Chapter Text
Anaxa tried his best, really.
He made the best effort to create a gap between his work life and his personal life. (With the exception of, well, the better part of the school staff.) Fellow teachers looked up to him, parents praised him. The kids absolutely loved him, which was frankly new to him, considering his previous luck teaching middle and high school. He was no second coming of Christ, but with the way that first-graders flocked to him during story-time, he might as well be telling a parable to twelve disciples.
To put it simply, Anaxa was doing what could be considered a pretty decent job at teaching children.
He lived alone, with the exception of nine stuffed dromases that he shared a bed with and a cat named Nous, who was the light of his life. His studio apartment was small, but comfortable and decently priced. He had not a single complaint about his personal life.
If you exited his apartment building, took a left, walked straight for around five minutes (if you walked fast) and turned right, you would find yourself at the door of Express Cafe, a family-owned little place that sold coffee and baked goods. At the very least, two of the baristas were definitely twins, but none of the other workers looked at all related, so Anaxa assumed it was a sort of found-family situation (though he only ever saw that in movies).
In any case, it was the most delicious coffee in New York City and he was blessed that it was located near his apartment. He was a regular, and proud to know that all of the employees knew his name (it only took the first month for him to, albeit reluctantly, allow them to call him the shortened version of his name).
The cafe was a beautiful spot, Anaxa had thought the very first time he entered the place. People came and went, orders became memorized, and bonds were built over the counter, the table, in the line–anywhere, really. Seeds were planted over a few verses of small talk, and Anaxa had watched some of those moments grow into everlasting trees over the few years that he’d been frequenting this cafe.
“A–”
“Café latte with an avocado spread to go?” Dan Heng said. It was hardly a question, more of a statement, but his voice tilted upwards near the end, like a question mark.
The younger man, as well as the new hire Sunday and co-owner Welt were the only ones who regularly woke up early enough to be there for Anaxa’s usual first visit on work days. On weekends, Anaxa liked to spoil himself a little, waking up much, much later in the day and seeing the other workers. Anaxa had learned over a while that Dan Heng was not always so quiet, that as the day progressed so did his mood, but at 7:30 in the morning, Anaxa was grateful for the muted energy coming from the versatile man.
“Don’t forget an extra pump of vanilla for the first day of school,” Welt called. Anaxa chuckled to himself–it was heartwarming to know that the workers cared so much as to memorize his routine.
(In a different context, it would be called stalking, but Anaxa thought of it as more consideration than obsession.)
“Thank you very much,” Anaxa said, taking out his card to pay–but Dan Heng shook his head at the register.
“The man before you paid for it.”
“Sorry, what?”
“Your drink and spread has been paid for,” Dan Heng enunciated. Anaxa blinked at the cashier, his expression lost. Dan Heng, the poor man, pointed at a silhouette sitting at a table next to the window, practically basking in the sunlight. “He handed us an extra, like, twenty dollars, and told us it was for whoever came next in line.”
Five things caught Anaxa’s eye.
The first, the mask and sunglasses that made him look very, very suspicious.
Second, the fact that this man was a beast of a man, his shoulders broad and his stature tall.
The third was his moonlight-colored hair, a pale shade that Anaxa didn’t see very often in the area.
The fourth–his striking eyes that were not only blue, but captured the very concept of the color itself. Poetic words and names of shades or hues could hardly begin to describe how absolutely pure freaking blue this man’s eyes were, his irises looking as though they were carved from the sky itself.
The fifth was the fact that he was here at all. It was peculiar, because oftentimes, Anaxa was the only customer at the cafe at this time of day. He tilted his head, and the other man tilted his head back.
Immediately, Anaxa was torn to shreds--to thank the man or not to thank the man, that was the question. On the one hand, he could just consider it some act of blind kindness from the unprecedentedly attractive man sitting there, without any motive or need for thanks, and leave it at that. He could just take his drink and go. That was the safer option. Taking that path of action would result in a 1) significantly less flustered Anaxa at the end of the interaction and 2) much less stress on his already burdened mind.
On the other hand, he would feel bad if he didn't thank the man for dropping an extra twenty dollars. In this economy, especially.
Just think of it as a game, Anaxa, he thought to himself. This guy is just an NPC. Click X to interact.
He talked to new people all the time. He talked to parents, children, even new staff members. He knew how to talk to them--put on a decently professional air and lower your expectations for their intellectual capacity just enough for them to not feel insulted.
He could simply apply that same logic here, so why was he so...nervous about it?
“Thank you, sir,” Anaxa said, upon (bravely) approaching the man, whose lips curved into a smile. “...For the drink, I mean.”
Stage one: clear.
“You could thank me with your name?”
Oh, shoot.
“...You’re smooth, I’ll give you that. Anaxagoras.” Anaxa coughed into his sleeve--he didn't expect the conversation to turn this way. He thought it would be a simple thank you and you're welcome exchange, nothing beyond those parameters. Maybe a comment on the hot weather this week, a tasteful note about the coffee. Simple equations.
Not this.
“Anaxagoras,” repeated the other man. “Call me Phainon.”
“Sure.” Like I’ll ever see you again. “Were you planning on being a flirt to whoever was lucky enough to come after you?”
“I decided to take a gamble, if you will,” the other man replied. “It worked out in the end. I moved into the area just a while ago,” he explained. “I noticed you live in my building. Coincidentally, you happened to be the recipient of my generosity, so it looks like I don't have to wait until the next time we're both at home for this.” He handed Anaxa a note with his name and a string of numbers on it. “I do hope we’ll get along.”
“Oh…nice to meet you, neighbor. I hope the neighborhood is to your liking.” Anaxa nodded politely. “If you’ll excuse me, then. I’ll be on my way.”
“See you around, then.”
Anaxa managed a somewhat natural smile, turned tail, and fled.
Oh my goodness gracious.
To think that the most attractive man imaginable on both conventional and unconventional scales would move to his little $900 rent apartment building out of nowhere and buy him a drink at his favorite cafe–it was unthinkable, truly.
Anaxa did not trust that man.
His lips curved into a smile.
A smile was defined by the movements of the mouth, but usually, when a person smiled, their entire face distorted ever so slightly. Their nose crunched up, even if it was by half a millimeter, their cheeks pulled back ever so slightly, their eyebrows crunched inwards…and most of all, their eyes crinkled.
A person whose eyes did not crinkle into their smile was not a person whose soul was trustworthy.
That man, Phainon–
His lips curved into a smile–and nothing else.
“Phainon, huh…I swear I’ve heard that name before.”