Work Text:
“Hide me.”
Eh?
Phainon looked up from his phone, halfway scrolling through his notifications, his drink on the other hand. A stranger stood in front of him, smaller, slim, and wrapped in a beige trench coat far too elegant for the afternoon heat. A hat shadowed most of their face, and sunglasses covered the rest.
“Pardon–”
He didn’t even get to finish when the stranger turned him around, pushing him slightly by the shoulders until Phainon’s front was facing the street. A faint scent of something expensive lingered in the air as the stranger practically molded himself behind him.
“Just stand still,” the voice murmured low.
Phainon froze. “..Okay? Uh–”
Before he could move or question further, a wave of shrill excitement tore through the quiet street.
“There! He went that way!”
“I saw his coat! That’s definitely him!”
“Come on, he couldn’t have gone far–!”
A small group of girls with phones in hand, came rushing down the street past him. Phainon blinked, holding his breath out of instinct. He risked a glance over his shoulder and whispered, “What’s going on–”
“Don’t,” the stranger whispered, voice too close to his ear. “They’ll see.”
Phainon’s pulse ticked up.
The man’s hand came up flat against his back, steadying himself as they stayed perfectly still. From the corner of his eye, Phainon caught the shimmer of a gold wristwatch peeking from under the trench sleeve, the kind that cost more than most people’s rent.
They stayed still in that position until the sound of footsteps faded into the distance. The stranger behind him let out a quiet sigh, stepping back. The tension around them dissolved instantly.
“Thanks,” the stranger said, finally putting space between them. Phainon turned around, now facing him. “You’re welcome… I guess? What was–”
The man reached up and removed his hat. A wave of mint-colored hair fell loose, catching the sunlight that made him look like an angel who came down on earth. Then the sunglasses came off, revealing the gradient eyes of blue and pink, like two fragments of stained glass.
Phainon’s words died in his throat.
Because who would’ve thought that the man standing before him– the one who had just grabbed him, turned him around, and used him as a human shield was him.
Anaxa.
The Anaxa. The actor. The model.
And Phainon knew him, knew him too well.
Because he’d spent the entire night– again, watching one of Anaxa’s films in his stream.
“He’s so damn pretty, guys, I’m gonna die…” Phainon groaned, burying his face in his hands as the chat flooded with laughing emojis and chaos.
His screen was paused in the exact scene. Anaxa mid-step, with a gun loosely held in one gloved hand, smirking as if he knew the world was already on its knees for him. Smoke curled in the background along with a big explosion.
Anaxadrom4s: LMAOOO YOU’RE DOWN BAD 💀💀
c1f3r4cl4wz: Is this another thirst stream..
underwaterd3m0n: STOP BRO I CAN’T DEFEND YOU NO MORE
mydeispanholder: you should change your user to anaxas1fan 😭
Phainon peeked between his fingers, groaning louder. “Look at that– look at that smirk!” He slapped his desk dramatically. “I can’t breathe. That’s illegal! Someone arrest him! No, actually– don’t. Just look at him, he could shoot me and I’d say thank you.”
The chat lost it.
what1sl0ve: NOT THE THANK YOU 💀💀
phailoverrrr: he’s gone
screaming404: bro’s one delusion away from sending a love letter
sleepis4theweak: someone clip this. Please… for science
Phainon dragged his hands down his face with a strangled noise. “No, because you don’t get it!” he said, turning back to the camera. “He doesn’t just act! He becomes the character. That smirk? That would be the end of me.”
The chat was crying with laughter now, scrolling so fast his alerts began overlapping.
underwaterd3m0n: bro’s developing symptoms
takeabath: nah he’s studying him a little too hard 👀
puppylvr301: this is not film critique anymore 😭
Phainon pointed furiously at the screen. “No, I am studying him! I swear! Look at this-!” he zoomed in on his screen, “See how his eyes shift here? That’s a man who could make silence look loud. Do you understand how impossible that is?! He doesn’t even blink!”
He paused, realizing what he’d just said, then covered his face again with both hands. “I hate myself.”
mydeispanholder: you love yourself and him
underwaterd3m0n: if u ever meet him you’ll combust on the spot 💀
Phainon snorted. “Yeah, right. Like I’d ever meet Anaxa. If I did, I’d just– implode. Like straight up disappear. Stream ends, channel deleted, gone.”
And the chat laughed, teasing him more, because to them, it was just another of his exaggerated declarations. But if someone had told him that in less than twenty-four hours later, Anaxa himself would grab him by the shoulders, spin him around, and use him as a shield, Phainon would’ve laughed them off.
Well yeah, until–
“…Holy shit.”
The words slipped out before Phainon could stop them.
Anaxa’s eyes flicked up, a subtle raise of one brow and a frown. “Excuse me?” His tone carried the weight of disapproval at the other’s language.
Phainon blinked once, twice, forcibly turning his expression into something neutral. If he dared to look too long, he might start screaming like he did last night. “Uh… sorry,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to– uh. You just.. came out of nowhere.”
Anaxa’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, thinking whether he believed that. Then he exhaled quietly through his nose and straightened his coat. “Sorry, I needed a cover. And you were tall enough.”
“Oh.” Phainon forced a small laugh, pretending his heart wasn’t still trying to break free from his ribs. “Right.. Happens.”
No, it doesn’t, what the hell, Phainon, nobody just gets used as a shield by a movie star!
Anaxa gave him a strange look — not suspicion, exactly, but curiosity tinged with disbelief. People usually stared at him longer, he could tell. Gushed, stumbled, asked for autographs. This one… didn’t. He looked like he wanted to laugh instead.
“…You’re not going to ask for a photo?” Anaxa finally said, his voice cool but faintly amused.
Phainon lifted a brow, doing his best acting of mild confusion. “Should I?”
That made Anaxa pause. The corners of his mouth almost twitched upward. “No,” he said simply, and slipped his sunglasses back on, hiding those beautiful eyes again. “Most people would.”
For a second, it felt like the world slowed down just enough for the faint sound of city noise to fade around them.
Then, unexpectedly, Anaxa spoke again. “You helped me without asking why. That’s… rare.” He adjusted his hat under one arm, then glanced toward a nearby café. “Let me treat you. Coffee, perhaps. A thank you for your unintended heroism.”
Phainon blinked, caught off guard. His brain short-circuited briefly at the absurdity of it all.
A ‘thank you’ from THE Anaxa? Anaxa’s treating him?
“I– uh,” he started, catching himself before the fan in him screamed yes. He cleared his throat before speaking. “No, no. It’s fine.”
“I insist.” Anaxa’s voice left little room for argument. He was already stepping toward the café. “Besides,” he added without looking back, “I owe you at least a drink for the trouble.”
Phainon’s throat went dry, he swallowed hard. His brain short-circuited for neutral words, anything that wouldn’t reveal the intense fanboying threatening to spill over. “Uh… well,” he finally managed, “I guess I won’t say no to that, then.”
Anaxa’s lips curved, as if amused by his careful tone, “Good.”
‘Good’ he says..! AKFJIUREGSHICSJ
The stream had started innocently enough. Or at least, that’s what Phainon told himself.
Dromainon @iamdromas
Watching “Your Love” on Live!!
[https://www.twitch.tv/iamdromas]
214 Replies • 22k Reposts • 151k Likes
He claimed, very confidently at the start, that this time, he was “analyzing the cinematography.”
It lasted exactly six minutes.
The movie flickered across the screen. ‘Your Love’, Anaxa’s first movie being one of the love interests. The chat was lively from the start.
underwaterd3m0n: he says “analyzing cinematography” but means “analyzing anaxa’s jawline” 😭
aggyglazer: get ready yall he’s gonna lose it anytime now 💀
takeabath: STREAMER DOWN IN 3… 2… 1…
Phainon had waved them off with a laugh, fixing his headphones to hear more. “Guys, I’m serious this time, I’m studying this. The lighting, the direction, the pacing-”
Then Anaxa appeared.
A close-up shot of his face, half in shadow, half bathed in cold neon light. His lips closed tightly as he stepped into frame.
Phainon froze.
n0us4ist: AAAAAAAAAAAA HE’S HEREEEEEE
fatfk99: and there goes phai’s brain
m4dh0ney: chat we lost him 😭😭😭
Phainon inhaled sharply before he slammed the pause key.
“Guys, look.” he said, pointing at the screen. “No, actually, LOOK! Look at that frame composition! The smoke, the blue filter, the way his hair falls into his face. WHO ALLOWED THIS?! WHO ALLOWED THIS LEVEL OF PRETTY?!”
n0talawyer: “cinematography” my ass 💀
blinkgone8970: my brother in Christ you have this scene memorized
c1f3r4cl4wz: someone take the pause button away from him pls
Phainon groaned, running a hand down his face. “No, no, you don’t get it. This is academic, this is film appreciation.”
underwaterd3m0n: academic??? U just said all those film terms just to call him pretty 💀💀💀
Phainon: “Well, yeah, because HE IS. Like, if he walked into court the judge would just give him a sentence for being too fine!”
The chat kept spamming him ‘LOL’ and crying emojis.
“I’m serious! He–” Phainon stopped when the actor appeared on the screen again.
Anaxa was smirking in the scene. Then, he said his infamous line, “Good.”
Phainon made a strangled noise that didn’t resemble any known language. His chair rolled backward as he kicked off the desk. “WHY DOES HE SAY IT LIKE THAT!?” he screamed.
naxydromas: 😭😭😭
aggyglazer: I CANT DEFEND YOU ANY MORE
phainshyt: WE LOST HIM
Phainon groaned, flopping against his chair. “You know what, forget therapy. I’m fine being delusional. I’m living my best fan life.”
The café door swung open with a soft chime.
The figure beside him paused, one hand resting lightly on the handle. Anaxa held it open for him. “After you,” he said, eyes flicking up at Phainon.
Phainon’s brain short-circuited for the third time that day. He forced himself to move before it turned awkward, stepping inside casually. The air inside smelled of coffee, and the faint hum of jazz mixed with the clink of cups.
“Thank you,” he muttered under his breath, eyes darting everywhere but the man behind him. He could practically feel the other enter, the scent of his perfume reaching him the moment Anaxa closed the door behind them.
It’s not a date, it’s not a date, it’s not a date!
This was just a thank you coffee. That’s all. Totally normal. Except for the fact that it’s The Anaxa who personally invited him, opened the door for him, and was now standing close to him that Phainon is sure Anaxa could hear his heartbeat going wild.
Anaxa’s voice cut through his thoughts before he could spiral further. “Table by the window?”
“Yeah. Uh– yeah, sure,” his voice cracked halfway.
Anaxa didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he noticed everything and simply decided to be merciful. He just gave a small nod and walked towards the table he decided on.
Phainon followed after him, trying to act natural. But how the hell was he supposed to act natural when the man, whose face lived rent-free in his mind, his monitor wallpaper, his phone, and even his smartwatch, was now within arms reach, choosing a table for them.
He could practically hear the distant echo of his own stream clips in his head.
A waiter placed the menu on the table, moving to the side, waiting for their order. “Just look at him, he could shoot me and I’d say thank you.”
AWSOIFRUIHSOJIVKM
Phainon snapped back to reality when a waiter appeared beside them, setting down two menus and offering a polite smile. “Welcome, sirs. Would you like to start with something to drink?”
Phainon looked down at the menu. His eyes scanned the list, but none of it registered in his brain. He could feel Anaxa’s quiet presence across from him. Every second of silence stretched longer than it should.
“One Americano,” Anaxa said, not even opening the menu. His voice sounds like heaven to Phainon’s ears.
The waiter nodded, jotting it down, then turned to Phainon. “And for you, sir?”
Phainon blinked.
Think, think, THINK.
“Uh– same,” he said, then immediately regretted it. He sounded like he copied Anaxa’s order. His cheeks warmed.
Anaxa’s mouth twitched at the corner. His eyes flicked up, a subtle glint of amusement there. “Matching tastes, then.”
Phainon laughed awkwardly. “I guess..?”
But Anaxa was still looking at him. Not in a mocking way, but more like he was observing something interesting. Something about Phainon’s reaction that he had already tucked away as information.
Except now, the look wasn’t directed at a co-star or a camera.
It was directed at him.
Phainon didn’t realize he had stopped breathing. His pulse thudded a little too loudly in his ears, and he felt a warm, creeping awareness crawl up the back of his neck.
The waiter, oblivious to the subtle battlefield unfolding at the table, offered a professional smile while holding his notepad steady. “Anything else, sirs?”
Phainon opened his mouth, ready to say no. But before he could speak, Anaxa glanced at him again. He felt the full force of the attention, and for a moment, it was too much. His back straightened without him meaning to.
Then Anaxa turned his gaze away, turning towards the waiter. There was no hesitation when he spoke, just certainty. “And one white latte.”
Phainon froze.
Huh…?
His head snapped up, eyes widening in a mixture of shock and disbelief.
A latte?
Why?
For who?
The waiter nodded and wrote it down without hesitation, then moved away from the table to prepare their order. Phainon’s mind has been trying to calm itself for minutes now.
The café’s dim lighting framed Anaxa’s face in soft lines. He looked composed, effortlessly so, just like how he looks in front of the cameras. His elbow propped on the table, chin resting on his palm, mint hair falling in strands from the angle. “You look like you didn’t get much sleep,” he said with a quiet hum.
Phainon straightened, “Oh, uh… I was working late.”
“Corporate?”
“Ah, no.. something online,” he muttered. His own brain, however, refused to cooperate, instantly latching onto Anaxa’s next words.
Anaxa’s gaze lingered on him, “You push yourself too hard,” he said in observation rather than judgment. “Late nights like that.. they catch up eventually.”
Phainon’s chest tightened, heat rising into his cheeks.
Is he worried about me?!
The thought was absurd, ridiculous, and entirely out of context. And yet, it refused to leave his mind. The corners of his mouth itched to twitch into a smile, but he forced it down. “I’m fine, really,” he said with a smile. “I’m used to it.”
Anaxa didn’t comment further, he just tilted his head just slightly, as if weighing the truth of that statement. He shifted slightly on his seat, “Freelance?”
Phainon nodded, keeping his tone casual. “Yeah.. mostly online stuff. Editing, and some video work.” He avoided making it sound like it was anything personal, anything significant. Just work. Normal work. Nothing to tie him to his ridiculous fan habits.
Anaxa hummed softly, he didn't sound judgmental, just… interested. That subtle realization made Phainon’s stomach flutter. “That explains the late nights,” Anaxa said, leaning back slightly, “Creative work tends to swallow time.”
“It does,” Phainon said. “You get caught up, and suddenly… It's morning.”
“You enjoy it?” Anaxa asked with a hum.
Yes, especially when you’re on the screen..
“Yes,” he said immediately before he mistook his inner voice for his actual one. “I do a lot, actually.” He offered a small smile, “It’s… fulfilling.”
Anaxa’s lips twitched, there was a hint of a smile that could have been easily missed if one weren’t paying attention. “Good,” he said, “It’s rare to hear someone talk about their work with that kind of sincerity.”
Phainon blinked, startled. “…You can tell?”
“You look tired,” Anaxa said softly, tilting his head on his hand, mint hair falling in loose strands. “But not drained. That means you care about what you’re doing. Effort without resentment, it’s rare.”
Phainon’s chest tightened at the words, warmth creeping into his cheeks. He tried to swallow calmly, but the way Anaxa’s gaze lingered without judgment made it impossible. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and smiled lightly at Anaxa.
“Uh, I’ll be right back,” He pushed his chair back gently and stood, smoothing the front of his shirt.
Anaxa’s eyes followed him briefly as he stood up. “Sure,” he said simply, returning to his posture, hands folded loosely on the table.
Phainon gave a small nod and stepped away, weaving carefully through the tables so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself. He passed the barista counter, turned sharply, and darted into the restroom like a man fleeing a battle he was clearly losing.
Once inside the restroom, Phainon didn’t walk, he rushed towards the nearest stall like a man sprinting for his life. The wooden door swung shut behind him with a loud click. The second it locked, his body sagged, then–
He folded forward, buried his entire face in his hands and screamed.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!”
“Oh my god, oh. my. GOD.” he screamed in his hand. “Why is he like this? Why is he so nice? Why does he talk like that? Why does he LOOK at people like that?? Why did he order the latte? Why did he order the latte???”
He dragged his hands down his face with a miserable groan, fingers digging into his cheeks, pulling at his skin like he was trying to rearrange his entire existence.
“What is wrong with me? Why am I HERE? Why am I ALIVE? I’m gonna explode. I’m ACTUALLY gonna die. Holy- holy sh-”
He slapped his hands over his mouth because he was starting to speak too loudly. His heart hammered so violently he thought the stall door might rattle in sympathy.
Then—
A flush.
The unmistakable, horrifying sound of someone else being in the restroom with him.
..Shit.
Phainon froze.
The silence after the flush was deafening, as if even the restroom walls were judging him. His hands remained clamped over his mouth, not letting another sound out.
He knew someone was there.
His lips parted just slightly beneath his palms, releasing a thin, shaky breath. “Please don’t judge me..”
The silence that followed was so long he wondered if the person had simply left out of courtesy. Then there was a soft shuffle of footsteps. And then comes a whispered reply, gentle and strangely sincere.
“…Goodluck, bro.”
A full-body cringe rippled down his spine he had to brace a hand against the stall door. His face burned, his ears burned, even the back of his neck burned.
Phainon wanted to evaporate.
.
.
.
When he got back, Anaxa was scrolling on his phone. He looked up just as Phainon reached the table. “You’re back,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.
“Yeah,” Phainon managed, “Sorry, took a minute,” he said, sitting back on his chair across Anaxa. Before Phainon could start another topic to avoid the awkward silence, the waiter returned, carrying a small tray with their drinks. Timing couldn't have been more perfect.
“Two Americanos and one white latte,” the waiter said, setting down three cups. One Americano was placed in front of Anaxa, the second one was placed in front of him, and then finally, the white latte was placed on Anaxa’s side.
Phainon thanked the waiter with a charming smile, fingers brushing cups handle. He lifted it cautiously, afraid it might spill. He brought it to his lips, took a sip, and immediately regretted everything. The liquid was far stronger than he expected, too bitter for his tastes.
His eyebrows shot up, nose wrinkling in mild horror. He tried to smooth his expression back into something adult-like when drinking coffee, something not the face of a man being personally attacked by a beverage. But the aftertaste spread across his tongue and his eyes involuntarily narrowed as if the coffee had committed a crime.
Anaxa’s lips twitched, trying not to huff a laugh. “Not what you were expecting?” he asked. He sounds like he’s been waiting for this moment .
Phainon swallowed hard, trying to hide the grimace. “Uh, it’s… strong,” he admitted. “Very.. strong.”
Anaxa didn’t even when he reached forward. His fingers curled around the cup, sliding it in front of Phainon. “Here,” he said. “Give me that.”
There was no room for argument. Not because he was commanding, but because he sounded like exchanging drinks between them was the most natural thing in the world. His other hand reached toward Phainon’s Americano in a silent request, waiting.
Phainon just blinked at him, brain buffering. “Wait, you– what? No, no, seriously, it’s fine, I can drink it,” he stammered, already failing to sound convincing because the taste was still assaulting his tongue.
Anaxa raised one brow, the softest expression, yet somehow it shut him up instantly. Phainon knows that look after watching so much of Anaxa’s dramas and even behind the scenes. It’s the look of someone who knew that they’d get what they want.
“You’re clearly not enjoying that,” Anaxa said, his hand still waiting for Phainon to hand over the Americano.
Phainon’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. His embarrassment rose to a new level today.
Before he could form anything coherent, Anaxa already took the Americano, inspecting it briefly before taking a calm sip. “Besides,” Anaxa said smoothly, “I ordered the latte because I had a feeling you weren’t going to like the Americano.”
He could feel the way his mouth dropped open. Phainon stared at him, jaw going slack. “You– you what?”
Anaxa’s lips curved in amusement with restraint. He took another sip of the Americano, perfectly unbothered by its intensity. “You strike me as someone with a sweeter palate,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Phainon’s soul, apparently tired of the cruel world, had officially evacuated his body.
Phainon: Deceased
Time of death: 15:13
Cause of death: His idol treating him to coffee, reading him like an open book, and calmly sipping from the exact same spot he had in the cup.
His brain attempted to reboot, but every nerve ending simultaneously screamed and melted. He felt unworthy, exhilarated, terrified, and flustered, all at once. He inhaled shakily and muttered under his breath, “...Thanks.”
Anaxa hummed softly, taking another sip from the Americano. His eyes flicked to Phainon, utterly unbothered by the chaos he had just orchestrated in the other man’s chest. Then his eyes flicked down to his phone, typing something and placed the phone down again on the table.
Phainon lifted the cup, the first sip was a test, he didn’t taste anything yet. Then he took a second sip, and immediately, the sweetness of the latte washed over his tongue, replacing the bitter aftertaste of the other coffee.
He blinked, then stared down at the cup. “Wow…” he muttered under his breath. His eyes widened slightly as he realized just how right Anaxa had been. The Americano was far too bitter for him, and this one was perfect. Sweet and comforting on its own.
“See?” Anaxa said with a smile, taking a sip on his own. “Sweet palate, as I suspected.”
A small, flustered laugh escaped him. “Okay… okay, you’re right,” he admitted. “It’s really good. I like it.”
Phainon hadn't even finished the sentence before he heard it. A teasing huff from across the table, barely audible, but not loud enough to be called a laugh. He looked up sharply, almost accusingly.
Anaxa didn’t even bother pretending he hadn’t made the sound. His expression remained perfectly neutral as always, but his eyes held something quiet and self-satisfied.
“You’re enjoying this,” Phainon muttered, unable to keep the bewilderment out of his voice. He lifted the cup, using it as a shield to hide the growing flush he could feel spreading across his cheeks. The rim of the cup pressed against his lips, not because he needed another sip, but because he desperately needed something to block Anaxa’s gaze from studying him like an open book.
“Hard not to,” Anaxa hummed in a teasing way. “It’s endearing.”
Phainon choked on air, placing his cup down. His heart hammered violently against his ribs he thought it might die of heart attack. To be called endearing by your idol...
Anaxa didn’t comment on his reaction further. He remained poised, “It’s not every day you see such a… puppy-like fan of yours,” he said casually, as if dropping a casual fact in the middle of an ordinary conversation. Yet, the effect on Phainon was anything but ordinary.
Wait..
He just looked at Anaxa in surprise. “You– you knew?” he finally managed, voice trembling somewhere between awe and panic. “Since when?”
Anaxa raised a brow, “Since you went to the comfort room and left your phone on the table.” His gaze flicked down casually toward Phainon’s phone on the table. The clear case revealed a photocard tucked precisely where Anaxa could see it without effort.
It was a limited photocard from years ago.
Phainon’s entire body seemed to stiffen at once. His heart thudded violently in his chest. He felt like he was exposed in a way he hadn’t even allowed himself to imagine.
“I–” When Phainon was about to make an excuse. Then suddenly, the soft ding of a notification from Anaxa’s phone broke through the thick tension in the air.
“My driver’s here,” Anaxa said, rising from his chair. But instead of walking away, he leaned over the table and reached in front of Phainon. “Phone.”
Phainon didn’t think.
Rational thought had long since abandoned him since the moment he met the other face to face. His fingers trembled slightly as he picked up his phone, and without hesitation, he handed it over.
Before Phainon could even register the movement, the world shifted in a blur. He blinked once and suddenly Anaxa was already sitting at his side, , eyes locked onto the screen of Phainon’s phone.
What–
The camera app was open, and Phainon’s pulse spiked as he realized Anaxa had somehow accessed it without a word. His mind scrambled, a flurry of embarrassment and awe.
Anaxa’s hand steadily held Phainon’s phone. Without a word, he tilted the device slightly,angling perfectly. He tapped the screen once, twice, and a soft click sounded.
Phainon’s hands twitched, unsure whether to grab the phone back, hide his face, or simply disappear. He could barely comprehend that the person he had idolized for so long was not only standing this close but also leaning towards him and taking a selfie.
Oh my God..
Phainon doesn’t even know what face he’s making at the moment. He just tried his best to stay calm and not make sudden movements.
When Anaxa finished taking photos, he handed the phone back to Phainon. He held it as if it were the most precious treasure he had ever laid his hands on. He looked up at Anaxa who stood up first, taking the two cups of Americano.
“I’ll go first then,” Anaxa said with a nod.
Phainon fumbled for words, scrambling. “A-ah… yes. Take care,” he managed, the syllables stumbling out in a hurried rush.
Anaxa hummed softly, almost playful. Then adding, “I’ll see you next time then, Phainon.”
“See…” Phainon began, voice catching in his throat. His chest tightened that he couldn’t even think straight. Then the realization hit him like a physical blow, sudden and electrifying.
Wait.
Phainon?
His own name, spoken by the man he had admired from afar for years, from screens, posters, and the countless hours spent dissecting performances and interviews. It was here, directed at him. Not casual, not accidental, not a misheard fragment, but intentional.
Personal.
He had always known Anaxa to be composed and utterly unshakable in every public appearance. But this? This was not the Anaxa the public saw. This was Anaxa looking at him, seeing him, acknowledging him, remembering him, and speaking his name as if he had carried it in his mind all along.
Phainon stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor far louder than it had any right to be. His eyes were locked on Anaxa’s figure as he moved toward the café door. His mind couldn’t formulate a coherent thought, couldn’t even process the air between them.
He knows me?!
He sank slowly back into his chair, shakily letting out a breath he’d held ever since earlier. Trying to process what just happened in the past hour, and what he just heard just now.
He knows me. He knows me.
The sensation was overwhelming. A violent mix of disbelief, joy, panic, and awe that left him unable to comprehend how his entire world had shifted in just a span of a few words. Every memory, every dream, every longing, every private admiration he had harbored for years towards the actor now collided violently with the irrefutable reality before him.
Without a second wasting, he opened his phone. Intentionally avoiding the gallery app for the sake of his heart and going straight to his social media. About to post “GUESS WHAT” when a notification stopped him.
[anaxaofficial] followed you back.
“Oh my god… oh my god…” he whispered, the words falling from his lips in a shaky, breathless rush. The cup of white latte now sat forgotten in front of him. His other hand fumbled for the phone again.
Because that wasn’t all.
Anaxagoras @anaxaofficial
Look what I found.
[A picture of Phainon’s phone case with Anaxa’s limited photocard from years ago when he was still a rookie actor.]
422 Replies • 334k Reposts • 543k Likes
ANAXA FOREVER @no1nxafan881
Replying to @anaxaofficial
WAIT ISN’T THAT–
2 Replies • 23 Reposts • 1.2k Likes
Phainon glazer @phainonschocker432
Replying to @anaxaofficial
BRO???? @ilovedroma
2 Replies • 23 Reposts • 2k Likes
Phainon slammed his phone screen down on the table as he leaned back and let out the most embarrassing groan, whimper, moan— whatever you name it.
He felt utterly, completely, gloriously, irreversibly seen.
“Teach!”
Anaxa glanced up from the coffee in his hand as the familiar, cheerful voice called out. The car door swung open, and a young woman leaned in, all energy and warmth. He smiled and greeted her back, “Hyacinthia.”
He placed one cup of Americano carefully in the door’s cup holder, while the other cup remained in his hand.
Hyacinthia settled into the passenger seat, her eyes bright with a mixture of apology and curiosity. “I’m really sorry, Teach,” she said, genuinely concerned. “I shouldn’t have decided on such a public place to meet up. You ended up having to, well, you know– run for your life.”
Anaxa’s gaze met hers, the hint of a smile still lingering. “It’s fine,” he replied smoothly, “I got my coffee.”
Hyacinthia raised a brow, studying him closely. Her expression is a mix of surprise and something more affectionate. Normally, she would have expected a sharp complaint, a flicker of irritation, or at least a pointed remark about being chased from street to street. But there was none of that now.
He seemed even happier.