Archive of Our Own

Mydei has drunk a love potion. Supposedly. At least that's what Phainon had claimed as he rushed into the room with the grace of a drunk dromas, almost tripping over his own feet when his eyes met Mydei's startled gaze.

Even before Phainon's abrupt appearance, it's been a confusing end to the Descent Hour.

Instead of preparing his own dinner, Mydei has ventured to dine at Kyros' restaurant, as he hadn't had the time to enjoy the golden honeycakes served there in quite some time and he'd started to miss their taste terribly—a fact that he wouldn't have admitted out loud, at least not around any of his fellow Chrysos Heirs. He had ordered a glass of wine to go with the meal, which earned him a subtle eyebrow raise from Kyros, but the chef wasn't the only one surprised by Mydei's request. To say that he doesn't indulge in alcohol often would be an understatement—he detests feeling out of control, and has usually only asked for water in the past, but the words have spilled past his lips before he even registered them, as if they didn't belong to him.

Perhaps it was a trick from Zagreus. Either way, it had been too late to change his order by the time the shock has passed, as Kyros had already left to prepare the meal.

And so Mydei had savored the dish in the peace of his own company, having booked a reservation beforehand, even though a sense of unease hasn't left him since his conversation with Kyros. He'd side eyed the wine glass at first, reluctant to taste it, then only took small sips in between the bites. Most wouldn't guess it, based on his looks and reputation, but his alcohol tolerance is... quite low. He didn't wish to get anywhere close to feeling tipsy, least of all in public, but another part of him felt guilty at the thought of wasting a drink that someone else has taken the time to prepare for him. So, he'd chosen to take his time with it.

The wine was... surprisingly sweet, not like Mydei knew the taste well enough to allow for any comparison. Still, the fact threw him off a bit. Its color reminded him of pure pomegranate juice, and not for the first time, he'd wondered what compelled him to order this, of all things, instead of anything he knew he'd actually like.

Only halfway through the meal, he paused to glare at the glass. And it's exactly like this, stuck in a staring competition with an inanimate object, that Phainon finds him.

"Don't drink any more of that!" is what tears Mydei away from his wine-related musings. Phainon appears weirdly flushed, as if he'd ran around Kyros' entire establishment, yelling at all the poor, unsuspecting customers—though, perhaps that's exactly what he's been doing. Not like Mydei would know.

Confused, he glances back at the wine in his hand, then again at Phainon, who's holding onto the doorway like he's about to faint. What's the need for such dramatics this time? Mydei frowns, choosing to stay silent as Phainon collects himself, and with a huff, the man strides over to the kline, yanks the glass from Mydei's loose hold, and dumps the rest of the drink into the nearest potted plant.

And while it's true that Mydei wasn't exactly looking forward to finishing it, the action pisses him off regardless.

"You have five seconds to explain your behavior, Deliverer, before I throw you out the balcony."

It's not an empty threat, and Phainon isn't foolish enough to think otherwise. His posture tenses even further, and he turns to glance down at Mydei's reclined figure. His mouth open and closes uselessly for a moment before he blurts, "It was for your safety."

Mydei raises an eyebrow. Go on, he doesn't even need to say, because the other get the message through the pointed look alone.

"Listen, Mydei, this... might sound ridiculous, I know, but you have to trust me on this one," the words do the opposite of quelling his doubt, but he lets Phainon continue, "Long story short, a certain group of Zagreus followers came up with a new way to stir some chaos throughout Okhema. It's nothing more than a silly trick, just the usual, nothing to be, uh, very worried about-"

He steals another glance at Mydei's face, then coughs, looking away. Contrary to his words, he actually seems quite worried.

"Still, it's enough of an inconvenience that Aglaea tasked me with stopping their shenanigans. Kyros—or rather, his establishment—is their most recent target. I'm... not sure how they managed to do it without being noticed, but it seems like they've poured a love potion into his wine kegs."

What.

"A love potion?" Mydei scowls, "Don't play with me, Deliverer."

But the man in question doesn't back down. In fact, he waves his hands somewhat frantically, even shaking his head to truly get the point across, "I swear I'm not! I've been following their trail since the second quint of Ascent Hour! I've seen the effects of the potion firsthand!"

Just as suddenly as he started moving, Phainon freezes, his full attention on Mydei's face now, "And if you've already drank some of that wine, then... I don't know how fast or how strong it might affect you."

Damn him, the Deliverer really does sound concerned now. As he continues to stare at Mydei, he seems to wilt, like he's already blaming himself for, well, whatever it is that shall happen to the Kremnoan prince. As if, if he were just a little bit faster in his pursuit, he could have stopped Mydei from drinking this cursed wine. Ridiculous. Mydei would knock some sense into him if he wasn't already preoccupied with keeping his rising unease in check.

He leans back into the kline, crossing his arms. Quite a defensive posture, yes, he knows that Phainon will recognize it for what it is, but there's really no point in hiding it. After all, who wouldn't be defensive in such a situation? A love potion, really? As far as he's aware, no such thing exists, and if it were anyone else to bring up such a claim, Mydei would scoff in their face upon hearing it. However, it's coming from Amphoreus' famed Deliverer in the flesh—a man he's grown to know the most in all of Okhema, who has earned his respect with every fight they've battled side by side. Despite his somewhat infuriating nature at times, Mydei trusts him. As much as he'd like to brush his words off like it's pure nonsense to him, Mydei finds himself believing it.

Except, the thing is... Mydei doesn't actually feel any different at all. And if the circumstances were any different, that would be a good sign. Fantastic, even. No effects, therefore no supposed potion, case closed.

Although, if this potion were to make one fall in love with the first person they saw after ingesting it, then it wouldn't really change a thing in Mydei's case. Because, unfortunate as it is, he's pathetically, hopelessly smitten with the man in front of him—love potion included or not. And he's been doing his damn best to keep that a secret.

Just his luck. If the potion was real, and if it were anyone other than Phainon that entered this room when he did... Well, it would still make for a problematic situation, but at least his actual feelings wouldn't be involved. He'd get over the embarrassment eventually, and make sure to never see the hypothetical stranger again. But as it is, how is he supposed to proceed?

If nothing about his attitude changes, then Phainon will eventually grow suspicious. He'll surely start questioning why Mydei treats him exactly the same under the influence of the potion as he does on any other day, and inevitably connect the dots. Mydei can't let that happen. He's spent too long stomping down his romantic urges when it came to this man, he's not going to let a stupid love potion ruin all of his efforts.

It seems like the only feasible option left for him is to act.

For the record, Mydei is bad at lying. That's a fact that he simply can't deny. He's the type of person that's honest to a fault, who despises petty tricks and schemes.

However.

If it serves to keep his secret safe, he's willing to use such a strategy just this once. He might not be a good actor, but he's aware of one thing: Phainon has never seen Mydei being affectionate towards anyone, not in a romantic sense, which gives him an advantage. If there's more than just one layer to this entire charade, then maybe, just maybe Mydei will be able to pull it off. Fool the Deliverer himself, keep his real feelings hidden while maintaining a love-struck facade until the love potion supposedly wears off, and hopefully not lose his dignity in the process.

Kephale's worldbearing tits, what a hassle.

He's already tired of this entire ordeal, and it hasn't even really started yet. The questionable love potion isn't even his actual problem, no, it's the subsequent chaos it's going to cause that has him dreading the next couple of Hours.

If that's even how much time this potion would supposedly influence its unfortunate victim. He'll have to weasel the answer out of Phainon without being too obvious about it—but that's fine, it's alright. He's got time. Probably. He'll figure it out.

When he finally glances up at Phainon, the man looks troubled. He's caught his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying at it in silence, before seemingly coming to a conclusion. "I should probably keep you company in this state. Who knows just how your immortal body might react to the potion, even if you haven't ingested too much of it."

He leans down to press his palm against Mydei's forehead as he adds, "You know, just to make sure there's no side effects. Did you notice anything off yet, by any chance?"

Now, to be clear, Mydei is no fool. He's aware that many would consider him incapable of emotions other than wrath, and if not that, then unable to tell them all apart. That would be one of the misconceptions the Okheman public has of him, though. He's no mindless brute, and as much as he denies the existence of the word for romance in the Kremnoan dictionary, he knows the feeling all too intimately. He might not be a great liar, but the effect that Phainon has on him is undeniable. For once, that actually works to his benefit.

He tries to tip back, hoping to appear more flustered than he feels, but there's no remaining space left between him and the kline, so he settles on moving his head away from Phainon's touch. The resulting blush slowly creeping its way up his neck isn't forced, he notes with horror, but it will help him with the act. He'll just have to endure this. He clears his throat, avoiding eye contact—that much isn't new, he tends to do it when embarrassed anyway—but there's no way he will meet Phainon's eye while saying what's already forming in his mind.

"Yes, well," he pauses, raising his hand to at least partly hide his flushed face. Surely, this will help to sell the shy act, right? "You could... say that. It's, hm, terribly hot in this room, isn't it?"

After a moment, he chances a glance at Phainon, and almost recoils when he notices a matching blush on his usually pale cheeks. Almost. He's got a part to play here, after all, and he's not going to end this stupid charade so soon—but why does Phainon seem so flustered when he's not even the one to have tasted the damned love potion?!

It takes Phainon approximately three more second to snap out of whatever daze he's got caught up in. He blinks furiously before angling his head away from Mydei's view, pulling his arm back too fast to seem casual. At least he doesn't make Mydei wait for a response.

"No, I don't think the temperature has risen at all, actually..." he trails off, glancing at Mydei from the corner of his eye, "Maybe I should take you to see Hyacine."

Great. Another witness to his worst nightmare. If not for his curse of immortality, Mydei might have thrown himself out the balcony by now. As it is, though, he can only accept his fate.

"That would probably be for the best, yes," he mutters into his gauntlet.

Despite their agreement, a couple of seconds pass by with neither of them actually moving to fulfill the idea. Mydei simply needs a moment longer to grieve the upcoming death of his pride—as for Phainon, he has no idea, and he's already overthinking too much to even bother taking a guess.

Once he's calmed down enough, he makes to stand up from the kline, but Phainon beats him to it—he extends a hand for Mydei to grab, as if he's a helpless maiden that can't do this on his own, and a part of Mydei wants to slap it away but he's also unfortunately aware that it wouldn't help with the whole love-struck act so he only scoffs, letting Phainon help him without meeting his concerned puppy eyes.

Seemingly distracted, Phainon ends up using a bit too much force while pulling him up—which is truly a feat, as Mydei is by no means a person that's easy to push around—resulting in a stumble. It brings them closer than entirely necessary. Mydei wants to die.

His blush from earlier is back with a vengeance. He could swear he hasn't drank nearly enough wine for it to actually affect him like this, but he can't think of anything else to blame for this. He takes a hurried step back, then—for the sake of appearances—tucks a lock of hair behind his ear, making sure the action is easy enough for the Deliverer to actually notice. It's incredibly embarrassing to act like some shy teenager but he's already committed to this and damn it, he will make it believable.

"Ready to go, then?" Phainon pipes up, and if it wasn't for the slightest tremble in his voice, he would sound entirely unaffected. Mydei has always thought the other to be a way better actor than him, yet his current behavior is almost as ridiculous as Mydei's own. Here's something to ponder about some other day, perhaps.

For now, he sweeps his gaze over the room. He hasn't actually brought anything along to the diner, so it's not like he has anything to collect. Except.

"Well, yes, but-" the honeycakes, is left unsaid. Mydei frowns in the direction of his forgotten dish, and Phainon follows his gaze, only slightly confused.

"Ah," he says, eloquent as always, "We could ask Kyros for a takeout bag. It would be a waste to leave it behind."

Mydei refuses to admit it out loud, but he's grateful for the suggestion. If Phainon insists on dragging him out of the restaurant with no time to finish the meal, then bringing the leftovers with them is truly the least he could do.

Soon, Kyros will rush into the room with apologies on his tongue, offering Mydei a discount for his next meal to make up for the trouble caused by Zagreus' followers. Mydei will agree to the deal, more out of guilt than anything, and Phainon will kindly request a bag for the aforementioned leftovers—but right now, Mydei takes just a moment to steel himself for what's going to happen once they've left the building. He doesn't believe himself to be lucky enough to miss out on any more issues this cursed Parting Hour.

A love potion. Right. He knew he shouldn't have ordered that stupid wine.

As it turns out, Mydei was right to be worried. They haven't even taken ten steps away from Kyros' restaurant before a familiar voice calls out to them.

"Lord Phainon!" Castorice doesn't yell; she's too polite for that. Yet, her words easily carry over the distance anyway, "Oh, and Lord Mydei. Hello. I was not expecting to see you as well."

With such a greeting, one can safely assume Castorice went out of her way to look for Phainon specifically. Maybe Aglaea had just informed her of the tricksters as well, or maybe she was already investigating the case before either Mydei or Phainon have even heard of it. No matter which assumption may be right, she's here now, gracefully coming to a stop a couple of steps behind them, mindful of her curse. She inclines her head, always so insistent on her etiquette, despite the fact that Mydei has kindly told her many times before that there was no need for it between them.

As a Chrysos Heir with such a deep connection to Thanatos, Castorice was one of the first people in Okhema that he actually grew close with, right alongside Phainon. They both once followed a Titan of Calamity, after all, and who else would understand a Kremnoan well enough if not one so in touch with the Hand of Shadow? Death and strife often go hand in hand, and even having met in Okhema, of all places, that sentiment remains.

He holds deep respect toward Castorice, and he's sure the feeling is mutual—which is exactly what makes this encounter so unfortunate. He already hates the idea of more people than strictly necessary witnessing his foolish act, especially if it's another friend of his.

"Miss Castorice!" Phainon chimes up, cheerful as ever. It's like he left the flustered part of himself back at the diner, "What's the occasion?"

Unwilling to speak over the overgrown pup, Mydei merely nods in greeting, but he knows Castorice won't take offense from it.

"I simply meant to ask how your task is going," she explains, offering a subtle smile to the both of them, "I've heard from Lady Aglaea that you haven't sent any updates since the third quint of the Descent Hour, and while she didn't seem very concerned over this fact, I felt the need to check up on you."

That, at least, causes Phainon to falter, "Oh, right, of course. I was so busy earlier that it slipped my mind, but... I also have to admit that I had to put that on hold for now."

Castorice tilts her head to the side, quite similar to a confused little chimera, "On hold? Has something happened?"

And Mydei immediately knows how this conversation will proceed, much to his dismay.

Phainon sends a subtle glance towards Mydei. Before actually revealing anything, he makes sure to ask, "Miss Castorice, how much do you know about this case?"

"I know of the Zagreus followers, and their most recent pranks. They all seem to center around a liquid they claim to have been blessed by the Titan of Romance themself," she replies, "More commonly called a love potion, at least coming from the victims of these tricks. It's not very dangerous, but it's a hindrance to those affected by it. Unless there has been any new information that I may have missed?"

Phainon rushes to reassure her, "No, no, you're quite caught up. I wouldn't be able to tell you more if I wanted to," a smile follows these words, but it's quick to fade, "The issue is... Mydei has tasted this love potion."

May Nikador's Lance of Fury strike him down, Mydei is not ready for this. He doesn't appreciate the fact that Phainon brought it up—he's been clinging to the tiniest sliver of hope that the Deliverer won't mention it, and that they'll part ways with Castorice fast enough that he won't have to make a fool of himself in front of her. Now, he knows that is no longer an option.

Castorice gasps, turning her—unnecessarily worried, may he add, she had literally just stated that the potion wasn't actually dangerous—gaze towards the Kremnoan prince, "Are you feeling alright, Lord Mydei?"

He can feel Phainon's stare burning the side of his face. Maybe he should have never crawled out of the Sea of Souls. The unending cycle of drowning and coming back to life was surely preferable to bringing such embarrassment upon himself.

He looks away. Mydei knows he wouldn't be able to lie otherwise, not when she looks truly concerned for him.

"I'm fine, Castorice. I've suffered through much worse things than this, a simple love potion is nothing in comparison," he pauses, choosing his next words carefully, "Even though... It does burden me with some, hm. Unnecessary feelings."

It's only because they're standing so close that he can hear Phainon's breath hitch. He resolutely ignores the sound, even though he's sure he can sense his neck growing warmer.

Thankfully, Castorice is quick to respond, "That's a relief, at least. I hope you're freed from its influence soon enough," with that, she turns towards Phainon, "I will let Lady Aglaea know of this. In the meantime, I'll try to look into this matter myself. Perhaps another Chrysos Heir might lend a hand."

Mydei truly hopes as much. If everyone's too busy chasing the tricksters down, then they probably won't end up running into him and Phainon. Having Castorice see him like this, and Hyacine soon after, is already two people too many.

When Phainon speaks up next, Mydei doesn't even need to look to know that he's smiling. It's obvious through his tone alone, "Thank you so much, Miss Castorice. Good luck with the investigation."

"Good luck to you both, as well."

Courteous as ever, Castorice bows as she wishes them farewell, and she leaves with the elegance of the butterflies she seems to cherish so much. They're alone once more—well, as alone as one can be on the streets of Okhema during the Parting Hour, but Mydei pays no mind to any of the unfamiliar faces. With nothing else to do, they resume their march towards the Garden of Life.

Phainon had mentioned earlier that it would be a safe bet today to find Hyacine there, but decided to send her a teleslate message just to check anyway. Her response came within barely a minute, and with the confirmation, Phainon nearly bodily dragged him out of the diner. He even suggested carrying Mydei like one would a princess all the way to the garden, and as committed as he was to the love-struck act, that was one step too far. He'd shot the idea down immediately, which seemed to disappoint Phainon a great deal—perhaps he was looking forward to tease Mydei over this once the whole potion ordeal is over—but he insisted to carry Mydei's honeycake leftovers, if nothing else.

There really was no winning with this man. Other than in sparring sessions, that is.

"Knock yourself out," Mydei had said, wishing more than anything for the conversation to finally die down. Phainon grinned in response, but at least didn't demand anything more.

Now, as they continue their walk, Mydei can't help but catch himself stealing glances at Phainon's free hand. He's holding the takeout bag on the opposite side from Mydei, like he's ready to reach out towards him in case he were to trip. Or something. As if they weren't dealing with a love potion but some kind of weak poison—not like a poison would be very effective against Mydei to begin with. Ridiculous. Not to mention, presumptuous.

As unnecessary as the gesture is, though, it's unfortunately very successful at distracting him.

He wretches his gaze away, forcing himself to observe the crowd instead. It works for only a moment, before some Okheman citizen makes direct eye contact with him and visibly flinches. Is Mydei really scowling so hard to earn such a reaction?

Defeated, he looks down at Phainon's palm again. He cheers himself up with the knowledge that the other doesn't seem to notice his blatant staring, too busy weaving through people to pay attention just what it is that Mydei's looking at.

And it's then that Mydei's struck with a thought so embarrassing that he can't stop himself from heaving a groan. Phainon sends him a questioning glance over his shoulder, but quickly drops it once it's clear that he's not going to get any explanation for the sound.

The idea is so silly that he wouldn't even entertain it if he wasn't currently pretending to be under the influence of a love potion—but he is, pretending that is, and he has to sacrifice some of his pride to make it believable enough. And so he glares at Phainon's hand like it has personally offended him before inching his own arm closer, subtly brushing the back of his palm against Phainon's.

The reaction is immediate—the Deliverer nearly jumps out of his skin, almost like he's been struck. Mydei is, honestly, quite offended. Is it really so shocking that he'd ever use physical touch as a sign of affection, as subdued as the gesture was?

Phainon's staring at him. He's sure of it, but he refuses to meet his eyes, and he doesn't withdraw his hand either. He often sees couples holding hands while walking down the streets of Okhema, it seems like the obvious go-to for someone that's suddenly incredibly in love due to the influence of a potion. It makes sense, it really does, but he already feels weirdly regretful of the action.

Still, he doesn't back down. Their hands brush against each other again, and he makes sure to make it look fully intentional this time. Then, he leaves it up to fate.

After a moment's hesitation, Phainon moves to hold Mydei's hand properly, even going as far as to link their fingers together. Mydei feels like he might implode.

Their pace slows down to a stroll the rest of the way to the Garden of Life, but neither of them is willing to bring that up.

As they're nearing the elevator, Mydei spots something peculiar.

There's a little chimera working nearby, its coat in familiar shades of white and baby blue. It's got a couple of tiny horns, a tail swishing around absently, and piercing blue eyes. The pair of wings on its back look somewhat like a cape. It reminds him of Phainon terribly.

He's heading towards it before he even realizes it, tugging Phainon along due to their still linked hands. The Deliverer fumbles for a second, clearly confused by the change of course, but settles down immediately, following Mydei with a surprising lack of argument. The whole love potion ordeal has made him weirdly obedient.

Disregarding that thought as quick as it popped into his mind, Mydei comes to a stop in front of the chimera. It pays them no mind, dutifully continuing its assigned job. Mydei's heart swells. He's truly, immensely fond of cute critters.

He lets go of Phainon's hand, to his own pang of disappointment and a disapproving noise from the other—Mydei deliberately does not think about it—then bends down to gently scoop the chimera up, mindful of his gauntlets. If he's already interrupting the poor chimera's work, the very least he can do is not hurt it in the process.

The critter makes a confused little chirp as it's picked up, legs and tail flailing a bit in panic, but it calms down remarkably fast. It looks up, locking eyes with Mydei, having fully accepted its fate—now, pliant and seemingly curious as to why this random man is holding it like a baby. Mydei has never seen anything more adorable.

"Sorry, little one. I hope you don't mind," he murmurs, hopefully low enough that his fellow Chrysos Heir doesn't overhear. He can feel his gaze soften as he's stuck in the staring contest with the chimera, allowing himself just a moment longer of indulgence. Then, he remembers he still has a job to do, and a convenient way to sell it.

"Look, Deliverer," he nods towards the critter in his arms, "This one's just like you."

With that, he finally turns back toward Phainon, and the chimera does the same. There's a tint of pink to the man's cheeks that he's sure wasn't there before, but maybe he's just startled to be the new center of attention.

Phainon stares at him as if he's just grown a second head. He somehow looks both flattered and confused, "I... don't really see how."

The little chimera lets out a quiet, agreeing whine.

This is it—the perfect opportunity to strike. Mydei braces himself to say the most embarrassing thing in his life. He gets the urge to look away, but a greater part of him doesn't want to miss out on witnessing Phainon's reaction, "It's cute. Like you."

There's a beat of silence, as Phainon seems to process the words. He gapes at Mydei for a moment, glancing down at the chimera then back up, like he's not quite sure he's heard correctly. When Mydei offers no other explanation, he finally sees it: a blush, deep red and obvious, quickly rising to his face.

He may have just lost a little more dignity to this love-struck facade, but it's a worthy sacrifice—he commits the sight to memory, as he's sure he'll never get another chance to tease the other so blatantly once this entire charade is over.

It takes Phainon an embarrassingly long time to compose himself, which is a fact that Mydei takes a great amount of delight in. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he clears his throat and mutters, "That potion has got you speaking nonsense, my friend."

His voice is unnaturally high. Mydei counts it as a win.

Meanwhile, the little chimera squirms in his arm, insistent on catching Mydei's attention. He peers down at it, and the critter immediately turns to nuzzle into his chest—at least someone here appreciates Mydei's compliments. Once it's done with that, it slowly blinks up at him, then chirrups. It's probably asking to be set down, so it could go back to work.

Thanatos take him down, he can't deal with this much cuteness.

With a heart so full it feels like it might explode, he places the chimera back at the same spot he had snatched it from. He observes it for a little longer as it continues on with its business. It doesn't seem particularly bothered by Mydei's interruption, thankfully. Perhaps it's used to being treated like the precious thing it is.

"Are you done kidnapping unsuspecting workers?"

His mood immediately sours. He turns to glare at Phainon, who's still relatively pink in the face, but doing his best at pretending otherwise. Mydei could point it out, mercilessly making fun of him in turn, but he doesn't want to argue in front of the little chimera—he's already disturbed the critter enough. So, with the courtesy of a saint, he graciously lets the matter go.

If he moves to stomp his solleret dangerously close to Phainon's own shoe, the pointy tip almost close enough to stab, only the Deliverer may notice. Phainon muffles a snort into his fist.

Finally done with stalling, he extends his empty hand towards Mydei again, who eyes it curiously. He wasn't expecting the hand holding to be anything more than a one time opportunity, assuming that Phainon wouldn't be comfortable doing it again—but if the offer is still up, then what else can Mydei do other than take Phainon's hand and carry on with this charade?

With a mental pat on the back for a job well done, he does exactly that. This time, he links their fingers before Phainon can even try it first.

Mydei tends to run hot. When they first held hands, he'd noticed how cool Phainon's palm was in comparison to his own, but with every step they took towards the Garden, the ice thawed in his hold. Now, in such a short amount of time since Mydei has let go, Phainon's hand is back to that same frosty state.

That's alright. He'll warm up soon enough. Mydei will make sure of this.

It's the third quint of the Parting Hour by the time they make it to the Garden of Life. Mydei doesn't even want to think about how long it took them to reach it. Poor Hyacine has been waiting for them since they've left Kyros' restaurant. Surely, she had more interesting things to do, yet they've taken up so much of her time already because they had to saunter around the streets of Okhema at a leisurely pace like a pair of teenage lovers.

They weren't exactly subtle about it either. Mydei has felt numerous pairs of eyes closely following their stroll, but at least no one dared to actually speak to them.

He's sure that Verax Leo will stir up new rumours about him and Phainon the moment the news reach that damned statue. He can already hear it in his mind: Two Chrysos Heirs spotted sneaking from their duties to go on a date?! Is Mydeimos the Undying capable of love after all?

The idea alone has him scowling. Fortunately, Phainon pays him no mind, looking around the Garden for a familiar head of pink hair. There's a surprising amount of people still milling about. Mydei would have guessed that most of them would have already finished their work and headed out, but it might just be that they've stayed behind to spend a moment longer around the chimeras. Not like Mydei could judge them for doing so—the critters have no business being so adorable.

They spot Hyacine at the same time. She's standing off to the side, petting a curious little chimera that has climbed on top of a nearby table. At least she seems to have enjoyed herself during the wait.

Phainon tries to get her attention by raising his arm, belatedly realizing it's the one he's still holding onto the honeycake leftovers with. He lets it drop back to his side and, like a complete idiot, lifts their linked hands instead, waving them way too eagerly until Hyacine—and many of the Gardeners, at that—takes notice of the movement. As if Mydei wasn't already embarrassed enough.

He wallows in humiliation while Phainon tugs him forward. Some curious stares cling to them as they walk up to Hyacine, but their audience gets distracted by chimeras soon enough. Once again, Mydei could sing praises of the pets—if he was one for dramatics, that is. Which he isn't. So he just praises their adorable existence in his mind instead.

"There you are, Miss Hyacine!" Phainon calls out as they're only a couple steps away from the girl. Mydei sees no point in being so loud, but Hyacine doesn't seem to mind, gesturing for them to come closer with a smile.

She doesn't mention how long they've made her wait. She doesn't complain about having to change her plans in order to meet them. She only greets then with, "Welcome, Lord Phainon, Lord Mydei! Did you need anything?" and somehow, her kindness only makes Mydei feels worse about it. He doesn't get to dwell on it for too long, though—not when Phainon pushes him even further ahead, presenting him to the nurse like one would a grand gift.

"My dear Mydeimos is in need of a health evaluation from you," he proclaims, and Mydei's brain is too stuck replaying the words my dear Mydeimos to pay attention to anything else, "You see, some Zagreus followers have played a trick on him, and we'd rather make sure it's nothing worthy of concern."

"Really? What was it?" Hyacine turns her worried gaze upon him, immediately scanning his posture from top to bottom, "Do you feel anything out of the ordinary, Mydei?"

"I'm fine," he mutters, and it's not like he's even lying about it. There's no need to trouble Hyacine any further than they already have. Except, Phainon seems to think otherwise. He elbows Mydei straight in the ribs—not like it really does anything, the action earning the man nothing more than a scowl. Still, it doesn't make the action any less rude.

And people say that Kremnoans are ruthless. Have they even seen their beloved Deliverer?

"Don't listen to him. Your dear patient here drank a love potion."

Must he keep using the word dear? It's incredibly distracting.

Hyacine's face lights up in recognition, "Oh!"

Observant as always, Phainon catches onto it immediately, "Do you happen to know of it, Miss Hyacine?"

"You'd be surprised how many people have come up to me with the same issue," her eyes scan Mydei's form again. The revelation visibly melts her worry away—she leans back slightly, giving her chimera friend one last scritch, a smile finding its way back to her lips, "The confusion and any possible panic it might cause would be more dangerous than the actual potion itself. As long as you take things easy, you should be fine!"

"That's a relief," Phainon says.

Indeed, flits through Mydei's mind. It's one thing to pretend to be emotionally manipulated by a substance that, by all accounts, shouldn't exist—but faking any physical symptoms would be a whole different feat.

"Still, I'd like to take a good look at you, if only for my own peace of mind," Hyacine adds, "That is, if it wouldn't bother you, Mydei."

He shrugs, "Go ahead."

The subsequent health check up is less of one in practice than it is in title—as Mydei is, apparently, far from the first victim of the tricksters to seek help from Hyacine, she's familiar enough with the case to know exactly what to expect. Half of it feels more like a sobriety test, if anything, and sure, he might have drank some wine earlier that day but not nearly enough to not be able to pass such a thing—it's not like Phainon even let him finish a single cup. Hyacine also checks his temperature and heart rate, asks a couple additional questions and... deems him okay to go. Just like that. It goes on so much faster than any of his previous interactions with her ever have.

Despite his curse, he does actually end up seeing Hyacine quite often. He doesn't exactly need medical attention, not in the same way a typical person does, as his body heals at a faster rate than anyone else—but her suggestions tend to ease the process. In general, he doesn't get sick, nor does he require regular health checks. This might actually be the first time he's gone to visit Hyacine without engaging in a battle beforehand.

All because of this ridiculous situation.

"There doesn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary, Lord Mydei! Physically, you're as healthy as always," she announces, offering him a smile, "From what I've seen, the potion's effects could last from a couple Hours to a full day cycle, most likely depending on the person and how much of the substance they've drank."

The curly tips of heir hair sway along with her lively gestures. It's like her hands have a mind of their own whenever it's her turn to explain anything. Mydei can't help but find the detail endearing.

She looks briefly at Phainon, who's been quietly standing to the side throughout the entire procedure, and she's no less cheerful when she continues with, "And as for your behavior towards Phainon... Well, you're acting exactly as one would expect you to after downing a love potion. None of my patients could stop themself from staring at the person that brought them here, so don't worry, you're not the only one!"

Mydei's heart plummets.

On the other hand, Phainon seems delighted by her words. His face brightens up in an instant, and he points wildly at Mydei in his excitement, "I knew it! I was right! He has been stealing glances at me like a pining maiden!"

Mydei really doesn't get why this would please him so much. Not that he has been doing what Phainon claims—is what he'd like to argue, at least—he's merely observing his surroundings like any good warrior would. The fact that those surroundings include the Deliverer is simply a coincidence. Alas, he can't bring himself to actually say any of it out loud. He's always hated lying.

Ignorant to the storm happening inside Mydei's mind, Hyacine lets out a giggle, "Yes, you could phrase it like that."

Phainon preens, reaching up to twirl a pale lock of hair around his finger—but his hairstyle is objectively too short for such theatrics, which only serves to make it more absurd, "Even the Crown Prince of Kremnos can't resist my charms."

Has he forgotten the entire reason behind their visit to the nurse? Mydei can't believe he's fallen for this man, out of all the options. Have his standards truly fallen so low?

"May I remind you, it's only because of the damned love potion," he scoffs, properly aggravated now. If looks could kill, the Holy City would find itself lacking of its great Deliverer.

Yet Phainon doesn't even squirm under the weight of his glare. Instead, he leans in, wiggling his eyebrows as he does so, and Mydei recognizes the expression on his face all too well—that infuriating smirk can only lead to more teasing from Phainon. He steels himself for the inevitable.

"You want to kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid," Phainon goads, in that very same tone he uses to provoke Mydei into his childish bets, all too pleased with himself.

Mydei's had enough.

"Thanatos, if you can hear me," his voice doesn't waver. It carries over the entire grass field with ease, his tone eerily calm, "End our misery and take this poor excuse of a Deliverer now. He's ready."

Phainon's face turns from smug to greatly offended in record time. The sight alone is worth the concerned murmurs that immediately fill the quietude of the Garden of Life, effectively bringing him back to reality. He's been so focused on his banter with Phainon that it somehow slipped his mind that they weren't actually alone.

"Mydei!" Hyacine gasps, with a delicate hand over her chest, "You can't just say that!"

Still scowling at Mydei, Phainon waves her concern off, "Don't worry, Miss Hyacine. That's just his idea of a joke."

Mydei grumbles, crossing his arms.

"I assure you, I'm not joking."

The words only earn him a laugh from the Deliverer. It wipes off any remaining hints of irritation from his face, and he reaches over to pat Mydei's shoulder in a way that could only be described as placating, "Sure you aren't."

It doesn't lessen Mydei's anger as much as Phainon would probably hope. Hyacine keeps glancing between them, clearly trying to come up with a way to break the tension. Finally, her gaze falls on their forgotten takeout bag, and she jumps at the opportunity to change the subject.

"What's in the bag?"

Both of the men pause. For someone that's been holding onto the thing for the past two quints, Phainon seems surprised to actually remember its existence. As for Mydei, he's, well. He's been so occupied with his acting that he hasn't even considered the fact that he should eat the damn leftovers before any surviving warmth has completely seeped out of the bag. Knowing Phainon's icy grip, the food might have frozen over by now.

Between the two of them, Phainon is faster to snap out from his daze.

"Oh, this?" the bag wobbles in his grasp. Mydei's treated with the mental image of it slipping through his fingers and dramatically hitting the ground, leaving nothing but crumbs and a sticky nightmare to clean off the grass. If the food were to meet its doom in such a way, Mydei would be legally obligated to kill him, "It's some leftover golden honeycakes from Kyros' place! That's where I found Mydei like this, actually. He couldn't bear to see them go to waste even when his health might have been compromised."

Mydei's eyebrow twitches.

"You're exaggerating. I've already stated several times that I feel just fine."

"Since it's just a harmless love potion, I have to agree with Mydei," Hyacine adds in with a nod, "It would be a shame to throw a nice meal away. However," with that, she sends him a pointed look, "If it were to actually cause you any pain, I would ask you to seek treatment as soon as possible."

Such concern is wasted on Mydei, though he's unwilling to bring the fact up. He knows they both mean well, even if it would be more useful directed at anyone that isn't cursed to come back to life every time they die. It's useless to argue over this topic—Phainon's incredibly stubborn nature matches Mydei's own, and Hyacine is... Hyacine. He's not going to bicker with her, it'd be like picking a fight with a little chimera. Mydei isn't heartless.

"Anyway, look," Hyacine pats the table next to her, then gestures towards the opposite end of it, the only space in the Garden that's free from any restless critters—which can't be said about the side which she's currently standing by, "A perfect place to dine, unless you're willing to let the food get any colder."

Thankful for the suggestion, Mydei nods, picking up the closest chair and carrying it over to the aforementioned spot. There's a couple of scrolls lying on top of the table, and he has to move them aside to make space for the honeycakes, but he's positive that as long as he doesn't somehow get any crumbs on the paper, then no one will mind. From this position, he gets a perfect view of the Dawn Device in the distance—not that he actually focuses on it. He's too concerned with the food.

Once Phainon places the takeout bag on the table, Mydei's quick to take a seat and pull the leftovers out. The dish itself looks incredibly sad after all the mistreatment that Phainon had put it through. It matches his current mood in a way that's almost scarily accurate.

As it turns out, Mydei was right. The golden honeycakes have already turned cold, and they don't taste nearly as good as they do freshly made. That's not to say they're terrible, no, he likes them well enough to eat them even in such a state, but he still takes a moment to sulk over the fact.

They're in the Garden of Life, after all, there's no convenient way to heat up the leftovers here. If they're already out of the bag, he might as well finally finish them. While he is a talented cook—and makes sure to expand on his culinary skills when given the chance—some cool honeycakes are far from the worst thing he's had to force himself to swallow in the past.

He's familiar with hunger: plagued by fatigue and starvation alike while drifting through the Sea of Souls, unable to focus on anything else during the rare moments when he wasn't too busy drowning to pay attention to his malnourished state. Such experience has taught him to appreciate food in any state or form, as any sustenance is better than none.

That said, his relationship with food has only gotten better over the years, enough so to turn cooking from a necessity into a hobby. Nowadays, he has the privilege to freely choose his own meals, can even afford to turn down the options that wouldn't fit his tastes without having to worry over lacking nourishment—still, he isn't one to waste food.

And now, that entire journey has brought Mydei here, facing the saddest plate of golden honeycakes he's ever seen.

His musings are interrupted when a very familiar and very annoying hand snatches the fork from his grip. There isn't enough time for him to react to the action as Phainon cuts off a piece of his meal and puts it directly in front of his mouth.

"Come on, Mydei!" he whines, "I didn't carry that bag all the way here just so you'd refuse to eat this!"

Mydei can't do anything more than glare at him, as he's sure if he were to open his mouth to respond, the fiend would just stuff the fork right in. He ignores Hyacine's amused stare, furrowing his eyebrows even further.

As if Phainon would ever back down from a challenge. He laughs, way too delighted by the situation for Mydei's liking, "Open up! You'll offend Georios if you don't finish your food!"

Mydei doesn't appreciate being treated like a child. Humiliated once again—he should make a list of every time he's lost some of his pride since this Parting Hour has begun. Maybe he could even underline the instances caused directly by the Deliverer, and plan out some elaborate revenge when he's feeling petty enough.

Impatient and wholly uncaring of Mydei's dignity, Phainon presses the piece of honeycake against his lips. He bats his lashes in a silent plea, somehow managing to look even more foolish than he already did trying to force-feed a grown man, and Mydei finally relents.

He parts his lips just enough for the food to slip through, and before Phainon can even consider cheering over his success, he snatches the fork back. His face is aflame as he turns around, his back now facing the other, determined to finish his meal out of Phainon's view.

"Wait, that's not fair!"

Somewhere across the garden, he can hear Hyacine's giggle. He's relieved to find out that Phainon's woe sparks joy in more people than Mydei alone.

Serves him right.

Thing is, neither of them exactly planned what to do after exiting the Garden.

Technically, with the confirmation of the potion being pretty much harmless, Mydei should be able to go on about his day and forget this whole farce. Emphasis on technically, because his life could never be so simple, so he's still with Phainon—who'd insisted on keeping an eye on him, and what could Mydei have done? Said no? As if. For one, it wouldn't persuade the Deliverer at all, not when he's still clearly concerned for Mydei and can never quite shrug off the role of a hero—and two, Mydei may not be an expert on romance, but happily leaving one's sweetheart behind seems like the last thing a poor love potion victim would do.

This is exactly why Mydei avoids making rash decisions: it only takes one stupid idea for it to come back and bite his ass multiple times. He's already made it this far, though, it's fine. He'll manage. So he grits his teeth and refuses to make his humiliation known.

That's how they end up walking down the streets of Okhema, heading vaguely in the direction of the Marmoreal Market. This time, both of Mydei's hands are free from Phainon's icy grip, and he should probably be grateful for that. He would be, except his companion hasn't actually given up on physical contact at all. Instead of intertwining their fingers for the third time that day, Phainon's hand has moved to rest on his back, gently leading him forward as if Mydei's incapable of navigating through the road on his own.

He can't decide if the gesture is weirdly considerate of Phainon, or if the man is assuming too much about his feigned affliction. He knows from experience that Phainon wouldn't touch him so casually and tenderly like this under normal circumstances—probably because he's aware that Mydei would slap his hand away if he tried—but as it is, he finds the gentle pressure strangely comforting, despite his embarrassment.

However, if Mydei truly was under the influence of a love potion... he can't help but wonder, would Phainon indulging him like this be reassuring, or actually a little bit cruel? To show him affection with such ease while he's emotionally vulnerable, just to go back to normal the moment his wits would no longer be shrouded by that questionable substance? Then again, treating someone harshly while they're in such condition doesn't sound like a good way to go about it either. He supposes he can't blame Phainon for trying—from his perspective, it must be quite the predicament, with no instructions on how to deal with it either. If nothing else, he's doing his best.

"Do you hold no regard for your own reputation?" Mydei can't help it—the curiosity has been gnawing at him for the past Hour. It's honestly a miracle he's been able to hold it in for this long.

Phainon looks at him like he's just kicked a little chimera right in front of the guy, "What?"

Well, perhaps the lack of context made his question sound bizarre. It's not like they share the same thought process. Still, he chooses to act like explaining himself comes as a great inconvenience to him, heaving a sigh deep enough his shoulders sink with it, "You hold me close like one would a lover, parading me through all the main streets of Okhema. Surely, you can't be blind to the fact that people will talk."

Not to mention that damned lion statue.

"Oh, I'm well aware of that," he agrees with ease, his fingers lightly tapping against Mydei's back, "But I can't, with good conscience, leave you alone like this, and what's a casual touch between friends?"

What he's referring to is anything but casual, Mydei would like to argue—especially if one were to consider that it might be usual for certain life-long friendships, but definitely not theirs. Still, he doesn't do more than raise a skeptical eyebrow.

"Besides," a shameless smile forms on Phainon's lips, "If the general public thinks I'm worthy of courting an actual prince? Mydeimos the Undying himself? Well, I don't know about you, but I think that's an honor."

Mydei doesn't know how to react to such a claim. He scoffs, turning away in hopes to hide the incriminating flush rising to his face, but his attempt doesn't seem very successful.

"What, did that make you shy, Mydei?"

He can hear the way Phainon grins.

"If you know what's good for you, I'd suggest for you to stay silent."

Fortunately, Phainon heeds the warning. A wise choice. Mydei wouldn't hesitate to kick the man if he hadn't.

The following silence allows him to cool down. He takes the chance to focus on anything other than the fool beside him. His gaze sweeps over their surroundings, searching for any decent distraction.

In the distance, he spots Kyros' restaurant, and Mydei can't help but feel reminded of the thing that started it all. If only he hadn't followed his urge to taste some golden honeycakes, he wouldn't have ended up like this. Now that he thinks about it, it truly is suspicious: the one time he strays from his usual order and gets a different drink, it turns out to be the only one in the whole restaurant's menu to get spiked. Earlier that day, he had entertained the idea mostly as a joke, but now he's starting to think that the Titan of Trickery actually had something to do with this, and not just their followers alone. It just feels like too big of a coincidence.

He's only further convinced of it when, out of the corner of his eye, he notices a flash of green in between the crowd. A very familiar shade of it, at that. He recognizes the man all too easily. Professor Anaxagoras.

Absolutely not.

Has luck truly forsaken him? What exactly, in Nikador's name, is Anaxa even doing here, off all places—and perfectly in time to run into them, as well? Is he the one Castorice asked for help? Could he be on his way to investigate Kyros' restaurant?

Out of all the people that Zagreus could have sent his way, Anaxa might actually be the worst option, and that's no exaggeration. Truly. Castorice and Hyacine are both much too kind to tease him over the situation he's gotten himself into—he can't imagine them saying anything of it the next time they meet, besides maybe a passing mention. While it did hurt his pride for them to see him like this, he knows he will get over it soon enough. If it's Anaxa, though... He's sure this man would hold onto his judgement until the end of time. He might not bring it up, unwilling to start any useless conversation, but the way that singular eye will regard him in the future would surely change for worse.

There's only one thing that can be done in this case.

Before Anaxa could possibly have the time to notice their approaching figures, he ducks into the closest alley, pulling Phainon along by his wrist. Phainon lets out a startled noise, one that ends abruptly as his back hits the wall, and Mydei crowds into his space to slap a hand over his mouth, mindful of his gauntlets. He wouldn't really mind roughing Phainon up during a fight—in fact, he's often glad to put the Deliverer in his place—but outside of one, he'd rather avoid accidentally cutting him.

As Mydei takes a moment to compose himself, Phainon stares at him in shock and... something else he can't quite decipher, but this isn't the right time for him to ponder about it. He looks over his shoulder, back to where they've been a mere blink ago. It seems like no one has actually noticed the stunt he's pulled—or, perhaps, no one cared enough to check on them. The important thing is that from this position, they aren't in Anaxa's line of sight, and neither can Mydei see him in turn.

Slightly relieved, he turns to face Phainon again, who still hasn't lost that weird shine in his eyes. It confuses him to no end. He frowns, slowly withdrawing his hand. The moment Phainon parts his lips, Mydei shushes him, "Be quiet."

Phainon doesn't argue, but he does raise a defiant eyebrow at him. No matter. He doesn't need to know what Mydei is doing to follow a simple order.

They stay like this for a moment, with Mydei stealing glances towards the main street, while Phainon keeps watching him like he's the most fascinating thing in all of Okhema. The intensity of his gaze might just drive Mydei crazy.

Eventually, he grits out, "What."

It doesn't even sound like a question, but Phainon jumps at the opportunity to ask, "What's the point of doing this?" he fires off, not even bothering to keep his voice low, "Is there something you don't want me to see?"

Mydei blinks, befuddled, "What? No."

Phainon nods, soaking up the information like he's starving for it. He leans a bit closer, "Then, could it be a someone that you don't want me to see?"

What a weird thing to ask. Mydei has no idea where this is going. It's not even that Phainon is wrong, technically—there is someone out on the street he doesn't wish to meet at the moment—still, the way that sentence was phrased makes it sound different from Mydei's actual motive. He just can't tell what it is that Phainon's getting at.

His hesitance is, apparently, enough of an answer for the other. There's a smirk forming on his lips, one that Mydei tries his best ignore.

"Mydei, are you jealous?"

What.

"That's-" ridiculous. He cuts himself off, then scowls at Phainon who's growing more amused the longer he takes to respond, "I will punt you out of this alley if you don't shut up."

The words earn him a snort. It's easy to tell that Phainon is holding back a full-blown laugh. He stays obediently silent only long enough for Mydei's heartbeat to go back to its usual pace.

"You know, I'm just saying, you're standing terribly close for someone who's supposedly not jealous."

His eyes crinkle up with his grin, terribly smug. Mydei wants to tear that look off his face.

He doesn't hold back—he punches Phainon in the gut, right then and there, too close and sudden for the other to even see it coming. Phainon lets out a wheeze, curling into himself due to the pain. Serves him right. His head lands on Mydei's shoulder, who can't be bothered to brush the menace off.

"You're so mean to me sometimes," Phainon mutters into his skin, still slightly winded from the strike.

"I'm always mean to you."

Phainon lifts his head, only to send him a singular look, before dropping it again. No, his eyes seemed to say, you really aren't.

Mydei decides to ignore those delusions.

Time goes on. Phainon slowly recovers, though he doesn't pull away, clinging to Mydei like he's never felt the touch of a fellow man. It's absurd. It makes His heart race.

Once he's positive it's been long enough for the Sage to have left the area, he shrugs Phainon off and slowly peers out of the alley. His gaze roams around the street, calculating, before suddenly meeting Anaxa's eye. He was so sure they've gone unnoticed, yet it seems like nothing escapes the scholar's attention.

The man in question raises an eyebrow at him, so many layers of judgement fitting into such a simple gesture. It's unfair—his other eyebrow isn't even visible, damn it, that expression has no right to hold so much weight. What has Mydei possibly done for Zagreus to torment him so?

Then, the impossible happens—or so he would think. Though, if one were to actually consider that it's Anaxa, of all people, involved here, maybe this was quite predictable from the start. Unfortunately, Mydei was not blessed with such foresight.

After a moment of incredibly uncomfortable eye contact, the professor turns around as if he hasn't spotted Mydei at all, sparing him of yet another embarrassing human interaction that day. He should have probably seen this coming. All that hiding—and suffering through Phainon's taunts—could have been easily avoided.

Anaxa leaves. It's a small mercy. Mydei still want throw himself off the nearest cliff.

It's nearing the Curtain-Fall Hour now. The streets are quickly growing empty, spare for a couple loiterers and perhaps some more adventurous chimeras. Most people have already gone home, and usually, Mydei would also have deemed it a suitable time to rest.

Alas, there's nothing usual about the situation he finds himself in. For one, he wouldn't still be accompanied by the Deliverer during the very last quint of Parting Hour on any other day—not unless duty called for it, at least.

He glances at Phainon, who had chosen to lie down on the hard, tiled floor of the Kephale Plaza a little while back. It makes for a bizarre sight. Night never falls upon the ever-lit city of Okhema—thanks to the Dawn Device—so if Mydei were to take a picture, one wouldn't be able to guess what time it could have possibly been. With no such context, it would make Phainon look like Amphoreus' most inconsiderable man—taking a nap in the very middle of the plaza, uncaring of the foot traffic. If Mydei was a less honourable man, he could have used such a photo for blackmail, but that's neither here nor there.

"Don't look at me like that, Mydei," Phainon said as soon as he had lowered himself, petting the ground next to him, "There's almost no one left here by now! You don't often get to see this place so vacant. Come, lie with me."

As if it's the most natural thing in the world to do. If some lone passerby were to see them both resting in such a spot at the very beginning of Curtain-Fall, they would surely be taken for drunks. As if both of their reputations won't be tarnished by Verax Leo by the next Ascent Hour. That damned statue doesn't need any more rumour material.

And so, Mydei refused to join in—at least not until he's made sure there were no strangers remaining to witness such a scene. He could still spot a couple silhouettes sneaking around, and he's never been blind to the fact that the Curtain-Fall Hour is the perfect time for thieves to come out. In such a state, Phainon made for the perfect robbery target—if one had the guts to actually attempt to steal from a Chrysos Heir, of course—so, Mydei remained upright, glaring at anyone who stared at the both of them a bit too long for his liking.

"It's like I've got a personal guard dog," Phainon had mused, snapping him out of his thoughts. If Mydei didn't know better, he'd assume the fool was delirious from lack of sleep.

"Shut your mouth."

Despite Mydei's gruff reply, the Deliverer's tone remained cheerful, "Shutting up!"

Mydei isn't sure how much time has passed since then. It could have been a full quint. His companion has been so uncharacteristically silent that he wouldn't be surprised if Phainon had dozed off at some point. Honestly, he kind of hopes that's the case—the idea of someone else losing sleep just to keep an eye on him fills him with an unexpected amount of guilt.

He has to admit, Phainon was right about one thing—there's something weirdly compelling about a completely unoccupied Kephale Plaza. It feels somewhat surreal, to get to see this space so empty when it's usually so full of life.

With a sigh, he lowers himself to the ground, making sure to keep a decent distance between him and Phainon. He's already invaded this poor man's personal space enough that day.

"Finally took some pity on me?"

The question startles Mydei enough that he only barely suppresses a flinch. Turns out the Deliverer is actually capable of staying quiet for so long while still conscious. If only Phainon made use of this ability more often, Mydei's life would be much more pleasant.

He doesn't grace Phainon with a response, and based on the lack of pestering, the other wasn't expecting one anyway. It's actually quite nice, this brief moment when Phainon doesn't try to annoy him for once. Peaceful. Mydei could get used to this.

They're both a little surprised when it's Mydei who breaks the silence.

"What's your plan, then?"

Phainon leans closer to him. Having spent so much time on the ground already, his posture is perfectly relaxed, like a chimera lazing around in a warm spot of light.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's already quite late," Mydei points out. Unlike his companion, his shoulders remain somewhat tense—he's thrown his arms over his stomach, gaze firmly locked on the view of the bright sky stretching above them, "Don't you wish to rest?"

Phainon chuckles, "Sleep wouldn't take me while I'm too busy worrying about how you're doing."

Ridiculous. Mydei is perfectly fine. Even if the potion actually had any effect on him, the only thing it would manage to do is bruise his ego. Which... well, it has succeeded in doing so, anyway, "You speak as if I've taken poison, not some worthless love potion."

From the corner of his eye, he spots Phainon turning to face him fully. He refuses to do the same. It would make their position too intimate for him to handle.

"Love potion, yeah..."

There's a curious lilt to his voice, Mydei notes. It's hard to interpret.

"Hey, Mydei," Phainon slides a little bit closer. It does bad things to his heart, "Do you think, if we consider the hour, could I say something silly and maybe blame it on drowsiness, or something?"

Mydei hums, tilting his head slightly in Phainon's direction. Moreso to fit him in his peripheral vision, rather to make actual eye contact, "Well, what is it?"

There's a pause.

"I know you probably find this whole situation annoying, but to me it's been... quite fun, actually," the words are hushed, like a secret between the two of them, "And I don't mean this in a demeaning way, but you can be surprisingly cute when you try to act romantic. You know, in that weirdly charming way."

The plaza is awfully quiet. It's like Kephale themself is awaiting Mydei's reaction. If only he could present one—never in his life would he expect to hear such words fall from Phainon's lips, and now, a part of him even regrets asking. His mind's gone blank.

He clears his throat, desperately trying to come up with anything close to a suitable response. It comes out terribly dry, "Romantic, you say. Ha. There's no word for romance in the Kremnoan language."

Phainon scoffs, "You keep saying as much. I swear, one day I'll find a Kremnoan dictionary to check how true your claims actually are."

If nothing else, doesn't that sound terribly romantic? Surely, Phainon did not mean it in such a way, but that thought doesn't stop Mydei's traitorous heart from racing. Could he be overthinking this? Is Mydei strange for interpreting it as such?
Neither the empty plaza, nor the clouds above, offer him an answer.

Mydei wishes so badly that the Thief Star would sail through the sky already, bringing the Entry Hour along with it. Alas, Curtain-Fall had only just begun, and time ignores Mydei's pleas for it to quicken its pace. He's so tired of pretending to be artificially head over heels—as utterly embarrassing as the whole experience is, it still allowed him to see a side of Phainon he'd figured would never be revealed to him. It's not easy to admit, even to himself, but once this whole charade is over, Mydei's... going to miss this aspect of him.

Realization strikes with an accuracy matching that of Nikador's Lance of Fury: the more memories he makes of Phainon treating him like Mydei's feelings are actually reciprocated, the more regret will set in over time.

That's it. Mydei makes up his mind: the moment the Ascent Hour begins, he's dropping the act. Based on Hyacine's words, the potion could have—supposedly—influenced him as long as into the next Parting Hour, but he's not willing to torture himself any more than strictly necessary. It would be unbecoming of him. The fact that he even resorted to using such a scheme in the first place was unfitting of a Kremnoan prince.

What would his mother think?

It's hard to tell what pains him more—the thought itself or his inability to answer it, as he never even got the chance to know her enough to guess.

They spend half of Curtain-Fall like that, savoring the peace that has fallen over Okhema as they lay side by side. Every now and then, Phainon would pipe up, sharing some random thought that had seemingly just flit through his mind, but Mydei would only offer a brief response back and they'd fall back into comfortable silence. Honestly, they're lucky that no thief shows up to bother them. Like this, the whole of Kephale Plaza feels like their personal little corner. The comparison feels bizarre to him, yet it fits.

As time goes on, he can't help but wonder why neither of them actually suggested to go rest in either of their rooms. Perhaps the idea of inviting Mydei into his chambers while he's—supposedly—artificially in love with him seemed too untoward to Phainon, even if there were no ulterior motives involved. But then again, he did also jokingly propose to head over to the baths together, claiming that they could enjoy the waters in the absence of any other visitors—an option only available to the Chrysos Heirs, as no one else gets to enter the Marmoreal Palace baths during the Curtain-Fall Hour without a prior reservation—so with such contradicting examples, Mydei truly can't wrap his head around Phainon's reasoning.

Needless to say, the offer had been immediately refused, much to Phainon's expectant laughter.

Later, after regaining enough energy to leave the Kephale Plaza, they take the chance to take in Okhema in its quietest state. They wander around, visiting their favorite spots one after the other, exchanging observations and jokes alike. Of course, the two of them can't spend so much time around each other without banter, resulting in impromptu bets—and for once, no one is around to witness any of it, so they grow more ridiculous each time.

Mydei can't remember the last time he'd enjoyed himself so much during such an Hour—but then again, he does usually spend this period of the day sleeping, like any sane person would, so it doesn't really say that much.

Mydei actually manages to forget the whole love potion fiasco until one of bets ends with Phainon draped on top of him—the fool had tripped over his own feet in his haste to outrun Mydei, crashing right into the Kremnoan Prince and sending them both down a flight of stairs. The moment their position registers in his mind, Mydei pushes him back with nearly enough force to throw him into a wall. It may seem like an action driven by anger, but he only does it to hide his own mortification.

He doesn't expect Phainon to laugh it off with a, "That potion makes you so easy to fluster, you know that?"

Right. Yes. That... makes for the perfect excuse, and he didn't even have to come up with that one. Not that agreement is an option here, as Phainon would get suspicious over a win that came too easily, so deflection it is.

"Bring that up one more time and losing a bet will be the least of your concerns."

Phainon refrains from teasing him for the rest of Curtain-Fall after that.

Mydei loses track of time—it could be the lack of actual sleep, or the distracting company. Regardless, it comes as a surprise to him when Phainon points towards the sky and says, "Look, Mydei, it's the Thief Star."

The Deliverer is right, not that he'd have any reason to lie about such a thing. A whole day has passed, and Zagreus' star sails over them to announce the news. Mydei's eyes follow its trail, considering it with the curiosity of someone who's familiar enough with the phenomenon but not so much the actual view of it. He rarely gets the chance to stand still and observe it under peaceful circumstances, so he takes this chance for a closer inspection.

When he finally manages to tear his gaze away, it's to find Phainon staring at him instead of the very thing he'd just brought up. The expression on his face is one that Mydei has never seen before—neither directed at himself nor at anyone else. It throws him off.

"Deliverer?"

Phainon blinks. The action dispels whatever daze he's been under, and he yanks his head up with a haste that has Mydei concerned for this poor man's neck. If Mydei squints, he thinks he can spot a slightly pink hue to the tips of his ears.

"It makes for a pretty sight, doesn't it?"

His voice is weirdly casual. It feels forced—but Mydei won't press the matter, "Mhm."

"Truly a man of few words," Phainon chuckles, "That's alright. I can talk enough for the both of us."

Mydei sends him a look, but it doesn't quite land. For some reason, the other keeps avoiding his gaze.

"I am more than capable of voicing my own thoughts, thank you very much."

The comment earns him a snort. At last, Phainon meets his eye again, half puzzled and half amused, "I never claimed otherwise."

It's the second quint of Entry Hour. Mydei watches from above as the city-state of Okhema slowly awakens, streets filling with people on their way to being the new day.

Once the Thief Star had finished its journey through Amphoreus' sky, he and Phainon had made their way towards the rooftops. Mydei is well aware of the romantic implications of it, but he tries to pay it no mind, and Phainon doesn't mention it either. This might've been the first time the Deliverer hasn't jumped at the opportunity to tease him since they left Kyros' restaurant. The silence unnerved him.

Despite having stayed up through the entire Curtain-Fall Hour, Mydei doesn't feel particularly tired. The same can't be said for Phainon—he's good at masking the fatigue, but Mydei spots the signs anyway. He knows Phainon, perhaps moreso than anyone else in Okhema, so it's easy for him to notice how the shine in Phainon's eyes seems to dim the slightest bit. It's not even like they've never gone for days without decent rest—their duty as the Chrysos Heirs calls for such sacrifices—but Mydei feels that tiny bubble of guilt rise within him once again.

It's ridiculous. Phainon was the one who insisted on accompanying him, not the other way around, so the man had brought this onto himself. Hell, if not for Phainon's stubborn nature, Mydei himself wouldn't have lost sleep over this to begin with—he could have simply headed back to his chambers, love potion or not, and closed the door in Phainon's face. As he thinks back on it, the idea sounds so simple to execute, so why hadn't he done exactly that?

Because a traitorous part of Mydei has been secretly glad to hold all of Phainon's attention like this, and all of his wisdom goes out the window whenever that man is involved. It's laughable, really. They're both well deserving of the consequences of their foolish actions.

In any case, they're here now, perched on Mydei's favorite rooftop overlooking the Marmoreal Market. When they had just arrived, Phainon had sat over the edge, dangling his feet with no regard to the drop below. One wrong move and the idiot would fall—and, considering his drowsiness, Mydei didn't trust him to move back in time in case he did actually lose his balance. So, with a scoff, he yanked Phainon back by the collar of that ridiculously long coat, similar to how one would pick a chimera by their scruff, "Do you wish to meet Thanatos that badly?"

Phainon had made this silly indignant noise, but thankfully didn't argue, coming to stand by Mydei's side instead. Once again, weirdly obedient. It's growing more suspicious each time.

Truly uncaring for his own well-being, Phainon proceeded to nudge Mydei with his elbow, "You really need to make more space for some joy and whimsy in your life."

Mydei didn't spare more than a glance at him, "Your clownish behavior is more than enough for me."

It caused a momentarily lapse in their conversation. Phainon stared at him, stunned, before his lips stretched into a smile, "So you do admit that you care for me, my dear Mydeimos?"

"I will throw you off this roof myself."

A snort, followed by Phainon taking a single step back into safety, "Yessir."

They've fallen silent since then. The streets bellow gradually filled with chatter, the market quickly set up for the day. It's interesting to observe a routine that they're usually a part of from the perspective of an outsider.

Mydei briefly wonders what to prepare for breakfast, but his thoughts are interrupted when he receives a text from Hyacine. Good morning, Lord Mydei!, she writes, How are you feeling today?

"Oh," comes from his side, as Phainon leans into his space, "That's sweet of her to ask!"

He's too damn close. Mydei shoves him away with a grumble, "Stick to your own business, Deliverer," then he pauses, and adds in a quieter tone, "But yes, it is."

He's quick to reassure Hyacine, and after a moment of hesitation, wishes her a pleasant day, sending over a little chimera sticker. Its cute design fills his heart with joy, not that he would admit to it out loud.

A muffled snicker sounds from behind him—Phainon must have noticed the sticker. As if Mydei hadn't just told him to stop reading conversations he isn't involved in. That man just never learns.

"Don't you dare say anything," he warns.

Not like Phainon even gets the chance to do otherwise, because at that exact moment, his own teleslate dings with an incoming message—seems like all of their fellow Chrysos Heirs are starting the day off early.

Mydei doesn't do more than glance over his shoulder as Phainon fishes the teleslate out of his pocket and reads the notification. Whatever the text may be, it's probably nothing that Mydei should concern himself with, anyway. Unlike Phainon, he knows not to breach other people's privacy.

Except, the silence lingers between them, awkwardly so, and unlike the comfortable quietude they shared at the Kephale Plaza. It stretches on long enough for Mydei to grow confused and finally turn to face Phainon properly. The thing is, he wasn't expecting the other to look so utterly dazed.

Phainon's thumb hovers over the screen, eyes staring blankly at whatever it is he had just read, and Mydei has rarely seen the Deliverer so frighteningly still that he's moving closer before he even registers it. He stops right in front of Phainon, intent on taking a look at the screen himself, but before he can ask what could possibly shock Phainon into such a state, his companion beats him to it.

"Miss Castorice just texted me," he states, not like that alone could explain his odd behavior so far, "She just spoke with Aglaea about the widespread love potion issue. Apparently, there's been a break in the case."

Mydei tilts his head. Phainon is taking an awfully long time to elaborate, and for some reason seems to avoid looking him in the eye. Unfortunately, Mydei is not a patient man, and he gestures for him to go on, which eventually works.

"Professor Anaxa managed to find one of the culprits. Seems like he'd been curious about this supposed potions' components, or maybe he'd just been doubtful enough about it to actually go searching for it? Ah, regardless-" he coughs, sensing Mydei's glare, the wordless command for him to just get on with it, "Turns out the whole issue has been nothing more than a very elaborate scheme."

Mydei blinks.

"Which means?"

Phainon still doesn't look at him, fingers fidgeting with his teleslate. It's like there's too many thoughts racing through his mind, leaving him unable to focus on even one. Mydei's pretty sure this is the first time he's ever seen the other so uncomfortable.

"Well," Phainon finally replies with a wince, as if he's preparing himself for the Kremnoan's reaction, "Apparently, there's been no love potion to begin with."

Mydei's blood freezes over. If the silence between them was awkward before, now it's been filled with his steadily rising dread.

"What do you mean there's no love potion?"

Could it be that Phainon's just joking around? But surely, the Deliverer wouldn't pull such a tasteless prank on him. Their bond—and rivalry—is built on mutual trust. There's no room for underhanded tactics in any of their contests, whoever wins a bet does so fair and square. As far as he's aware, that sentiment extends further than their silly competition.

True, Phainon's statement would explain why Mydei hasn't actually felt any difference since he supposedly drank the damn thing, but it complicates the matters in a way that leaves him unsure how to act. He has already spent Hours pretending to be under the influence of some cursed love potion, how is he supposed to salvage the situation now?

Is this what Icarus felt like?

"According to Anaxa, this whole affair relied on the placebo effect. The group would spread rumours about this imaginary love potion, making citizens believe they've actually consumed it and then act accordingly. A real response to a fake cause. Or something," there's a furrow to Phainon's eyebrows like he's still processing the situation, "An easy way to create chaos without putting in too much effort, as expected from such tricksters. Apparently. It would have been nice if he shared that opinion with us to begin with."

There's a pause. He still looks lost.

"But if there's no love potion, then why were you...?" finally, for the first time since this whole conversation began, Phainon looks Mydei in the eye. His gaze is serious. Too serious. Mydei doesn't like it.

Before Phainon could jump into any conclusions, he interjects, "I was just pretending."

That does it—Phainon falls silent, observing Mydei carefully. Oblivious to the scrutiny, he continues, "You barged in and claimed that I have ingested a love potion, which I felt no effect of. What other option did I have, other than to go along with it? It would be embarrassing for me no matter what happened next."

If only he'd seen this coming, Mydei would have prepared his speech long ago. As it is, he tries his best to string the sentences together into something convincing enough, "I didn't want you to get any weird ideas if I simply remained as I am. People don't often notice it, but you're terribly observant, Deliverer. You seemed so convinced the potion was real that I knew you would overthink my behavior if I made no attempt to appear bewitched."

With that, he shrugs, spreading his arms out to emphasize how helpless the situation really was, "I had to make a decision on the spot. So, I resolved to avoid the possibility of negatively impacting our friendship. Sure, it would cost me some of my pride, but our relations wouldn't be affected in the long run—or at least, I assumed as much. I am... not so sure anymore."

Done with his uncharacteristic rambling, one driven by sheer embarrassment alone, he sighs and takes a good look at Phainon, expecting, perhaps, to see a touch of judgement or confusion on his face. Instead of that, he finds Phainon to have... wilted. His shoulders have drooped, his lips pressed into a thin line, as if that would stop him from appearing too dejected—but Mydei can see it, the way his eyes have dimmed even further. He doesn't understand why his reasoning would disappoint Phainon so extensively.

"Right. Yes. Of course," with that, Phainon lets out a huff. It's clearly meant to sound humorous, to lighten the mood, but it doesn't quite get there, "I guess there's no point in entertaining the idea that you've actually meant anything you've said yesterday, or even today for that matter, then?"

And here is where Mydei should lie. He should nod along, say something along the lines of exactly, yes, but for some reason... he can't bring himself to do it. Not when Phainon seems so upset at the mere idea.

Under any other circumstances, Mydei wouldn't mind souring this man's mood. They're rivals. They spar, they make ridiculous bets at any possible chance, and they're both competitive to a fault. Mydei couldn't even count the amount of times he's caused Phainon to look displeased over losing one of their impromptu contests. However, none of those times could compare to such genuine sadness.

Mydei has never been good at lying, and it seems like that fact will not change today.

He's been silent for too long. Phainon's disappointed expression slowly morphs back into confusion, but he doesn't urge Mydei to respond. That's another difference between them—where Mydei might have ran out of patience by now, Phainon chooses to wait despite his obvious desire for an answer. He's silent as he lets Mydei take his time to choose his next words with care, and it's such a small gesture, yet it makes Mydei's treacherous heart soar.

"If you truly wish to know, Deliverer," he starts but immediately trails off, then takes a steading breath. Words elude him. Speaking from his heart isn't his strong suit, but for Phainon, he can try, "I... can't say that none of it was true. The actual reason why I was so committed to acting like a love-struck fool was because I did not wish for you to figure out my feelings for you."

He sees the exact moment his words register in Phainon's mind. His eyes widen, heat flooding to his face—and with a complexion as pale as his, nothing could possibly hide it. He barely manages to stutter out, "You-"

But Mydei isn't done yet, "Yes, you've heard me correctly, no need to act so shocked. Such dramatics make you look foolish. Regardless, if you'd like me to spell it out for you, then here: I am in love with you, Phainon," the choice to use his name for once is deliberate. Judging by the color on Phainon's face deepening, the man picks up on that fact.

Alas, Mydei is not yet ready to witness the consequences his sudden confession might bring, and so, with the determination of twenty men combined, he turns on his heel, "Now, if you'll excuse me."

Phainon makes the most offended sound that Mydei has heard to this day—he never would have guessed that his voice could reach such a high note. Before Mydei can take more than even two steps, a hand wraps around his arm in a grip that's firm but also so, so desperate to cling on.

Mydei winces. This was not included in his escape plan—not that he exactly had one to begin with.

"Are you insane?"

He's tugged back with enough force to face Phainon again. Now, Mydei's strength is no joke. Usually, he could pry himself free without issue, but he's still rattled from his own admission, and, honestly, he's even more nervous about Phainon's reaction to it. Mydei is no coward. However, he doesn't know how to deal with this. For what could be the first time in his life, his brain has chosen the flight response, and with his exit interrupted like this, he is unsure how to proceed.

"Mydei, you can't just tell me something I've wanted to hear for so long and then flee right after! That's just cruel."

Phainon's so close that Mydei can't focus on anything else at first, least of all his speech, too busy looking into endlessly blue eyes. In the past, he has cracked a couple jokes on how unsettling such a bright shade was, earning an exaggerated groan from Phainon every time—but, truth be told, that was never his actual issue with Phainon's gaze. It's just that, sometimes, he couldn't help but be drawn into it, effectively locked in place, feeling as if he stared for a moment too long he would drown.

He doesn't have a good experience with drowning, to say the least.

Even now, he has to snap himself out of his daze, and it still takes him an embarrassing amount of time to realize what Phainon has just said, "You... What?"

It sounds silly, but he doesn't really care for that. At least his reaction brings some amusement into Phainon's expression, if only for a moment. He's still tense, his grip on Mydei's arm unyielding, but there's so much more happening beneath the surface as well. Perhaps, if only Mydei was better at reading people, he could pick apart every short-lived emotion that flits through Phainon's face, but as it is, he can only guess.

"Mydeimos."

The man in question freezes.

"You've been a dear friend of mine, even if our rivalry has held me back from ever voicing that sentiment. I've kept my feelings for you in check, for the sake of maintaining that friendship, as I'd never wish to lose you. But now?" Phainon's hand slides down Mydei's arm to hold onto his wrist instead, squeezing lightly once it reaches its destination, "Now, you tell me, to my face, that my affections for you aren't one-sided, and just as you've given me a glimmer of hope you try to take it back?"

Mydei has never ran from a fight. Right now, though, some part of him so desperately wants to be anywhere but here, stared down by Phainon so intensely it's like he's inspecting his very soul. He despises feeling vulnerable in front of others—and yet, his feet remain firmly planted into the ground.

Because Phainon is looking at him like he's scared that if Mydei were to leave now, he'd never see him again.

That realization breaks something in him. He's reminded of the little knowledge Phainon has shared with him of his home village, mostly offhand remarks mentioned here or there, shying away the moment Mydei would ask for him to elaborate. Every time, he'd looked as if he hadn't actually meant for these comments to slip past his lips—as if Mydei's presence alone was enough for him to let his guard down and accidentally end up saying too much. This man had clearly never let go of his grief, and doesn't wish to reopen these wounds in casual conversation, but Mydei cherishes the bits of information he's gained over time like this.

He doesn't want to become another reason for Phainon's sorrow, closing up in that same way at the mere mention of his name. Looking back with such context in mind, he understands why the other would describe his previous actions as cruel.

"Deliverer, I-"

He doesn't get to finish. Something inscrutable flashes through Phainon's eyes before he interrupts with, "Mydeimos."

Mydei pauses. Sighs. Acquiesces, "Phainon."

That single word, the lack of his go-to nickname, seems to satisfy the man somewhat. His shoulders remain tense, but he finally pries his hand away from Mydei's wrist, seemingly assured there will be no other escape attempt. Mydei has no clue how he came to the conclusion, but, for the record, Phainon is right.

Mydei refuses to let panic dictate his actions. He will stay and hear Phainon out until this whole issue is settled, despite the knowledge that it may change their relationship going forward.

Phainon takes a deep breath. Whether it's to gather his thoughts, or to calm his nerves, one can only guess. His gaze is locked on the ground as he does so, and it makes him look... uncharacteristically shy.

"I beg you to listen to me, Mydei," with that, his eyes snap back up, determined once again, "Mydeimos. My dear friend. My... closest friend, if you will. I wish to make things clear between us."

Mydei only nods. He will not interrupt the other in such a vulnerable moment.

"I have lied to you, Mydei, many times in fact. That is, if you consider omitting truth as a direct lie. I've played down my feelings for you, pretended not to care as much as I do. About your well-being, about... Other things, as well," he waves his hand vaguely, as if the gesture would explain what his words can't. It doesn't, "I acted like it didn't bother me whenever you'd insist to venture on a mission alone, leaving me behind to worry about your safety. I have often said I wasn't concerned whenever some matter would pop up and cause you to miss out on our sparring matches. I... refused to let it show, just how jealous I have felt when the meals prepared by you for others would look delicious yet mine barely appeared edible. Even though I knew it was only payback for riling you up every time, it still stung."

There's a rosy blush creeping over Phainon's cheeks, his nose. Mydei can't pry his eyes away from it.

"And while we're both incredibly competitive men, truth is, a lot of the time I only challenged you just to have your focus on me. Your attention. Your... affection, even, if that was ever an option. I'll take anything you'd give me, Mydeimos."

He takes a moment longer to compose himself, then finally meets Mydei's gaze. His expression is open in a way it's never been, sincere to the point it's almost painful to look at.

Mydei's entire world seems to flip. It doesn't escape his notice that they're still very much in public, how it would only take a single glance up for anyone else to witness their entire exchange. It's not like they're being exactly subtle—neither of them had paid made sure to keep their voices low. He wouldn't even be surprised if, by the time Ascent Hour begins, he'll see a picture of this very moment circulating online, eagerly swallowed up by the Okheman rumour mill.

This should be a conversation held in private, but what's done is done, and Mydei can't really bring himself to care about anything else when Phainon had just accepted his—terribly rushed and objectively awful—confession.

If only he could manage to voice that sentiment. His lips part, only to linger awkwardly as he struggles to form even a single word. He's been rendered completely speechless.

Eventually, Phainon seems to take pity on him.

"If you don't kiss me right now, I'm leaving," the threat doesn't sound serious at all, not when they're this close and he's looking at Mydei like he's something precious—instead of a man that's most often regarded with fear, or even resentment, by everyone other than his fellow Kremnoans—not when he's asking for something as innocent as that. A kiss.

This, at least, Mydei can do.

He hasn't even noticed when they've gotten so close. All it takes is one step for him to close the gap between them. He hooks a finger into Phainon's choker, making a mental note when the action earns him a barely perceptible gasp, and uses that as a leverage to pull him in. Once their lips finally meet, Phainon melts into him like he never wants to let go.

Out of the three Titans of Calamity, Mydei has used to worship Nikador, and he'd respected Thanatos, for there is as much need for Death to exist as there is for life, to keep the world in balance. Zagreus, however, he's never held in high regard. He despises trickery and the chaos that it brings. However, he can recognize that this—getting to hold Phainon close without fear of rejection—is a direct result of one such trick.

So, begrudgingly, he thanks the Titan in his mind while he presses another kiss against the corner of Phainon's mouth, earning himself a disappointed noise before the other tilts his head to capture his lips properly again. Phainon's hands—still cold, how is his skin always so cold—travel up Mydei's arms to finally rest upon his shoulders, fingers tangling into red strands of hair.

Everything leading up to this moment was worth experiencing this, Mydei thinks.