he waits and he waits, but you’re nowhere to be found. perhaps you were caught up with something else? he’d sought you out in all your usual spots: marmoreal palace, the garden of life, the dromas grounds, aglaea’s workshop, marmoreal market and now, back once more to the antique store, and still, you remain missing.

something was definitely off. you’d tell him if you were busy, that he knows.

his feet carry him to where you live, a path so familiar he could walk it blindfolded. before long, he takes the spare key you firmly placed in his palm months ago. 

“for emergencies,”  you told him then with a twinkle in your eye. “and for when you miss me, of course.”

well. missing you was an emergency, wasn’t it? so it works on both counts, he muses as he turns the key in the lock.

he finds you there, sitting quietly on a chair, eyes fixed onto the smooth tiles near your feet, almost like an image frozen in time. he hears a sob, and when the door creaks as he opens it wider, you startle. your head snaps up to the source of the sound, and you look at him with a wide eyed stare.

“hi,” you tell him, pawing quickly at your face. “hi, phainon.”

before his steps lead him beyond the threshold of your door, he hesitates. he returns your greeting with a soft call of your name. “are you— are you alright?” clearly, they’re not. he chides himself internally. 

you hesitate as well, just for a beat, before you nod shakily. your hands move to your face, the heels of your fist rubbing at your eyes again, and in that time, he kneels by your side. the sight of your downcast figure, with the fingers of both hands curled tightly together over the thumb, with lips swollen, bleeding red, caught between your teeth from incessant worrying, tugs at his heartstrings.

his pale brows knit together, and worry swims in his azure eyes. his thoughts circle around the same point: you’re in pain. how can he fix it? 

he’s endured so much for the sake of the world he holds so dear. it would be his greatest failure, if he couldn’t carry his world’s burdens. even if just for a little while.

“what’s wrong?” he asks.

“nothing!” comes back your instant reply. but you do not meet his eyes.

“my light,” he breathes, nudging your knee. “ please look at me, won’t you? you don’t have to pretend to be fine.” 

you sniffle and nod, your watery gaze rising to rest on his own. his hands cradle your face delicately, so very tenderly, and a thumb lightly strokes your cheek.  “hi, there, darling.” he murmurs affectionately.

“hi,” you manage, swallowing. you send him a weak smile and he returns it, brightly, encouragingly. 

he misses your shine. of course he does. but for now? to guide you out of whatever darkness you found yourself buried in? 

he’d shine for the both of you.

“you don’t have to tell me it’s nothing, you know.” he says, as he pulls you to sit on the floor with him, hoping that the cool tile would ground your senses.

he gathers you close, his arms wrapping around you until you’re cocooned in his warm embrace. he feels you stiffen for a moment, then melt into the hug as your face finds his shoulder. “what’s wrong?” he asks once more.

“phainon, i-” you start, voice shaky, throat hoarse, and his heart breaks a little more. “can i ask you something?”

“mhm. never hesitate.” 

“would you miss me if i’m gone?”

he moves away for a beat to wrap his cape around you, hoping to cradle you in more comfort, as he turns his answer around in his head. 

miss you if you were gone? what a question to ask. if only you knew.

if only you knew he’d spent the entire morning searching for you, looking in every possible place in the city, only because he hadn’t heard from you. 

he could not even bear to be apart from you for a mere few hours. of course he did not have a tomorrow worth living if that tomorrow did not have you in it. of course he’d miss you.

you’d found his way into his heart and buried yourself deep, and if he ever cut himself open he’s sure it would bear your name engraved in gold.

it’d kill him from the inside out to ever imagine a future where you wouldn’t be by his side. 

of course he’d miss you terribly.

“darling,” he begins, leaning his head upon yours. “do you want to know what i did this morning?”

you hum in response.

“i looked for you. and when i didn’t see you, i went everywhere— everywhere you’d usually be. i walked all over okhema just so i could see your face again. so, tell me, my dearest light, if i couldn’t bear to be without you this morning, do you think i wouldn’t miss you if you were gone?” 

he moves his head away, choosing to face you head on instead. his hands return to find their place on your cheeks again again, fingers brushing the tips of your ear. 

he hears another sniffle, and your bottom lip trembles. “oh, darling, don’t cry. please don’t cry.” he pulls a face, his typical one whenever he wants to get you to smile: pouty lips, a faux sad glance, and all. and in spite of the sadness blanketing your face and the tear running down your cheek, you do. you let out a breathy laugh, eyes crinkling in the same way he knows and adores.

good. that got a laugh out of you. now that he could work with. “please don’t ever doubt that you mean the world to me.” he whispers, wiping that stray tear from your cheekbone.

he wonders what hurt you, to the point where you'd be curled up alone like this, but he’ll find out later. for now, he’d much rather be by your side until you felt better.

you nod, looking a little more at peace, your breathing more even, and for that he is grateful. “thank you, phainon.” for the first time, like clouds clearing to reveal soft rays of light, you smile. properly. it is not quite yet that smile that he loves so dearly, but it'll be back. he'll make sure of it.

he presses a kiss to your forehead in response. “no need to thank me for the truth, my love. there will never be a time where i don’t miss you.” 

and he means it. 

there will never be a time where he doesn’t yearn for you in your absence. if you ever doubted it again, well, he’d just have to do a better job of showing it to you.

✦ ending notes: does this make any sense does this feel like word vomit i don't know but ksjskkjsjs this was also supposed to be writing practice but um i think i got carried away why is this so long head in hands i had to wrap it up— anyway. phainon's pout is his not so secret unintentional weapon to get you to smile and i'm taking no notes jsjsjs

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