Archive of Our Own

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Amphoreus

Post-Era Nova

Year Two

Month of Weaving

Patron Titan: Mnestia

“It’s Okheman tradition Dei! He’s practically half Okheman anyways. It’ll be obvious!”

“Mixing traditions…Would it not be even more romantic, I’ll have to write some… Mydei, It’s obvious.”

“He’s no dunce. Oblivious yes, but even he can’t be blind to something so obvious.”

“They are not so different from Elysian rituals, as I’ve been informed. Teacher did visit as well. It’ll be obvious.”

“Agy is right Dei! And Snowy loooooves strong people! And yummy food! Lots of food! It’s gonna be obvious!”

“Kremnos is in the data bank…But I don’t have much on Aedes Elysiae. Either way, you two are similar. It will be obvious. Good luck, Mydei.”

“Don’t worry! If you really need, I’ll play cupid! We’re gonna make it so obvious!”

“Hehe, cupid with a bat…Isn’t that more fun? I need him beat up for the lost 50/50s. Throw some heart shaped confetti too, made of rocks! Not even lowkey obvious. It won’t hurt.”

༺♥༻

It’s a simple day, no outside work, no black tide monsters for clearing, Stelle isn’t out to make him try another concoction – simple. Where he has nothing to do, Phainon finds something to do. Demetria may need another cart pushed, except it’s already done. Theodoros help with setting a new shipment of antiques in place but they’re already done, the kids a play partner yet they’re already tired out, ready to go nap. It is one of those days where his heart feels light, a natural smile that doesn’t require his effort. Despite his (self-imposed) duties, a little relaxation does his body well. No matter how unprecedented. 

Before he even knows, it is action hour. Dressed in only his black shirt, Phainon makes his way to the rooftop that overlooks Marmoreal market. He’s never minded the romantic implications when he and Mydei meet there to head off for a spar. Mydei might know, Mydei might not know. But it leaves him sighing wistfully nonetheless, for he selfishly enjoys those implications. 

Staring at the setting sun is what he’s left to do as he waits, impatient for energy has coiled tight within him today, only broken out of his trance when a gauntleted hand lands heavy on his shoulder. A smile breaks on his face before he even turns, a remark already on his tongue. 

“What happened, Mydeimos? Didn’t take you for leaving a man waiting.” It is natural now, they always meet for a spar. Phainon has gotten to a point where he wants to, even if Hyacine insisted on one more year of healing. 

Mydei scoffs, pulling his hand away to cross his arms over his chest. A warmth Phainon cherishes before it fades. Mydei…He doesn’t know how, yet his selfish heart still wants this man.

“Left without much to do, you’ve dallied. I am on time.” 

Phainon only grins wider, knowing Mydei wouldn’t admit to a loss so easily. But not wrong either, he is on time. Still, that’s a win for Phainon. Well, any time with Mydei is. 

“Shall we then?” 

Mydei answers with a grunt, letting his hands fall to his sides. It is as natural as breathing to silently fall in stance, breaths steadying alongside eachother all before they make a mad dash for the sparring grounds. Mydei matches his every step, his every breath, his grin, the mirth that only comes with such endearing competitions. The clank of that heavy armor is balanced in Phainons softer thuds, yet the annoyed glances they receive from spectators throwing themselves aside are matched.

It’s a perfect warmup — a little something to start a process of unwinding. If Phainon had nothing to do, then surely Mydei wasn’t all that busy either. 

The sparring grounds empty of people as word travels; action hour is reserved for the lunatic Deliverer and Crown Prince after all. A reputation Aglaea despises, and Phainon adores. It means some silent time to spend with just Mydei and himself. It means things are normal again.

Dust kicks up as they jump into the bigger arena. Phainon immediately clicks his tongue; just a step behind Mydei. Alright fine, their wins are equal right now. 

“Seems a day of rest already has you slacking, Deliverer.” Mydei is wearing his victory grin, annoyingly handsome in the suns light. It catches upon his shining mane, fluffed from the run. “Luck is upon me if you keep that up.” 

Phainon scoffs, making way to the weapon stand. He didn’t enjoy using Dawnmaker against Mydei. There stands the battered greatsword no one else bothered to lift, except Phainon himself. Scratched up in claw marks reminiscent of Mydeis gauntlets. They really do numbers on the metal. He picks it up by the hilt, making a lazy test swing; perfect arc. “Leaving your victory to luck? How unbecoming, Mydeimos. Dinner's on you with that attitude.” 

Mydei starts pacing, a feral grin expressing all the excitement they don’t need to vocalize. Phainon circles him in tandem, shifting his forearm for better grip. Any second now…

Mydei lunges first, gauntlets already fisted. Phainon brings up his greatsword in a parry, pushing back. Sparks fly in the grating of their weapons, yet Mydei doesn’t fall back. There’s something more intense about his fists, thrown with near all his might. Phainon grins, pushing back with equal fervor. If it’s what Mydei wanted…He could match. These arms aren’t for nothing. And without the heat of coreflames, he can enjoy the genuine adrenaline.

The Kremnoan moves back from his onslaught of fists, readying himself for a sweep. Phainon catches him before he can, bringing down his greatsword in an arc. Foul in its intent upon Mydeis greave; not enough to damage internally. It’s a perfect opening when Mydei falters, and Phainon doesn’t take pause. Sweat loosens his grip on the hilt, all the more reason for him to drop the greatsword and give Mydei a taste of his fists. Literally. 

It might have been a yield on a different day, Phainon so close to Mydeis neck. But the blond rises and jumps to the side before Phainon can throw a fist. 

“Hah! Feisty today, Mydeimos?” 

He snatches away his hand, creating some distance to catch his breath. Mydei doesn’t allow for it, a serious expression set on his face when his strides outpace Phainons own. Surprising, considering he’s taller than Mydei – not enough time to think though. Only to dodge the flurry of fists. A single hit and he’d have a mean bruise for days. What he didn’t account for is Mydei deciding today’s good for using his legs too. 

Mydei closes up on him, his gauntlets muddying Phainons vision. His ribs are met with a knee, metal and ouch. Phainon groans, clutching at the spot. 

“Seems like…you’re out to win, huh?” Phainon spits golden blood to the side, grinning his stained teeth right at Mydei. Said man was staring at where Phainon held his side, a look of brief confliction marring his features. Odd. But how can Phainon focus on that right now? He pounces on the opportunity, smashing his own fist right into Mydeis perfect nose, throwing him back. 

Sheer excitement overtakes as he watches the golden blood run, Mydei not even bothering to wipe at it. That look is gone, replaced with all the will to return that hit tenfold. 

Phainon couldn’t ask for anything better. 

༺♥༻

Phainon groans, which only leads to an annoying cough. It’s hot, dust is kicked up everywhere, and dear Titans, Mydei is above him. Gauntleted hand wrapped around his neck, palm warm, and this view…Phainon could maybe accept the loss a little bit today. Indulge in the fading red tips that brush against his face, the molten gold that is searing into his very being, Mydeis mouth open in a feral grin. Victorious. 

He’s a little grateful they’re sparring, his flush is certainly excusable. 

Mydei finally lets go, thank Kephale. That view was horribly erotic, and Phainon can’t bring up his weird fixation on being held in Mydeis grasp. Preferably naked. The Kremnoan collapses beside him, eyes still on Phainon. 

“Staring is rude, you know.” Audacious of Phainon, considering he near boned up earlier. The pain doesn’t help at all, he’s too far gone. Their spars feel good, being near Mydei always feels good. Even if he can’t have him like that, their friendship is enough.

Mydei tuts, kicking at his shin. There’s a smear of dirt along his cheekbone, high and sharp. Phainon almost reaches out to wipe it away.

“I was not staring. Merely observing.” 

Phainon gives a reciprocating kick, smiling and looking back to the blue sky. “So a nicer way to say ‘yes I was staring.’”

He laughs when Mydei grunts, admittedly caught lying. Phainon thinks it is adorable sometimes. He’s so straightforward, but only if he wants to be. Endearing in his honesty, lying only about things as simple as looking. Even if the thought makes Phainon dwell too. Why was he staring? He brushes that thought aside. Mydei isn’t like him.

“Guess dinners on me, huh?” Phainon turns to his side, facing Mydei, He nudges at the mans shoulder, earning a noncommittal hmph. 

“Don’t be like that, rejoice in your victory for you will lose next time. Marmoreal Diner then?” It’s where they usually go, Phainon knows Mydeis favorites by heart. 

“No.” Mydei has that look again, brows scrunched, face almost nervously concentrated. “How…” 

“What? You’re acting weird Mr. Tough Guy. Where’d all your honesty go?” 

Mydei growls at the implication, teased enough to just admit what he wants to say. “How was my performance, Deliverer?” 

“Huh?” His brows rise right to his scalp, unsure of where this came from. Did his confidence evaporate or something? Well, Mydei seems to want an honest answer. He looks conflicted, has since earlier. They’re not usually for words of affirmation like this but… “Impressive. You went really hard today. And used your legs way more.” 

Mydei nods, oddly stiff when he looks away. “Good.” 

The snowy haired man shrugs, finally sitting up. A bath would do them good. He’s bloody and sweaty. His torso is sore, all of the kicks did their due. “Bath time?” 

“Sure.” 

Phainon expects many things out of Mydei, usually all within his grasp. He’s known the man for some time now, millions of cycles to be exact. He knows that despite having his tit- torso out most of the time, the Kremnoan has surprising propriety. Enough to wear robes in the baths. 

So why is he naked?! 

Phainon is a weak man in this regard, so all he can do is look away. To give Mydei privacy of course. He dons his own robe, trimmed in golden and blue threads by Aglaea who deemed that even robes needed to be fashionable. Mydei had a matching one, with more red accents. So where is it?! Why would he forego it years into going to the baths?! This is unnecessary. What will Phainon do with the man of his dreams naked next to him??? 

Speaking of that, why did Mydei move closer. 

Phainon scoots a little bit more, robes tight around him. 

Mydei moves when he does. 

Does Mydei know? Oh Titans does he know? This is humiliating, he must know. Why else would he tempt Phainon by showing off that body? In clear water?? With nothing on? 

“Where are you going, Deliverer? Do you plan to leave early?” Mydei reaches out a hand, holding Phainons bicep. Pressing into the tensed muscle there. Soft, almost pliant despite all his nerves telling him to throw a punch. Reinforce their camaraderie. Or whatever can excuse the boiling heat that always takes him when Mydei touches him like this. Without gauntlets, without an aim to hurt or conquer, no pretenses. Just a touch. 

It’s too much. He’s not allowed to have it. It isn’t for him.

“What no. That’s uh…I’m not going anywhere. Just reaching for the oils!” As if to prove his point, Phainon does reach for the tray, grateful that it unintentionally aided him. A vial of olive oil, perfect after a wash when simply sitting in the baths and enjoying warmth. 

Mydei hums, nodding, and relaxing back. A forearm propped out of the bath where he rests his head, a hand beneath the water, on his glorious thigh. Phainon does not let his eyes wander. He doesn’t, especially not when Mydei is watching him with a gaze soft as the sunsets Phainon stares into. 

Instead, he focuses on the oil. Letting a few drops spill on his palm, watching how they immediately run down his forearm. Focus, focus, focus. Mydei is not next to him, nude, his legs open. He isn’t. Phainon presses his palm into his flesh, kneading the oil across clavicle first, ignoring the gaze that is boring into him – he focuses on his shoulders reddened from the heat, the swell of his biceps with running veins so reminiscent of vine creeping along perfect marble, before making his way back up.

His choker isn’t something he often leaves off, it’s always accompanying the mark of destruction upon his neck. Yet in all his need to focus on anything but Mydei and his naked manspreading, Phainon unlatches the black choker. The velvety fabric is always comfortable against his skin, enough to be forgotten when he needs, tight enough to focus on when he needs grounding. All the more annoying when it isn’t on. He focuses on the lack of pressure, of grounding. 

He then leaves it to the side, picking up the vial again. Another drop unto his fingers, allowing it to warm his hand before tracing the line of a scar along his neck. Only to pause when he hears a crack. 

Phainon turns his head, his eyes uselessly dropping the moment he did so. He meant to look at where Mydei had gripped the bath's marble build, hard enough to shatter it; but who exactly would bother with such a waste of time when Mydei is right there? Showing off what Phainon hasn’t seen before, only thought of. The lines of his red markings do go lower, Phainon knows that. He’s just never seen the part where they follow the V line right there. The trail of blond hair that leads to something. 

Phainon flicks his eyes away, forcing a chuckle that sounds grating to his own ears. He wasn’t looking. No. “Haha, Aglaea’s gonna make you pay for that.” 

“Why are you doing that?” Mydei is practically glaring when Phainon looks back, amber eyes heated to the point of looking like molten gold. Like they’re in battle, ready to release energy. Is Mydei gonna jump him? They’ve already gotten in trouble for it before. Aglaea had made them clean the baths top to bottom, alone. No fun repeating that. 

“Doing what?” Phainon gives him a perplexed expression, genuine. He wasn’t doing anything in particular. Actually he was suffering and Mydei sure wasn’t explaining his lack of a towel.

“That.” Mydei glares at the vial of oil like it personally cursed his mother. 

Blue eyes blink, look at the oil, then back at Mydei. “Do you dislike olive oil?” He was sure Mydei actually quite liked it. 

Mydei exhales, cheeks heated. From the baths of course. “No.” He shifts away, reaching for the robes that he could have just worn earlier. And saved Phainon of his traitorous mind that seeked more than this when this is enough. It needs to be enough. “I need to go prepare. Don’t drown, Deliverer.” 

Phainon squawks in offense, splashing water into Mydeis direction before he makes his way out of the baths. Without retaliation at that. “That was one time!” He yells after the man, fond despite his own confusion. He watches as Mydeis form fades in the distance, the gait of powerful legs always on his mind. 

Relaxing back, Phainon pushes the balls of his palms against his eyes, sighing deeply. He was half hard, annoyingly. How dare Mydei make him feel like that and then run away? It’s unfair. He could’ve atleast explained his decision for having his Lance of Fury out today. Phainon chortles at his own comparison, quickly packing up his belongings. 

Masturbation is calling for him. It does that these days.

༺♥༻

Perhaps he somehow angered Mydei. 

Phainon could think of no other reason for why the man insisted on being better than him. Not matching his fervor, no, he was on a hunt to outdo the Deliverer. Audacious, considering most are wary of the crown prince and his foul temper despite how much he helps. He does glare at everyone after all. Except for children of course, they all liked him. Phainon just didn’t consider that they counted as a network. A complex one at that. Every child had some adult connection, and they vouched for Mydeis goodwill. Phainon thinks it great, amazing even. 

If his reputation wasn’t getting pummeled at the moment. Sure he’s their saviour as they so liked to remind him; but Phainon speaks of the reputation he holds for himself.

With the help of the Astral Express family, the black tide receded alongside irontomb. With no black tide creatures to kill or people to save, there were more errands to run. Simple things like helping around with moving things too heavy for the average citizen, aiding in construction that was still needed to rebuild Amphoreus, or hunting down the occasional monster that got a little too close. All things expected of the Deliverer, just as any chrysos heir. Thing is, it’s always been him to seek out these odd jobs. He needed the distraction that had become something therapeutic.

These days though…

“No way! There were five commissions I saw just six quints ago!” Phainon is seething, internally. And maybe a little bit on the outside too because the poor guy tending the board is sweating bullets that his handkerchief isn’t catching fast enough. 

“Lord- Lord Phainon! I swear, I will inform you first the next time I see a commission!” But he’d been threatened by Lord Mydei too! Well, the glare is natural but still! The man comes each time he finishes a commission and snatches up whatever else is there. The kind of intensity that promises violence if refused.

Phainon gets himself together, praying to the Titans for patience. Well. He is a demigod but it’s the thought that counts. Inhale, exhale. This is not this guys fault. Mydeis just being a prick. For who knows what reason. 

“Alright, thank you. My apologies for earlier, it is with deep passion that I wish to aid all the people of Amphoreus!”

The board tender nods, nervous smile never receding. “Right…Of course.” 

With a sigh, Phainon takes off. The tender had been kind enough to tell him all the likely locations Mydei may be at. And Phainon used some very obvious deducing for where’s the most important. Which is a recent sighting of a hefty boar monster near the eastern outskirts of the Grove. Phainon will show him, he won’t be behind. 

Surely, Mydei would be here. 

He thought so. 

But all that was left was shards of crimson crystal, a battered field, and no corpses. Mydei had decimated them, took their corpses, and is likely on his way to whatever commission awaits him next. One of many random ones that had no clear importance for Phainon to follow.

How fast was he going through this?! He can’t be ahead of Phainon like this! So clearly he must be pissed. Mydei only ever avoids him like this when he’s pissed, until he decides when to throw the first hit so they can punch apologies into eachother. 

Phainon does know where he’ll be afterwards though, that’s a no brainer. 

So without any work to do, he dawdles in the baths. Maybe he’ll get a preview of the lance of fury again. Just to prepare himself for calming mantras of course. He didn’t look forward to it or anything.

Phainon is pretty sure he’ll melt into the golden bath waters at this point. Only a few quints yes, but he’s never been one to sit around and do nothing. The baths aren’t particularly interesting either, especially on days where not a single play is scheduled.  Not even an orator out and about for Phainon to request the play for ‘Undying Prince.’ 

But luck is finally upon him once more. Phainon quickly scrambles out of the bath, towel slipping to the bath floor. No time to pick it up; Phainon makes his way round a counter, ducking behind one of the large vases that decorates each side. Big enough to cover him too. 

From his immaculate hiding place, Phainon watches the Kremnoan slowly make his way into the warm waters. His robe is wet- wait why is he wearing it? 

Everytime Mydei agrees to their twice a day bath now, he sheds his robes. So what is this?? As always its off the shoulder but just appropriate enough to cover up to his knees. A crime considering how beautiful his thighs are. Wait no, he’s here to investigate not thirst. 

Mydei sighs, sinking further into the bath. Phainon knows that as a look of deep contemplation. He does it often. He’s alone, why won’t he take off his robes? 

Phainon watches from his spot, leaning all his weight onto the vase. A nice vase really, Phainon had it donated from his own collection. With swirls of purple and yellow, it resembled the setting sun across a lavender sea, dabs of white along the rim that mimic shining stars. Hefty price too, from a long gone era of Styxia where purple was available in large quantities. 

A shame it falls over with Phainon. 

The resounding crash is all that can be heard in the empty baths; Mydei’s unimpressed gaze is trained towards Phainons scrambling form. He liked this one! Such a pretty vase, all ruined. 

The snowy haired deliverer picks the larger shards, lamenting the cost for fixture. Not to mention it’s an artifact he just ruined. He places smaller shards into the larger ones, unaware of the figure approaching him. Unaware of how that figure so suddenly left his robe on the edge of the golden baths. 

Until Mydeis feet are all Phainon see, hands full with clay shards. He can’t look up. It would be a generational embarrassment – he wouldn’t look at Mydei first, no. Not when from the corner of his eyes he can see that embroidered robe laying uselessly. Unfortunately Mydei is not one to enjoy having his presence ignored in any way. 

“Deliverer.” His voice is it’s usual timbre, deep, rough, the kind of grating that’s so much better when you can hear it soften. Right now, it’s amusement. And Phainon knows he’s done for. He’s been caught spying, and now he’ll look up where he isn’t supposed to. “What are you doing.” 

It’s not so much a question as it is a command. Or statement for that matter – Mydei’s already seen him. And what he was doing was fairly obvious. 

“Um.” But Phainon has willpower, if anything. And words are his forte – this is going to be so easy. “I was appreciating this pottery, as one does. And uh…haha I slipped. A little.” He still refused to look up, his nervous chuckles filling in the silence. 

“Lying does not suit you, Deliverer.” Mydei, this absolute hyena lowers himself, crouching in real time in front of Phainon whose eyes have widened to take in whatever he can.

He’s met with a towel instead. 

Something must’ve shown on his face because Mydei smirks, arms languidly resting over his knees. Phainon still on the tiled ground, eyes wide. And when Mydei lifts his jaw, closing it with a click, Phainon is made aware that he was staring at Mydei mouth-agape. “Your stupid antennae practically have a mind of their own.” 

Phainon blushes, deeply so. He can’t even excuse it, he’s outside the baths. How could his hair betray him like this? “That was…I was here first! And waiting for yoU!” 

Mydei hums, curse his handsome face. “Behind the vase? Did you expect me to match you and hide behind the one across?” 

Sure, why the hell not. “Yes! We are…equals after all.” Phainon can feel his dignity writing its will, perhaps shame too. And probably his debate championship medals. 

Mydeis eyes rove over his face, taking Phainon in without much expression. It leaves Phainon writhing, wishing he had gone to the training grounds and wasted his time there. It would have saved him from his current predicament. 

“Yes. Equals. Let us meet for dinner tomorrow.” Nothing could quite match the utterly overwhelming confusion at Mydeis words. Not even his own turmoil. 

Mydei stands, correcting the towel at his waist before leaving Phainon to watch as he packed up and left the baths. Dinner? Tomorrow? Is he going to get another serving of dirt topped with sea slugs? 

Phainon couldn’t bring himself to feel disgusted. Humiliation at wanting to see Mydei without the towel, to ruin their camaraderie…utterly overwhelming. Phainon lets himself wilt to the floor, hands over his face. 

It is only in this moment that he crosses his legs, another wave of humiliation coming over him.

He wasn’t wearing a towel…

༺♥༻

Phainon is ready to apologize. 

It’ll be without reason, he has it all written down. Because his real reasoning isn’t appropriate enough, he’s chosen to skip dinner and then use that as apology material alongside his heartfelt letter.

Only problem is…

“You know Mydei, I really need to use the restroom now.” 

“Alright.” 

“You can go ahead without me.” 

“I can wait.” 

“There’s no need! I’ll catch up.” 

“It is of no issue, take care of your business.” 

Fuck. Mydei won’t leave him alone. 

The crown prince has chosen to use today to follow Phainon around on his commissions. He had relented in hoarding them all, and was now hoarding Phainons time instead. Phainon would have loved this yesterday, or the day before. But today? How is he supposed to skip dinner when Mydei is trailing him? Not to mention he’ll be used to carry bags once Mydei drags him to the market. He’d even shown Phainon his grocery list, immaculate with ingredients for all of Phainons favorites. That can’t be good, he’s up to something nefarious. Maybe he wanted that apology earlier. Or perhaps he’ll serve his favorites to everyone except for Phainon so that he may suffer watching everyone eat. Or maybe there’ll be a stuffing of dirt in every meal. 

Phainon had slowed his pace in overthinking, enough for Mydei to notice. He slows his own pace when needed, but it gets to a point. 

“Have you lost will of your legs, Phainon? Get moving.” Mydei checks Phainons shoulder, forcing him out of whatever trance he’d gone in. 

“No, just…thinking. Lot of things you’re buying today.” 

Mydei gives him a perplexed expression, as if it’s obvious why he’s buying so much. “Are you going to piss or not?” 

Phainon sighs, smile unwavering. Atleast Mydei is holding himself together, unlike Phainon. One of them needs to keep this a proper friendship, and Phainon has crossed that line. “Alright alright, I’ll be quick.” 

Phainon was right about shopping. Mydei used him as a stand more than anything. The only input ever asked for is how fresh items looked. Rare too considering Mydei shopped often enough to know for himself. Only thing they couldn’t shop for today…

Off to the cellars! Well, the cooler really but cellar sounds nicer to Phainon. 

Mydei may as well be fuming though. Meat storages running low, Aglaea too busy, couldn’t someone have informed them?? 

Phainon stares into the near empty cooling room, only a few heaps of salted and cured meats remaining. Mydei is always serious about filling stocks, especially for feeding the heirs. So it was always someone getting an earful if they missed the opportunity to tell the busy crown prince that he’s low on meat. 

Phainon would disagree, the crown prince has plenty of meat. 

He giggles at his own joke, leaning against the cellar door. Mydei was still silently fuming, only to snap his head to the side at Phainons self amusement. 

“What’s so funny?” He asks sharply, frown deep set enough to scare off anyone who isn’t Phainon. 

The snowy haired man straightens up, feigning chill. Its cold here, surely Mydei will spare him. “Nothing at all. Just mourning the lack of fresh meat.” In that moment, it’s as though Triannes fly over his head, announcing the opportunity in cheery tunes that Phainon is happy to sing along to. This is great actually! 

“As a matter of fact, it’s so sad that I just have to go and get you some!” 

Mydeis face is blank, and then his eyes turn sharp as daggers. “What.” 

Phainon doesn’t see the issue…He’ll just be taking the opportunity to get away from dinner and also procure meat! And then he can apologize and be forgiven! Of course, he can’t let Mydei think to stop him. Phainon turns on his heel, sparing one last smile, before running out of the cool cellar and towards daylight. 

He breezes past weaving trails, past startled Okhemans, jumping over roofs he’s all too familiar with. He can outpace Mydei if he really wants, his wings are great for that. But Mydei hasn’t followed, so Phainon takes it as victory. Mydei won’t be too mad if he procures giant boar meat. 

First, Phainon makes one of his two stops: The board tender – never happy to see Phainon or Mydei. He’s already pulling out his handkerchief, smile unbelievably strained. Reminders to himself of what these heroes have done for Amphoreus and not how incredibly annoying they can be. 

“Lord Phainon…were you not here earlier for commi-” 

“Tell me of giant boars.” Phainon near brackets the old guy against his own board while looking over the commissions, searching for anything that may procure fresh meat. 

The poor tender yelps, worming his way down to the floor and crawling away. His white hair may as well shed now, there’s no need for it falling out randomly out of stress. Luckily, he has just the commission. It’s one Lady Aglaea told him to give Lord Mydei but damn it all! He’ll quit after this, no trouble to be received. 

“Lord Phainon! Here it is!” 

Phainon turns towards the man, hands holding several other leaflets. His eyes are an intense azure, brimming with excitement. Pissing off Mydei also ensures a fight and well…that’s not usually a bad thing. He takes the parchment, a bit more nicely, looking over only the basics. The payment is nice, sure, but it’s the boar itself that’s rewarding. Possibly in a herd. Phainon can only smile, patting the man on the shoulder. “Well, that’s very helpful. Once again, thank you so much!” 

Phainon turns before the board tender can decide to finally let his rage out and talk shit, parchment in hand – on a hunt for giant boar. He’ll take his sweet time. Avoid dinner. Mydei can’t be as angry as he would be for getting ogled. 

Branches don’t break beneath his feet, Phainon is silent. Not the crush of a leaf falling, no heavy breathing, only Phainon standing there in silence – taking in the sight of Mydei. 

There are times when Phainon is genuinely surprised. Those times aren’t often. Why? Well, Phainon doesn’t enjoy being surprised. The same way he likes his water plain, without mysterious flavoring. It’s much like back at the baths; when he is surprised, his mouth falls open. An expression described only as stupid. 

Phainon looks really stupid right now. 

His plan had backfired so, so badly. 

He had taken his sweet time, enjoyed nature. Even took a little dip in a creek, almost kissed a frog before remembering he could get salmonella. His apology is nothing now, the base…the boars. Mydei had taken nearly half the herd, whatever hadn’t been able to run from him. His eyes are ignited when he glares right at Phainon, covered in bloody gore. 

Phainon can only persist. If he lies more, Mydei won’t bother hiding dirt in his food; he’ll serve the dirt straight up. And maybe it’s not bad because it’s normal for him, for them. But it’s just as normal to have Mydei be petty with him. So Phainon forces his feet to move, to go and meet Mydeis glare upfront. 

Said man does the oddest thing when Phainon nears, a nervous smile on his face. 

His anger drops, a hand on his hip as he sighs. 

Phainon cannot interpret it in the least. Mydei should be throwing a punch by now, lunging at him with intent to rip something. Anything but that odd look of conflict. Still, Phainon persists. He did run out on Mydei, maybe he’ll be forgiven since it was just to help. Sorta. 

Mydei stares at Phainon through his lashes, clearly waiting for something to break their silence. Not the wheezing of the last boar, slowly dying in the background. Phainon wants to end its misery, make quick work of it. That’s an unfortunate situation to be in after all. And yet…

His gaze focuses on Mydei, and Phainon gulps. “Guess your cellars are gonna be full for a while, huh?” Phainon hopes his smile is casual, maybe even taunting. He doesn’t want to think about Mydeis handsome face so closely, his weird actions. The possibility of him having found out about Phainon’s selfish feelings. Feelings he has no right to have for rival, his friend. And maybe his lips shake a little, maybe his sigh is a little too loud between them – Mydei doesn’t mention it. 

“That it will.” That complicated expression comes over his face, and Mydei scrunches his thick brows. Phainon wishes he could brush them straight, tell Mydei he has no need to worry about anything. “Why?”

Phainon blinks, taken aback. “Huh?” 

Mydei stares at him like it’s obvious, mildly offended even. “Don’t give me that stupid expression. Why would you go hunting?” 

“To refill the cellars…?” 

Mydei grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. His gauntlets are painted in red, smearing across the broad expanse of flesh already inked in crimson. Phainons gaze drops shamelessly despite the situation. “They’re the coolers.” He corrects sternly, as he has millions of times. Literally. “And it’s my job to provide.” 

Phainon gives an immediate snort, clearly giving Mydei half a heart attack with the expression the Kremnoan man gives him in turn. “Says who?” Mydei only looks more aggravated. Phainon can’t put a finger on it, he makes perfect sense. No one said Mydei has to provide, and certainly not be the sole hunter. “I mean, it’s usually not either of us that has to. But if the need arises, then you aren’t the sole provider.” 

“That’s- you- ugh!-” Mydei splutters, turning away from Phainon. “You are unbelievable, Phainon. That isn’t how this works!” He finally turns back around, stabbing his gauntleted and bloody finger right into Phainon’s chest. “You don’t do anything at all — it’s my job until then!” 

Phainon scoffs, brushing aside his hand just to cross his own arms. “You don’t get to decide that, Mydeimos.” Phainon puffs a strand of white hair from his face, trying his best to glare at Mydei. But really, he’s quite confused about this whole thing. 

Yet again the Kremnoan blinks at him, jaw tightening. Phainon thinks Mydei may jump in to beat him, but no. In a display of utter grace, Mydei exhales deeply and points at Phainon again. “We will speak of this later. You’re utterly clueless of tradition.” 

Phainon opens his mouth to argue, only to shut up at Mydeis second thrown glare. Frankly, he’d rather this interaction be over with anyways. If Mydei wants to insult him so badly, he could just do it more openly. Phainon turns on his heel, this time intent to leave for real. Mydei can’t stop him. He won’t. 

And yet he feels that molten gaze following his back, indefinitely. 

In order to distract himself, Phainon flew right back to Aedes Elysiae. Perhaps a terrible idea after their little argument, but some solace was needed. 

Hyacine had taught him how to deal with his emotions, especially those of constant doubt. 

“Ask yourself ‘what?’” She had said. “Instead of ‘why?’” 

What is making him feel this way? Well that’s quite simple: Mydei. 

Phainon lands on plush fields, a breezy wind rushing through his wings. It is the month of Weaving, the lands barren of wheat as winter makes its way closer. Farther off from the village, near an old tree that provides a gorgeous view and comfortable shading. Well, when it isn’t autumn atleast. Phainon doesn’t mind settling on the leaves, his wings coming to fold around him. 

There had been a time they meant nothing more than the transformation of his body, a necessity. Never was his mind truly present. But it is something he worked through; now he finds the plush of his plumes quite soft, the limbs large enough to provide him a soothing hold. Never comparable to that of his companions, but he still struggled with embracing people. 

Baby steps, as Hyacine had said. And his very first were learning to embrace his own features. 

Yet that feeling courses through him, swimming beneath his gut, tightening his throat. He has no tears left, but it’s never an enjoyable experience. He wishes to throw this feeling away, keep it locked, forget it – anything but experience it once more. 

But with Mydei, it returns. He doesn’t know what’s going on. How to fix it. Prevent it. Keep their friendship intact. Keep his selfish feelings locked away. Clueless all over again, waiting for a fix. That man is far too good for him, forgave him for such atrocities. Two years of mending, yet here he is again. Confused. Left to ponder what he’s done. Or hasn’t done. Why else is Mydei pulling away like this? 

Phainon can only sigh, allowing himself to fall into the leaves. Let their rough edges graze his face. 

He should be content. All is well. He could even join the Express family. 

So why must he crave for something he can’t have? 

༺♥༻

Phainon had lost count of how long he slept beneath the tree, laying upon its leaves, his wings acting as a blanket. It happened often in Okhema; he only means to take a nap. Instead falling asleep for days on end. Upon hay, stone blocks, on top of a dromas saddle. He didn’t enjoy acknowledging it – that meant acknowledging everything he went through. Thinking about its repercussions. And he would instead much rather stop thinking about it. 

He still needed to check though. He and Mydei argue, but it’s never good to worry the man who carries him from his precarious sleeping spots back to Phainons house. Anger is ill fitted for what they have. And Phainon wishes only to be peaceful with Mydei. So with a huff, Phainon lifts himself off crushed leaves, stretching his arms above him. Red and orange and faded yellow stuck to his plumes as he made his way through the fields, closer to the village. Closer to the hut his parents inhabited; closer to the swing Cyrene so often occupied. Empty now. Comforted by the presence of Audata and Hieronymus. 

Phainon watches the hut become bigger as he nears, the bob of two heads working around the small space just for them, and sometimes Phainon. Hieronymus worked a stack of wheat, tying little bows every time he finished one. They have the time for trivialities now, after all. Audata was carefully placing seeds into a tray, to grow germinated wheat for the eventual new years. 

Phainon’s face melts into a soft smile as he walks just a little faster. He can help tie up wheat stalks for winter fires with his father; water the seeds for his mother. If she would ever let him near the seeds, that is. 

Their own faces, the ones that melded together to make Phainons, light up at the sight of their son. Audatas white hair shone beneath the suns gaze, glistening like sea foam. She insisted on oiling it, something about aging. Yet Phainon couldn’t agree; she looked beautiful, crows feet and all. Beaming as she gathered him in a hug only a mother could muster. 

Hieronymus has always been just as affectionate, if not more. Blue eyes twinkling as he gathered them both into his arms. Old muscle corded beneath his sun kissed skin, his reach no longer enough to fully envelope Phainon who had gotten too big for his own good. 

But he couldn’t be happier. He should have come sooner; sought out advice right here, where his parents would hold him in their arms and await whatever he decided to say. Just as they are doing now. They had always said Phainons got a tell for every lie, for every discomfort, that only they could read. Perhaps that’s why Audata isn’t kicking him away from the seeds. 

Phainon sighs, resting his chin along his fathers shoulder. Sometimes he wished to be a child once again, light enough to be carried around. Yet the thought only reminded him of someone who would do that, faking annoyance all the while. The same someone who matched the shades of his home down to red of fallen leaves in autumn, just as they matched the golden of the wheat fields in the summer. 

“Come all this way, only to be silent?” His mother is whispering, a gentle lull that calls Phainon to sleep again. 

“Hah! I’d have thought he’d tackle me by now.” His fathers voice has never been the rumbling kind. It’s the same timber Phainon inherited, smooth and clear, but ready to firm if need be. 

Phainon hums, smiling along with their little jests. He found himself to be like this now, not quite the same energy that earned him the nickname ‘Snowy’ from Tribios. Well, when he wasn’t bantering with Mydei atleast. 

“Would you prefer I tackle you, dad?” Phainon pulls away slowly, still relishing the soft warmth. 

His father barks out a laugh, his mother shaking her head. A hand reminiscent of his own comes to slap on his shoulder, reassuringly heavy. Despite his own nails being oval like his mother, with clean cuticles and a soft shape, he did prefer his fathers. 

Or maybe that bias came to be due to a certain blond and his, often hidden, hands. 

“If it lets you get some of that gloomy energy out, then I don't mind.” 

Of course they noticed. Phainon can only give them a half smile, shaking his head. He needed no such thing, and if he did he’d ask Mydei instead of tackling his aging father. His mother tuts at them both, returning to her pillow on the porch. Trays lined her left, a basket of seeds facing. “Come and help your mom, Khas.” 

Phainon nods, finding a cushion to sit on. They worked in a circle, his father still tying stalks for fires. His mother somehow let him work the seeds, cleaning off the debris to let them sit in the metal trays. It used to be Cyrenes job. Phainon had always been jealous. 

He liked his swordsmanship, getting to be around the older boys and practice and spar to his hearts content. Yet his little child heart wished to do it all, always an attempt to invade the ritual only the girls partook in. Tried convincing them by telling them he liked men only to fail miserably and have Cyrene make faces at him. Not that the want ever left. He still asked. His mother had refused to let him in on it the past two years; he doesn’t know what’s changed. 

Phainon doesn’t ask, peacefully working on the seeds instead. He knows they should be chatting; it’s a community activity after all. He used to watch them from the trees above, even fell off a branch once. They would chat, and laugh, and gossip. And he couldn’t help wanting to be in on it. He knows the why’s now, and yet here he is. 

The sun sets just like that, time going by so fast. His father had prepared tea for them. His mother had made sweets that she kept in a cupboard for his visits. Yet Phainon had to leave. He would never let a rift grow between himself and Mydei; no matter his feelings, that is a friendship he’ll never give up. Not even if Mydei starts a family of his own, settles with someone who isn’t Phainon. They’re comrades, and Phainon will be happy for him.

“Tsk!” Audata grabs at Phainons cheeks, stretching them side to side. “Stop that moping! My boy smiles, he doesn’t do this.” 

Phainon does smile, genuinely. Coming here wasn’t a bad idea after all. 

“Oh and…Take one with you.” 

Phainon blinks at her, confusion melting into his smile. “One of…the trays?” 

His mother smiles, oddly proud. Of what, Phainon does not know. And she’s probably wrong. “Yes one of the trays! I wouldn’t be sending you off with a bundle of stalk for fire. Keep the wheat hight up and out of sight, when it’s lush and green as the tales call Janusopolis’ lands, then you can use it. You’ve watched us make it, haven’t you?” 

Phainon can only blush, unsure of where this came from. “Mom I…why? That’s not…”

“For Mydei!” 

Forget blushing, Phainon is on fire. 

“I am not giving that to Mydei!” 

His mother cocks her head to the side, his father joining her confusion. “Why not son? Your mother here knows you’re just like Cyrene. Romantic and all.” 

“That’s your title, Hiero. Now quiet. Phainon, you know this a necessary part to-”

“Let’s not! Mydei isn’t my spouse to be, mom…Or anything for that matter!” The snowy haired man practically melts to the floor in embarrassment. Of course his mother let him sort for a reason. Did she really think Phainon wanted to do that whole process for Mydei? Grow him wheat, cook it all night and then gift it to him? And ask for marriage?!?! So blatantly?! No! 

Just because of Hyacine telling him he has a womb, and Phainon making the mistake of telling his mother…Doesn’t mean she can set him on a fertility ritual! 

That had been what shattered Phainons view of thinking the gathering was just for women to talk and have fun without him also yapping. He had been a teen back then, embarrassment burning his face as Audata explained that it’s for girls who come of age. Who want to settle down one day and hope that they’re blessed with fertility. Companionship and abundance too, but what in Oronyx’s name did Phainon want? It’s come to bite him in the ass full circle. Now he did have a place in the gathering. 

And maybe deep down he liked that thought. 

Not now though. Nope. He is not taking that tray or preparing it for Mydei. 

“Say Cas, think I could keep these trays in your room?” 

He had taken the tray, and some. 

Okhema welcomed him with open arms, the people had been aware of the lack of his presence. And that made Phainon feel oddly giddy. If not for having to keep several trays covered and away from the prying eyes and hands of the many aunties and uncles. His mother had practically beaten every rule into his head: No one sees them except for Phainon, no one is invited except for Phainon and female friends, and Phainon has to give it to Mydei. 

Phainon has decided the last part is optional. 

Not to mention he hasn’t seen Mydei since he came back. To his horror, he had been asleep for almost a full week under the tree, and then spent an eighth day with his mother and father. The heirs were worried for him, all of them except Mydei apparently. 

And Phainon knows it’s unreasonable. He can’t be holding favorites like that, Mydei isn’t so petty as to avoid him forever. One way or another, they’ll spar and offer their silent apologies. Phainon doesn’t crave anything more. He doesn’t. 

“...Yes? What are they for?” 

“Haha, no need to be so curious. They’re just seeds for germinated wheat. My mother practically forced them upon me. But, they’re meant to be kept out of sight. Tales in my village speak of the wheat wilting when too many eyes gaze upon it.” 

Castorice nods, undeniably confuzzled. It’s not like Phainon has all that many guests. Well, except for… “Oh right! Mydei said he needs to speak with you. Ah, are you trying to keep these away from him?” 

If there was anyone that could pry the information out of him and find some way to see the wheat, it would be Mydei. 

Phainon nervously chuckles. “Maybe…But not exactly. Can I put them over your wardrobe?” 

“Sure.” Castorice watches as Phainon lines the top of her wardrobe with each tray, praying none of the water spills from them onto her dresses. “And he mentioned needing to meet by the end of this month.” 

“Like, in an execution kind of tone or I’m only gonna beat him up kind of tone?”

Castorice tilts her head to the side, glancing away. Mydei didn’t look pleased in the least. “He’s been…grumpy, the past week. I believe he brought over King Eurypon and Queen Gorgo to see you.” 

“HE WHAT.” 

And Phainon had decided that would be a great time to leave for a week. Sure he and Mydei aren’t a thing, but he could’ve atleast tried to keep up the good look. Just in case they by some miracle become his in-laws. Not that he thinks about that very often. 

Castorice quickly waves her hands, trying to placate him. “It’s fine! They’re still here, Mister Krateros is in charge in their absence. Everything is…fine.” 

Phainon ignores the last tray in favor of melting to the floor. Everything is fine, probably except for Mydei. They didn’t separate on good terms that day of dealing with the boars. Phainon had been ready to apologize…and then stormed off. It’s his fault, he needs to apologize as soon as possible. 

Castorice kneels by him, a reassuring hand over his shoulder. “He’s understanding, plase go talk.” 

“Castorice, do you happen to know where he is right now?” 

She nods, fluffing his hair a little. “At home I believe. He hasn’t been going out all that often, and his parents are on another outing.” 

Phainon smiles for her, hoping it doesn’t look like he’s swallowed a lemon whole. “Right, thank you. You’re a saint Cas.” 

She blushes, smiling softly at him. “It’s nothing. Please talk with him…and then tell me about it.” 

“More inspiration?” He teases. 

She blushes even harder, if that’s possible. Phainon doesn’t see why she should be embarrassed, even under fake names he knows her works are about him and Mydei. He even edits for her when Hyacine isn’t available. “Well…this is very climactic. So if you don’t mind….” 

He grins, puffing his chest out. He’s got this. And if he gets a small novel out of it to read and cry about, it’s all gonna be fine. “Not at all! I should go and make this quick then.” 

Castorice helps him off the floor, they set the last tray on the wardrobe and Phainon takes a deep breath. He was planning to run out and make this fast before he lost his balls, but Cas pulls him into a hug. 

Phainon is left wide eyed, slowly wrapping himself around her. Well. She isn’t helping. Now he wants to stay. She smells of lavender tea, her hair is soft, and Phainon could just settle on one of her many beanbags and watch as she writes and he offers ideas. Much less daunting than having to confront Mydei. But Phainon allows her one last squeeze before releasing himself. “Thank you. Could I come by later?” 

Castorice nods enthusiastically, pale complexion always rosy. “Of course. I will prepare tea.” 

“That sounds good.” He’ll need the recuperation when Mydei finally decides to spar him. “I’ll be off then.” 

On a different day, Phainon might have bought some bribes. Honest a man as Mydei is, sweets are the way to worm into his heart. But Phainon can’t pause in his trek, not when he knows his mind will find any excuse to avoid this confrontation. He’s already gotten reassurance from his parents and Cas. It won’t be that bad. 

So why does it feel like facing the cycles all over again when he’s met with Mydei’s door? 

Large and imposing, a dark maroon with browned edges. Mydei preferred it, did the customization himself, just like most of his home. He had tiled the sidewalks near his home, all the way up to his stairs. As neat as everything in the front looked, with the trimmed brushes and minimal decoration – Phainon much preferred the backyard. Mydei kept it gated with walls as tall as he is, hiding from everyone his immaculate and absurdly large garden.

So Phainon decides he can’t do this. 

Not the door atleast. 

He makes his way around the house, and the wall is as tall as him. Perfect for leverage as he grips onto it and flings himself over. He skips over the plants, eyeing the lettuce that he’ll find a way to get once Mydei forgives him. The tomatoes looked ripe, almost too much. Mydei isn’t one to usually leave his veggies to rot. But Phainon ignores the twitch to pluck it, instead following the snaking stone path to Mydeis back door. Wind chimes hang above it, painted a bright golden and blue that clashes with Mydeis usual red palette. And somehow Phainon got the title of no color coordination. 

He wrings his hands together, shifting his weight on either foot. He did absolutely nothing to prepare. He had only washed up when he was still with his parents. While his mother’s tailoring is what Phainon inexplicably prefers…Elysiae never gets very cold. But the summers burn. Phainon had gotten accustomed to his full regalia that left everything to the imagination. It’s only now that he attempts to make the short creamy chiton go a little below his knees, cover more of his neck and arms. Curses. If he pulls anymore, the roped belt will say its goodbyes. 

Phainon groans, giving up on his garments. Excuses excuses…He finally knocks on the door, maybe a little too harshly. He hears the thump of heavy steps nearing the door, at a pace that matches his hearts tempo. Which isn’t really good. 

Phainon makes one last attempt at flattening his hair and setting his belt straight before letting his arms fall stiffly to his side. It’s as though time slows down when the locks shift, every turn filling Phainon with more demise. Against all instinct to run or curl up with lettuce heads, Phainon keeps himself planted right in front of the door. 

His gulp is audible when the door swings wide open, an angry Mydei meeting Phainons eyes. He doesn’t look much better; his scarlet chiton is longer than Phainons and messily worn, a soft and heavy fabric lined in sharp golden shapes in the traditional Kremnos style. He donned one of his gauntlets, and a surprised expression more than anything. Dark circles rimmed his golden eyes, a deep set frown that only got deeper. 

But nothing could’ve prepared Phainon for this. Not even embarrassment at what he knows is his stupidest expression, mouth agape. 

“Mydei..You…Where…” He reaches out towards Mydeis nape, the Kremnoan not stopping him. He touches red tipped strands that are so much shorter, more choppy. He cradles the singular braid with his other hand, aghast. “Where is your hair?!” 

Mydei blinks, struck out of his stupor just so he can frown some more at Phainon. “I needed to cut it.” 

Phainon stares at him in horror, already connecting this back to the boars. Did he really offend Mydeis pride so badly? Has he done this in retaliation because Phainon said he likes Mydeis hair?? 

“Why???” 

“I needed to- forget that! Where have you been?” Mydei moves Phainons hands away from his shoulders, opting to cross his arms and tilt his head towards his home. 

Phainon obediently follows, telling Mydei most of the truth. “I thought you would need a break from me. So I flew back to Aedes Elysiae.” 

Mydei sighs, leaning against the arch above the kitchen. He pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly bothered. “Why would you think I need a break from you at a time like this?” 

Phainon can’t help pausing, he’s been staring at Mydeis nape the whole time. Wow… “Well I kind of pissed you off. I didn’t mean to be gone so long, I accidentally fell asleep for a week.” 

Mydei rubs at his face, slightly more understanding, turning to face Phainon again. “You missed our feast so you could run? Instead of rejecting properly?” 

“What feast?” Phainon would never reject a feast. 

Whatever he said wasn’t the right option. Mydei fumes some more, turning face again. “I see. Acting dunce now. And they said it’d be obvious…” He mutters.

“Says you! I have no clue what you’re talking about. I wouldn’t refuse a feast I just…I wanted to apologize.” 

Mydei scoffs, ignoring Phainon in order to head off. “Leave now. I need rest.” 

“No. I can’t leave until you tell me what you’re talking about.” Phainon strides after him, stopping Mydei from slamming the door on him. He worms his way into the room, brows furrowed. “You’ve been acting weird all month!” 

“No! You’ve been acting weird!” Mydei barks back, pushing at Phainons chest. 

“Me? When you cut your hair?!” Phainon is exasperated, confused beyond belief. He takes hold of Mydeis wrist, slamming their foreheads together far harder than necessary. “You act bipolar! I can’t predict you at all! You…” Phainon takes a deep breath, throat burning. It can’t be. “You don’t treat me as your equal.” 

Phainon lets out a shuddering breath, stepping away. Has Mydei found out? Has he been trying to slowly separate himself? Since when?

And yet that man blinks at Phainon, this time snatching him instead. “You dare? After accepting my courting?”

Phainon knew he had no tears left. But his ducts were ready to start production. Until Mydei said that. “What.” 

“What do you mean what? You believe I will treat you differently once married? I thought you knew me better than that, Phainon. These are simply the motions of courting.” Mydei hangs onto Phainons wrist, a hold loose enough he could step away. And yet slightly firm, as though Mydei would rather Phainon choose to stay. 

But Phainon is feeling many things. Mostly confusion. Some sort of absurd excitement too. Mydei’s been courting him. He can’t even say since when. Phainon lets out a small laugh, breathless. Weightless. Mydei doesn’t hate this. Actually, he reciprocates. Dear Titans… Is he still asleep and dreaming? “Seriously…since when?” 

Mydei looks at him as though he is stupid. “We planned our marriage. Two years ago, but you needed time and I am more than willing to wait. Did you think I would not?” 

“Mydei no…I would marry you on the spot! I just…What. When in the past two years did I agree to be married? You like me?” 

The Kremnoan gapes at Phainon, tempted to strangle him. “What exactly did you think I meant when I said I accepted you taking my life a billion more times?” 

“Well…You said that as a friend!” 

“I wouldn’t say that to just a friend!” 

Phainon shuts his mouth, scratching at his nape. All things considered…He feels pretty good. Mydei likes him. Mydei has been courting him. Mydei wants him as more than a friend, comrade or rival. He wants more. A lover. A partner. He could melt on the spot, really. 

“And…You left last week.” 

Phainon smiles, biting at his lower lip. It didn’t matter. He has confirmation now. “We’ll do it again! I’ll be here, the whole time, Mydei. I promise.” He wasn’t legitimately rejecting anything, that he was aware of atleast. 

Mydei grunts, reciprocating with a small smile of his own. “Then come. I still have my last piece to give you.” 

Phainon doesn’t need to be told twice, though he does stare at Mydeis bed more than a few times. He was expecting more red, but there’s royal blue and golds, his curtains are red backed and elegant, carpets straight from Kremnos. Phainon wouldn’t mind living here. 

He focuses his gaze back on Mydei, watching the prince rummage the drawers of his immaculate vanity. Watches the way his back tenses when he finds what he’s looking for. Phainon can’t help his own heart jumping in anticipation. If he knew, he would have made this official the first month of Joy after Era Nova. 

“My mother has the signet ring once again so…She taught me an older style of proposing. One my maternal grandparents partook in.” Mydei walks towards Phainon, cradling a wreath of flowers, wheat, and…

“Is that your hair?” 

Mydei nods, holding the wreath carefully. He had thrown his gauntlet off for it, now offering it to Phainon. “For you. I have also…” Mydei glances away, a blush rising over his sun kissed skin. “I have commissioned Chartonus for wedding bands. I cut some of your hair for it.” Mydei looks back, glancing at the two strands of hair that never settled on Phainons head. “Not your antennae though.” 

“I appreciate the thought?” Phainon pats at his hair, snorting. His eyes are stuck to the crown though, probably a bit too big to sit on his head, but enough to keep forevermore. A wedding band later too? He just might be dreaming. 

Mydei lets him brush along the strands of blond and red, experimental, before pushing it into his hands. 

Phainon sets it over his head, hesitant. It tilts to the side, but nothing will ruin his mood now. No. He may as well be in the high heavens. “Thank you.” 

Mydei hums in response, a small smile playing at his lips. Which only makes Phainon curious. 

Enough to forget the part where he’s supposed to ask first. But Castorice did tell him alot about reading the moment. 

Phainon presses his lips to Mydeis – not the soft feeling he was expecting. It’s all teeth, inexperienced, their noses messing with the rhythm. A smoosh more than a kiss. 

Phainon couldn’t be happier. 

Mydei tugs on his belt, pulling him impossibly closer. He fixes their posture, turns his head towards Phainons lips properly, softly. His hands circle around Phainons waist, pushing him towards the bed. Phainon pulls away, still cupping Mydeis face. The wreath falls to the bed next to them, Phainon smiling up at Mydei so hard it hurts his face. The Kremnoan slots himself between pale scarred thighs, already reaching. “So eager. What happened to traditions?” 

Mydei scoffs, slowly working apart the belt holding Phainons chiton together. He’s smiling just as hard. “You want to wait another thirty three million cycles?” 

༺♥༻

“Hey Mydei?” Phainon hugs closer to his lover, leaning over his elbow to stare. He traces over Mydeis neck, appreciating the work he put in. Mydei bit him alot, but Phainon made sure to reciprocate.

“Hm?” It’s a sight to wake up to, getting to be like this every entry hour will have Phainon content. Small problem though. 

“What are your thoughts on accidental pregnancy?”