sugarcubesandinsanity

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐛 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞, 𝐬𝐢𝐫!

synopsis: when phainon tells cyrene that you two have been dating for months and are going to prom together, it was just a lie to save his face. but when you agree to be his fake girlfriend for prom, your pretend relationship becomes very real, very fast.

content: 6.9k word count (I PROMISE this was unintentional), fake dating au, friends to lovers, fem!reader, modern/non-canon au (except phainon still gets called deliverer), love confessions, realizing feelings, a SMIDGE of angst, phainon and reader are kinda stupid

notes: @millucid HI MILA ITS HERE ITS HERERERREERREREE also first time messing around with text (header/banner) so it looks kinda . mid . BUT WHATEVER!!! I HOPE U ALL ENJOY THIS SINCE I HAD SM FUN WRITING IT !!! HAVE A GOOD PHAINON DAY/NIGHT EVERYONE.

"can you be my girlfriend?"

you nearly spat your soda out of your mouth once you properly processed phainon's request, which took a little while considering how sleep deprived you've been for the past few days with how many back-to-back tests you've had, all thanks to your teachers, "pardon?"

"i mean, not literally. just pretend that you are. please?" phainon smiles, looking almost sheepish. you already know that he got himself in some kind of predicament, and now, he needs you to help him.

you stay silent and listen to him explain himself a bit more. apparently, cyrene may or may not have implied that he doesn't have anyone to go to prom with, he got defensive, and then your name got thrown around for a bit before phainon made the bold move of saying that you're his girlfriend and that you two just kept your relationship private.

and to think you were stressing over physics while they were bickering.

"this is insane. you do know that, right?"

"what else am i supposed to do?"

"have you considered being honest?"

honestly, you're about to say no — it's wrong to lie, isn't it? he should come clean to cyrene — but phainon just had to look like a poor puppy that's about to start crying after being rejected by a passerby.

"…fine. but you owe me." you concede, sounding almost pathetic with how quickly you agreed to phainon's stupid proposal. you were honestly certain that phainon was going to use every trick in the book to persuade you, but you folded instantly, no begging required. damage to your dignity? maybe.

although, it does feels worth it once you see how bright phainon looks after you agreed to be his date for one night. that's all it is, right? you're just his date for one night. for prom. afterward, you can just say that you two 'broke up' because you weren't compatible romantically, and that you decided to stay friends.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

"think about it, you can also get those free couple desserts in restaurants," cipher began, playing around with some random coin she found on the ground. "besides, don't you have that family brunch coming up soon? the one that's once every month? you could ask that deliverer boy to return the favor and pretend to be your boyfriend~"

well, you can't say that you weren't considering it. your parents have been pestering you about when you'll finally start dating someone since their friends' kids all have boyfriends or girlfriends. you're pretty sure you overheard your extended family talk about how they feel bad for you since you're still single when you're about to graduate high school. in any case, phainon is pretty much the total 'ideal boyfriend' package — smart (with the exception of history), funny, respectful, athletic… the kind of guy who makes moms smile and dads relax. your whole family will approve of him, for sure.

you're not sure who will be more heartbroken when you eventually have to end your fake relationship, you and phainon, or your parents?

you let out a soft exhale, nodding along to your close friend's words, "you're right, you're right… i doubt he'll mind, anyway."

"that's the spirit!"

just two friends doing each other a favor, you tell yourself. that's all you and phainon are doing right now.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

you and phainon have been fake dating for two weeks now. so far, you've already met each other's parents, faked dates outside (not exactly dates if they're just regular, one-on-one hangouts, right?) and word spread fast that the two of you have been together for about four months, and you're just making your relationship public now.

two days until prom and five days until your monthly family brunch. after that, you'll break the unfortunate news that you and phainon 'just didn't work out romantically.'

in between busy classes and visiting the nearby coffee shops to recharge yourselves — or rather, mentally prepare yourselves — before your next class with professor anaxagoras, the idea of kissing each other so that everything looks natural pops into your head.

"we're going to kiss in front of other people, so we should practice." you propose in the middle of an 'emergency tutoring meeting' in the library prior to phainon's history exam, watching a very visible blush grow on his face.

"right, yeah, so we know how to do it on prom night."

"exactly. we have to make it look convincing, phainon."

the both of you are alone right now, in some secluded area in the library — bookshelves hiding you from the librarian roaming around the aisles, a small table in the corner, not to mention the busted light above the both of you, making the area look even more secretive.

your heart began to beat far quicker, which felt silly. it was just a fake, practice kiss. it'll be over in, like, three seconds. nothing to worry about! absolutely nothing at all. you're just two friends, trying to help each other out by pretending to be a couple. besides, it's normal to be shy about a kiss, no? even if it's a fake one.

"…well, obviously, we shouldn't do that here in the school library, huh?" phainon chuckles, like the kind that slips out before you can catch it — it's quiet, almost shy. his gaze lingers on yours for a second too long. there's a warmth behind it, the kind that makes your stomach flip—

titans above, you're beginning to sound like a fool in your own thoughts.

and, being the apparent fool you are, your words come out before you can properly stop yourself, "…i mean, it'll just be a quick peck, right?"

you're honestly expecting phainon to scold you and say that you two "shouldn't do that on school grounds," and whatnot. he's always been seen as the school's golden boy, so if someone saw him kissing someone, even if it's fake (because your school absolutely despises any form of PDA) he could get in serious trouble.

but instead, you're met with phainon's face getting closer to yours, his eyes set on your lips.

if your heart was racing earlier, you had no idea how to describe it now.

this current position feels... intimate, like it was straight out of a romance novel that girls like you can only hope to experience. you nearly pull away if it weren't for the fact that something inside of you was telling you not to.

"just a peck."

you can feel your head spin. not in a bad way, though. not in the slightest.

and you're about to reciprocate until you hear a terrifyingly familiar "ahem" coming from behind phainon. you move your head to the side, noticing green hair tied to a side ponytail, that mysterious eye patch that you've never dared to question in all the years you've had him as a teacher — professor anaxagoras.

phainon looks at you, confused, wondering why you suddenly stopped and pulled away from him. surely, his breath didn't stink, right? he always takes mints and chewing gum after meals and before leaving his house. was something on his face? no, you always tell him whenever he looked even the slightest bit disheveled—

"excuse me. what exactly do you two think you're doing?"

phainon jumps the moment he hears his teacher's voice, turning around with a bashful smile on his face.

"professor anaxa! me and [name] were just… talking about the upcoming test!"

your teacher looks even more annoyed now that phainon didn't use his full name but, in his defense, 'anaxagoras' is hard to say every time you talk about him.

"is that what we're calling it now? 'talking'? because, from where i'm standing, it looked like something very different, phainon."

you're certain that the both of you look embarrassed beyond words. after all, you and phainon weren't the type of students to actively get in trouble with teachers (despite that, phainon still gets a scolding from professor anaxagoras every other class)

and perhaps, that pitiful act got your professor to show the both of you some mercy.

"…you're both intelligent enough to know better. i expect more maturity from students at your grade level. i suggest you two open your textbook and use this space for what it's meant for. but believe me, if i see this type of behavior coming from the both of you again, there will be consequences. understood?"

neither of you can believe your ears, actually. you were fully expecting your teacher to have you two go to the guidance counselor and get a few points deducted from your report card for violating a school rule — he did that to some other kid that you cannot, for the life of you, remember the name of — but he actually lets you two off with a warning.

did he, perhaps, win an argument with miss aglaea? from what you heard among other students, miss aglaea has been winning their little hallway debates more often than not these days. mostly because someone actually has a counter for it, posting it on a social media account that a large majority of your school follows.

"y—yes, sir, understood." phainon answers for the both of you after an awkwardly long minute where no one dared to speak. professor anaxa doesn't even bother saying much else after that, instead reminding phainon not to be late for class before leaving a heavy silence between the both of you, a flustered look on both of your faces.

"…sorry, i didn't know professor anaxa would be there," you frown, feeling guilty since you're kind of the reason phainon got in trouble just now. you're not even sure why you suddenly felt that surge of impatience. you could've just waited until after school to practice kissing with him. he's a good guy, not someone that kisses girls in public places—

"n—no, no, it's fine, [name]! i didn't mind it. at all."

he sounds incredibly awkward when he laughs. you would be lying if you said that it didn't stir something inside you.

"…you're not mad?"

"mad? no, of course not. i mean, professor anaxa probably thinks that we're actually together now, but isn't that kind of the point?"

"well, yeah, but i didn't mean to just—"

your words hung in the air, unfinished, as the sharp, aggravating sound of the school bell pierced the silence, catching you and phainon by surprise.

but before you can rush phainon to go to his next class (especially since it's with the teacher who just caught the both of you almost kissing in the school library) you're met with an unexpected kiss on the forehead, followed by phainon gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear before hurriedly packing his things into his backpack.

"i have to get to class now! thank you for the tutoring session, [name]! love you!"

you blink as the white-haired boy in front of you zooms off and out of the library, the feeling of the kiss still lingering on your skin.

huh, you think. you didn't mind that as much as you thought you would. you didn't mind it at all, actually.

…that doesn't mean you won't ask him about it later when you see him again, though. unfortunately for you, you can barely focus on class, your mind slowly drifting off to the kiss and, even worse, the fact that he said that he loved you.

though, you can't keep thinking about the reason why phainon did all of… that. you have a class to get to, and you really don't feel like getting marked as late again after your failed attempt of skipping classes with cipher (and it was only you that failed since cipher got away with it for the most part) so you quickly pack your things as well, hurriedly making your way to the designated classroom that you've always gone to for your math class since the school year began.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

phainon isn't at your usual meetup spot after school.

you lingered by the gate for about ten minutes before you feel a buzz in your pocket, taking your phone out to check your notifications, only to see a text from phainon.

delivery boy 🍔: [NAME] I MSORRY I HAVR A DEBATAE CKUB MEETITNG RN

the fact that the only thing he spelled correctly was your name is both impressive and a little charming. you can't help but feel a little honored, really.

but it's not like you were expecting some creepy horror-style message saying that you only have 7 days left to live, and you aren't sure why you expected a different kind of text message from your friend. at this point, you've lost track on how many after school activities phainon has signed up for.

he tutors younger grade levels, a core member of the debate club, a part of the basketball team of your school… you're also relatively certain that he volunteers for local charities whenever he has the time for it. truly the type of guy that girls swoon after and guys envy.

and, compared to him, you aren't that special. you have decent, consistent grades, but nothing worth getting a medal after. sure, you're a part of a few clubs and after school programs, but they don't exactly look like major achievements.

there's a quiet yet persistent voice in the back of your head. not shouting, just whispering to you with undeniable certainty that you aren't enough for this role you have to play. it slips into your thoughts when you least expect it, filling your mind with doubt and worry.

but you two aren't actually together. you and phainon are just fake dating. there's no need to worry about being enough for him because, once prom is over, it'll just be another chapter in your friendship that you can laugh about in 20 years after graduating from high school.

and maybe, by then, phainon will actually be with someone in his league.

though, while you're battling your negative thoughts, phainon checks on his phone minutes later during the meeting, noticing that you left his message on 'seen.'

are you mad at him for not telling you sooner? surely not. that doesn't sound like you. still, phainon decides not to take his chances, sending you a few more messages.

delivery boy 🍔: im sorry please don't be mad at me delivery boy 🍔: can we talk before you go to sleep :( delivery boy 🍔: i don't want you to go to bed mad at me delivery boy 🍔: I'LL TREAT YOU TO LUNCH TOMORROW delivery boy 🍔: IF YOU'RE AVAILABLE delivery boy 🍔: AND NOT MAD AT ME

but currently, you just got home from school, kicking your shoes off and placing your school bag down to rest your shoulders. a show would be nice right now — a lot of your peers have been talking about this new series that just came out about a week ago. maybe you can watch that before you inevitably have to start answering your homework in an hour or so.

though, the moment you open your phone to search for the title of the show, you're met with phainon's messages, which look like they were sent in a panic. you're half-tempted to keep quiet and answer him in a few hours, but at the same time, you also don't want phainon to worry even more than he already is.

…and perhaps a small part of you is enjoying the attention. of course, that's not to say phainon didn't worry about pissing you off prior to the whole 'fake dating' act you're both a part of, but this feels more… intimate. maybe you'll grow to regret this feeling once you two have to 'end things' after prom. only time can really tell at this rate.

you carefully pick up your phone, opening phainon's contact before typing out your response.

you: NOT MAD i was just on my way home

without any delay, you see the small 'seen' beneath your text bubble. he was waiting for your response, you figured. shouldn't he be focusing on his debate club meeting?

delivery boy 🍔: OKAY okay that's good. i'm glad :) you: aren't you still in your little meeting? focus on that for now delivery boy 🍔: i am, yeah delivery boy 🍔: but you're more important to me right now

a flush crept up your face, blooming across your cheeks. you swear you can hear your heart pounding right now, not expecting phainon to act so sweet today. you're not sure if he's just a really good actor, or if this 'fake dating' thing is beginning to become less fake.

…it's probably the former, yeah.

you: smooth talking won't get you anywhere, delivery boy delivery boy 🍔: did you seriously keep that as my name in your contacts? you: maybe. maybe not. delivery boy 🍔: so you did.

despite the comedic conversation you're having with your fake boyfriend, you mind keeps coming back to what happened in the library earlier — the fact that you two nearly kisses on the lips, the fact that he did end up kissing you on the forehead, and him saying a certain word that sounded all too intimate for the deal you both made…

you: srs question are you busy rn? like actually busy

from what you can remember, phainon's debate club meetings last for a whole hour, extending up to two more hours if there's an upcoming competition. fortunately for you, the next competition is the final one before your grade graduates, which is about three weeks away. he should be done in about ten minutes or so.

delivery boy 🍔: not really. they're just talking about the future meetings since the school has a lot of events for us graduates you: okay good you: um

now you feel nervous. is it really the best idea to bring this up? maybe you're just being ridiculous — it's fake dating. you should expect phainon to act like a boyfriend towards you. he already has been these past few weeks. maybe it'd be better if you just ignored it entirely. it's not too late to just delete your message.

except this time, he said that he loved you. the most he would do these past few weeks is call you cute endearments or hold your hand while walking around during breaks.

and you've never been one to let questions remain unasked just because you don't want to mess anything up.

you: just to make sure we're on the same page here lol you: you kissed my forehead and said that you loved me earlier you: just making sure, that was… fake?

the moment you hit send, you felt the regret come in. you don't want phainon to think that you genuinely caught feelings for him — or worse, you've felt this way for a while and simply suppressed it until now.

or maybe you just don't want to come to terms with your feelings yet.

but phainon doesn't give you much time to dwell on these thoughts as he sends you a response.

delivery boy 🍔: YEAH YEAH that was all fake. method acting. there were other people around so i had to convince them too delivery boy 🍔: i do love you delivery boy 🍔: in a fake dating way

just like that, the response you were expecting, and the one that you should've been hoping for. it would be bad if one of you actually caught feelings, wouldn't it?

but your fingers type faster before you can even properly comprehend the thought.

you: do people usually look that sincere when they fake it?

in contrast to his previous messages, phainon doesn't respond immediately. you tell yourself that he's probably just focusing on the meeting — maybe one of the members scolded him for using his phone when they're supposed to be discussing about how to win in the next competition so that they can win the champion trophy for the 10th year in a row.

the next time he sends you a message is 11 PM. you've already prepared for bed, pajamas on, bag packed for your classes tomorrow, but you still open his message.

delivery boy 🍔: okay but what if it wasn't fake

you leave him on seen. he deletes it a minute later.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

a sense of dread fills your heart the moment you see that familiar head of white hair in the vast crowd of people preparing for their day. the sound of chatter fills the hall, some people asking their smart friend for homework answers, some complaining about their next class, and a few talking about how they'll skip their classes today.

and you? you're avoiding your fake boyfriend who sort of implied that he wants to be your real boyfriend last night. normally, you would procrastinate on answering your homework, but this time, you're procrastinating on talking to phainon about what the hell he meant by that last night.

but eventually, your attempts of escaping from the inevitable conversation with phainon are all futile, as the moment you take your eye off his stupid little cowlick, your delivery boy appears right in front of you, a nervous smile on his face.

the same nervous smile that makes your heart race, even if you don't want to acknowledge that fact.

"[name], um…" phainon stammers, which is unusual when you consider how self-assured he always sounds, whether it's as he's reciting in class or debating against a rival school during one of the many tournaments that he begged you to watch since he wanted moral support.

you were the only one that attended. your school's team won by a singular point, all thanks to phainon.

he jokingly called you his good luck charm after that. thinking about it now, you didn't mind the nickname at all, actually.

maybe a part of you liked the fact that he called you his good luck charm.

"about last night—"

however, as if you had traveled back in time to what happened in the library yesterday, the obnoxious sound of the warning bell echoes through the busy hallway, and the collective tired groans of high school students soon follow.

you're all far too tired for this nonsense, but you know that you still have to head to class. it's senior year, after all. you're almost done with this boring yet extremely stressful schedule that you've been following every day for the past four years of your life.

but even if you wanted to shrink and go to a completely different room to put some distance between the both of you, your next class is with phainon.

you even sit beside each other. how fortunate.

your textbook nearly gets ripped in half with how annoyed you are.

even if word got out about your 'brand new relationship,' some people really can't take a hint, your eyes darting to the small, crumpled up papers that were clearly shoved inside phainon's pocket, all full of numbers from different girls that are interested in him.

then again, do you really have the right to feel jealous about this?

you're only his pretend girlfriend. there's nothing deeper between the two of you other than being two best friends who are helping each other out by pretending to be together. if anything, you should be encouraging him to accept their offers.

…but you also feel oddly selfish. phainon is the most selfless person you know. that familiar feeling of guilt comes back for a split second before they're interrupted by miss aglaea saying she'll hand out a surprise quiz, and she's giving everyone 10 minutes to review the topic.

then, you feel a tap on your shoulder.

"do you want to talk, or…?" phainon whispered, not wanting to disturb you if you do decide to use the given time to review.

but something tells you that you won't be able to focus even if you do.

"no, i can… kinda understand it well. i want to talk, too."

despite the fact that the class should be reviewing, it's not exactly quiet, with the loud chatter between friends fill up the room as people get in groups to review together. normally, this would annoy you, but considering the conversation you're about to have with the man beside you, you figured it's actually working out in your favor.

you start the conversation, scooting your seat closer to his, "i saw your message last night."

"i know."

"you… deleted it."

"i, uh… didn't mean to send it. i was just kidding! for the bit."

you can't help but shoot him a confused glare. did he not just contradict himself? he said he didn't mean to send it, yet he was also 'just kidding'…

"…for the bit?" you ask again, your tone much quieter, almost vulnerable.

and with that, phainon looks like he's about to break.

"yeah, i was just messing around. don't take it too seriously, [name]."

you only stare at him in silence, an almost hauntingly empty look on your face, "right. i just… wanted to make sure we were on the same page. would've been awkward if you were serious."

in spite of the noisy classroom you were in, there's a deafening, heavy silence between the both of you. you move your chair back to it's original spot, putting some distance between the both of you once again.

except this time, it felt a lot deeper than physical distance.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

"if i didn't know any better, i'd say that you're in love."

phainon, who stayed after class to help clean up miss aglaea's classroom, suddenly paused his motions of wiping the whiteboard, like his heart stopped beating momentarily.

"i'm not in love with [name.]"

"but i didn't say [name] specifically, did i?" miss aglaea smiles, finally hearing phainon slip up and imply that his feelings for you might not be so fake after all.

now, phainon feels like a fool, realizing that he fell right into his teacher's trap, "oh."

he's beginning to regret telling his teacher about your fake relationship and, unknowingly, gushing about you in front of her.

"quite the interesting confession, phainon."

"that's not—!" he stops himself for a moment, realizing that he's beginning to sound rather ridiculous while trying to defend himself. "you did imply [name], kind of."

in response, she only laughs, gently tilting the potted plant in her classroom to the left, noticing that it was a tad bit off-center. "i said nothing about certain names. you brought up [name] up all on your own."

"right. well. i'm not in love with her, if that's what you're asking."

"you're blushing."

"it's hot in here."

"the air-conditioning is at 16°C."

"…global warming?"

arguing with miss aglaea is basically a losing battle for him. she's already a very intelligent individual, but she's been his teacher for nearly half a decade, she also knows all of his weaknesses, academically or emotionally.

"i'm just a good actor, miss aglaea."

once again, miss aglaea keeps a composed expression on her face, her voice calm as if she's talking to a child, "that's true. i've seen you perform minor roles in school plays."

"but something tells me you aren't acting when you're around her, phainon."

phainon quiets down, turning around to continue erasing the writings on the board from the previous lecture, "…maybe."

"what was that?"

"nothing!"

but miss aglaea knows. phainon does, too. it's no longer 'nothing,' and honestly? it hasn't been nothing for a while now.

just one more day until prom.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

to say that phainon was a nervous wreck before prom night is a severe overstatement.

he didn't want to mess this up at all. his search history was full of all sorts of things, ranging from 'how do i tell my best friend that i like her even though i told her i didn't' to 'flower shops nearby', wanting everything to go perfectly.

he didn't want to lose his chance to be with you — to actually be with you — just because he was too much of a coward to say it the first time.

the school day was pretty relaxing for all of the senior students, mostly so that nobody was at prom worrying about a presentation due next week. the most the teachers gave you were quick activities that you could easily accomplish within the class time.

so now, he here is — in front of your house, a bouquet of flowers in his hand, one for you and one for your mom. he survived the horrors of 8th grade, he thinks to himself. he'll survive asking you to be his real girlfriend.

taking a deep breath, he carefully knocks on your front door, patiently waiting for someone to answer. your parents liked him, didn't they? he's pretty sure they did—

"oh, phainon!" your mother's sweet, cheerful voice interrupts his thoughts, causing him to nearly drop the bouquet of flowers in his hand. "well, look at you! all dressed up to sweep [name] off her feet?"

"yes ma'am! i brought these for her—" phainon smiles, straightening himself up, handing your mother her bouquet. "—and also for you! [name] mentioned that you liked these before."

if your mother's smile wasn't sincere earlier, it definitely is now, happily taking the colorful bouquet from the young man's hands.

"what a sweetheart you are! [name] is just busy prettying herself up, so you'll have to wait for a while. come inside, please! can't have your hair messed up by the wind."

she's already pretty, he thinks to himself, but refrains from saying it out loud. "i don't mind at all, ma'am," he steps foot inside your house, triple-checking to see if he accidentally left any dirt marks behind, sighing in relief once he sees that there's nothing there. "i just… want tonight to be really special for her."

to that, your mother's smile softens, almost as if she's remembering when her own prom. "i like that. you nervous?"

"a little, but i'm mostly excited. prom is a big deal, right?"

"it is," your mother puts the bouquet down for a moment, looking around for a spare vase to place it in, her voice taking on a playful tone, "and so is bringing her home on time. no later than 9 PM."

however, phainon matches her energy, sounding just as high-spirited, "absolutely! i promise, ma'am. 9 PM, sharp"

"good! i'm trusting you with my baby tonight. no pressure."

phainon's lighthearted conversation with your mom comes to an end, with the sound of your voice coming from upstairs. "mom, is he here?"

"he is! don't keep your boyfriend waiting too long, sweetie!"

well, now his nerves are coming back even stronger. he's about to see you again after his fumble in miss aglaea's class. not to mention, he's going to see you in a prom dress, and based on the picture you sent him prior to buying it — because you figured it'd be extra cute and convincing if you two were matching — it looked stunning.

the sound of slow footsteps come down from the stairs. the first thing he saw was the bottom layer of your dress, slightly lifted up so that you don't accidentally trip on it while walking down.

if your prom dress looked stunning in the pictures, it looks downright ethereal on you.

"so, uh… what do you think? do i look okay?" you ask, your fingers fidgeting with one of the gemstones on your dress. you look like you're unsure if you should twirl around so that he can see the whole thing or if you should stay still so he can focus on certain details.

"okay? well, no—"

for once in his life, phainon is at a loss for words, which is impressive with how much of a chatterbox he likes to be whenever you two hang out during lunch breaks and after school.

"i mean, not just okay. you look… pretty. really pretty."

admittedly, phainon was a tiny bit nervous about how you would react after he messed up while trying to compliment you, but you laugh. not the kind that's mocking him, it sounds… fond, actually.

"…thanks. you look handsome, too."

with your little exchange coming to a close, your mother gently grabs the both of you by the arm, guiding the both of you to a nice, open area in your living room to take a picture. "pictures, you two! this will be the most memorable night of your lives!"

despite the fact that you and phainon have been faking your relationship for a while now, especially since you started this entire ordeal because of prom, neither of you really talked about how to pose for your prom pictures. should it be romantic? more on the comical side? you weren't sure.

however, phainon decides to take the initiative, grabbing you by the waist and handing the bouquet for you to hold, "these are for you, dawnlight."

the nickname added a touch of sincerity, you think, unaware that this pretend relationship of yours might lose the 'pretend' part. your body leans into his, almost naturally, smiling at your mom's phone, the harsh flash flickering for just a second.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

fortunately for you and phainon, your mom offered to drive the both of you to the school — phainon had initially hitched a ride on mydei's motorcycle, and he's grateful that your mom didn't see that part. it'd be a lot less romantic, wouldn't it?

despite the darkness of the backseat, you feel phainon's pinky graze against yours, hesitant. like he was expecting you to pull away since your mom was focused on the road, unable to see your 'fake' affection towards each other.

but you don't.

you go further, actually, interlacing your fingers together. you felt his warm hands enveloping yours, almost like he's protecting it.

neither of you seem to dislike the contact. it felt as if time both slowed down and, at the same time, sped up. and before you know it, you're at the school, eyes focused on the other students outside — some about to enter the school, some waiting for their date to arrived, and others taking last minute photos.

"have fun, you two," your mom cheered, hitting the 'unlock' button from her driver's seat. "and don't forget — 9 PM sharp. I'm talking to you, young man."

"you have my word, ma'am!" phainon exclaims, opening the car door for the both of you, even going as far as to hold his hand out for you to take so you won't struggle with your dress.

"see you later, mom!" you called to her before holding onto phainon's hand, carefully exiting the car.

"see you later, sweetheart!"

and just like that, she drove off, another car replacing hers in the drop-off zone.

"now then, shall we go?" phainon clears his throat, bringing your attention back to his presence. phainon, being the gentleman he is, even straightens out a wrinkled part of your dress, looking at you expectantly.

"yeah, just…" you pause, taking a deep breath as you try not to turn into a walking, talking tomato, "…try not to look at me like that all night?"

to that, phainon's voice softens, tilting his head with a smile that looks far too real to be fake, "like what?"

"like you mean all of… this."

"…maybe i do."

your heart stops the moment the words come out of his mouth, bracing yourself to pull the same trick he did in miss aglaea's class. he doesn't.

in a panic, you force a laugh after a prolonged beat of silence, your eyes unable to meet his, "don't say that. you're making me forget that we're faking this."

phainon briefly stops talking, stepping closer to you, voice low, "maybe faking isn't such a bad—"

"no, it is." you cut him off, shaking your head, trying to smile. "if we stop faking this, then… what will happen when it's over?"

"maybe it doesn't have to be over." phainon said softly, searching your eyes.

"you make it sound way too easy."

"nothing worth having ever is."

you fall silent, the words stuck in your throat as the memories of your fake relationship flood back to your mind. every glance held for a second too long, every touch that felt far too intimate for two people who are only supposed to be pretending. you think back on all the moments that were meant to be acting, and you can't help but wonder when the line between real and fake began to blur.

"you're wondering if i meant any of it, aren't you?" phainon asks, immediately knowing what kind of thoughts are swirling through your head. "to answer your question, i did."

probably not all of it, you think. maybe, in the middle of one of your pretend dates, something clicked in his head that his feelings may not be so fake after all.

"we were pretending." you counter, sounding quiet, like you don't have much else to say at this point because you truly can't deny anything at this point."

"yeah. but i stopped pretending a while ago. i just… didn't know how to tell you, i guess."

now, it feels as if the world stopped spinning. you both agreed to be each other's fake date to get out of awkward situations, but now, here you two are — in an awkward situation because your feelings unknowingly got too real.

"this wasn't supposed to happen."

"…i know."

your eyes finally meet his after looking at the ground the entire time. there's a myriad of words you want to say, but you finally choose to ask the question lingering on your mind.

"you… really think we can make it work?" you ask, your gaze nervous, but he can see a hint of excitement beneath it all.

phainon smiles at your question, his hand squeezing yours firmly, but not too tight. just enough to feel reassuring. "we made it work when it was fake. imagine what it could be like if it was real."

"but—" for a moment, you hesitate, sounding almost… scared. "what if i ruin it?"

"you being afraid to mess things up kind of makes me like you even more." phainon said, bringing your hand up to his lips, placing a soft, tender kiss on the back of it. "it means you care. and i care, too."

"but i promise you, [name]," he continues, "if you 'ruin' anything, we'll fix it. together."

his heartfelt confession touched your heart, like something inside you finally clicked into place. without even realizing it, you were smiling at him, unable to contain the tender feeling inside you.

"so… can we try? for real this time?"

"trying means risking everything, phainon. our friendship, especially. are you sure we're ready for that?"

"if it's with you, i'm willing to risk everything rather than wonder what we could've been for the rest of my life."

you think about it in silence. no matter how many counter-arguments you can think of, none of them seem to be a good enough excuse not to try with phainon. because, in the end, you know your own heart would break if you didn't take this chance just to find out that someone else did.

"then let's not wonder anymore," you start, affectionately playing with his fingers. "let's try. for real this time."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

your mom was right. prom night was, in fact, an incredibly unforgettable night.

you had fun with your friends, dancing together beneath the sparkling lights set high up in the gym, enjoying it to the fullest since this will be the last event in your high school life before graduating.

that was already expected. you already knew that would happen when you just entered high school.

what you weren't expecting was the fact that your date, and now real boyfriend, was the friendly boy that you sat next to since you didn't know anyone in your class, who immediately made you feel like you belonged here, who helped you build up your confidence and introduced you to his friend group when he found out that you ate lunch by yourself on the abandoned staircase that nobody passed by.

the sweetest boy you've met, who is the human embodiment of the sun, is now the man you're proud to call your boyfriend.

he's a good kisser, too. you were delightfully surprised when he suddenly leaned in for a quick peck, only to have you pull him in for a deeper one.

but now, it's time for your family brunch. phainon said that he'll meet you there — causing you to triple check the location you sent him, not wanting him to go to a completely different location and have your extended family think badly of him — so you quickly whip your phone out while your dad was driving, texting your boyfriend.

you: we're otw there. u sure u dont want us to meet u and pick u up somewhere? we still can (my) delivery boy 🍔: no worries, dawnlight! i'll be there soon :D about 20 mins away. it starts at 10:30, right? you: OKAY okay just making sure. dont be late, delivery boy (my) delivery boy 🍔: you're still calling me that? (my) delivery boy 🍔: i was hoping u would change it to something sweeter :( you: IT IS SWEETER you: because now ur MYYYYYYY DELIVERY BOY :D (my) delivery boy 🍔: ??? (my) delivery boy 🍔: as if i was ANYONE ELSE'S delivery boy, dawnlight (my) delivery boy 🍔: i was all yours from the very beginning

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

"i told you so." aglaea says, smirking at the green-haired man across from her, who doesn't even bother looking at her direction.

professor anaxa lets out a groan, rubbing his temple, "don't start."

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

LICKING MY SCREEN RN

CHAT WHY IS MY PHONE ALL WHITE AND STICKY HELP

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

Thinking about how Phainon uses Snowy, the cutest white fluffy dog, to send courting gifts to you because he feels so shy, and whenever he is around you, he becomes a flustered mess.... (he also knows Snowy is ur greatest weakness)

#snowybestwingman

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

tysm for feeding us all of ur art idk how you are able to pump them out so consistently fast…your dedication is so admirable Σ(ﾟ口ﾟ;)// BUT ANYWAYS could i request a superman phainon and batman reader just being playful rivals when on duty but hopeless mutual pining while in civilian form >_<

⇥ 900 EVENT MASTERLIST

BREAKING NEWS MULTI-BILLIONAIRE IS COURTING A LOCAL FARM BOY❗❗❗❗❗❗ (Also, can I kiss y'all for requesting such a great au, also i apologize for the messy art..) EDIT: I ALSO FORGOT TO ADD SNOWY OMGGG

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

pupnon shedding.......

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

TWO HALVES OF A WHOLE

pairing yandere! phainon x (yandere) gender neutral reader

in the holy city of okhema, people have been vanishing without a trace—and phainon, the ever-dutiful deliverer, is determined to uncover the truth. too bad he’s the one behind the disappearances. well, half of them, at least. the other half? that’s your doing. childhood best friends and hopelessly obsessed with each other, the two of you have been stalking one another’s every move for years, memorizing routines, lingering just out of sight—completely unaware that you’re both equally unhinged. phainon watches over you like a lovesick guard dog, convinced he’s protecting you from the city’s dangers. meanwhile, you leave a trail of blood in your wake, grinning like it’s all just part of the adventure you promised him long ago. neither of you knows the truth. neither of you cares. after all, what’s a little murder between soulmates?

phainon knows your schedule by heart—not because he’s trying to, but because you’re impossible to ignore. he knows the exact moment you wake up, the way you groan and roll out of bed like the world owes you something, rubbing sleep from your eyes with a grumble.

he knows how you stretch, arms thrown wide like you’re challenging the sun itself, that lazy, sharp-toothed grin already playing on your lips like today’s just another fight waiting to happen. he’s memorized the path you take through okhema’s twisting streets—how you swagger past the market stalls like you own them, how you pause just to scratch behind the ears of the chimeras lounging in the alleys, murmuring something cocky under your breath that makes them purr.

he’s seen you kick pebbles halfway across the plaza when you’re bored, your boot scuffing the ground with restless energy, like you’re seconds away from picking a fight with the air itself. and oh, he loves the way your eyes light up when something catches your attention—something new, something dangerous—because that’s when your grin turns wicked, like you’re already calculating how much fun it’ll be to wreck it.

he doesn’t mean to stalk you. really, he doesn’t. but how else is he supposed to keep you safe? the holy city’s a mess these days, people disappearing left and right, and the thought of you being next makes his chest ache like a fresh wound.

you’re reckless, always charging headfirst into trouble, always acting like nothing can touch you—and maybe nothing can, but he’s not taking that chance. not when you’re the only one who’s ever looked at him like he’s worth something, like he’s more than just the deliverer, more than just another face in the crowd. not when you’re the one who grabbed his hand all those years ago and dragged him into the light without a second thought.

(he remembers it like it was yesterday—the golden wheat fields of aedes elysiae swaying in the wind, the way the sunlight caught in your hair as you loomed over him, blocking out the world like some cocky little guardian angel.

he’d been crying, pathetic and small, knees tucked to his chest like he could disappear into the earth itself. then you showed up—grinning down at him like his tears were just another challenge to conquer, dirt smudged across your cheek, scuffed sandals kicking up dust as you crouched to his level.

you didn’t ask why he was upset. didn’t coddle him with soft words. just thrust your hand in his face, palm up, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "c’mon, let’s go on an adventure." as if he had any choice but to follow.

and he did. of course he did. because you said it like a dare, like a promise—like whatever came next would be worth the trouble. like even if the whole world burned down around you two, you’d just laugh and punch a hole through the flames.

he remembers how your fingers gripped his, soft and warm and alive, yanking him to his feet like deadweight was nothing to you. remembers the way you smirked when he stumbled, how you didn’t let go even when he found his footing. "that’s more like it," you’d said, already dragging him toward the horizon like you owned it.

just like that, he was yours.)

so yes, he follows you. not like some creepy stalker—at least that's what he tells himself—but like a loyal shadow clinging to your every reckless move. he catalogs it all: the way you kick open doors instead of using the handle, how you balance on crumbling ledges just for the thrill, the tuneless battle hymns you sing under your breath when you think no one's listening.

he knows the exact moment your shoulders tense before a fight, that split-second where your grin goes sharp and dangerous. he's memorized the way you wipe blood off your knuckles—casual, like it's just another tuesday—and how you always manage to lose at least three buttons on your coat by noon.

he's the deliverer, after all. watching over the city is literally his job description. and if his patrol routes just happen to overlap with your chaotic orbit, if his reports include a few extra pages documenting your daily escapades... well.

aglaea doesn't need to know. the city guard doesn't need to know. and you definitely don't need to know how his pulse kicks up when you flash him that shit-eating grin after another near-death stunt. this is just... diligence. professional curiosity. nothing more.

(except it's everything. has been since the day you dragged him out of that wheat field by his wrist, all rough hands and louder laughter, like you'd already decided he was worth keeping.)

but he's noticed something strange. sometimes, when he thinks he's being subtle, you take sudden detours down alleys too narrow for shadows, into buildings even the rats abandoned. he tells himself you're just exploring—you always did have a knack for finding trouble in empty places.

and when you come back, there's that look in your eyes, that barely-there smirk like you just won some private game. it makes his chest feel tight in a way he can't name. but that's ridiculous. you're you.

you're the one who picks fights with street thugs twice your size just because they looked at someone wrong, who comes home with split knuckles and a laugh like it was all in good fun. you're rough around the edges, sure, but you'd never—

(he ignores the blood on your boots. it's probably from some bar brawl or scuffle in the streets—you did come home with a new bruise on your jaw, grinning like a madman. he ignores how your sleeves are always rolled just enough to hide what might be scratches (or claw marks, but no, that's stupid).

you get into scuffles, that's all. you're hotheaded, not... not that. the missing people in okhema? that's something else entirely. something monstrous. you're not like him. not his best friend who still carries bandaids in their pocket for street kids, who threatened to break the arm of that merchant overcharging old lady mei. you're reckless, not cruel. you're—)

(you're still the person who reached for him in the wheat fields. that's all that matters.)

૮ฅ・ﻌ・აฅ

phainon had watched for days as this thing clung to you like a parasite, buzzing in your ear with jokes that weren’t funny, touching you like it had any right. you were too kind—always too kind—letting them trail after you even when your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, even when your fingers twitched like you wanted to shove them off.

but today—today—when they slung their arm over your shoulder, when they whispered something in your ear and you laughed, bright and unrestrained like you only ever did with him—something inside phainon snapped.

so when the streets grew quiet, when the shadows stretched long enough to hide his intentions, he approached them with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "come with me," he said, voice smooth as poisoned honey. "there’s something important we need to discuss."

they followed, stupid and trusting, right up until the moment his hands closed around their throat.

their eyes bulged, fingers clawing at his wrists, but he didn’t let go. couldn’t. not when he remembered how they’d touched you, how they’d made you laugh like they had any right to your joy.

you were mine first, he thought, pressing harder, watching the life drain from their face. mine. mine. mine. you had reached for him in those wheat fields, chosen him for your adventures, laughed like that for him long before this worthless creature ever appeared in your life. they didn’t deserve you. didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.

when their body finally went limp, he dropped them, chest heaving.

and then—the doubt crept in.

he stared at his hands, sticky with blood, and felt sick. when had he dug his fingers in their throat? and who was he to judge them? he was worse. so much worse. at least they had never hidden what they were—a leech, desperate for your attention. but him? he was the deliverer. he was supposed to protect people, not slaughter them in back alleys like some common murderer.

you were perfect. sunlight given form, all sharp edges and sharper smiles, kicking ass and taking names like some righteous force of nature. even splattered in blood—which was obviously from defending some poor soul in a back alley brawl, from teaching some bastard a lesson they deserved, never from anything darker—you still shone brighter than anyone in this damned city.

you were everything good in this world, all rough kindness and louder justice, breaking noses but never spirits. but him? he was a monster. a liar. the deliverer who delivered death instead of justice, who killed not for protection but for possession. broken hands clinging to something too pure for him. unworthy of the way you still grinned at him like he hung the stars.

would you still reach for him if you knew? would your calloused fingers—always so warm, always so sure—still curl around his without hesitation? or would that easy smile of yours freeze over, would that fearless glint in your eyes turn to disgust?

maybe worse—maybe you'd laugh. not your usual bright bark of amusement, but something colder. like you'd known all along he was this pathetic. like you were just waiting for him to admit it.

(the thought of you pulling away made him nauseous. the thought of you not being surprised? that shattered him completely.)

the air bites at his skin as he trudges back home—your home, the one you’ve shared since the two of you find yourselves in okhema all those years ago. and there you are, silhouetted against the sunlight, leaning against the crumbling stone railing at the city’s edge.

your head’s tilted back, staring up at kephale’s weathered statue with that look—the one that’s equal parts restless and wistful, like you’re already plotting how to climb it just to prove you can. the wind tugs at your coat (always left unbuttoned, no matter how cold it gets), and for a moment, you look like some wild thing about to take flight.

his chest aches. he’s moving before he can stop himself, boots scuffing against the cobblestones as he closes the distance between you two.

"couldn’t sleep?" his voice comes out too tender, too raw. he clears his throat, but it’s too late—you’re already turning, that sharp, familiar grin cutting through like a knife.

"nah," you say, rolling your shoulders with a crack. "just felt like taking a walk." there’s a smudge of red on your cheek—rust, maybe. or paint. (it’s probably paint. you’d been tinkering with a few inventions and knick-knacks again, muttering curses as some parts don't work. probably.) your knuckles are scraped raw (another bar fight, he tells himself), but your eyes are bright, alive in a way that makes his breath catch. you swipe at the mark absently, only succeeding in smearing it further.

phainon's hand moves before his brain catches up, calloused thumb swiping across the stain on your cheekbone. you go statue-still under his touch, eyes blowing wide—and fuck, he's messed up, overstepped, ruined everything—until you lean into his palm like a cat seeking warmth. the trust in that simple movement sends heat roaring through his veins, possessive and dizzying.

"you're always following me," you say, voice low and knowing. not angry. not even surprised. just stating facts, like commenting on the weather. like you've known all along.

his pulse stutters. you noticed. of course you did—you notice everything, even when you pretend not to.

"i—i just worry," he chokes out, ears burning crimson. it's pathetic how easily you unravel him. one glance, one touch, and he's laid bare.

you bark out a laugh—that familiar, jagged sound that lives in his ribs. "yeah? well, stop." your teeth flash in the light, more threat than smile. "i can take care of myself." there's blood in your voice, a promise hanging between you like a drawn blade.

(he knows. oh, he knows. he's seen the aftermath—bodies stacked like firewood in your wake, the way you whistle while scrubbing gore from under your nails. you're the shadow haunting okhema's streets just as much as he is.)

but he just nods, swallowing hard. he only leans closer and closes his eyelids, sighing with content when you cup his cheek and caress the area under his eye. because he's yours—has been since you yanked him out of that wheat field by his hand. and if your hands are just as dirty as his? if your smile hides fangs? well. he's in no position to judge.

(the thought should terrify him. instead, it settles in his bones like truth: he'd follow you straight into hell if you asked. maybe he already has.)

double upload because i spent two nights writing these bad boys!! i hope y'all enjoy another little one-shot featuring yandere phainon and reader—it came out to about 2.1k words of mutual obsession and questionable morality. i wanted to explore their dynamic without diving too deep into outright gore, so while there’s some violence (phainon’s not exactly gentle when jealous LMAO), it’s more about the tension than the bloodshed i guess. speaking of which—yes, phainon could’ve ended things quickly, but well... emotions got the better of him. when it comes to you, he’s nothing if not messy. so yeah! he slowly strangled a dude... this was mostly a test run to see how people will react to this pairing, so i’d love to hear your thoughts! do you like the balance of possessiveness and denial? should i push their dynamic further, or keep it at this level of intensity? either way, thank you for reading!

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

Please, I'll be your good boy...

Yandere! Phainon x reader

Prologue of No matter how many cycles it takes

Warning: begging, desperation, yandere behaviour.

Word count: 1.6k

note: there will be one more pic to add in here, maybe a sketch?

The grand hall of Aedes Elysiae lay silent, its golden light flickering weakly against the high wall. Your footsteps echoed as you walked toward the door, the Coreflame’s dim glow casting long shadows across the marble— shadows that clung to you like memories you could not escape.

In this cycle, you had been chosen as the new Deliverer. When the Trabilizer had gone missing due to Lygus’s interference. It was inevitable that the backup plan fell to you.

“Don’t go” Phainon’s voice was low and calm at first, barely a whisper, like a quiet wind before the storm.

You froze.

You were afraid to look back— afraid to see his face. Knowing that you might not come back.When you had entered Amphoreus along with Trabilizer and Dang Heng, Phainon had been the good friend, steady and reliable.

But for Phainon, from the moment he saw you, a quiet intensity had kindled in him, something deeper than admiration, something that tethered his heart to your

“Are… you going to leave me?” The question wavered, cracking halfway through as if he could not bare to know the answer.

No matter whether he wanted the answer or not. You chose silence. The longer you stayed, the harder it is to leave.

Without thinking twice, you took a big step forward. Suddenly, he moved. His gloved hands shot forward then wrapping around your leg and gripping tightly as if losing his grip would mean losing his beloved to void forever. His forehead rested just above your knee as his shaking and warm breath touched you.

“Please,” he choked as he tilting his head to look at you, tears beginning to fall while his voice was breaking. “Please, Please, Please—” Each word rang with desperation.

“I beg you...” he shook your leg uncontrollably. “Please... don’t leave me. I’ll—”

“I’ll promise” he gasped

“I’ll be your good boy.”

“I’ll do anything you ask. Just—”

His grip tightened, knuckles pale beneath the leather, his entire body trembling.

“Just.. stay. I can’t breathe without you here.”

-

Kofi

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

Mafia boss phainon.... In a suit.... Plz 🥺 (I want bad phainon when he deals with people but is actually a sweetheart to only us like a clingy puppy)

⇥ 900 EVENT MASTERLIST

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

could I politely ask for draconic Phainon!! I love dragon men (cough cough DAN HENG cough cough) so I’d love to see ur take on Phai as one 🫶

⇥ 900 EVENT MASTERLIST

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

Thinking about how throwing an apple on someone is a declaration of love in ancient greece.

Imagine shopping outside for apples and you accidentally slip then boom! Everything goes flying, including the very apple you had bought and... headshot.

Phainon turns back and whines out in pain but then he sees the fallen apple beside his shoe. His eyes sparkle and look for the mysterious confessor, but with the help of the "woooo-ing" crowd, he finds you next to the apple stall and a smirking vendor.

And then he, your savior comes to help you and drop you home. You are so confused on why everyone was smiling at you and phainon but you were too busy grieving your apples to care.

After that day, phainon would come to your house daily with small little gifts such as a bouquet of flowers including forget-me-nots, roses, some wildflowers and daisies.

Even chocolates and new clothing!! You practically felt your heart leap out of your chest, your already big crush on Phainon was growing even larger and one day you couldnt handle it anymore.

You called Phainon in a secluded area and finally confess your love for him. But then Phainon froze up before saying the words to you,

"I thought we were already dating?!"

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

HIHIIIII saw ur reqs were open and ur writing is so scrumptious soooo (๑>؂•̀๑) could i request an au where the reader owns a lil bakery in town while phainon works across the street (you can pick his job !!) and phainon is trying to hard to court the reader by buying out all their stock or being there first thing in the morning before reader even opens shop <333 TYSM IF YOU DO DECIDE TO TAKE THIS REQ (˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵)🤍

phainon with baker! reader :3

summary- you silly baker, you bake uh phainon down bad and wants you so bad. he buy everyhting, he richy rich and always there for you cw- tooth-rotting fluff and sappy phainon :3

link to 150 follower event

Sunlight streamed in through the front windows, dust motes dancing lazily in the beams, and the air was already warm from the ovens. The sweet, yeasty scent of rising dough mixed with the sharper notes of cinnamon and vanilla, wrapping around you like a blanket.

Your apron was already a crime scene of flour smudges and cocoa streaks, and you were pretty sure there was powdered sugar in your hair—again. Not that you cared. If the bread was perfect, you’d gladly sacrifice your dignity to the aeons

You hummed under your breath as you kneaded the latest batch of dough, pressing the heel of your palm into it with the precision of someone who had done this hundreds of times. Occasionally, you’d make a dramatic “Hyaa!” like you were in some martial arts movie, just to amuse yourself. Nobody was watching.

You think atleast.

You paused, glancing toward the front windows. Across the street, you could see the faint reflection of the building opposite yours, but from here you couldn’t make out much—only that it was where that tall, mysterious man worked. The one you sometimes caught looking over whenever you stepped outside to dust flour off your hands. You smile to yourself, faintly knowing who this 'mysterious' man was.

Still, for now, it was just you, your dough, and the comforting hiss of the oven timer. You grabbed a piping bag and began decorating the cooled cupcakes on the counter, going way overboard with the swirls just because it made you laugh. One looked vaguely like a lopsided tower. You decided to keep that one for yourself.

“Perfect,” you murmured to no one in particular, leaning on the counter with a satisfied grin as the smell of fresh bread began to fill the little shop.

You rolled your sleeves up higher, tying them off at the elbows to keep from dragging them through the frosting. The oven timer chimed, and you turned toward the trays of golden-brown cupcakes cooling by the window. Their tops were domed perfectly—lightly cracked from the rise��and the air above them shimmered faintly from the heat. You carefully transferred them to the cooling rack, the faint metallic ting of the tin sounding like the punctuation mark to a job well done.

The smell was heavenly—warm vanilla with a hint of citrus from the zest you’d mixed into the batter. You reached for another piping bag, this one filled with silky cream cheese frosting, and tested a swirl on a piece of parchment before starting on the first cupcake. The motion was second nature now: steady pressure from the hand, a gentle turn of the wrist, and a final little flick to make the tip curl just so.

One by one, the bare cupcakes transformed into little spiraled clouds, each crowned with a delicate dusting of powdered sugar. For a moment, you let yourself just enjoy it. The small, almost meditative satisfaction of seeing your display case fill up.

You slid the finished batch into the glass display near the front counter, lining them up alongside the morning’s bread rolls, fruit tarts, and cookies. The glass fogged slightly from the warmth inside, and you wiped it clear with your apron, smiling at the rows of treats standing proudly in the light.

The bell above the shop door stayed quiet. Outside, the town was still waking up. A few shopkeepers were sweeping their stoops, a delivery truck rattled past, and somewhere down the street someone was laughing too loudly for this early in the day.

You went back to the counter, ready to start another batch of cupcakes—this time chocolate—and bent over to pull out the mixing bowls again. You were halfway through spooning cocoa powder into the sieve when you felt it.

Not a sound at first. Just a shift.

You turned—and froze.

Phainon was just smiling at you, and you swore you felt your heart jump from his sheer beauty or the shock of his sudden appearance.

Tall enough to make the doorway look too small, framed by the faint gold of the morning light behind him. The man across the street, the one you’d occasionally caught looking your way, was now standing in your bakery as if he’d been there all along. His ocean eyes were already on you, scanning from your flour-dusted hair to the smudge of cocoa powder on your cheek. He looked like he’d stepped out of a different world entirely, all clean lines and quiet intensity, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, looking at you with a spark you can't really understand.

The quiet was broken only by the faint tick of the cooling oven and the far-off clink of someone unlocking their shop across the street.

Then, he grinned. “Beat your opening time again,” he announced, stepping fully inside like he owned the place. “What is this, the fifteenth day in a row I’m first?”

You sighed, setting down the sieve still full of cocoa powder. “Phainon, you were standing out there before the sun came up. I saw you through the blinds.”

“Hey, I like to be prepared,” he said, utterly unapologetic as he leaned on the counter. “Besides, you know the early bird gets all the cupcakes.”

“You mean the early bird buys all the cupcakes,” you corrected, brushing your hands on your apron. “I’m still convinced you’re running some kind of underground baked goods operation.”

He laughed—loud, bright, and entirely too warm for this early in the morning. “If I was, you’d be my top supplier. I mean, look at you—” he gestured vaguely toward your display case, “—singlehandedly keeping me alive with sugar.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth betrayed you with a small smile. “Well, you can’t buy everything today. I have actual customers coming later.”

He gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. “So I’m not an ‘actual customer’ now?”

“You’re more like a… very persistent fixture,” you said, turning back to check the oven. “You’ve been here every single morning for months. Do you even work?”

“Yes, I work,” he said, sounding personally insulted. “Across the street, remember? You’ve walked past my office like fifty times.”

“I don’t walk past, I glance past,” you muttered, pulling out another tray of golden cupcakes.

“Uh-huh,” he teased, leaning over to peek at them. “Oh, these look good. I’ll take all of them.”

You didn’t even answer that. “They’re not for sale yet.”

“I’ll wait.” He leaned his elbows on the counter like he had nowhere else in the world to be. “So, what’s the weirdest cupcake you’ve ever made?”

You blinked at him. “…Weirdest?”

“Yeah, like… pickle frosting or something,” he said, clearly just fishing for conversation.

“I’m not a monster,” you replied, carefully moving the cupcakes to cool. “Though once, I tried lavender honey. Didn’t sell well.”

“I would’ve bought them all,” he said sincerely.

“That’s because you’d buy anything I put in the case.”

“True,” he said, without hesitation. “You could frost a shoe and I’d pay full price :D”

You snorted before you could stop yourself, shaking your head as you started on another batch of batter. “That’s not a compliment, you know.”

“It is from me,” he said brightly. “Also—” he straightened up suddenly, “is that cocoa on your cheek?”

You reached up automatically, missing the spot. “Where?”

“Here.” He stepped closer, close enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne, fresh and warm like the sea on a warm, sunny day. With one finger, he brushed the smudge away, then leaned back with a grin that was far too pleased for such a small act. “There. Perfect.”

His hand was still suspended in the space where your cheek had been, his fingertips warm from the brief contact. Your gaze met his, and it was startling how close he was now.

Close enough that you could see the flecks of lighter blue in his irises, the way his lashes cast faint shadows under his eyes. Close enough that you could feel the ghost of his breath brushing your skin, warmer than the oven behind you.

“Saved by the bell,” he teased, but his voice was just the tiniest bit unsteady, and you swore his hand reached out to yours.

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

thinking about vampire phainon (p≧w≦q)

inspired by @box-artist vampire phainon heh.. drools.. cw- biting, hickeys, clingy ass phainon, suggestive?, good boy phainon, non-canon au and snowy best doggie. and pasta

The rain had been coming down in sheets for hours, and your phone had died somewhere between “you’re fine” and “wait, this path looks weird.”

google maps had given up on your ass.

By the time you stumbled out of the woods, soaked to the bone, there it was—rising out of the fog was a massive, ivy-covered Victorian mansion.

a black wooden mansion with ivy's surrounding the pillars of the house, stained glass windows, and slight accents of white flowers on the house.

Its windows glowed faintly warm against the storm. You peek inside in the hope of getting a glimpse of the inside of the house, but despite the roaring, blinding thunder—you failed to even get a single glimpse of the inside. The only thing in your sight was the glowing colours of the stained glass.

The heavy oak doors groaned as you pushed them open, stepping into a grand, dimly lit hall. Velvet drapes framed tall stained windows, no wonder you couldnt get a glimpse, candlelight flickered across polished wood, and the air smelled faintly of old books and… white roses?

You barely had time to marvel at the sheer size of the place before you feel a large, looming presence behind your back.

The kind that prickles down your spine, locks your knees, makes you aware that you are very much not alone.

You froze. Every horror movie instinct screamed, Don’t turn around.

and of course you turn back.

and…well, not exactly what you expected from the whole “mysterious Victorian mansion” setup.

The man—if you could even call him just a man more than a giant—was huge. Broad shoulders, towering frame, long dark coat draped around him like he’d just stepped out of a reniessance painting. His hair was soft-looking, pale, and a little mussed, his eyes a strange, warm blue that should have been predatory but instead… sparkled?

"A human!! It's been so long since I've seen one! :D"

huh?

"...hi?"

He tilted his head, and for a second, you swore the movement was almost puppy-like.

“You’re drenched,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that carried way too much concern for a stranger. “Oh—wait, don’t tell me. Lost in the woods? Phone died?”

how does he know what a phone was?

Your mind scrambled for a response, but before you could ask him how the hell he knew what a phone was, when he looked like he should be writing poetry by candlelight in 1892. he was already moving, not in a threatening way, but with the kind of eager, bounding energy you’d expect from a golden retriever spotting a tennis ball.

“Come on, come on,” he urged, looping around you in a way that made you feel herded toward the sweeping staircase at the far end of the hall. “You’ll get sick if you stay like that, and don't worry, I'll give you some silver in case you don't feel safe around me D:"

He glanced back over his shoulder, flashing a grin that revealed unmistakably sharp fangs, and you felt a fuzzy feeling in your abdomen.

wait...he has fangs?...sharp fangs? and what did he mean by silver?

holy fuck he's a vampire?? Your legs refused to move. The hall felt bigger now, shadows pressing in, the thunder outside rattling the glass in the stained windows. You swallowed hard, eyes flicking to those fangs again. “I promise I’m nice!” he said quickly, as if sensing your hesitation. His hands came up in an exaggerated surrender pose before he winced. “Oh—wait, maybe that’s not convincing since, uh… y’know.” He tapped one fang sheepishly, then made a sort of awkward grimace-smile combo. “But really, I don’t bite people unless they really deserve it. Or, um… unless they say it’s okay.”

You had no idea what to say to that.

Before you could decide whether to bolt back into the storm or keep staring at him, petrified but not at the same time, he was already shrugging out of his long coat and draping it over your shoulders. The thing was heavy, smelling faintly of rain and that same white-rose scent clinging to the air. It hung almost to your ankles...and it had white fur stuck on it?

As you followed, the sound of your wet shoes squelching against the polished floor echoed embarrassingly loud. He didn’t seem to notice, his attention instead fixed on you like you were the most fascinating thing to have crossed his path in decades or even centuries in this case.

“How long were you out there?” he asked, voice warm with genuine concern. “The forest can get dangerous during storms. You didn’t see the wolves, did you?”

Your steps faltered. “…There are wolves?”

"Uh.. anyways... I'm Phainon!” He thumped a massive hand against his own chest. Your eyes quickly glance at his chest before looking at him dead in the eyes again. “That’s me. What’s your name? :3”

"Hm...How about you earn my name?" You said with a slight smile, feeling a bit more comfortable with this puppy vampire you just met. His blue eyes slightly sink, but then sparkle again, seeing the smile on your face.

"Oooo a challenge!! I accept, human!—three laughs and i'll get your name please"

Before you could agree—or correct him, he was ushering you toward the side of the grand staircase where a set of carved double doors opened into a parlor so absurdly cozy it almost gave you whiplash. A roaring fire in a marble hearth, thick rugs, shelves of old books and even older trinkets… it was all warm glow and soft shadows.

“Sit, sit,” Phainon urged, motioning you toward an armchair that could’ve swallowed you whole. “I’ll get you something warm to drink—oh! And maybe a blanket too." he came back with a steaming mug; he crouched down in front of you instead of towering above, his big frame folded in an almost comical way. God, he is still so huge despite him crouching infront of you.

You took the drink, your fingers brushing his, and you swear you felt your heart quicken and you bite the inside of your cheek to make sure you dont smile at him this early.

1st morning

The rain was gone, replaced by pale sunlight filtering through the stained glass. The colors bled across the parlor walls like someone had spilled liquid jewels everywhere. The fire had gone out, but you were still wrapped in Phainon’s coat, the faint rose scent lingering.

You sat up slowly, half-expecting the events of last night to be a very strange dream. But the giant, pale-haired vampire slumped awkwardly in a too-small armchair across from you, head tipped back and mouth slightly open and it made that possibility impossible.

and then...a soft snore escaped him.

As if sensing you were awake, his eyes blinked open—bright, impossibly blue even in the morning light. He perked up instantly, but winced a little due to the sunlight and quickly closed the curtains, causing the house to return to its gothic colour scheme.

“You stayed!” he said, sitting forward so quickly the chair groaned in protest. “Good. I was afraid you’d sneak out and I’d have to go into the sun to find you. And that would’ve been… bad.”

Your lips twitched. “You were asleep. How would you even know if I left?”

“I have really good hearing,” he replied matter-of-factly, then smirked widely, again revealing his fangs. You immediately look down at your lap, flustered, and your heart rose up by a mile.

why are you so flustered??

And then he continues—

“Also, I sleep with one eye half-open sometimes. Like a fish.”

A small laugh slipped from you before you could stop it. His entire expression lit up like he had won the lottery.

"Goddang it.."

“That’s one laugh!” he said, pointing at you triumphantly. “Two more and I win.”

“Oh, so we’re still doing that?” you asked, leaning back into the chair.

“Of course! I don’t give up on challenges.” He rose to his full height, stretching until you heard something pop in his shoulders. “But before I make you laugh again, you need food. Or breakfast. Or—do humans still call it breakfast? It’s been a while.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t had a guest in a while, huh?”

He grinned, a little sheepishly this time. “Not a living one, no.”

Your second laugh came quicker than you expected. fuckk why do you keep laughing so easily?? screw phainon

Phainon froze mid-step, then spun on his heel like a cat hearing a can opener. “Two!”

"I won't be laughing at all now!" You exasperate and huff, crossing your arms, looking at him in a teasing manner.

Phainon narrowed his eyes at your declaration, but there was nothing truly menacing about it—more like the exaggerated squint of someone pretending to be offended. “You think you can resist me?” His voice dropped, not in a threatening way, but in that deep, smooth rumble that made your stomach flutter despite yourself. “Challenge accepted… again.”

He turned fully toward you, and the shift made you instantly aware of just how much space he took up. Broad shoulders filled the doorway, coat hanging loose around him like it barely contained his frame. You suddenly understood why the chair last night had looked like it might give up under him—Phainon was built like a man who could pick up a whole tree and carry it for fun, which he could probably do/

When he grinned again, those fangs caught the light, and you felt your pulse skip. The thought that they could pierce skin in an instant made you… yeah, very aware of how close he was.

Phainon noticed your glance—of course, he did. He leaned forward slightly, tilting his head. "Are you okay? Oh no! are you sick? You are all reddish now D:"

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out except a sound that was dangerously close to an embarrassed choke. You immediately looked down, muttering something that sounded vaguely like “shut up” under your breath.

Poor Phainon thought he did something wrong.

♥ ♥ ♥

2nd morning

You were curled up in the parlor with a blanket (which you suspected he had heated near the fire beforehand, because it was perfectly warm), pretending to read a book while keeping an ear on his movements.

When he finally emerged, he was holding… something.

It was vaguely bread-shaped, steaming, and smelling… well, edible.

“I present to you—breakfast!” Phainon announced proudly, setting it on the table like a priceless artifact. “I made it myself. No poison, no blood, nothing weird, promise.”

You raised a brow. “That’s… reassuring?”

He plopped into the armchair across from you, grinning wide enough that the tips of his fangs showed. “I even measured the flour this time.”

“That implies you didn’t measure it last time.”

“...Correct.”

You didn’t laugh. Not even a smile. You just tore off a piece of the bread and chewed slowly, watching him over the rim of your cup. His grin faltered ever so slightly.

The whole morning was like that—Phainon trying, you not budging. He’d “accidentally” trip over a rug (you were pretty sure it was on purpose), tell you about the time he accidentally fell off a cliff (??) and a bunch of concerning stories more than funny.

You set your cup down. “I don’t think that’s a story you should tell while someone is eating bread you baked...Phainon 😨”

His grin widened. “Because now you’re picturing me pulling fighting bears for fish?”

You groaned and pulled the blanket up to your chin, deliberately avoiding his gaze. You could hear the way he shifted in his chair—leaning forward, elbows on his knees, and looking at you eagerly.

“You’re really going to keep pretending you’re immune to my charm, aren’t you?” he murmured.

Your eyes flicked up, meeting his for the briefest second. “Charm? Is that what you call… whatever this is?”

“Mm. I could call it something else,” he said softly, almost to himself. “But that might scare you off.”

Something in his voice was different now. it was lower, smoother, with a weight that made the air feel suddenly thicker. You swallowed, unsure whether you wanted to retreat or lean in.

Phainon leaned back with an exaggerated sigh, stretching his long arms over the back of the chair like a lazy cat. “Fine. Keep your walls up. See if it stops me from getting you to laugh.”

It was infuriating how confident he sounded, and what did he even mean?? . . . . . An hour later, the parlor was quiet except for the occasional crackle from the fireplace.

You’d finished your tea, the bread was gone, and you’d buried yourself in one of the thick, brick-shaped novels you’d found on a shelf. Phainon had wandered off earlier with a muttered “back in a bit,” and you’d half-expected him to forget you entirely.

The creak of the floorboards gave him away before you even saw him. He was carrying a stack of folded blankets and what looked like… a ridiculous amount of pillows.

“…What are you doing?” you asked, watching him dump the pile onto the sofa across from you.

"I think its called a pillow nest.."

"You mean pillow fort?"

you found yourself watching him work—his movements strangely gentle for someone with hands that big, the way he kept adjusting the blankets until they fell just right. When he finished, he stepped back and gestured toward it like he’d just unveiled a masterpiece.

“Thereee, Try it! :D”

You eyed him suspiciously but stood, shuffling over. The moment you sank into the mess of warmth and softness, you had to admit… it was perfect.

He must have caught the flicker of approval in your expression, because he practically lit up. “See? Told you. Best nest-maker in all of—”

“It's called a pillow fort,” you interrupted, turning back toward your book before he could see the way your mouth twitched.

But you heard him chuckle as you feel him behind you, then as you turn back—you are eye to eye with him, lips centimeters away, breaths on each other's skin, and heartbeat increasing. And then just for a second, you swear you saw his eyes glance to your soft cherry-flavoured lips.

Your breath caught, though whether from surprise or something else, you couldn’t say.

Phainon didn’t move at first—just stayed there, crouched in front of you, his height still somehow making you feel smaller than an ant. His gaze lingered for one, two heartbeats too long, flicking between your eyes and your lips in a way that made your chest tighten.

Then, almost imperceptibly, his grin softened.

“You’ve got uh..” He hesitated, reaching up slowly, like he was giving you time to pull back. The back of his knuckle brushed your lower lip, feather-light. “Crumbs.”

You blinked and continued to read your book, ignoring the tightness in your chest.

holy shit hes a cutie

♥ ♥ ♥

3rd morning

You weren’t even sure when you’d fallen asleep—only that the fire had been low, the pillow fort had been warm, and your eyelids had gotten heavier with every lazy flicker of flame. Somewhere between one page and the next, your book had slid from your hand, and then you fell asleep.

When you stirred, it wasn’t the morning chill that greeted you. It was… warmth. Heavy, solid, fluffy warmth pressing against your side. Blinking your eyes open, you froze.

A pair of round, dark eyes stared back at you from a very small, very fluffy face. Snow-white fur puffed out around its cheeks like clouds, and its tiny black nose twitched as it snuggled even closer. A jingling name tag caught the light.

Snowy :D

You blinked again. Then turned your head slightly.

And found another pair of eyes on you—these ones cerulean blue and sparkling.

Phainon was leaning against the arm of the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, watching you with that slow, warm smile that seemed to take up his entire face.

You groaned softly, burying your face halfway into the Samoyed’s fur. “I just woke up and I see two Phainons.”

He chuckled, deep and quiet, like it was a private joke meant only for you. “That’s a compliment, right?”

You mumbled something incoherent into the snowy's fur.

Snowy gave a soft, happy huff and pawed at your blanket, as if demanding you stay put. You reached up to scratch behind his ears—only to realize Phainon was watching that motion a little too intently, as if he could feel your touch through the dog.

“What?” you muttered.

His smile didn’t falter, but there was a hint of something else in his gaze now—something softer, heavier. “Nothing...you look happy"

“I was,” you said pointedly, “until I woke up to an audience.”

“Snowy’s the audience. I’m just the stage crew.”

You gave him a flat look. “You’re the entire audience, be for real.”

Snowy gave a tiny yawn and nuzzled into your side, making you let out a small squeal as you bury your face into his fur with a smile.

At this point, you had forgotten to go to home, and surprisingly lasted 3 days without your phone.

Phainon’s gaze lingered on you a heartbeat longer before he straightened, clapping his hands together.

"Alright!! i'll be making pasta! :D"

"You know how to cook pasta?" "I love pasta, so i learned how to make it myself :3"

And then, He walked toward the kitchen, you caught the way Snowy’s tail wagged just watching him go. And, annoyingly, you felt the same little flutter in your chest.

The sound of Phainon rummaging through the kitchen was… chaotic. Drawers opening and closing, cupboard doors creaking, the occasional clunk of something clearly too heavy to be dropped like that.

Snowy’s ears would twitch every time a particularly loud sound rang out, but he stayed right where he was, head in your lap, occasionally licking your wrist like you might disappear if he stopped.

You ran your fingers absentmindedly through his thick fur, the warmth and softness almost lulling you back to sleep. But then you head phainon humming.

It wasn’t loud, but it was surprisingly nice. Deep enough to vibrate faintly through the walls, he sounded like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

Your book lay forgotten on the armrest. You were too busy leaning just slightly toward the sound.

A few minutes later, he appeared in the doorway, flour dusting his dark suit, and his sleeves were rolled back to his elbows, a faint flush in his cheeks from the heat of the kitchen, and his hair tied back loosely with a pink bow clip.

"How..do you have a pink bow clip?"

"I found it in the woods while hunting meat for Snowy!" He grinned when he saw you smile at him. “Don’t move—pasta’s almost done. And I didn’t even burn anything this time.”

Snowy gave a bark, as if congratulating him.

You arched a brow. “How many times did you try before?”

"Too many to count, pretty girl"

He disappeared again, and you found yourself with your mouth open and eyes widened. You were burning up from the heat or his nickname.

pretty girl. pretty girl. pretty girl. pretty girl. pretty girl. pretty girl. he called you a pretty gir-

Snowy's bark returned you back to reality from your malfunctioning state as he returned with two steaming bowls, you were almost embarrassed by how your stomach fluttered more than your appetite. He set one in front of you, then sat down on the floor beside the couch instead of taking the armchair like before, knees drawn up, shoulder brushing against yours.

“This better be good,” you said, poking at the pasta with mock suspicion.

“Oh, it’s perfect,” he said easily, leaning a little closer. “I made it for you.”

"Ohh Snowy, how do you deal with such an infuriating owner D:"

"So mean!!" Phainon cried as Snowy gave out a small bark as a protest or an agreement, you couldn't tell because of how damn good this pasta was.

also sorry if you dont like mix sauce pasta.. i love mix sauce spicy pasta so..😭

The sauce clung to the pasta in a silky, rich coat, the tangy brightness of tomatoes cutting through the creamy smoothness of what could only be a perfectly balanced white sauce. There was garlic in there, faint but enough to give each mouthful a warm, savory depth, and just the slightest sprinkle of herbs—oregano, maybe? Basil? and some spice as well.

“…Okay,” you admitted after swallowing, “I was ready to insult you but-”

“But?” He was watching you like your answer will decide everything inhis life.

You jabbed your fork in his direction. “It’s good. Like… really good. Annoyingly good.”

That slow, pleased grin spread across his face, his sharp canines just barely peeking out. “Annoyingly good is my specialty.”

Snowy gave a small huff from where he’d curled up at your feet, like he was taking credit for this masterpiece too.

You took another forkful before you could think better of it. “Ugh. You’re going to make me stay here longer just so you can keep feeding me, aren’t you?”

Phainon tilted his head, his blue eyes softening in that way that was both disarming and dangerous. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched against your will. “…You even look smug.”

“Only because you’re enjoying it,” he teased, nudging your knee with his own before twirling his own fork lazily. “Besides, I told you—I like having you here. Makes the place feel…”

"Suffocating?"

"-Lovely, wait what?? NO!" He panicked at your response, saying gibberish at this point to defend how you are not a suffocatign presence in his mansion.

And then you finally laugh, tears forming at the corner of your eyes and a good blush on your cheeks, along with sauce on your lips.

You were beautiful.

You glanced at Snowy for distraction, but the fluffy traitor was already dozing, leaving you alone with Phainon's yearning stare at you.

"Wait, you added garlic in this, right? Then how are you eating this??"

Phainon chuckled at your concerned face and just said, "I only added garlic in your pasta sauce, don't worry, pretty girl, and...YOU FINALLY LAUGHED!! TELL YOUR NAME NOW!! >:D"

"(Name).."

"(Name).. such a pretty name for a pretty girl"

"You can't be saying words like this, Phai!"

For the first time, Phainon looked stunned and his mouth shut up. And..you also quickly shut your mouth continuingto eat the pasta in silence avoiding his gaze.

"I like it...Phai...call me that from now on."

"Phai <3"

You saw his pale skin turn redder and the temperature of the room increase.

♥ ♥ ♥

4th morning

You woke up to the faint smell of the fire still lingering in the parlor, but the space felt quieter and..suffocating.

The blanket was still warm—someone had clearly draped it over you sometime during the night, but there was no clattering from the kitchen, no humming echoing faintly through the halls. Even Snowy seemed more still than usual, curled up at your feet with his chin resting on your ankle.

You stretched and listened. Nothing.

It wasn’t until an hour later, when you wandered into the hall, that you saw him.

Phainon was halfway up the grand staircase, one hand on the banister, a faint smile plastered on his face, when he noticed you. But it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Morning,” he said, voice as warm as ever, but it was just… gloomier.

“Morning,” you replied, hesitating. “No pasta today?”

“Not today. Got… things to do in my room.” His gaze flicked to Snowy, who had padded up beside you. “Snowy, keep her company, alright?”

The Samoyed gave a small bark in reply, and then Phainon was gone, disappearing into the upper floor before you could think of something else to say.

Your fingers sank into his fur, slow and absentminded, whispering so quietly that even you almost didn’t hear it. "Snowy.. do you know what happened to him?"

And unfortunately, you can not understand dogs as Snowy simply barked gloomily. Man.. these two are connected by Bluetooth or something??

You squinted at Snowy. “...That was not helpful.”

He gave you the most tragic pair of puppy eyes you’d ever seen. You sighed, hugging the big fluffball closer. “Fine. We’ll figure it out ourselves.”

Phainon’s absence seemed to stretch into every room, like the air itself had lost a layer of warmth. Even the fire you tried to stoke back to life seemed reluctant to catch. You found yourself wandering from the parlor to the library to the kitchen, aimlessly touching things he usually left scattered around—half-finished cups of tea, a scarf draped carelessly over a chair, the little dish he used for sugar that was inexplicably shaped like a skull.

All were untouched.

Snowy followed you like a shadow, tail occasionally brushing your leg. You couldn’t decide if he was trying to comfort you or keep an eye on you like he’d been told.

By the time midday rolled around, you’d had enough.

You stood at the base of the grand staircase, arms crossed, glaring at the empty upper landing. If he thought he could just vanish upstairs and mope in silence without telling you what was going on—

Snowy whined softly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered. “I’m not snooping. I’m… checking.”

You climbed the stairs slowly, each creak in the wood making you more aware of how quiet the house had become. By the time you reached the hallway outside his room, you could hear faint movement inside.

You knocked gently. “Phainon?”

Silence.

Then, after a pause, his voice—closer to the door than you expected. “…Don’t come in, (Name)."

"Phai.. are you okay?"

"I-I'm okay..don't worry, pretty just working on something"

"If you say so, Phainon."

You lingered a moment longer, hand still on the doorframe, feeling the urge to push—just a little

There was a muffled scrape from inside, then the faint sound of fabric shifting, as if he’d just moved something out of sight.

Snowy pressed his cold nose against your ankle. You looked down at him, then back at the closed door. “…Fine. I’ll leave you to your work"

You tried to keep your voice light, but it came out thinner than intended.

The walk back down the hall felt longer than it should have, your footsteps sounding too loud against the quiet.

The rest of the day passed in a strange rhythm. You’d catch a shadow flickering under his door, hear the faint sound of a chair scraping, then nothing for an hour. He didn’t come down for lunch. He didn’t even yell from upstairs to ask if you’d eaten.

By the time evening rolled in, the fire downstairs had burned low again. You curled up on the sofa, pretending not to keep glancing at the staircase.

Snowy hopped up beside you, laying his head in your lap. His tail gave a small wag as if to say, He’ll come down.

“…Yeah.” You brushed a hand over his fur. “I just—”

The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps cut you off.

Phainon appeared at the top of the stairs, looking… tired. His hair was slightly mussed, his shirt sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, and the bottom of his lip was chewed on a little with small blood dripping down his lip. And..it was obviously his.

“Hey,” he said softly, almost hesitant.

You sat up a little. “Hey yourself. Productive day of… secret things?”

He gave a small, real smile, but still subdued. “Something like that.”

"Well, you want to sit beside me?"

"I was just checking up on you, pretty. I'll go back to my room :)"

You simply nod at his words, trying to seem okay with his reaction but in fact you were incredibly disappointed.

Lonely.

♥ ♥ ♥

5th Morning

You woke to a silence so complete, it felt like the walls themselves were holding their breath.

The fire was cold now, only a faint dusting of ash in the grate. The blanket on your shoulders was the same one from last night, but it didn’t feel freshly warmed—just leftover heat from your own body. Snowy wasn’t at your feet this time. In fact, the room felt painfully empty.

You sat up slowly, listening. No clinking cups from the kitchen. No footsteps pacing above. Not even the faint hum you’d grown used to hearing from somewhere deep in the halls.

The mansion had always been quiet, but this was different. This was the kind of quiet that made you second-guess whether you were alone at all.

You padded barefoot into the hall, expecting Snowy to come barreling around a corner at any moment. He didn’t. The staircase loomed ahead, still and dust-moted in the soft morning light. No figure leaning casually on the banister. No blue eyes catching yours in that half-smile.

You tried the base of the stairs first, calling up softly. “Phainon?”

No answer. Not even the creak of movement.

Snowy finally appeared from somewhere down the hall, padding toward you with slow, deliberate steps—ears tilted slightly back. He didn’t bark. He didn’t wag his tail. He just sat at your feet, staring toward the upper floor like he was waiting for something that wasn’t coming.

A prickle of unease crawled up your neck.

You went halfway up the stairs before you realized it—the air was cooler up here. Not cold enough to see your breath, but cold enough to feel it sink into your skin. You stood outside his door, straining to hear anything.

Nothing. No scrape of a chair, no rustle of fabric.

“Phai?” you tried again, softer this time. “If you’re in there…”

Still no answer.

Snowy pressed close to your leg, and you could almost swear he was trying to herd you away from the door. You stayed there another long moment, waiting, before finally stepping back.

You descended the stairs slowly, each creak sounding too loud in the empty house.

Snowy stayed at your heels this time, his nails clicking faintly against the polished wood. You kept glancing over your shoulder—half expecting to see a tall, broad silhouette at the landing, leaning there with that happy, puppy-like smile of his. But the space behind you stayed empty.

You wandered through the main floor again, past the library, the drawing room, the tall windows whose light seemed too pale today. The shadows stretched differently, thinner in some places, thicker in others, like the house itself was breathing in ways you couldn’t quite catch.

Snowy nosed your leg, his ears flicking.

You squatted down, scratching gently behind them. “Where is he?” you murmured.

Snowy only whined softly, then padded toward the back hallway—the one you hadn’t explored yet.

You sigh and slowly start walking towards the room.

You followed Snowy down the back hallway, your steps muffled by the thick, faded runner beneath your feet. The walls here were different—less polished than the front of the house, the wallpaper peeling slightly at the edges, the frames on the wall crooked as if no one had touched them in years. Dust floated lazily in the shafts of pale morning light slipping in through narrow windows. The air felt heavier here, carrying the faint scent of something metallic under the old wood and faint lavender.

Snowy padded ahead with an unhurried but deliberate gait, glancing back every so often to be sure you were still following. His tail was low, not tucked but not relaxed either, and his ears twitched at sounds you couldn’t hear.

You passed a set of closed double doors with frosted glass panels, the kind that blurred shapes but let through light. You almost stopped there, thinking you saw a flicker of movement beyond, but when you looked more closely, it was only the shifting of the shadows from the trees outside. Snowy didn’t even glance at them. He kept moving, leading you toward a door at the far end of the hallway.

This one was plain, no carved wood or brass embellishment—just a matte, slightly scuffed surface with a tarnished knob. The paint around the frame was chipped, revealing darker layers beneath, like the door had been here much longer than the rest of the hall. Snowy stopped in front of it and sat, looking from you to the door, then back again.

Your fingers brushed the doorknob as you put your cheek against the door.

"Hello..Phai?"

Silence.

"Phainon, C'mon, answer this please, you are worrying me"

This time, you hear a breathy growl and a breathless answer.

"Pretty?..No what are you doing here..go away!"

Your stomach sank. “You think I’m just going to walk away when you sound like that?”

He gave a low, humorless laugh that faded almost immediately. “Sweets just go..”

The air in the hallway felt colder, like the temperature was dropping by the second. You noticed the faintest flicker of shadow under the door, and then you turned the cold doorknob.

The room beyond was dim, lit only by thin slats of light cutting through the shutters, dust motes spinning lazily in the golden beams. The smell was different here—warm skin, sweat, something faintly metallic beneath it, and a low, thrumming note in the air that made your pulse skip.

Phainon stood in the middle of the room, barefoot on the old hardwood. His white shirt clung damply to him, sleeves rolled to his elbows, the front unbuttoned enough to reveal the deep line of his chest. The skin there was flushed, slick, marked by a scattering of old, pale scars that caught the dim light like silver threads. His breath came in ragged pulls, each exhale hitching like it cost him effort to keep standing. His hands were curled tight at his sides, nails biting into his palms, knuckles pale.

He wasn’t looking at you at first—his head was bowed, hair shadowing his eyes—but when he did glance up, it was like staring into a storm barely contained. His irises seemed darker, his pupils blown wide, his lips parted as if every breath was a fight to keep control. The sight rooted you in place, an unshakable awareness in your gut that you were staring at something unguarded and dangerous all at once.

“…Shit,” you breathed without thinking. “How are you like this?”

His jaw tightened, his breath shuddering. “Sweets,” he rasped, the word low and frayed, “go. Please—just go.” There was no teasing lilt, no gentle warmth in his tone this time—only strain, like the sound of someone holding back an avalanche with their bare hands.

"What the hell?? Phainon, are you sick?!" You quickly run to him despite his warning as you put out your hand on his cheek to check his temperature, and he was burning up.

Phainon flinched hard, his hand snapping up to grip your wrist—not rough enough to hurt, but firm enough that you couldn’t pull away. His breathing hitched again, and you could see the muscles in his jaw working, his teeth grit like he was holding back words he didn’t dare speak.

“Pretty,” he said, voice hoarse, “you don’t… you don’t get it.” His eyes flicked to your lips, then back up, and the sharp swallow in his throat made your own breath falter. “You can’t touch me right now.”

“Well, too bad,” you shot back, even though your pulse was skittering. “You feel like you’re on fire—what the fuck is happening to you?”

He shook his head once, a sharp, almost desperate motion. His grip loosened just enough for you to feel the tremor in his fingers. “Not sick,” he muttered,

“Phai…” you whispered, feeling the first prick of unease mix with the stubborn urge not to leave him like this.

Fuck it.

You quickly led him to the bed in the corner of the dimly lit room. Everything was messed up. The pillows were scattered, the bedsheets were half put on the bed, and papers were everywhere on the floor.

As the gigantic man flops onto the bed with a whine. You quickly turn your back to get something, a wet cloth to put on him, but then a strong hand pulled your hand in his.

His fingers wrapped around yours like a man drowning, and the sheer strength in the grip made you stumble half a step back toward him.

“Don’t,” Phainon ground out, his voice low and strained, threaded with something that made your pulse stutter. You glanced over your shoulder, and the sight of him sprawled there was almost enough to make you forget what you’d been doing—shirt clinging to the sharp planes of his chest, collar loose enough to frame the thick line of muscle down to his sternum. His skin glistened faintly in the muted light, the flush spreading from his throat down over his collarbones.

"Phainon, you're burning up-" His breathing hitched again, eyes squeezing shut as if the contact itself was both a relief and a torment. “Just—don’t leave,” he whispered, the fight in his tone thinning into something more desperate.

Your throat tightened, that uneasy knot in your stomach tangling with something heavier. “Then tell me what’s going on.”

He opened his eyes at that, the flicker of something wild in them.

"Blood...haven't had blood in a long time.."

A cold ripple went down your spine. “You could’ve told me—”

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.” His grip on your wrist tightened, just enough to make you aware of the disparity in strength. “It’s not safe when I’m this far gone. For anyone.”

You swallowed hard. “Then let me help you.”

That got a reaction—a low, almost pained laugh, short and humorless. “Help me? Sweets, the only thing that would help me right now is the one thing I can’t take from you without—” He stopped again, his gaze dragging from your face to your throat in a way that made your breath falter.

“…Without what?” you asked, even though part of you already knew the answer.

"Without taking too much.."

You shifted closer, kneeling beside the bed so you were eye level with him. Your hand slid from his wrist to his cheek, brushing away the damp strands of hair clinging to his skin. And then, you tilted your head, baring the pale line of your neck and letting the collar of your shirt slip lower, exposing the curve of your collarbones.

A low, almost broken whine slipped past his lips as he surged forward—fast enough that your pulse spiked, but slow enough for you to see the restraint straining every inch of him. His hands came up to cradle your face, then slid down to your shoulders, pulling you flush against him.

The heat of him was overwhelming, his breath ghosting over your throat as he hovered there, trembling. His voice was a rasp in your ear. “Gods, you smell…—” He cut himself off with another shudder. “Sweets, I—”

“Phainon,” you whispered, your hand curling in the back of his shirt. “Do it.”

He broke.

The sound he made was halfway between a groan and a growl, his mouth pressing to your skin with desperate reverence before his fangs pierced you. The pain was sharp, but it melted almost instantly into a strange, heady warmth that seeped through your veins.

He whined against your skin, low and unrestrained, drinking deep in messy, impatient pulls like a man starved. One hand gripped your waist hard enough to make you gasp, the other fisting in the fabric at your back as if anchoring himself there.

You swore you could feel his pulse syncing with yours, the heat of him bleeding into you until the world narrowed to the wet sound of him feeding and the quiet, needy noises he couldn’t seem to stop making.

Your knees felt weak, but you didn’t pull away. If anything, you tilted your head further, letting him in. “Good…” he murmured between swallows, the word half-slurred. “You taste…—” Another whine cut him off, muffled against your skin.

His mouth trailed lower, then back up, fangs grazing in a way that sent a dizzy shiver racing down your spine. Each bite was hot and wet and unrestrained, his lips dragging over the curve of your throat like he couldn’t decide whether to drink or just claim you entirely.

You barely had time to catch your breath between the sharp pricks and the slow, greedy pulls. His tongue traced the line of a fresh mark, soothing it, before he sank his fangs in again—messier this time, his jaw working like he couldn’t get enough.

“Phainon…” you breathed, voice breaking, the sound more a plea than anything else.

He groaned at the sound of his name, the vibration rolling against your skin, and then he was pressing, hungrier, mouth finding every patch of exposed skin along your neck and collarbone, biting, sucking, and kissing in frantic need. You could feel your pulse flutter under each new mark, the heat pooling in your chest and spreading outward until your limbs felt weightless.

The room seemed to tilt around you, the air thick and heady. All you could focus on was the wet drag of his lips, the intoxicating pull at your veins, and the soft, almost broken noises you couldn’t stop making.

When he pulled back just enough to look at you, his mouth was red, his eyes blown wide and fever-bright. “…Sweets,” he rasped, breathless, like your name alone was enough to unravel him.

His lips were back on you before you could answer, crushing, messy, fevered—like he was trying to drink you in with every sense he had. The sharp nip of his fangs bled into open-mouthed kisses, the wet heat of his mouth trailing from your jaw to the hollow of your throat. Each press was unsteady, desperate, tasting of hunger and something achingly human beneath it.

Your fingers tangled in his hair without thinking, pulling him closer, and the low, needy sound that tore from him nearly undid you. His hands were everywhere, gripping your hip, sliding up your back, holding you as if he let go for even a second, you’d vanish.

He broke from your skin only to mouth at the corner of your jaw, hot breath fanning over your ear. “Please…” The word cracked, and then he was pressing hurried kisses along your throat, jaw, cheek—like he couldn’t decide where to settle.

“I’ll—” His voice hitched between kisses, the heat of his mouth smearing along your skin. “I’ll be your good boy… just—” He whined then, a sound so raw it went straight through you. “Just don’t leave me.”

Your pulse kicked hard at his words, heat coiling low in your stomach. The grip you had on his hair tightened, anchoring him there, and you managed a breathless, slurred murmur, “Won’t leave you…”

The effect was immediate. His whole body seemed to shudder, breath catching before a slow, almost relieved growl rumbled out of his chest. “Good…”

In the next moment, the world tilted. You barely had time to gasp before he’d swept you off your feet, pressing you down onto the soft give of your bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, his broad frame caging you in, eyes fever-bright and fixed on you like you were the only thing that existed.

Then his mouth was on you again, hot and insistent, fangs sliding into a spot lower on your neck. The pull was immediate, greedy, his jaw working as if he couldn’t get you fast enough. Each draw sent a dizzy rush flooding through you, warmth spreading outward in molten waves.

He didn’t stop at just feeding, his mouth wandered, dragging over the curve of your throat, catching on your collarbone before returning to your pulse with an unrestrained hunger. The wet sounds of him drinking mixed with your uneven breaths, the tension between you coiling tighter with every messy, lingering kiss he left behind.

When he finally drew back just enough to breathe, his lips were red, his gaze heavy-lidded, and he had a crazy, drunk look on his face. "So good...my pretty girl..."

HE WANT THAT COOKIE BADDD

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

Free my man Sunday he doesn’t get paid enough to deal with Phainon (he doesn’t get paid at all)

the one sided beef between sunday and phainon is so insane that even robin got dragged in (she's the newest victim to the phainon yap curse)

sunday literally would rather be benched, stripped off all his relics and signature light cone than suffer through another MOC run with phainon giggling about how one singular strain of your hair was loose today. like my brother in christ, hoolay is gonna whoop our asses in the next turn. your 'dawnlight' can't save you now since they decided to go sustainless. (sunday thinks you trust phainon's capabilities too much) he doesn't know how many more prayers he has left in him before he goes full harmonius choir (his boss form) on phainon...

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

loved

based on that one image of statue phainon with a bouquet

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

why are mydei and phainon aura farming in the new trailer... 😭😭 pack it up deliverer boy 💔

[sugarcubesandinsanity]

Dogs

Summary: In the visage of an ongoing summer festival, you saw the face of your childhood friend, and joy filled you anew. The only thing you didn’t expect is for his almost unseeming devotion to turn into such a feverish nightmare. Oh, well. Everyone makes mistakes when it comes to things of sick nature. Even you.

Warnings: fem!reader, yandere!Phainon, contains a highly suggestive scene and generally perverse behaviors, not suitable for minors, dependency, toxic relationships, hurt/comfort but also hurt/no comfort, unhealthy jealousy, self-inflicted humiliation acts, emotional manipulation, possibly disturbing descriptions, physical violence || wc: 14k

“Don’t go.”

The scent of approaching summer was characteristic, and it filled up your nostrils with its undeniable freshness.

“Please… I’ll be good, I promise—”

And when that time approaches, a wave of sudden nostalgia always hits you. It makes you reminisce about many things. Memories of the younger you, and how lemonade used to taste when your family was still around to make it the way you were so fond of.

“I’ll be good.”

You don’t think of much else, when the spring wanes.

Why are dogs so loyal to us?, you remember asking your mother one day, curiosity filling up your wide eyes. She’d only bend down to ruffle your hair affectionately, smiling. Her explanation was weird, somewhat, and you didn’t understand much from it at that time. Something about evolution and base instincts. Things your still immature brain couldn’t grasp, as they appeared rather fickle, in your humble opinion.

With that, you never once repeated the question. At some point, it began mattering little to you, and the childish wonder dimmed as years continued to pass.

But one day, your mind seemed to evoke the old query, and so, you threw it into the air without much expectation of a reliable answer.

“Why are dogs loyal to us?” You muttered under your breath, giggling as the rather big mutt with walnut fur stuffed its muzzle into your small palm, wet nose prodding at you playfully.

The boy of ivory hair beside you — your best friend, Phainon — hummed wistfully, shifting a little. He outstretched his hand, scratching behind the dog’s ear.

“I’m not so sure,” he said, a grin growing on his face before he turned to you. “I think it’s because they love us.”

“Love?”

It didn’t seem believable, at least to you. People mistreated their most trusted companions all the time — leaving them behind, harshly scolding, and the like. If you were in a dog’s place, you’d certainly bite at everyone’s hands instead of coyly begging for more pets.

“Yeah.” He nodded, attention returning to your current object of interest, which was now panting slightly due to the high temperature outside. “They’re good things. Better than us, that’s for sure.”

Your eyebrows pinched together. “But why’s that?”

Phainon chuckled meekly, rolling his eyes at your insistent questions. Sometimes you think you must be pestering him too much, though he rarely seems to mind.

“See, for example. This dog is a stray,” the boy curled his fingers beneath the matted fur, hooking them around an old, worn collar. “But once it had a home, I suppose. Its previous owners must’ve abandoned it.”

“It’s been betrayed and wronged.” He continued, tone calm. “Would you still be so docile if someone did that to you?”

A groan left your mouth as you shook your head, not exactly following. “Obviously not!”

“So, dogs must believe in the good nature of humans in spite of everything they experienced. Doesn’t that equal loving us unconditionally?”

You blinked, looking at Phainon as if he just said the most ludicrous thing. But, perhaps, he was right. The boy was three years older than you, and even though the age gap wasn’t so prominent, your mentality was completely different. Phainon was mature, unlike you. He must be telling the truth, then — even if it makes little sense.

“I love dogs, too.” You mumbled quietly, moved against the brave face you always put up in front of him.

He laughed at your reaction, bigger hand rubbing your back. “We can go feed it, if you want.”

At that, you sprung up from your crouching position, excitement stirring in your chest at the prospect of playing with the mutt a little longer.

“Yes, please!”

Phainon patted his thigh, clicking his tongue at the dog to follow. The three of you ran off quickly, jogging through the busy streets of Okhema in search of some meat you could afford with the mere savings in your pocket.

And you thought: dogs must be wonderful animals. To love unconditionally is definitely the highest virtue one could possess amongst the things your Gods created.

You wished to be loved this way, too.

Time passes, that much is obvious to everyone. Phainon and you were glued by the hip for the majority of your childhood days. Upon retrospection, though, these years don’t seem long.

He came to Okhema when he was only twelve. Scarred, angry. The boy didn’t interact with many children, mostly sticking by his revered teachers, nurtured under their careful eyes and tenderness. You didn’t know what happened to him. Rumors dissipated as quickly as they arrived, new theories and twisted words swimming between curious mouths.

Still, you were intrigued. And so, one day, you just talked to him — he was a little detached, but friendly nonetheless. Definitely not your type of crowd, as you preferred to run around with more energetic companions. But he kept with you. And you kept with him.

Before you even knew it, you two became inseparable. Phainon’s lively nature roused when he had someone close to his age to accompany him. He bloomed, horrors of his fairly recent experiences fading a little with you by his side.

You quickly took the reputation of troublemakers, much to your parents’ and Phainon’s caretakers dismay. Climbing trees in places you weren’t allowed to. Jumping into lakes when you were supposed to be at school, and later on running into classes drenched. Even going as far as to pulling at the fruit vendor’s chagrin. He always made funny faces when he was angry, so you and Phainon purposefully messed around his stall. Usually it ended with a long lecture from the adults, but oh well. At that time, regretting anything came hard.

But the summer-sweet dream of innocence and freedom can’t last forever, even for those who are still young.

Phainon was a Chrysos Heir. You knew of it, and the responsibilities dragging along with that title. Perhaps both of you got too caught-up in the whirlwind of carefreeness, because the moment Phainon had to take on more serious training shook you. At least you think so.

You didn’t like it when he got snatched away from you. Days got progressively more boring and lonely — you, left with no one to spend your time with, and Phainon, burdened with his duties.

Bitterness was hard to swallow at first. You felt it every time he suddenly had to get up and jog off with an apologetic look in his bright eyes. You felt it when once again he said he can’t stay with you, and you felt it when your parents scolded you for occupying someone so important.

And slowly but surely, the stitches holding your hips together began to rip.

Then, your best friend was no more.

You saw him in passing, sure. Phainon always waved in your direction, smiles weaker and more tentative. At some point, you stopped waving back. What sense is there in pretending you still care for each other, when the boy you once favored was now but a mere imitation of his past self.

Well, maybe you were dramatic. Certainly, you were. But just like those dogs, you couldn’t help feeling abandoned — the only difference is that you frowned upon the one who wronged you.

So, you had a fall out. A silent one. One sided, probably. You never really tried communicating your feelings with Phainon, because, honestly, he must have had better worries than your whining.

He stopped waving too, and it irritated you, but it’s not like you didn’t stop it first. That’s fair, you tried convincing yourself. And your dismay toward him dissolved with years, for adults shouldn’t hold grudges over feeble stuff of their childhood days.

You didn’t see him much after that. Phainon was an extremely popular Chrysos Heir, serving as the bastion of hope for the people of Okhema in these dark times. It was weird, taking that into consideration. After all, the man must have been strolling around the streets all the time.

Still, something in your heart told you otherwise. Perhaps it’s only natural. That’s how life works — once fate decides your story with a certain person is over, you wouldn’t see them anymore. Only a handful of times did you manage to spot the flurry of white hair, standing taller than the rest of the citizens. In your periphery, the elegant garments appeared distant. Phainon’s voice rang across the road from time to time, and a naive part of you thought he was calling your name.

Despite your initial stubbornness, you got over it pretty quickly. You made peace with the fact a long-lost part of your life was now gone, and you had no need to regain it.

It should’ve stayed that way. It really should have.

Months when the world submerges itself in warmth and joy are celebrated in Okhema with fervor. Merry-making is certainly a good way to finally let yourself rest — even for just a few days. Anyway, it’s not like the harvest serves as an excuse to get black-out drunk. Probably.

Yes, probably, because everyone pranced around you like unhinged beasts, wines and other liquors spilling dangerously close to your light-colored attire. No one seems to care about anything. The sun disappeared from the horizon a few hours ago, and the lack of it seemingly wakes some sort of alcoholic haze in citizens.

Personally, you never found any appeal in these festivals. Before both your parents passed, they’d drag you there, feed you food you didn’t want to eat, and force you to clap happily when dancers finished their performance.

But as you think of it now, you’re starting to realize you miss those days. When nothing really mattered, and the colors of the world surrounding you were bright, still. You yearn for the things that won’t return. Isn’t it childish of you?

Maybe the wine you’re currently cradling in your palms did something to your head. You made sure to request it diluted with water, but the concoction was unusually strong in taste nonetheless. It’s possible you got tipsy.

Not that it bothered you, though. You came here just for the drinks, to ease off some strain your mind seemed to possess as of late. Dancing or listening to the cheery tunes wasn’t in your interest. Not really.

Well, maybe at some point it was. Several years ago, when you still had many friends and could allow yourself to drown in the passing celebration of starting summer. Your big group would sprint between the crowds, taking ribbons and waving them around, just like those performers do. Or, you thought with a soft laugh, how you’d steal flowers from the columns. You don’t know why you did that. Perhaps it was just funny to watch all the adults bristle with anger.

You loved life, then. You still love it; not now, but in that memory.

Alas, everything passes. It’d be sweet if things stayed the same, however, all you can do is ache for the idea of it.

The alcohol must’ve really gotten into your bloodstream, because you didn’t even bother lifting your eyes up from the cup of wine. Your morose pondering suddenly got interrupted by something hard falling on the bench, and bumping roughly into your side.

You watched, startled, as your drink jostled and spilled across the table. Then, you looked up to scold whoever was bold enough to quite literally fly into your left, but—

“[Name]?”

Oh, Gods above. You think if your heart could, it’d crawl out through your mouth.

Not him. Anyone but him. He was the last person you wanted to see today, and now you don’t even have the chance to get up and bolt, since you are somewhat squeezed between two people. That grandpa on your right seems equally bewildered, at least.

You cleared your throat, trying not to frown. “Hi… Phainon.”

The man’s eyebrows narrowed together, and truth be told, you expected him to throw something bitter at you. After all, you were the one to start ignoring him. You wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to announce to everyone by the table that you, yes, indeed you — are the one who ditched your already-feeble friendship, and decided you don’t need him.

It’s not like it would be a new revelation, anyway. Elders, so those who you annoyed together, often asked you: where did you lose Phainon?, as if he was actually a part of you. Even that damned fruit vendor sometimes caught you in the middle of your shopping, inquiring why you no longer stuck with the Chrysos Heir.

(So what, old man, you miss how we used to take bites of your wares and flee before you could chase us away with your broom?, Is what you often wanted to ask in return. You never did.)

But, no. Phainon didn’t snap at you, nor did he seem especially annoyed. Quite the opposite. His previously heavy-lidded eyes sprung wide open, and he assessed the wine he made you spill with nearly panicked expression.

“Ah, I am really sorry.” He started, a bit out of breath. “I wasted your drink with my carelessness.”

Now that you looked at him, he did seem a bit drunk. Hair messier than normally. Face flushed, posture slightly hunched.

And — curse your godforsaken thoughts — but he was more handsome than you could recall. Which shouldn’t be very surprising, considering you haven’t seen him from this up close for a rather formidable amount of time, but still. The contours of his face remained boyish, only taking a sharper look. More defined. If not for your inner state of shame, you’d continue to ogle him until sun returns. Maybe then you’d be able to see how it reflected off his bright pupils again.

Before you could even answer, Phainon pushed on. “I’ll go and buy you another one. Again, my apologies.”

He got up with a wobble, and only then you had half the mind to point out how unseeming it was of a Chrysos Heir to get inebriated in public. Fortunately or unfortunately, you kept your mouth shut.

Once Phainon was gone (probably not for long, because even if lines for the drinks are lenghty, everyone will rush him first anyway), the whole table breathed out. No wonder, really. He was one of the most important people in Okhema. Surely, a drunken Heir sitting with commoners to simply gasp out a few words and stammer isn’t a frequent occurrence.

Stiff, you glanced around yourself. The grandpa sitting next to you turned his head slowly, expression flabbergasted. You only let out a heavy sigh in response.

“I’m— I’m sorry, I have to go now. If you’ll excuse me…” You mumbled under your nose, standing up.

Some woman across from you inhaled sharply, slamming her hands down on the table. You jerked up, frightened.

“Why? Lord Phainon goes out of his way to buy you a free drink! Are you out of your mind, girl?!”

“Not only that!” The grandpa quipped, reaching for your wrist. “He could get us all free wine! I presume he isn’t a Lord only in the name!”

All gathered people cheered at the suggestion, even those who didn’t sit at your table. So, you had a whole crowd listening in (and counting on you). How wonderful.

Not to mention, Phainon wasn’t technically rich. Sure, Chrysos Heirs possessed ample amounts of money, but you knew that man. His obsession with antiques took root a long time ago. He was pretty much hellbent on his little hobby, and you were aware of just how cash-consuming it was. That fool probably has a few dimes in his wallet, and they expect him to buy everyone drinks?

Deciding to save Phainon’s honor, you walked off anyway, immediately followed by words of disapproval. Enough with all the alarms and surprises for one day. You’ll go home and rest your weary bones. There’s no point in lingering here any longer — not with all these drunkards and him at your tail.

And as you walked, confident you’ll be left alone for now, someone grabbed your shoulder.

The options on who it might be were somewhat limited, so you didn’t even bother turning your head.

“What do you want?” You forced out, jaw clenching around nothing.

“I— uh.”

Phainon let go, instead stepping in front of you. It always irked you, just how tall he grew up to be. Seriously, what were they feeding him? Three plates of eggs for breakfast, and five servings of fish per dinner? If you didn’t crane up your neck, you’d be forced to stare straight into his breast.

Oh, and it also infuriated you how he had to look down, casting a long shadow over you. Like a damned birch. Maybe you could grab him by the knees and topple over.

His mouth was moving. The man was saying something, hands gesticulating around. You didn’t catch on to his words, all noises suddenly blurring into one nonsensical cacophony.

Wait. Were Phainon’s eyes always this sad?

He must be very lonely, you thought out of the blue, though you don’t know why. He has friends and admirers, flocking to his sides like herded sheep — not once did you see him stand alone. And yet, this undeniable conclusion stirred within you.

Ultimately, nothing touches Phainon. He’s like an otherworldly being, too-bright and too-full to cradle by your heart and call him your best.

Despite everything, it was still a solemn realization.

“…And that’s why I couldn’t buy your drink. Again, I’m truly sorry, [Name].”

Silence.

“[Name]?”

Curses, you didn’t even listen to his blabbing. What was that he said? Something about your drink?

“It’s fine. I’m not in the mood anymore.” You shrugged, kicking at a stray pebble by your feet.

Both of you stood silent for a longer moment. You were acutely aware of the prying looks sent your way, as if trying to deduce whether you were really conversing with him. But that’s the life of big fishes, you supposed. All eyes always set on him.

“You don’t look too happy to see me.”

The way Phainon said it was more depressing than you’d like to admit. Well. In theory, the man was right. You can’t imagine anyone jumping up in joy when meeting their former best friend, who they also had a supposed fall out with.

But then again, deep inside, your old affections burned bright. It’s like your past self woke from a very, very long dream, rousing quickly when spotting their beloved face. Shaking you and commanding to smile at him instead of frowning. You dangled on a weird limbo, truthfully.

Perhaps it was involuntary on your side, but the distant memories of frolicking around with Phainon flooded your brain. Arms hoisting you up in the water when it turned out too deep. Sneaking into dromas’ pens to play with them. How loudly you laughed when he accidentally tripped into mud face-first, fair locks halfway soiled.

And you chuckled. It slipped past your lips so suddenly, you didn’t even register it at first.

Oh, but Gods, the way Phainon’s face brightened up almost knocked the air out from your lungs. Happiness suited him way better than the sulking, and only then you realized just how silly you must’ve looked when laughing under your breath.

He raked his fingers through the tousled fringe, smiling sheepishly. “Why are you giggling?”

His words slurred a little. To your horror, you found it quite endearing.

“I’m sorry. I remembered something funny.” You answered, perhaps with an equal amount of shyness, swatting your hand dismissively.

Phainon hummed at that, nodding his head with slight awkwardness. Another beat of silence passed. You two must have looked like two imbeciles, with the way you stood, motionless, and stared into each other’s eyes. Surprisingly, no one stepped close to you. Huh. Maybe everyone thought their darling Chrysos Heir had a romantic encounter, and dared not interrupt it. Laughable, really.

(Imagining yourself as a potential object of rumors was indeed dreadful, though at the same time, you found yourself uncaring. Actually, maybe you’d like that?)

(No. Honestly, what is wrong with you? You don’t need a scandal on your shoulders.)

“You haven’t changed much.” Phainon spoke, interrupting your unwelcomed trail of thoughts. There was fondness laced in his tone. You don’t know what you should make of it.

“Guess I didn’t have a reason to change.” You finally willed the corners of your lips upwards. “I mean… it hasn’t been that long since we stopped talking.”

The man reciprocated your smile, thank Gods. “I know it’ll sound frivolous, but it’s hard to believe we really lost contact.”

His words almost caused you to choke. Obviously, he had every right to call you out. You just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

And what do you even say to that?

I’m sorry Phainon, but I got mad at you, because you were too busy to indulge my younger self all the time. I suppose it makes sense, no? Normal people don’t have to become warriors, and, don’t get me wrong, I knew you were never exactly normal, but you seemed awfully normal to me! And so, I suppose I let myself get too attached. You broke my poor heart, see, you cruel man?

Yeah, no.

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling small. “Truthfully, I… didn’t mean for that to happen. But it did. Life moved on.”

There was a hint of something bitter in Phainon’s irises, though it flickered by in quick passing. Instead, he tilted his head to the side, still smiling.

“Life moved on, huh. But you didn’t forget me, did you? Please tell me you at least remember my horrible jokes.”

He was teasing, obviously. Nevertheless, it made you cringe internally at your previous words. You made it sound like moving on was really all that easy. Well, it’s not like you spent years crying, but the fact remains. You were a little hurt.

A chuckle left your lips. “Oh, of course I remember. How could I forget those?”

To your surprise, Phainon’s slightly unsure smile split into a beaming grin. “That’s a relief. I was starting to think I was just some random guy you used to know.”

If it was appropriate, you’d burst out into hysterical bouts of laughter. A random guy? Was he really thinking of himself so lowly? He’s the literal opposite of it — widely respected and adored, Phainon is precious to everyone in Okhema.

At one point in your life, he was precious to you, too. Even though you were no longer on speaking terms, you’d find it hard to repress the memory of somebody so important to you.

“You’re not just some random guy.” You said, itching to smack that seemingly empty head of his.

Phainon looked genuinely taken aback at your words, which confused you further. Hope washed across his face.

“You mean it?” He asked, voice so quiet you barely heard him from above the clamor.

“Sure. You always were…”

Special.

When you trailed off, the man huffed out a short exhale. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

Honestly, you can’t imagine yourself saying it to him in such a direct manner. You’d much rather slice your tongue off than admit your lingering fondness for him. Maybe it’s weird? He’d certainly deem you a little unwell in the head after mustering up these words. Still, it’s not like you ever fully stomped out Phainon from your life. His name continues to hum in your chest, from time to time. And it’s annoying, sure, but you can’t bring yourself to put out the last candlewick, flickering weakly with the remnants of what once was.

“Nothing, nothing.” You chuckled a bit nervously, taking a single step backwards. “Uh, anyway… I suppose I should go now. It’s getting late. And you, too, could use some rest.”

“W-wait—”

Phainon stumbled in your direction once, as if trying to regress the distance you created. His mouth opened and closed for a good while. He looked like a fish out of the water, gasping desperately.

Finally, after a minute of fidgeting with the stray flap of his cape and eyes flicking around, he choked it out.

“[Name]. I don’t wish to sound insistent, nor do I want you to feel pressured by me. But, uh—” The man paused, mustering up a smile. “Maybe you’d like to hang out… some day.”

You found yourself wanting to smile back, but your lips were already curled upwards, and the ever-present weight on your shoulders lifted by some miracle.

“Sure. Why not.”

In that odd dream you don’t tell anyone about, you and Phainon still sit on marble steps, and something is painfully connecting your sides together — and you thought fate was done with you two, but apparently your beings will remain in a tight tether.

It would be good to laugh with him some more. Of this much you are certain.

There are things in life that you can expect. For example, the shining sun. People on the streets. Children still begging you for spare change so they can purchase some silly toys, not giving up after that one time when you granted their wish.

What really surprised you, though, is just how intense your renewed friendship with Phainon was. That, you did not expect.

It’s not something you thought would take place. Sure, you hung out once — and it was nice, truly, you enjoyed yourself more than you probably should have. But Phainon was a busy man. There’s no way he would dedicate so much of his time to your pitiful self who pretended he didn’t exist.

Well, no. Three days after your first meetup since forever, he called you (because you exchanged numbers) asking to go out with him again. And again. And again…

Days blurred into weeks, and now it’s been eight months. Phainon has been really sweet to you, and you couldn’t help but fall into some sort of a rhythm. It was different from what you remembered of your childhood days, but hey. Both of you are adults now, it’s only logical. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that Phainon's presence brought you joy.

Sometimes he was a little overbearing, though.

You ran out of pomegranates? Half an hour after you complained about it to him, Phainon was already at your door with a basket full of your desired fruit. And they were very high quality, no less. He stood in the threshold like an over-grown, over-excited puppy, swearing it was really no problem for him.

Your sink broke? Oh, [Name], why waste your money on the plumber when I can help you?, is what he said in response. The same day, he was on it. You remember hovering in the kitchen awkwardly as Phainon shifted underneath that damned sink, his long legs kicking up in frustration. He obviously had no clue what he was doing. Turns out a mere tutorial he watched on his teleslate prior wouldn’t be sufficient enough, but somehow, he ended up fixing it. Only two hours of struggle. Easy-peasy.

You needed some more ornaments for your humble abode? Phainon gave you half of the antiques he had. No questions asked. When you refused, he refused your refusal. And then pushed even more intricate decorations into your arms.

There was even that one time when he offered to commission a double portrait. Which, sure, was incredibly kind — but those were beyond expensive. There was no way you could afford it. What Phainon said to that? I’d fancy your face mounted upon my wall. The price doesn’t matter!

Seriously, some of the things he did made your heart flutter. The other half stunned you.

Not to mention, Phainon was so, so good to you. His unfaltering benevolence never failed to touch your heart — but it made you wonder, too. You’d never be this warm toward someone who turned their back on you for several years, acting like you were completely unimportant. No. Actually, you wouldn’t even want to talk with them.

Sometimes you genuinely think he has no self respect. Which is certainly weird, for Phainon is a revered Chrysos Heir with a reputation exceeding yours at least a million times. No matter how much you wish against judging the man, it’s simply impossible.

Not when — even though you reconnected only eight months ago — he already looks ready to fall on one knee. It scares you a little. Perhaps you’re bold for thinking that, but at the same time, you’re not blind, nor oblivious. Phainon doesn’t even try to hide just how hung-up he is on you.

(Maybe it’s somewhat pathetic. The reverential look in his eyes never repulsed you, but it was unreasonable.)

Anyway, a selfish part of you enjoyed all the attention Phainon was smothering you with, and so, you never tried putting an end to this charade. It made you feel better about yourself. Some time ago, you desperately clung to memories of the past — and now, you had its part sitting obediently in the palm of your hand.

Phainon was your friend. And you were happy with how things stood, even if you weren’t as… enthusiastic as him.

Today was cold, for a change. It’s a little unusual for Okhema to drown in such a low temperature, even if the season is far from summer. The Holy City was warm — hence why you were so surprised to wake with cold feet, and a tremble in your legs.

No matter. You continued on as you always did. Get ready, make breakfast, complete your chores.

Still, for whatever reason, you felt as if you were forgetting about something. That feeling dragged on behind for the better part of the day, and you probably wouldn’t know what it was, if not for a certain someone who came to visit you.

“Happy birthday, [Name]!”

You blinked twice, not understanding what was going on. Then, it hit you. It was your birthday today — how could you have forgotten?

Upon seeing your stupor, Phainon stepped in, swiftly closing the door. He sent you an amused smile, one eyebrow raising when you still didn’t respond.

At that, you finally snapped out of it. “Oh… Gods, I completely forgot… And I can’t believe you actually remembered.” You muttered, a little abashed.

The man merely shrugged, holding out a neatly packaged box. “Of course I wouldn’t forget. How could I?” Phainon chuckled, pushing the gift closer so you’d finally take it.

Truth be told, the last time Phainon gave you any sort of birthday wishes was about five years ago. They were kept short and spoken without much commitment, but still.

And now, you were met with his grinning face, hands expectantly flexing around the gift he brought you — because, apparently, he still somehow remembered. You felt a little bad. When is his birthday? That, you aren’t so sure of. Alright, you can remember the month, but the exact day? It’s a whole different story.

With a short exhale, you took the package. “You didn’t have to bring me anything, really.”

“Don’t say that before you open it.” Phainon remarked playfully, intent gaze boring into you.

The man practically vibrated with excitement. His bright eyes flickered between your fingers and facial expression, taking in every slightest detail, and you thought the gift must be something really funny if he’s acting like that.

When you turned thirteen, Phainon gifted you a toy snake. You hated those things, and when you first saw it, you were convinced it’s real. So, you threw the whole carton box at the boy’s face, accidentally injuring his nose. He laughed anyway. You bristled. Ultimately, you ended up placing the snake in inconspicuous places, watching as people jolted away, startled.

And it was hilarious, so perhaps he gave you something similar for the old times sake. Prepared for another stunt, you slowly opened it.

What you saw inside made your smile instantly falter.

It was a necklace — but not a normal one, no. The thing was obviously costly, with an intricate design and some stones, indicating just how expensive it must have been.

Shocked, you gently touched it, feeling at the glided material. Why would Phainon buy you something so expensive? It’s not like you asked for it. Hell, you would never request such a lavish gift from your friend, because, honestly, wasn’t he broke?

“I’m— Wow. Phainon, I really…” You choked out, eyes still focused on the necklace.

“You don’t like it?” Phainon immediately responded, and when you looked at him, he seemed a bit distraught. “No worries, just say so. I’ll go and return it. Actually, you can go with me, and we’ll pick out one to your liking.”

“No, I—”

“I understand, [Name], you don’t have to pretend. Lady Aglaea always says my taste in fashion is lacking. Well, I spent about six hours debating on the best necklace for you, after all, I didn’t want you to be disappointed — which I guess you are, but that’s alright. I’ll go buy you a better one, just—”

“Phainon!” You shouted, cutting his logorrhea off.

He stopped, mouth agape. The undeniable twitch of his lower lip made you cringe internally, and you wondered whether he was really so desperate to please you. Anyway, it’s not like you said you didn’t like the gift.

With a sigh, you took Phainon’s hand, causing him to immediately curl his fingers around yours. “I love it. But you shouldn’t have.”

“Shouldn’t have?” He parroted, somewhat breathless. “Come on. If anyone deserves nice things, it’s you.”

The compliment made you break into a small smile, which probably caused Phainon relief, for he returned it without missing a beat.

“Still,” you continued, schooling your tone into a gentle one, “it must’ve cost a fortune. I don’t know what to say…”

“Say you’ll wear it. That’s all I want.”

You bit on your lower lip, feeling overwhelmed by how intensely Phainon assessed your face. You tugged your hand away, willing yourself to keep on smiling under the fierce twins of blue.

“Alright. I’ll wear it sometime. Thank you, it really is lovely.”

Your friend nodded, stepping back. And you talked for quite some time before he announced that he finally needed to go, which made you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

(The necklace Phainon gave you was certainly beautiful, but you hid it in a drawer — deep inside, covered by cloth and old trinkets meant to be forgotten. You never looked at it again.)

It’s been quite some time since you last saw Phainon.

Of course, the man has his duties as a Chrysos Heir. It wasn’t surprising when he couldn’t meet up with you, and you understood the reasons why better than anyone.

Perhaps a few years back, you’d be trembling with irritation and sadness. Now, however, it mattered little. The fact didn’t bother you much, and you were fine with being by yourself, even if the days dragged.

It’s not like you didn’t see him at all, anyway. Phainon often caught you on the street, smiling and peeking over your shoulder to see what things you wanted to buy. When the fruit vendor saw you together, assessing his wares, he almost choked. You belatedly realized it was the same man you and Phainon used to torment on a daily basis, and before you knew it, you were crushed under the onslaught of questions.

Oh, I see my favorite pair is back together! Truly, how curious. And I thought you two fought? Well, of course, my apologies— his eyes flickered nervously over to Phainon —I meant not to pry. I didn’t, not actually, but, you see, when you’re practically bullied by goddamn children everyday, it sticks with you. So I was quite surprised when one day, you just stopped. What happened? Did you reconcile? Or maybe you never argued in the first place, and simply decided to keep it… more private? If you know what I mean! And then, he exploded into loud cackling.

Ah, well. If you could, you’d immediately crumble into dust on the spot. But it’s not like you possessed such a skill, so you kept on nodding, smiling stiffly when both of the men continued to talk. Also, you managed to notice that Phainon’s arm snaked around your shoulders. With how hot and awkward you felt, you had half the mind to push him away. You didn’t, though. He’d probably start whining and trailing behind like a mistreated dog. That was the last thing you needed.

Anyway, it would seem your absence in Phainon’s life bothered him much more than you thought initially. It didn’t take long before he invited you over, insisting he needed to see you. And who are you to refuse?

“Thank you for the cakes. They were really good.” You smiled, crumbling the napkin in your hands before aiming it into the trash can. Miraculously, it actually scored.

Phainon merely nodded, muttering no problem, and trying to copy what you did earlier. His own napkin missed by a few centimeters.

A giggle escaped your lips when the man groaned, slumping back into the couch with a resigned smile.

“You’re hopeless.” You said humorously, shifting in your place. “Well, anyway. I think I should be going now. It’s getting late.”

That much was true. When you got to Phainon’s house, you expected to stay for two hours maximum. After all, he certainly had a multitude of duties on his shoulders. Instead, he occupied you with pastries — even at some point running to the bakery to buy more — and only shrugged when you told him to lay back.

Then, he continued to grace you with amusing stories. And you have to admit, they were entertaining, but after another in-depth description of his ‘competitions’ with Mydeimos, you started to feel somewhat sleepy. There’s only so much you can bear, and it quickly got boring.

When he noticed you nodding off, Phainon immediately shook your arm, saying he ordered new tea blends. So, you spent another hour tasting and rating them. Which was… fine.

But now that he heard your words, Phainon almost spilled out his drink. He put the cup down quickly, turning to face you.

“So soon?” The man practically gasped, wide-eyed. “[Name], you cannot be serious. I still didn’t tell you about—“

Whatever he began babbling about dissipated within the chamber of your mind, because you couldn’t bring yourself to listen. Not when the slight darkness of the room encompassed Phainon’s face in the worst way.

He looked awfully exhausted.

Honestly, you don’t know how it slipped past your radar earlier, but the shadows underneath blue eyes were overly-prominent. Hair a little tangled. Lips chapped, as if he had nothing to drink for the past few days. His hands shook — not to the point where it was noticeable, but they still did.

Seeing Phainon like that was concerning, and it made your heart clench with the need to ask about his well-being. The man always cared deeply about others. So why did everyone, including yourself, decide to turn a blind eye on his internal troubles?

“You look tired.”

Once the words fell from your mouth, interrupting Phainon’s ramble, he blinked in confusion.

“Do I?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, hands folding on your lap. “What’s wrong?”

Phainon sighed, as if not knowing what to say. He ran his fingers through his locks, wincing when they caught on a particularly troublesome knot.

And the corners of his lips lifted, like he was ready to dismiss you, but your firm gaze must’ve rendered him weak. Soon his shoulders hunched down, all the bravado slowly dissipating.

“I guess it’s just my duties. As an Heir, I mean.” Phainon muttered, eyes avoiding yours. “It… wears me out, [Name].”

You nodded patiently, allowing the man to continue. It was obvious he needed to get something off his chest, and since you were here, he might as well do it now.

“I know the burden I carry is meant to be great. It always has been. But lately, it’s just too much for me. Everyone expects me to be perfect, which I can’t blame them for, obviously.”

“Then again, aren’t I just a fickle human? Like the rest of those who set their eyes on me, and pray that the Deliverer of Okhema will miraculously solve all their woes.”

“I mean… I do understand just how much stronger I am than the rest. Therefore, I also understand where all of this is stemming from.”

Phainon’s breath shuddered, and you were halfway convinced he might start weeping on the spot. He then grabbed you by the shoulders, touch surprisingly desperate, and leaned closer in.

The crack in his expression was undeniable; like a mixture of genuine misery and resignation. For some reason, it made your stomach churn.

“But everything is slipping through my fingers.” He rasped, eyebrows tightly knitting together. “And you know what scares me the most?”

You tried not to wince from how roughly he was squeezing you. Still, you put on a brave face, even though a multitude of questions and confusion swirled in your mind. It was unsettling, seeing him in such a state.

“What is it…?”

Phainon chuckled dryly. “That eventually, you’ll slip too.”

This confession caused you to almost gasp. Almost. You just stared at him, dumbfounded, trying to process what you just heard. So, at the end of the day, it all circles back to you? All of Phainon’s worries and fears — they connect to his duties, but ultimately, it’s just you.

And it was hard to understand. Sure, you’ve been childhood friends, and sure, you renewed your contact some time ago. You can confidently say that in the end, you’d do it all again, because Phainon is your best friend. At least you think so. But how can it explain the vivid devotion dancing in his eyes?

The fact you can’t look at him with the same amount of emotion made you feel bad.

“I promise I won’t.” You said, voice meek.

“But you can’t guarantee that.” Phainon quickly retaliated, joints digging harder into your flesh.

Not knowing what to do, you carefully placed one of your palms on the man’s shoulder, the other one reaching to cradle the back of his head. He stilled a little at the physical contact, expression turning docile.

“Of course I can’t guarantee you that…”

You willed a smile to grow on your lips, gently nudging Phainon to ease himself on your lap. Surprisingly, he had no objections. He simply lied down, big, watery eyes looking up at you as if you were a holy painting.

“Just, please.” He began, tone weak. “Please, stay. I don’t care about anything else, just— don’t leave me.”

There was an uncomfortable ache in your chest as you leaned in, and you realized, solemnly, that Phainon smelled of wild strawberries. A fragrance innocent enough to smother all the suffering dragging along.

And you were aware of what he tried to communicate through these words, for you knew him like the back of your hand. But you didn’t feel the same.

Love is an odd thing. It can’t be described by primitive words, or straight logic. It’s a feeling lodged inside your very heart, deeply, hurting like a splinter you can’t even touch.

Looking at Phainon, you knew of what he harbored within himself. It’d be hard not to, when he’s coddled on your lap, a fully grown man appearing like a mistreated dog that just got its last scrap of meat torn away.

There’s not much you can do in the eyes of such a predicament.

“I’ll stay with you. I’m not leaving anywhere, okay?” You forced yourself to keep smiling, swallowing down the guilt.

Phainon finally smiled back — a weak thing, but a sign of happiness, still. He nodded, turning on his side and pushing himself closer, face pressing against your stomach. Like the action could hide him from all the conflicted feelings and expectations.

The man wrapped one arm around your hips loosely, and he said: you’re hunting me slow, though you don’t understand what he meant by those words, nor do you feel the need to ask.

(You have one memory you’re particularly fond of. Well, when it happened, you were somewhat exasperated — startled? Maybe a mixture of them. But it still rings as something to be cherished, in your mind.)

(When you were barely ten, Phainon thought it would be funny to chase you. He was thirteen at that time, and so, the boy also had longer legs. Catching you was pretty much effortless for him.)

(And once he got dangerously close, your mind screamed at you to lose him, else you’d fall victim to the onslaught of tickling. In a bout of panic, you turned a corner. It was a dead end.)

(The decision you made that day was borne out of desperation. If you didn’t feel like there was a threat at your heels — real or not — you’d make better choices. Because you knew the road you turned into ended within a few meters, and yet, you still thought to bolt there.)

(Similarly, hunted animals must lose their reasoning once it becomes apparent there’s no way out. Or, in some cases, the only solution would be to doom both predator and prey.)

(What path they’ll take on is usually determined during their last moments. The most important question always is: how far cruelty stretches in those innocent eyes?)

Due to your oh-so developed cognitive functions, you were able to pinpoint how stressed Phainon has been as of late. Well. It’s been going on for quite some time now. Not like it’s any surprise anyhow, you know that his duties as the Deliverer are beyond anyone’s comprehension. Any normal person would crumble under the pressure within a span of a few days.

So, you, being a good friend, decided to hang out with Phainon. It was your idea this time — because he’s usually the one to initiate your meetings — and you were eager to bring him at least a bit of entertainment.

What graced your mind at the beginning was going out to a restaurant. But then you remembered how it ended last time, with Phainon chatting you up and barely touching his food. Next, you thought of the Garden of Life. Of course, this option wasn’t the most ideal either. The space was filled with people, and you knew how they enjoyed flocking to Phainon’s side.

Ultimately, you decided on the dromas’ pen. It was simple, but the lovable creatures were kind of therapeutic, so maybe it’d provide him some peace of heart.

And Phainon seemed terribly excited to go there. You don’t remember him ever being such a big fan of dromas, but upon hearing your proposal, he immediately grabbed your hand, fingers tightly clenching around yours.

Slightly abashed, you tugged your joint out of his grasp — because, what if people think there’s something more between you? You can’t have that. Obviously, Phainon got sulky, and you had to offer him your arm instead. He took it, pressing himself into your side as if you were conjoined by hips, leaning down with a smile as he continued to babble on and on.

The fact Phainon was clingy was nothing new to you, though you wondered just how far his affections could stretch. You didn’t see him attaching himself to any other of his friends. But alright. You could bear it.

(Maybe dromases weren’t the attraction he was seeking out, after all.)

“Aww, look at this big guy.” You cooed, reaching to nuzzle the creature’s nose.

It made a deep sound of satisfaction in response, stuffing its large head against your tiny-looking (at least in comparison) palm, as if asking for more pets. Phainon stood beside, patting the dromas’ leg.

“They’re quite sweet, aren’t they?” He hummed, handing out another piece of food.

The animal quickly snatched it from his hand, giving an unexpected lick to Phainon’s face. Well, at least you think it tried to, but its big tongue swiped across the entirety of his head. A loud laugh left you as you observed the man’s expression twist in dismay — the drool made the side of his hair stick up, and at some point you had to wipe off tears from cackling so hard.

Phainon chuckled a little under his breath too, but mostly just blushed in embarrassment, quickly trying to get rid of the dromas’ slobber with a napkin. You decided to help the poor thing, wiping him with your own handkerchief and adjusting the tousled locks.

And as you attempted to make Phainon’s hairstyle look somewhat presentable, one of the caretakers strolled over to your pair.

“Oh, Lord Phainon! It’s been so long since we’ve had you here.”

Your eyes flicked over to a man of rather old age, nursing a basket close to his chest, and a rake in his free hand. Truthfully, you hoped no one would bother you today.

“Yes, I know. I’d visit, were I not so busy all the time.” Phainon smiled politely in response, stepping back when the dromas continued to nudge at him, nipping at the two strands of hair stemming from the top of his head.

“And who that might be?”

Two pairs of eyes locked on you, making you immediately school a kind expression. You meant not to frown earlier, but controlling the whims of your eyebrows and mouth always came quite hard.

“I’m—“

“Ah, [Name]?” Phainon cut into your sentence, draping an arm around your shoulders. “She’s my significant other. Isn’t she precious?”

The forced smile on your lips faltered, and for a good second, you were sure you heard that wrong.

But no. When you looked at Phainon, completely disoriented, he merely tightened his hold on you. Your mind screamed at you, signifying something was so obviously wrong, and yet all you could do was stand there like a statue. Why did he call you that? Was he really so detached? Or sick?

Phainon was a little confused, you tried to reason with yourself desperately. You know that, and you remember how distressed he was when you spoke with him not so long ago. The human mind can undergo significant psychological strain when subjected to pressure, especially in environments where the stakes are high. And the man was crushed underneath the burdens at all times.

Maybe one of them — be it aiding everyone, or countless hours spent risking his life — finally caused his psyche to crash. He formulated a delusion to help him keep afloat; so, in his thoughts, you are in a relationship. At least that’s what you can deduce.

Still, that doesn’t really explain anything. Sure, Phainon was troubled, but it’s not an excuse to say untruthful things about you. And while you wished to serve as his anchor, the image of him abusing that privilege caused your bones to stiffen with a frigid, uncanny feeling.

“…Excuse me?”

The caretaker glanced between you two, perhaps a little consternated by your cold tone of voice.

“Oh, in that case, congratulations.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s good to see young people in love, especially in such terrible times.”

“I am not his girlfriend!” You cut in, real nerves starting to gnaw at your stomach.

When you attempted to wriggle away from Phainon’s hold, he hardened it, the sensation smothering. Your eyes flickered over to him, almost panicked, but he wasn’t even looking at you.

“My apologies.” Phainon said, tone still eerily polite. “She’s just a little shy, you see.”

You bristled internally, trying not to snap at him in public. It was awful. Absolutely, unimaginably awful. Against your need to simply stomp on Phainon’s boot and shake him off, you stood there, still somewhat unable to process what was going on.

The other man, seeing how tense the atmosphere got, exchanged a few words with Phainon before finally departing. You could see the confusion on his face as he turned, holding on the rakes a bit too tight. Even the dromases stopped bothering you. Everything seemed to hold its breath in, pausing, like the world itself couldn’t grasp what just unfolded.

And when the moment of silence passed, you immediately pushed him away.

“The hell was that?” You seethed, taking a few steps back to create a respectable distance.

Phainon’s eyebrows narrowed. He bit on his lower lip, and some vivid distress passed through his irises, though you ignored it rather pointedly.

“[Name], I don't understand.” He spoke, hand reaching out in your direction. You swatted at it harshly. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” You echoed, barking out a ridiculed laugh. “You’re telling people something that’s not true! Do you realize how humiliating this is?”

When your friend’s expression fell, you were close to feeling guilty. Maybe you should be the bigger person here and calmly explain that lying about things of such nature is not in your range of tolerance. But you were just a human, and the irritation successfully clouded your better judgement.

“Wait— don’t be mad. I just… I thought it’d make you happy to see that people know how close we are.”

You took another step backwards, almost bumping into the trough. Strong wind started to rush by, causing hair to fly into your mouth, and carrying an unpleasant smell coming from somewhere. The need to puke was overwhelming.

“No. This isn’t closeness.” You retaliated, joints trembling. “And we’ve never established anything, so I suppose you simply made it up.”

Phainon’s fringe obscured his eyes, and he made quick work of pushing it back, as if losing sight of you for even a second was already too much. His eyes flickered nervously, one hand stopping in his locks to tug at them.

It was obvious he was starting to lose his ground. The man’s chest heaved, all remnants of composure fading when you turned on your heel to walk off, already fed up.

“I didn’t mean to upset you!” Phainon called. “I just— I just wanted everyone to see what I see!”

You didn’t look back. “Then you don’t really see me at all!”

He made no move to run after you. His feet remained planted into the ground as you left the dromas’ pen, and you were thankful for the small mercy.

Still, even though you were angered beyond belief, your conscience berated you for treating Phainon so coldly. He was your friend. Yes, he did say something upsetting, but it’s not like it was unforgivable. While you felt betrayed, he must’ve felt this way, too. At least you think so.

No matter how hard you tried convincing yourself that he was in the wrong, and not you, it wasn’t working. Phainon’s face — the younger version of himself — crept into your mind. You remember how genuinely cheerful he used to be. Not innocent, not anymore, but pure in the way he kept by your side.

The visage of you two, crouching on the pavement together and talking in hushed voices, obscured the need to stay angry. Because Phainon was your friend. Your best one. Harboring odium toward such a miserable soul wouldn’t bring you any satisfaction, nor relief.

You’ll give him some space. And when enough time passes, you’ll return to him, and resolve everything. For now, though, you’ll keep your distance. It’ll be better this way.

Is a week, so seven days, a long time? Perhaps not. Not for you, at least, but for others it may be different.

This is exactly the reason why your teleslate was blowing up, constantly, without any break. When another message from Phainon popped on the screen, you thought to simply throw the thing into trash.

At first, it started out inconspicuously. One text in the morning, one in the evening. You could tolerate that. Then, the calling. Every single time, you pressed the red button, fuming at how shameless Phainon must’ve been to keep on tormenting you this way.

Then, it changed into genuine flood. As things stood, you could see over ninety nine messages sitting impatiently in your inbox, their count going up and up. Estimating their amount wasn’t hard, for you got about two per hour. Well, more or less. Sometimes your teleslate wouldn’t stop pinging with the insistent onslaught, and you had to put it in another room, else you’d go crazy with the repetitive sound of notifications.

You didn’t understand. Curses, you didn’t even want to. Truly, what made you so significant for Phainon to bother you restlessly? Didn’t he have a life? Imagining his coworkers having to put up with him, nose-deep into the screen of his teleslate was somewhat ludicrous. Mydei must’ve been livid. What if instead of sparring with him, Phainon was sitting aimlessly on the training grounds, constantly chiming: just one second, before typing you another message? You don’t want to feel guilty, but you can’t help it.

And honestly, you thought to talk to Phainon sooner. Three or four days of no contact would’ve been sufficient, just enough to gather your scattered feelings and mold them into a sensible conclusion. However, your pettiness didn’t allow you.

Not when he kept on being such a nuisance. Seriously, at some point your poor teleslate began to lag with the sheer amount of incoming messages and calls. So, there was only one logical thing left to do: leave Phainon hanging.

There were times when you simply couldn’t meet, but usually, you resolved it by seeing each other on the street. A routine of normalcy. Him running up to you, and you pausing whatever you were doing to indulge the man. Short small talk here and there, but both of you were sated.

Now you avoided Phainon like wildfire. Whenever you left your house, pointedly ignoring the stacked bouquets with I’m sorry, please take me in! written down on the attached cards, you took lengthy precautions to miss the familiar face.

Truth be told, it was miraculous that he somehow didn’t catch you. With how hellbent Phainon seemed on regaining your favor, it was weird he wasn’t constantly seeking you out as well. Still, he had his duties, and for that you were grateful, because apparently they blocked his path of bothering you even in real life.

Anyway, on the seventh day, the texting stopped. You were prepared to wake up to an already buzzing teleslate, though all you were met with was radio silence.

While you were happy Phainon finally gave it a rest, something about it unsettled you. The obsessive flood of messages suddenly disappearing was odd — not like you cared, not in particular. But the fact remained.

(Before you moved closer to the center of Okhema, you and your parents lived in a more desolate area. Fields stretched endlessly, covered with the lush greenery and winding paths.)

(You remember standing at the edge of the meadow, hands still damp from drawing water from the river. The air was restless all day, tossing leaves and dust into a whirlpool of spirals, rattling windows and loose bells attached to your fences. But then, the wind dropped. Even the sparrows, so insolent with their chatter, seemingly vanished into the overcast sky.)

(Nothing. It was as if some greater being held their very breath, silencing everything. Not a rustle of the trees, or the faintest buzz of insects. Even your own heartbeat felt too loud.)

(Somewhere between the hills, there must’ve been a movement. The kind that leaves you frozen, like a child, lost amidst the woods. You could almost feel it pressing against the horizon, waiting for the right moment to spill and engulf all with its claws of deliberate fear.)

(The storm came soon after.)

It was late. You don’t know the exact hour, but the weariness in your bones indicated it. Around midnight, perhaps. It mattered little, for your disturbed rest caused a bigger problem than assessing the time.

Since Phainon decided to stop filling your teleslate’s inbox with messages, you thought to sleep with it next to your head. It was a bad habit, you knew of it. Still, the sense of having some sort of a communication device close was soothing. If anything happened, you could make quick work of calling for help.

But, as it turns out, you might have overestimated your friend’s resolve. There was one ping. Then another. Before you even roused fully, your teleslate began ringing, filling your ears with the annoyingly cheerful tune.

At first, your instinct was to throw it out of the window. A foolish act, but to your halfway asleep mind, it was utterly reasonable. You could just grab it from the grass patch in the morning, and you’d get a good night's sleep.

Alas, some reason dawned upon your dazed state. Why would Phainon call you this late? Sure, he seemed to love doing this whenever given the chance, but never did he ring you during the night. What if he needed your help? You fought recently, but it didn’t mean you’d leave him in the times of need.

Against your frustration, you swatted your hand around, finally grabbing the teleslate. Once you opened your eyes, you got temporarily blinded by the bright screen, having to squint. Without any further ado, you picked up, wanting to get over with it.

“Hello?”

“[Name].” Phainon said, somewhat breathless. The sound of his voice came out slightly muffled. “Oh, I’m so glad you picked up… Did I wake you?”

You have to admit, deep inside, you might have missed hearing him talk. Still, there was an undeniable tension threaded through his tone, which caused you to wonder. Was he feeling unwell?

“It’s late. Is something wrong?”

The man let out a strained laugh. “No… I just— I just wanted to hear you.”

Truthfully, you expected him to drown you in an onslaught of queries and maybe even insults. That’s what you’d do, at least. Putting yourself in his shoes was kind of hard, but you can imagine how distressed Phainon must’ve been for the past week. The fact he didn’t even try to question your constant ignoring was odd.

And why did he even want to hear you?

“At this hour?” You asked quietly, reaching to rub your eyes.

There was a rustle coming from your teleslate. Soft, irregular. It made you wince.

“Yeah. Just… talk to me. Please?”

Phainon’s pleading caused you to sigh, giving in. “What do you want me to say?”

A long pause stretched between you before Phainon managed to answer, and honestly, you thought he forgot about your existence.

“Anything.” He rasped, breaths uneven. “I don’t care. Your day, your… Whatever. I just need to hear you.”

Your sleep-fogged mind slowly began to sober up as you tried recalling anything interesting. But your days have been a blur of monotony, and it came hard.

“Well, today was busy. Nothing special. It was hot out, though I’m sure you know that.”

He probably aimed to answer, but all that left his throat was a shaky sound. Like an exhale, cut off suddenly without much reason, and followed by a sharp intake of air.

Unease started to overtake your senses.

“Are you okay?” You muttered, tone unsure.

Phainon hummed meekly. “Yeah… Yeah. Keep going.”

“Uh…” You paused, feeling your feet catch on the tangled sheets. His voice sounded so thin, like he was far away from himself, and it stirred something unpleasant in your gut. “The festival’s coming up again soon. It’s hard to believe it’s been almost a year.”

Another laugh. “Mhm… Last year…”

He stopped mid-sentence, causing a rustling, muffled noise to grace your ears once more. Then, he pushed on.

“You looked so beautiful that night,” Phainon whined out. “I think about it a lot, [Name]. About you. Always, always—“

Then, it no longer sounded like he was just innocently talking with you. The way his voice cracked, turning into a prolonged sound might have indicated only a couple of things — and the steadily growing realization was beyond flustering.

An unbearably hot feeling crept onto your whole face, and it was far from pleasant. You gripped your sheets, finger itching over the red button.

“…What are you doing?” You cut into the nonsensical rambling Phainon went on, babbling about whatever bullshit he came up with.

His breath obviously hitched. “Nothing. Only listening. I like hearing you talk— your voice.” He stammered, a little too quickly. “Just… stay with me, alright?”

The words felt like a grip on your chest.

“I’m going to sleep.” You said, attempting to rein in your nerves.

“No,” Phainon forced out shakily. “No, not yet. Please, [Name]. Just a little longer, keep talking, ple—”

Beep, beep, beep.

Wide-eyed, you stared at the screen of your teleslate, lower lip trembling. You simply couldn’t bear it anymore.

It was too much. What Phainon was doing — probably for the entire time while on call with you — was obvious, and in that moment, you wished to close your eyes and pass out.

The fact was abstract. Nothing made sense, and you felt similarly to your younger self, confused when the teacher told you to interpret some painting. You remember looking at the paint strokes, squinting. In your opinion, it looked like nether. Red and black and deep navy melting into one, creating something straight up hellish.

And you let it drag for far too long — all actions have their consequences. Could you really blame Phainon, when at the end of the day, it was you leading him by the nose?

A small voice in the back of your mind told you yes. You can put the blame on him. Perhaps you even should. After all, he was the one acting deluded, so completely different from who he used to be. He was no longer the sweet boy who’d bring sugar for the ants, or carry you on his back whenever you got too tired.

But, who are you trying to fool? Sure, Phainon overstepped what logic there was left between you. The concrete line blurred with each passing day, his own fingers smudging it like chalk.

And you weren’t better, for you were keeping him on that leash of longing, happy with how he’d obediently indulge your every whim. Every want. All the attention and love aimed at you was like fuel. Why you needed it so much was unknown to you — be it your parents passing, or lack of stable interpersonal connections. But you craved it, and the sight of that revered man ready to rip his own veins for you was fulfilling. For you, he hid his strength. For you, he used those God-slaughtering hands in the gentlest way.

You were selfish, and there was something terrible hiding in the darkness of your room. Perhaps a reflection of your tar-like heart. When you squinted hard enough, you could see it grinning back.

Some things aren’t meant to be. It’s as simple as that.

The start of your day was honestly awful. You woke with a headache, pounding at the back of your eyes terribly. When you thought to catch some fresh air, you stepped out, only to see those countless bouquets Phainon left at your doorstep soaked with rain water. Disgruntled, you picked them up, ready to throw into the trash can. Their petals clung to your light-colored stone at the front door, and something released its artificial color, staining everything around. So, not only were you suffering physically, but now you also had to clean up.

And there were also the events of last night. They sat firmly at the bottom of your brain, reminding you of what occurred whenever you tried to focus. At some point you thought to let it go, but then you remembered how distraught you were with everything.

Phainon was a dedicated man, his devotion obscuring any sense. He’d do it again, given the chance. Or commit something even worse. Were you not to confront him about that, you’d leave the gates open wide for his unseeming behaviors. You couldn’t allow it.

In the afternoon, you rushed to his house, knocking feverishly at the door. When no one opened, you rattled them. Frustrated, you deduced he must’ve been away, so you stormed off. People were giving you weird looks. Sure, no one would be bold enough to quite literally bang at the doors of a Chrysos Heir, but it’s not like you’ve suddenly grown two heads!

So, you went there later. Still nothing. You thought to break the window and seat yourself on his couch, but that would probably be too much. Though, you have to admit, Phainon’s expression would’ve been priceless. Oh, if only you could snap a picture of him getting all startled and post it. Petty, yes. But so worth it.

Anyway, you weren’t the one to give up easily. When the sky got darker, you decided to try for the last time. With an already exhausted mind, you left your place once more, legs quickly carrying you over to Phainon’s house.

For what it’s worth, you were clever enough to prepare yourself for the most likely unpleasant encounter — you formulated all conversation starters and possible outcomes, coupling it with what exactly you wanted to communicate. You broke your head over it for the entire day, but perhaps it wasn’t for nothing.

Still, it did little to ease your nervousness. Once you stood at the door, a lump formed in your throat, and you found yourself struggling to gather courage. You willed your knuckles to knock, the sound coming out dull. Upon no response, you tried again and again.

Finally, your stressed mind told you to simply grab the handle and try entering. It’s not like you’re breaking in, right? Knowing Phainon, he’d be overjoyed to see you come in unannounced.

Surprisingly, the door actually opened. Slowly, you invited yourself in, glancing around the space of the vestibule. By the narrow, low bench stood his combat boots, messily thrown to the side. So, he was home, after all.

With another few steps, you went into the corridor, scanning both the living room and kitchen branching off into two separate ways. No sight of the man. Lights were off, and for a second, you almost convinced yourself that Phainon wasn’t even there — but, really, he wouldn’t leave the house barefoot.

Well, there was only one option left. Not caring enough to keep your steps quiet, you mustered up any confidence, trudging over to the bedroom. There was a minimal sound of another person’s footfall, and so, you pushed the door open.

And there he was, in all of his glory. Phainon stood before you, one hand outstretched, as if he was ready to open the door, too. Unsurprisingly, he seemed taken aback by your presence.

The next thing that caught your eye was that portrait you and him commissioned some time ago. You don’t remember Phainon ever mentioning it any further, but it hung proudly above his bed, being the only ornament in the whole room. It appeared uncanny, contrasting with the heavily decorated space outside.

(For a brief second, you wondered if he actually kneels in front of it, like some kind of devotee, and stares at your perfectly recreated face.)

“Oh, [Name].” Phainon breathed, his frozen silhouette snapping into life and stepping aside to let you in. “Goodness, I haven’t seen you in such a long time.”

Seeing him move to encircle his arms around you, you immediately eluded the touch, backing yourself further into the bedroom.

“Don’t.” You murmured, eyebrows narrowing. “We need to talk.”

The man blinked, as if confused. “About what?”

Oh, and now he wanted to play clueless? Phainon could put up an innocent act, you knew of it better than anyone else. Alas, the sharp glint in his eyes always betrayed the feigned facade.

“About everything. All the things that you’ve been doing, all the boundaries you shamelessly breached—”

“For example?” He cut in, tone still guiltless.

The amounts of Phainon’s audacity were genuinely shocking. You gritted your teeth, trying to stick to the scenario you curated earlier.

“I… I know what you’ve been doing on that call with me.”

His expression faltered, just a bit. “I’m not following.”

Irritation came close to your throat, threatening to tug at your vocal cords and let out the most vicious insults known to man, for his defiance angered you, perhaps, more than the act of indulging upon his carnal desires itself. But in the eyes of such a deluded person, words probably mattered little. You could tell him to go to hell, and he’d say he wishes you’d go there with him.

“You’re disgusting.”

Phainon’s lips parted, a genuine flash of hurt passing through his face. He looked around the abnormally empty room, slightly panicked irises ultimately locking back on yours.

“But I wanted—”

“Well, what?” You interrupted harshly. “What did you want to accomplish by—”

“[Name], you do not understand—”

“Did you seriously think I wouldn’t notice? You deem me foolish?”

“No, I— I just needed you, what is so hard to understand about it? I need you, always, because—”

“Stop it! You’re acting like a goddamn child! Only taking, taking—”

“But you felt it too!”

“Me? Feeling whatever nonsense you came up with? Don’t make me—”

“You said you loved me, didn’t you?”

This caused you to pause. The whole conversation didn’t go as planned, and at some point you threw your resolutions out of the window, forgetting about keeping things demure.

And now, Phainon was suggesting you loved him. It wasn’t completely untrue, because you cherished him as a friend, knowing that he would let you look at him however you wanted, and he’d still stay. You just didn’t know it would escalate into such a disagreement.

What consequences are there when you break an already tormented heart? People who went through hell may not be swayed by what surrounds them, for they’ve seen and felt worse. Analogically, they could finally snap. There’s only so much one can bear.

“I never said such a thing.” You retaliated, voice rising again. “How can you treat me with so little respect, when all I did was show you kindness? I’ve never done anything to you! You don’t care about my feelings, you act like I’m some possession to play with!”

“But I do love you!” Phainon said, tone cracking in half. “Do you not see?”

Yes, you could see it clearly enough. The way undeniable devotion filled his sad eyes to the brim, threatening to spill out. But there is a thin line between so-called devotion and obsession, and Phainon seemed to be dancing on its edge for the majority of your rekindled friendship.

And it made you angry. Looking at Phainon with such dismay never crossed your mind up until now. You simply can’t understand him. You can’t. It’s not possible — where did you go wrong? In what place did your foot slip, causing you to tumble into him? What sparked this unwelcome feeling?

Standing in front of this picture, you’ve come to realize that ultimately, you never harbored much compassion for him. There were times when you felt bad, but those moments were shallow. Something you liked to dip your ankles in, relishing in how good of a friend you must’ve been, always caring for his feelings. It was fueled by nostalgia and old affections. This Phainon, however, appeared like a distant concept you’ve dreamt of. Nothing to bother yourself too deeply with. He’ll stay by your side like a loyal mutt anyway, won’t he?

Perhaps, this exact lack of empathy, might have been your greatest mistake and greatest punishment.

“Well, I don’t love you! I never loved you, you hear me?” You snapped, palms landing on his shoulders to give him a rough shove.

And you didn’t expect Phainon to actually sway with your movement, because he was like a boulder in comparison to your frail wrists, but he dropped to one knee. Stunned, or in a bout of sudden weakness. You didn’t know. All you could do was watch him huff in surprise, blue irises fixed on the floor.

Something in him seemed to deflate, as if your words took the oxygen out of his lungs, forcing his breath to hitch in short bursts. Phainon lifted his head slowly, confusion etched deep into his face, like he couldn’t reconcile you standing over him with the version of yourself he had in his mind.

For a second, you thought the man might lunge. But no. He stayed on the ground, one hand splayed against wooden panels, the other hanging loose. Phainon’s eyes frantically traced your face as if he was searching for a line to hold on to — anything to prove you didn’t mean what you said.

Despite everything, you started to feel overexposed. Like you were the one on the floor, and not him. Did you hurt him? You didn’t mean to, no, it was just a shove. Why was he acting like that?

Instinctively, you took a step backwards, followed by another. Before you even knew it, the back of your knees hit the bed frame, causing you to accidentally stumble and drop on the mattress.

As you tried lifting yourself up, Phainon immediately closed the distance between you. On his hands and knees, he crawled impossibly closer, expression despaired — his fingers gripped your exposed calves, nails catching on the flesh uncomfortably. The man held you firmly in place, causing you to panic.

“H-hey, what’re—”

“I’m sorry.” He interrupted, voice breaking. “I’ll never— I didn’t mean—“

You pushed at Phainon, trying to pull back when the sensation of him squeezing your legs became too much. “Let go!”

He shook his head, insistently pressing his forehead to your knees. A dreadful feeling pounded in your heart as you tried to reason what was going on. How did this once respectable person fall so low?

“No— please, please, don’t leave me. I can change. I’ll be what you want. Anything you want.”

“Stop talking like this…!”

“I’m so sorry, I was stupid, I was lonely— I won’t do it again.”

The way Phainon’s nails dug into your body was probably leaving crescent marks behind, and all the words rolling off his tongue like an avalanche caused the air in your lungs to go heavy.

Upon receiving a pained breath from you, the man merely looked up with wide, misty eyes, emotions rimmed at the edges and threatening to overflow. He pressed himself even further, nudging his chin between your knees.

“I love you,” he continued once you didn’t respond, wet lips tracing your skin. “Tell me, [Name]. I’m begging you, just say what to fix.”

You tried kicking, yet it was futile. Phainon ignored how your fingers tangled in his fair locks, yanking aggressively. It was as if he was an unfaltering obstacle, whatever breakage in his mind causing the vision to narrow on one goal. You.

“Are you deaf?” You questioned, though your voice was no longer loud. It faltered, fading off.

Phainon grabbed your hand when you tried swinging it at him, and you couldn’t move it, even if his grip wasn’t overly hard.

In that moment, you understood he didn’t wish to bring you harm — the man could easily hurl you on the floor, knocking you out with an effortless hit. And yet, the more you thrashed, the more distraught his expression got. Like he was already pitying you, though you don’t know the reason why.

“Teach me how to love you better. Please.” Phainon whined pathetically, unconsciously squashing your hand. “Please, let me.”

The action made you groan, and you lifted one of your feet to shove it into his underbelly, but all you got met with was a wall of muscle. There was absolutely no change on his face.

“No— no, what is wrong with you?” You choked out, slowly beginning to grasp just how hopeless your current situation is.

What caused Phainon to slip into such a mental state? What? Was he always like this, secretly demented and masking his crazed self with a docile image? Or maybe it were your words, pushing him over the edge?

Sure, you always thought of him as pathetic. Now you can say that with confidence, ridden of the guilt admitting it would bring you earlier on. Lacking in self respect, treating you like you hung the stars for him. But never did you deem him this far gone.

Your eyes snapped back into focus when the man tugged your hand closer to his lips, hot breath fanning against your joints.

“I’ll do anything for you, [Name].”

To your horror, he actually licked you. Not a kiss, nor anything relatively normal in this already abstract situation. You could clearly feel and see it, the way Phainon lapped at you. A strained sound left your lips as your fingers clenched, like you were ready to claw his very eyes out, but that only granted more access for his tongue.

“You always said how you loved dogs.” He panted, a twitching smile stretching his lips. “Didn’t you?”

Another lick, leaving a stripe of slobber between your fingers.

“I could bark for you,” the man continued, “or I’ll stay quiet. But please, [Name]— please don’t abandon—”

Something snapped in you. You slapped Phainon across the face, hard enough for his head to jerk to the side. The waterfall of his words immediately got cut off by a hitching gasp, and you pushed him off with all your might, backing out towards the door.

He simply crouched there. A red mark bloomed on his face. Your hand itched from the impact.

Phainon never wanted to hurt you. And you weren’t the same. Perhaps that is the most prominent difference between you. Despite all, you weren’t as good. You bite the one that hurts you, and you expose your fangs in a snarl when all he can do is to wish you reciprocated his unconditional love.

You observed his form, the way he just stared at you, wide-eyed and unblinking, as if trying to process what happened. Then, Phainon’s mouth parted, a small breath escaping him. His brows pinched upwards, not in anger, but in something childlike; like the bewilderment that you could ever actually hit him was too much to bear.

Tears started rolling down his cheeks without a warning. Disbelieving, you watched them fall quickly, one after another — and his shoulders hunched down, a feeble whimper slipping away.

A quiet sob filled your ears, but there was no space for pity in your heart. Not when Phainon started getting on his feet, alarm bells ringing in your head, loud with urgency. He moved in a certain way, his posture shifting. And so, you took two steps back before spinning on your heel, and bolting down the corridor.

The hallway felt way too narrow when you ran, and something in your heart told you it was no use. Your feet struck the ground in quick thuds, an awful sting burning at your lungs.

You could sense Phainon behind. He was always exceptional in the way he could control his body, yet now, all that you heard was uneven pounding of someone gaining speed through sheer desperation. Perhaps you were the delusional one, thinking you could lose him.

Genuine fear burst with ugly colors in your chest as you turned the corner, shoulder clumsily catching against some antique vase. The exit doors were so close. Your body practically smashed against them as you tugged at the handle, swinging them open.

Then, Phainon grabbed your wrist, harshly yanking you backwards. A yelp escaped your mouth as you struggled in his hold, trepidation obscuring any logic left within your erratic mind.

No. It simply couldn’t have been happening.

Your head snapped to face him, and you panted, teeth grinding so hard you thought your incisors would crack.

He was breathing heavily as well, face red from all the crying and sprinting after you. In the twins of blue, you swear you saw the reflection of your terrified self, but the gentle gust of wind caused Phainon’s fringe to partially cover them.

“No! Don’t do this!” The man pleaded, tone rising with undeniable panic.

You thrashed ferociously. “Go away, Phainon!”

“You’re all I want!” He cut in, tugging. “You’re all I have!”

“Go away!”

“Please— please! You can’t—”

A scream ripped from your throat, for you hoped that maybe someone would hear the despaired wails, and intervene. Phainon instantly reacted, pressing his palm against your mouth so hard you stumbled into the wall, knees almost giving out.

A shaky exhale left through your nose, and all you could do was heave, trying not to break down.

“Don’t go.”

The air smells like approaching summer.

“Please… I’ll be good, I promise—”

Phainon’s bone-crushing grip, bruising around one of your wrists is beyond painful. Eyes of a beaten animal stare into you, as if begging not to pull the rifle’s trigger.

“I’ll be good.”

And when you’re two meters underground, with worms eating at your brain, they will certainly get visions of him. They will feel how softly his fingers used to cradle you, and hear the sweet sound of his voice. They will experience revelations and horrors beyond their comprehension.

You don’t think of much else, when spring wanes.

Yet now, you think of little else but him.