͈̣̤͔̤r͍̊͆̒ͪͬ̚e̜̗̘͛ͨͣ̿͛ͣͣs̱̮̥̊ͥͯ́ͣ̆ that are suspected to have come after the deadly solar flares. These unidentified visitors are a major concern of safety, please be guided accordingly.”
Hum, whirr, hum, whirr, hum.
“Be wary of these traits, if spotted in an individual, escape immediately.”
The reporter on TV disappears from your sight, replaced by a plain white infographic with the logo of the Interastral Peace Corporation in the top part. The bold letters spelled out “signs” of the dangerous individuals.
-Visitors are believed to have come underground, so they have soil buried beneath THEIR fingernails, especially ones too deep in the nailbed.
-Rapid eye movement and bloodshot eyes.
-Insects inside the ears.
-Unnatural amount of teeth and bleeding gums.
-Rashes and skin irritations, especially in the hands and legs.
-Black patches in skin.
-Aversion to cameras and photography, they appear blurry in photographs.
After what felt like a long minute of staring at random bullet points and the IPC logo, the reporter returns on TV. There was no other news, so he just smiled at the camera. And then left these words to the viewer:
“Stay safe, don't get burned!”
He disappeared again, probably for good this evening, as the IPC numbers are the only thing left on your TV.
You turned it off, now the only sound that remains is from your air conditioner.
Whirr, hum, whirr, hum, whirr.
KNOCK
KNOCK KNOCK
“Hey partner! You good in there?”
Startled, you dropped your remote. Who the hell just comes up to a house like that? Filled with paranoia from the earlier newscast, your heartbeat races at the voice. Warily standing up, you headed to your door to look at the peephole.
“Hey…uh, I’m Phainon! Can I stay with you for the night? Please! It's scary out here and-”
“Sorry, I’ll have to decline.”
Outside was a man pale as snow, his white hair elevating the seemingly lack of blood flow further. You noticed that as you spoke of your decline, his stature slightly drooped, yet with the way he's leaning into your door tells you that he's on the taller side.
“Wa-wait! Hear me out please, I promise I’m safe! I just really need a shelter-”
“I’m sorry”
The man leans in further, his pleading blue eyes seemingly staring directly in yours. A sun tattoo on his neck came into view, momentarily catching your attention.
He looked okay, really, yet the prospect of having another housemate and losing them through your own hands have successfully cleaved off at least half of your sanity. The visitors are rampant in their mimicry of humans, and god forbid if you have to kill off another thing — whether it is a human or something that looks just like it.
You clutched your rifle tightly.
“...”
The other side goes silent. Thinking he just gave up and left, you turned your back and walked away from the door.
“...if you need anyone to accompany you, I can do that. You don't have to carry these burdens alone, okay?”
You don't know what has gotten to you — maybe his words did, but your hands reached to the doorknob and twisted it.
“Thank you so much, I thought I was finished out there.” Phainon heaves a sigh, slowly walking towards your couch before sitting down, his knees and legs slightly shaking.
“Are you a visitor?”
Phainon looks up to you wide-eyed before shaking his hands in front of him, his head shaking in disagreement at the same time.
“What? No! Of course not. Please, my promise is genuine, I’m willing to help you in exchange for a place to rest. Please, trust me.” He looks at you straight in the eyes with a pleading look in his.
“I was hopping from place to place before this house, you're my savior really, nobody is opening the doors for me I almost gave up.” He continued, his posture so hunched down as if trying to look smaller than you while saying it that you felt a little bad for him.
But you still can't shake the unease in your head. It's like a cold chill constantly reminding you that by doing this, you're back at the start of the cycle of endless doubts.
And then possibly losses.
He seemed like a good man, a pitiful one even, with the fact that he doesn't have a permanent roof against the sun that turned faulty on all of you. At times like… these, the humanity in you wishes that you could extend a helping hand to him — probably the last vestiges of instinctual human compassion trying to claw its way out of your heart.
But at the end of the day, you are indeed, human.
And you're scared, and hurt, and confused. Because humans exposed to the crushing pressure of survival are more likely to close their walls off in hopes of lessening their burdens.
(or more like trying to stop themselves from giving out pieces of them only for the other to take it to the grave. Again and again until they have no more pieces to tear off of their bodies.)
(strange humans, really.)
“Hey… sorry if this seems blunt, but keep your distance. The room upstairs is free and I’d appreciate it if you stay there more.” You offer him a thin, half-hearted smile before heading towards your kitchen.
So in hopes of keeping what's left of yourself whole, you hide.
You're not used to hearing breathing after all the times that you're alone with the hums and beeps of your air conditioner.
You glance at your side after seeing movement in your periphery, there stands Phainon in the doorway, looking in your direction. He looks around tensely, before stepping backwards, as if to keep distance from you.
“I’m sorry, I didn't know you're here.” He shoots you an apologetic smile before turning around.
Against your better judgement, you called out to him.
“Phainon.”
The man froze in his tracks, surprised with you suddenly acknowledging him. As for you, it was too late before you realized what you blurted out.
Oh well, you've been mulling this for a while now, better get over it.
“Uhm… let's talk?” You trailed off, before revealing a second cup in your hand and giving it to him.
For the first time since his two-week long stay in your house, he beamed. To be fair, the only time you acknowledged him prior is when you coldly told him to keep distance when you first met that night.
For the following days after that, he floated around your home. Using the kitchen after you, washing up before you, and just, living in parallel to you, never really meeting. You did the same to him, offering him measly nods and stares when coming across him.
Like ghosts learning to coexist in their lonely haunting grounds.
But you're tired of the charade you made yourself, wordless guesses of each other had worn down your already thin patience. There was a time where you stared up at your ceiling all night and realized you're living with a complete stranger, who stayed as a stranger because you refused to talk about it.
“About your…” You paused for a second, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, nonetheless, you continued, “...stay here, how was it?”
What the hell even is that? You mentally smack yourself. But alas, you really don't have any topic in mind to share and you're desperate to smooth out this problem as soon as possible.
“Pretty good, pretty good!” Phainon immediately chippered, his mood clearly going up from the interaction, “Ah! Did something happen? Need my help? You're usually not one to start conversations like this.”
“Ah… that.” You cleared your throat a bit, “I was just thinking about…how uh, cold we are no? I’m sorry you've been living in here for weeks now and I don't know anything about you except your name”
“No worries! I understand why you are so distant. Times like this… it's just safer when you're alone right?” He replies, eyes boring into yours for a minute before he turns his pupils away, “But! That's why I'm so thankful to you! You sacrificed your peace of mind just to help poor me. Ah, now that we're talking about that-”
Phainon suddenly leans down to grab something from the floor. It turns out to be a bag, he starts rummaging through it, bringing out a bunch of supplies. A pack of spearmint candies, canned goods, a pair of toothbrushes, tubes of topical medication and some hygiene products.
“Okay, I think that's it…?” He trails off as he shakes the bag to empty it. “Alright, here's my little stash, if you need anything just help yourself. I used to go out at night to buy groceries, however I kinda stopped after I ran away from my apartment. Still, if you need anyone to run up things for you, just call me~” He gestures with his fingers what looks like a running motion while his other hand points at your door.
You let out a small laugh, “Why would you bother? Just ask the delivery guy to drop the goods here.”
“Delivery?” He tilts his head, eyes darting to you again, “No way.”
“Uhm-”
“Why hire a delivery guy, I'll do it for you.”
You really don't know why he's so eager to talk and help you. Perhaps it's because of the fact that you really did sacrifice your peace of mind just to put a roof over him, but his enthusiasm when it comes to this entire “setup” is… a bit jarring to you.
It's the first time in a long, long while since you've seen such bright emotions.
“Phainon, I accept your thank you. But don't bother with the grocery run-ins or, actually, any stuff in this house. I'm simply worried about you just going back out there.” You sighed at him.
But that only earns you a laugh from him.
“Hah? I think,” He stops for a bit before bringing his face close.
He seems to have a liking at staring directly into you, now that you've noticed.
“They are the ones who should worry about me!” He suddenly exclaims, before laughing with a ‘just kidding, don't worry about me!’
“Oh, it's getting late now, night-night partner!”
What a weird guy.
“See Phainon, this is why we leave the essential groceries to the delivery guy.” You plopped down at the sofa, holding a bright blue, mixed berries flavored, children's toothpaste.
“I have never seen a mixed berry flavored paste before, I always had the boring rotation of mint, spearmint and peppermint. They taste the same almost every time by the way.” Phainon sits down with you, taking the box out of your hands to open it.
“Yeah right, you’ve never seen it because it's probably been years since you had the need for any toothpaste remotely the same as that, it’s made for kids ages 7 and below!”
About a month after your “talk” with Phainon, you've settled into a rhythm within the household. While the usual habits of staying in your respective rooms and using the sink one after the other still remained, the two of you now watch T.V. and do boardgames together, as a way of acknowledging each other's presence at least.
Phainon has never shut down the idea of doing grocery runs for you, always asking if you want something from the store every night. At first you only humored him for the sake of shutting him up, asking him to buy you snacks and skincare products, basically things that you don't need but want.
But then the actual supplies had depleted and you finally decided to heed Phainon’s request for a full grocery run-in. Absolutely delighted, he immediately rushed out of the door at sunset.
And now you are regretting your decisions because while Phainon is pretty on point on your snack cravings, he has absolutely no sense of what essentials to actually purchase.
A kid's toothpaste, some new tubes of medicine you're sure you're still seeing three of in your drawers, new perfume and a travel-sized shampoo.
That shampoo is going to last you three washes.
The food selection however is fine, and you thank him for that. But you've promised to just let the night delivery handle your toiletries no matter how much Phainon begs to be let out again.
“Okay… sorry, I got carried away and got lost in the store. Here, I brought some candy and popcorn, let's eat it while watching some movies?” He pushes a plastic bag in your direction before standing up and plugging your T.V. on.
If there's one more thing that's really good about Phainon is that he has all these knick-knacks on him. For some reason, in the middle of all things, the guy has found a set of DVDs, boxes of boardgames and some entertaining books. It gets you entertained too, and considering all that's around you, you're thankful for the distraction.
You lay there on the sofa, staring at your ceiling. And then on Phainon himself. He's tall, has a great build. His white hair is always disheveled but you’re quite used to it now. If there's anything that's sticking out, it is that he looks oddly paler than normal and the contrast of the bright yellowish-gold sun tattoo on his neck makes it all the more noticeable.
Other than that he looks healthy, on the normal side even. You really can't imagine what made a capable-looking guy run away from home.
Well, it's not like you can make sense of anything that's happening to the world right now anyways.
Maybe because you've spaced out while Phainon is in your sight too much, you've also noticed some things around him. How his disheveled hair sometimes forms an antenna in his head and how that always seems to break your thermostat, as if sending a signal to it.
“Duck your head Phainon, my poor air conditioner.”
Unfortunately, your warning came in a second late as the thermostat reading suddenly shot up, 19°… 33°… 55°…
And then back to 19°
And then it just blinks to its death.
“What- Oh fuck did I kill your air conditioner?” Phainon waves his hand to the white box, but fortunately it is still working, it's just that the thermostat is now useless. “Oh, just the thermostat. Don't worry, I think I can fix it as long as the main air-conditioning still works.”
“Okay, enough with the distractions let's go actually watch something,” Phainon settles beside you, opening a bag of candies before handing it to you.
You've now realized that the lights are also off, with the glow of the T.V. being your only source of illumination. The movie begins, and by the looks of it, it's going to be another romance movie.
Phainon does sound like he's a fan of the romance genre, with how much of it he has. You've never gotten to asking him where he gets his stuff. Maybe it's all that's left in his old place? Still with how much he gushes about the scenes, you think that maybe he genuinely likes it.
“Wouldn't it be nice to get married and walk together under some sunshine?” Phainon suddenly mutters, the scene of the couple playing together on the sunny beach.
“Huh?”
“I mean, don't you miss the warmth?”
Right, warmth instead of heat. You truly miss it. When sunshine kisses your skin instead of searing it, when you can take long walks in the afternoons until sunset. When sunrise meant new beginnings instead of just another day to survive.
“Yeah, of course, I miss it. Now I see how romantic basking under the sun together is, too bad it's a little too late of a realization” You just laughed the thoughts off softly.
[Dearest, it's not too late for us.]
Phainon wraps a blanket around your bodies, snuggling closer to you. Times like this make you realize how much you miss having something, someone, to be around with. In the past few months, Phainon has become a daily part of your life. Finally after a long time, you've been talking to another person again.
You think, for the first time, you felt safe. For there's finally someone that will watch your back when you decide staying guarded feels too heavy.
This time, sleep comes to you easily.
You are woken up with the sound of the faucet running.
Trying your best to roll around and block out the noise, you can't, because the sound of someone scrubbing something rouses you awake.
Now that you've noticed it, your throat kind of feels hoarse and sticky. A nauseating aftertaste still lingering somewhere in your mouth.
Crap, you inhaled all those sweets yet fell asleep without drinking water and brushing your teeth.
Rubbing your eyes, you still hear the scrubbing from the direction of your sink. Phainon must still be brushing his teeth with that stupid bright blue toothpaste. You laughed to yourself.
You've decided to just wait until he finishes brushing his teeth. However minutes have passed and you still hear the schick schick of his toothbrush. And the faucet has been running for a while now, so you decide to call out to him.
“Ack! O-oh… you're awake? For how long haha… Oh! Are you gonna brush your teeth? You ate a lot of sweets no? Just let me finish up.” Phainon frantically answers you, his hands almost throwing the bright blue tube of the toothpaste directly into the sink.
He then quickly spits out the foam before marching to his room immediately while yelling a ‘goodnight!’ to you.
You've always noticed that he takes an awful lot of time on the sink, sometimes just washing his hands absentmindedly or brushing his teeth at least a minute or two longer than usual.
Standing up, you headed to the sink yourself for your turn. Isn't that gonna scrub his gums off or something? You wondered while picking up your toothbrush that's sitting on the same cup where Phainon’s is.
You noticed however, that aside from the absolutely decimated bristles, its color is also…off. The bristles are yellowing and there are some wet, reddish stains on the handle.
It's strange, Phainon never came off as someone with bad teeth hygiene, at least not something that you can smell when he inevitably “accidentally” pushes his face close to yours. The bright blue children's toothpaste comes into mind, that certainly would not leave red stains, no?
Ah hell, did Phainon buy a separate fruit-flavored toothpaste behind your back?
Today, you have taken one good look in your home and have realized that despite the apocalyptic situation you’re in, the task of cleaning your house remains. Huffing about the thought of moving furniture to dust them off and unearthing the long forgotten storage boxes, you stretched your arms and back in preparation for it.
Honestly, you’ve thought about asking Phainon for help (since he’s always up in your face about wanting to do things inside the house), however the thought of having to explain the possible findings in your pile of stuff — stuff from before all hell broke loose, you decided against it and just distracted the guy by asking him to buy more snacks for you.
And this time, you gave him a long list, just to be sure, damned your savings will be.
You started with the easy tasks first, like dusting off the things sitting on top of your table and cabinets. You also went in and swept your floors and rearranged displaced furniture. To be honest, your shared living spaces like the living room and kitchen are actually just fine, probably from Phainon maintaining it. You feel bad for sending the guy away but it’s too late for regrets now.
The real problem here might just be your room.
You sighed at the thought of it, but it’s not like that would do anything, so you just decided to go and actually do it. On your way to your room, you passed by Phainon’s room with its door left ajar. Out of curiosity, you took a peek inside it. The room, as you expected, is pretty much neat and tidy. The bed covers and pillows are all arranged and folded, contrary to yours that you just leave as is after waking up.
You’re about to close the door when your eyes caught something further inside. In contrast to the orderly room, one of the bedside cabinets is not closed properly, on the floor in front of it lies a used tube of some medicine.
Tube of medicine?
You’ve noticed that every time you ask Phainon to fetch things in the grocery, he never forgets to buy some of this topical ointment. You even remembered your first real conversation, this medicine is one of those that fell from his bag. You never really paid attention to it, thinking that maybe it’s something that he needs to have daily.
However that reasoning didn’t stick with you, Phainon has been buying a lot of these tubes, to the point that it’s strange because — who uses that amount of skin medication all at once? And when you look at the tube on the floor again, you realize that it’s all flattened out, it’s content all used up.
Against your better judgement of not entering other people’s room without your permission, you fully opened the door to walk inside. It felt heavy and suffocating seeing the interior of this room once more, as it belonged to your old housemates.
When this apocalypse started, you were still very gracious back then, always willing to lend your home for people in need. They always come and go, telling you that they needed to come back for someone or something, and then you never hear from them again.
The last time you had someone stay a long time was a friend who was just visiting the city and a man who begged the two of you one night, claiming that something was coming for him.
Your friend was visibly scared of him, however you felt so bad for the trembling man that you let him in. All is well for a few weeks for the three of you.
Until it's not.
Until one morning, in this very room, you found your friend lifeless under the bed.
The man was gone too, and after you called the IPC, they have confirmed that it's indeed a visitor that you unwittingly let inside your home. Their masked faces offer no consolation (maybe except for one) as they cleaned the scene like it’s just a messy bedroom.
In this room, you had your first encounter with a visitor.
And in this room, you have sentenced yourself murder of a friend. You have killed someone because of your ignorance.
And therefore, you locked yourself up, vowing to never let in anyone again.
But just like how you've ignored your vow of isolation, you also forced yourself back in this room, and it's out of extreme curiosity of your new housemate. You laughed to yourself, I will always be a bad housemate huh?
You pulled the cabinet open, and what's in there bewildered you extremely.
A pile of flattened — you squint your eyes, Hydrocortisone tubes. It's a huge pile, there's probably more than fifteen of those. This is all so strange, where the hell is he using all these ointments?
Your mind floats back to the nightly IPC news segment you used to zone out into. You haven't seen it in a while since you've replaced it with movie nights with the snow-haired guy who keeps insisting that it will just cause you unnecessary stress.
Thinking back, they used to show a list containing visitor traits to look out for. Your entire body suddenly gets chills the moment you start listing it down to your head.
…insects, bleeding gums, weird teeth, itchy skin and rashes-
Itchy skin and rashes?
You look at the hydrocortisone tube in your hand, the green label boasts 100% effectiveness against rashes, burns and inflammation.
You drop it and leave the room
For how long are you going to keep denying it?
You rush into your room and lock your door. Breathing heavily, you curled up in front of it.
Phainon has always been an odd guy. He's just a bit weird and quirky… please, right…? But the months of denying your reality, months of desperate praying that it's not that comes crashing down right in front of you.
Phainon is indeed odd, but he's odd in an odd way, if that makes sense. He's clearly way too much of an experienced guy, based on his ability to repair all things inside your home and his life stories before this apocalyptic mess happened to be that stupid over simple things like grocery lists and medicine dosage.
He's weird in all the weird places, for the lack of better description.
But he's fun, charming… and you've seemed to have developed an endearment to him. He's cared for you a lot, kept you sane when you thought a visitor is trying to get inside your house, and he's just-
He's just someone that's easy to be with.
So the thought of possibly getting rid of him pained you deeply. Just right after getting used to having someone by your side again, how unfortunate.
Suddenly, you hear the front door open. You slowly lifted yourself up and swallowed the sobs threatening to fall.
You'll give him one last chance.
“Heya- oh, what's this broom for, did you clean something? You should've waited for me so I could help you!” Phainon exclaimed as he dropped a large bag of snacks that you had asked him to buy.
“Hm, no need, the house is actually already clean haha… did you clean it before?” You timidly answered him, which made his head tilt a bit.
“Well… yeah! What do you think? Pretty good right? I maintain our home daily just so you know, so don't bother with the cleaning,” Phainon laughs, sitting down on the sofa and opening his arms as if to showcase your very much cleaning living room.
“Yeah!” You try matching his enthusiasm but failing. You sighed at the attempt and just sat with him on the sofa, “Hey… can I ask you something?”
“Hm? Yeah sure, what's up?”
“Do you… have any skin conditions?”
Stupid, stupid, when will you accept it?
Phainon freezes up for a moment before turning towards you, “Ah… this is embarassing…did you go inside my room?”
“I- I’m sorry… I couldn't help taking a look because it was open, and I just so happened to see a used tube of those medicines you buy a lot… so I was curious.”
“Yeah, I have… a really sensitive skin that easily reddens if I get into contact with some triggers and I'm not really sure where to get it checked out because I don't know a clinic.”
“Sorry for worrying you,” Phainon offers an apologetic smile.
Liar.
For the first time in months, you missed your daily movie night with Phainon.
You stayed in your room, curled up to your bed, the rifle sits between the gap between your mattress and bedframe.
For the first time in months, you brought this out again.
You're frustrated with the long, black firearm beside you. It was given to you by an IPC soldier who sympathized with your tears after what happened that day.
Just pull the trigger if you feel unsafe.
Can you though? Can you do it to someone who has done nothing but care for your well-being? The one who made you smile and forget about the hellish world you're currently living in?
No, you absolutely cannot.
But evidence doesn't have feelings like you and it never lies.
The excessive use of medication.
There was also a time you noticed weird stains on his almost decimated toothbrush — it's not a new funny fruit flavored paste, it's fucking blood. And the reason he almost seems to eat away at the bristles is that it probably has more teeth to grind into.
And when he thinks you don't notice, he stares into you a lot, sometimes putting his face so close to yours because his eyes are always shifting and moving when his vision is not zeroed into you.
By gods, the first thing he did after getting your permission to stay is wash his hands off.
So dirt does not get into the stuff here, he said.
How many more signs until it sinks in to you?
“Just one more.”
Just one more confirmation to end all of this.
You clean your room that night.
And as if to mock your current predicament, buried beneath old photo albums and dusty plushies is a digicam. The Kodak logo on the top of its lens has almost faded away, however the thing still magically works after you left it plugged in for two hours.
Just one last confirmation.
One last chance to prove every accusation wrong.
You carry the small silver camera in your pocket and bring it out with you. Phainon immediately looks over to you and smiles. Your heart sinks with the gesture. I’m so sorry.
You smile back at him and head to the kitchen. Phainon is focused on the T.V. to notice that you didn't fully enter and instead slowly took out the device from your pocket.
click.
click.
click.
You then proceeded to grab a snack from the bag he brought home earlier. You can hear Phainon whining as to why you're going to eat that alone instead of sharing it with him when you go back to your room.
At first you blamed it on shaky hands and nervousness.
You opened up the camera with dread, praying to every god that all your assumptions are just due to unfounded paranoia.
But what gods? Have you seen the hell outside?
The first photo showed you something. It's definitely Phainon but he looks as if he's a fading memory, translucent and all flowy in the wrong directions.
The second photo isn't any better, it’s so blurry, so blurry you only see a white humanoid shape in the middle of your yellow walls.
The third photo is damning.
It was also the one that confirmed it to you like a punch in the gut that, no, you didn't take the photos wrong. There it was, the patterns of your yellow walls and the air-conditioning all vividly clear.
With Phainon nowhere to be found in the photo.
Tears started blurring your vision, but before you can even form a sob a knock comes in.
“Hey… are you sure you're really okay?” Phainon's worried voice can be heard from outside the door.
“Yeah..yeah! Uh, just tired so-” You tried forming a coherent response but he interrupted you.
“Are you crying?”
You didn't get a chance to answer as your door flung open. There stands Phainon with a distraught expression on his face.
And there you are sitting on the floor of your room in tears while holding a camera.
Didn't you lock the door?
“Phainon-”
In your shock, Phainon suddenly lunges at you, pinning your shoulders to the ground. The camera you're holding flies off your hand, rolling over to show to the both of you what's on the screen.
“What a̧̬̮̠̥̳̱͈͐̑̿ͬrͬ̊ͮ̇ͭȅ̱̰̔ͤ͊̓͛ you doing?” Phainon, as always, brings his face extremely close to yours. He's breathing heavily, and you can feel the warmth in your face.
It smells like berries and iron.
And there it was, droplets of blood falling from his mouth and nose, staining your shirt.
“Phainon…”
You liar.
His head stays down, but as his hand travels your neck, you panicked and kicked his abdomen hard. That was able to free you from his grip, you immediately stood up and stared warily at him.
He clutched his stomach while kneeling and looked up at you. His pained and shocked expression broke your heart.
You can't, you can't do it.
He didn't do anything wrong, he didn't…
But as long as that anomaly stays inside your home as if a remembrance of your past grievances, you'll never feel truly at peace.
Your tears finally flowed down this time.
Phainon attempts to stand up and reach out to you but you cut him off.
“I want you out of this house. Now.”
Phainon’s expression now fully transforms into shock. His eyes widened, he suddenly stood up and grabbed both of your hands. He comes close to you, trapping your body between his and the wall.
“Please…why..”
“Phainon. I want you out this instant.”
“Why-”
“Because you're a liar.”
And because you're supposed to kill or report the likes of him, but your fragile heart cannot handle it. So you just let him go.
“Leave!”
Phainon didn't utter a single word at all when you watched him pack up his things that night.
When he was about to go out the door, he suddenly turned to look at you one more time.
“Look at me please.”
“Please, dearest.”
You didn't.
Your gaze planted itself into the floor before you turned away completely. Nothing else aside from the door clicking shut can be heard from Phainon after that, it seemed like the action itself was enough of an answer for him.
You went to your room to sleep off your emotions. But instead you stared at your ceiling for hours, with no avail to rest at all.
Standing up, you headed to the kitchen to do yourself a favor and at least rehydrate all the tears you've cried out. You slowly make your way back to your room when your vision lands on the door. Just a few hours ago, you pushed him away in that very place.
Your feet absentmindedly go toward it instead. You stared at the white wood before slowly leaning towards the peephole.
However, instead of the desolate surroundings that you're always used to, you see Phainon’s head bent sidewards from his neck, golden eyes staring at you.
He smiles, wide, all the extra teeth visible.
You fell backwards in shock, the glass you're holding shatters to the ground and as if in response to you, you heard scratching from outside the door.
You didn't dare to look into the peephole again.
Have you always been alone all this time?
There's a bitter taste in your mouth when you think about how all the time you spent with Phainon is built on a lie. That all this time he's not a human at all.
What did he want from you?
Was it karma for your stupidity back then?
When you remember his voice happily greeting you, you feel your chest tighten.
What if…
But the last time you thought a visitor was just ‘alright’ someone ended up dead. How long would it be for Phainon and you? Just weeks like that visitor or would it take longer before he strikes.
And what you saw on the peephole the night you kicked him out.
There was no way of denying that.
You've reverted back to watching the monotonous IPC news channel every night. While you found out that Phainon has actually left all his collection of movies and books, you didn't dare to touch any of them at all.
Zoning out again, you become more aware of the temperature in your room. You take a glance at your thermostat, it shows no changes in the temperature, still the same number as it was.
But it was colder.
It feels colder.
Maybe your thermostat is failing you now, but you felt like it's been colder lately.
Or maybe you're just lonely.
You stand up and take a closer inspection at the little screen of your thermostat. The number isn't moving, but it's cold.
And you feel like something is w̩̙ͅȃ̶͉̫̠̎̌̀̾t̲̠̱̘̜ͤͤ͗͗̋c̻̠͍͚̍ͣ̆̍̒ͦͮ͝h͇̼̃̓́ͅi͉̞̻̐̾̊̂͐͝n̬͇͇̪̖͓̾̑̃̾ͧ̑͆g̡̠͓̠͕͈͑ͬ.
Ever since you've started living alone again, the sense of security you had isn't the same as when you're still together Phainon. While maybe it was a false sense of security considering his true self, it was still less empty than whatever you're feeling right now.
You have decided to leave the thermostat alone when suddenly the numbers started rising.
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
Ever since the last time you saw Phainon's true self in that peep hole, you've never looked into it again.
But the incessant knocking just keeps getting louder and louder, so you piled up whatever courage that's left in you and took a peek.
“You alone in there? Haha, of course you are.”
It was Phainon, and he's carrying a severed head of an IPC soldier. You lurched when he brought it closer to your view.
“I'm always watching you! And it seems like these guys do too, but… I'm the only one who can watch you, so they're gone now, don't worry!”
The measly snacks you've eaten earlier come back up as you breathe heavily through the taste of bile in your mouth. He never fucking left. He was just there outside your house all this time. He is the one that's making you feel all watched and exposed.
He looks a bit different too, his bloodshot eyes have gold irises in them. He's not even trying to hide it anymore. It's rapidly moving but it suddenly locks into yours when he realizes you peeked.
“You're in there right?”
You quickly shuffle away from the door and head towards your room. The rifle, the rifle, you need it right now.
knocknocknocknocknocknocknocknocknocknocknock
Jumping into your room, you quickly grabbed your rifle. You hunched down right below the singular window of your room. You're not sure if going outside would save you but you, but at this point you're willing to try anything.
The knocking has stopped.
You yelped when you heard a loud crash from the living room. Contrary to your earlier complaints of coldness, the room suddenly feels too hot, way too hot. When you feel sweat fall from your temple, you think that he's close to your room now.
Without hesitation, you immediately jump outside, thinking he's inside the house, however before your feet touch the ground, your body is snatched by an extremely warm pair of arms.
“Shh, it's okay, I got you.”
The voice is deeper than what you're used to, but there's no mistaking that this was Phainon. The arms that are holding you have red marks and blackening torn flesh in them, however he does not seem to mind as his grip on you is still way too tight.
Luckily, you've hit his hand with the body of the rifle and you manage to wiggle free. You turned around and aimed directly at his head. Point blank.
However, instead of seeing golden irises through the blood, you see Phainon's blue eyes staring at you. His expression is bright, and you see the sweet smile he always does when you see him lounging on your couch back then.
Ah… ah- what have I done?
Your mind blanks at the realization. Everything seems to slow down around you. Did you kill someone again? Phainon watches your dazed expression and takes your sudden freezing as a chance. He immediately lowers himself to grab your rifle before you can snap out of it.
You returned to your current situation when you heard a loud crack coming from Phainon. He broke your rifle in half with just a single hand.
He discards the now pieces of scraps and scoops up your body. His grip still remains tight, settling you on his shoulders as if he's carrying a sack.
“So you like that form better… I'll keep it in mind.”
His voice is lighter now, back to the one you've always heard asking about what to buy in the grocery. Same one as the greeting you've come to get used to in the mornings.
“Ever since I saw you, I've always wanted nothing but to keep you safe and remove all your worries.” He whispers to you, “After this, you wouldn't have to worry anymore.”
He's now tightly hugging your form, humming a tune while walking towards an empty field. Just like the rest of your town, it was desolate and contained nothing but weeds and soil.
After what felt like an eternity, Phainon suddenly stops walking and gently drops you into a shallowly dug hole in the middle of the field. It feels like a tomb. Phainon confirms that thought when he holds you by the neck and starts burying you in the soil.
You couldn't move, his legs pressing down on yours too. You stared at his blue eyes for an answer but he only gave you a bloody smile.
“It's not too late for us, dearest. It's never too late for us, we will walk under the sunlight again.”
He worked the soil pretty fast, your body is buried under it further. Your nails claw and dig into the soil, causing some of them to be uncomfortably stuck under it.
Your exhaustion gets to you and vision blurs. Suddenly you feel his lips on yours, offering a chaste kiss and a taste of iron. There you hear Phainon's strange last words before you blacked out.
“At sunrise we will be together.”
“See you tomorrow, sunshine.”
[seraph's note] “is the song he's humming supposed to be coronal radiance-” yes.
anyways, oh god i never thought i'd see the day where this thing is finished because i legit started this way back in november LAST YEAR and simply forgot its existence until this month
but yay visitor phainon has seen the light of day :”)
personally, i haven't played “no, i am not a human” at all but i have followed it on streams and such. some of phainon's scenes and imagery here are inspired by the character 'the pale man' in the game, but as always there has been creative liberties going on here lolol many things changed so of course it’s not going to be a 1:1 on the source material.
also there has been a trend of drawing characters in that distinct blue green screen of the game and that has been my biggest inspo for this.
want more? check out the [database.] for other content!
