#hsr fluff

Beneath the Dawn Device’s unwavering radiance lies a bustling Okhema. Action-Hour has just begun, and the merchants alongside the shopkeepers waste no time in opening their stalls, their voices already rising into the morning air. Bright fabrics are unfurled, polished wares arranged with care, and the scent of warm food drifts lazily through the streets.

Children’s laughter rings clear as they gather beneath Aglaea’s golden thread woven high above, daring one another to leap higher, to reach closer, as though they might grasp divinity itself. And between it all, the little Tribios flit through the streets like fragments of light—tiny, radiant guides leading humanity gently toward its countless destinations.

“Snowy, wake up!” Tribbie calls, her voice bright and insistent as it echoes toward the slumbering god before her. Behind her linger Trianne and Trinnon—the remaining fragments of the Passage Titan—quiet yet watchful, their presence carrying a weight far older than the lively city below.

Beside them stands you—Trianne’s so-called 'Worldbearing Star'. A title you have protested more times than you can count, one that feels far too grand, far too misplaced upon your shoulders. Yet they insist. To Trinnon’s logic, if the Worldbearing Titan himself bears Amphoreus upon his existence, then it is only fitting that his beloved be the guiding star that walks beside him through every phase—life, death, and all that lingers in between.

However, Khaslana does not stir at Tribbie’s call. He remains as he is—motionless, unbothered, slumbering like an ancient monument carved into existence. One pair of his arms continues to uphold the Dawn Device, unwavering even in sleep, as though such a burden has long since become second nature. You would argue it is a habit inherited from his human self. Despite being a tireless Flame-Chaser in the past, Phainon had never once passed up an opportunity to rest when it presented itself—and it seems even ascension has not rid him of that trait.

Tribbie glances toward you with a look that can only be described as troublesome, mischief and mild exasperation mingling in her expression. Beside her, Trianne looks far less amused—her posture already stiffening, as though preparing to scold the Titan himself. Truly, such laziness does not suit the Worldbearing Titan… at least, not in her eyes.

“Wake up, Snowy. We have a guest,” Trinnon tries again, her voice calm and measured, carrying a gentler authority.

It proves just as futile.

Tribbie sighs, long and dramatic, as Khaslana remains entirely unresponsive. You consider stepping in—suggesting that perhaps they should try again later, that there is no need to force themselves to wake him from such a deep slumber.

But of course, they are stubborn.

Trianne floats forward, drawing in a breath until her chest rises with the effort. “Little [Name] has come to visit you, Snowy!!” she calls out, her voice ringing with half her strength, determined to pierce through the thick veil of his sleep.

For a moment, the attempt crosses the possibility of a failure. Then—at last—one golden eye flutters open.

Relief ripples instantly through the fragments of the Passage Titan, their tension easing as Khaslana slowly begins to wake. His other eye follows, heavy with lingering drowsiness, and the Tribios collectively release soft sighs of triumph. Beside them, you cannot help the quiet chuckle that escapes you, light and unrestrained.

Where others might tremble before the Worldbearing Titan, you find yourself laughing more freely than anyone.

Khaslana lifts his head, the motion slow but effortless, his awareness settling over the scene before him. For a being of such scale, such ancient weight, he has retained an almost startling amount of his humanity. And the moment his gaze finds you—truly finds you—his expression softens, brightening into something unmistakably warm.

“Oh,” he hums, voice still touched with sleep, “I have four lovely guests.”

His gaze drifts over the group, but it does not linger long on the others. Inevitably, inevitably, it returns to you—carrying something quieter, something unspoken, as though the rest of his sentence exists only in the space between you both.

And you are the loveliest of all.

Trianne huffs, clearly irritated, though it is a fleeting thing—one that will undoubtedly fade within minutes. “We may be lovely,” she snaps, “but you certainly weren’t, with the way you were sleeping!”

A soft laugh escapes Khaslana, low and unbothered, as he tilts his head slightly to better observe the four of you. There is amusement in his gaze, gentle and unguarded—until Trianne fixes him with what is meant to be a warning glare. In practice, it resembles more a child’s attempt at intimidation than anything truly threatening.

Before he can respond, she turns sharply and flies off, her indignation carrying her forward. Tribbie follows with a small shrug, and Trinnon hesitates only briefly before trailing after them, leaving you behind in their wake.

You can only smile fondly as you watch them leave, their voices fading into the lively hum of Okhema below. You know well that none of them have taken anything to heart—bantering with Khaslana has always been one of their favorite pastimes, rivaled only by the hours they spend in Aglaea’s presence. It is a familiar rhythm, one you have seen play out countless times, and one that never truly changes.

Out of nowhere, something brushes gently against you.

You turn, only to find Khaslana already watching you—his immense form lowered, bringing himself down to your level with a care that feels almost reverent. There is a softness in his gaze, something warm and unguarded, as though the vastness of his existence narrows to you alone. One of his fingers shifts slightly, brushing against you in a motion meant to mimic a poke—a small, almost playful gesture he once did so easily, and now can only imitate.

“My beloved has taken time out of their day to visit me,” he murmurs, voice low and threaded with quiet fondness. “How could I ever ignore such a call?”

The way he speaks—so earnest, so effortlessly devoted—affects you no less than it once did when he was still Phainon. A devotee in every life, it seems. Some things, even ascension cannot change.

A soft smile curves your lips as you rest your hand lightly against his finger, grounding both yourself and him. “A flatterer, through and through,” you tease gently, though the warmth in your voice betrays you. You have heard words like these a thousand times before—yet they never quite lose their weight.

As expected, his response comes not in words, but in action.

A free pair of his arms begins to move, slow and deliberate, forming a quiet barrier around you. The world beyond is gently obscured, his towering presence shielding you from the eyes of Okhema. To him, you are something far more sacred than even a Coreflame—something that should not be witnessed carelessly, something to be hidden away from the gaze of others. Though, as always, you are quick to recognize the exaggeration woven into his beliefs.

Still, you step closer. Raising your hand, you let it come to rest against a small portion of his cheek. The contact is featherlight, almost insignificant in scale—a touch so gentle it should not register upon a being of his size.

Yet, it does and Khaslana stills completely.

For a fleeting moment, it feels as though everything about him—his breath, his thoughts, the quiet hum of his existence—pauses, just to feel that fragile, fleeting warmth. As though the vastness of the world he carries fades into nothing, leaving only the soft press of your hand against him.

Silence settles between you. It lingers, unbroken, stretching into minutes as he remains there, unmoving, basking in the small flame of your touch. You can tell, even without him saying it, that he is fighting the pull of sleep. That familiar heaviness threatens to claim him once more—after all, even your voice alone has always been enough to lull him into rest.

“How was your day, Dawnlight?” the Worldbearing Titan finally murmurs, his voice softer now, almost drowsy. His sunrise-gold eyes flutter open again, seeking you out as though he fears you might disappear the moment he closes them.

Those eyes…

They have never changed. Still loving. Still unbearably, hopelessly devoted—no matter the life, no matter the form.

Once, long ago, Phainon had asked you the same question, his head resting against your chest as he sought refuge in the sound of your voice. Back then, it had been a simple wish—to fall asleep without nightmares, to let your voice be the last thing he heard before sleep claimed him.

Now, stripped of his mortal shell and reborn beneath the Era Nova, Khaslana waits for that same answer.

Not for the sake of conversation— But in the quiet hope that, if he listens closely enough, he might drift into sleep once more… and dream of a world where he can hold you once more.

PHAIKE DATING PLAYLIST <3

The coffee shop is empty.

The lights are still on, but there are no customers left—only the low murmur of voices behind the counter. Caelus, March, and Dan Heng are clustered together, clearly mid-conversation, when March is the first to notice you. Her eyes light up immediately and she practically vibrates where she sits.

“Boss Ma’am! Mister Phainon!” she chirps, waving both hands like she’s been waiting for you all day.

Caelus follows her gaze next, grinning the moment he spots you. “You guys got back early!”

Dan Heng turns last. “Welcome back, Miss.”

“Yeah,” you say, setting your bag down by the counter. “We wrapped things up faster than expected.”

You glance at the clock on the wall. Too early to be exhausted, but too late for customers. You look back at them.

“Actually,” you say, “you guys can head out early tonight. I’m thinking of closing up soon.”

March tilts her head. “Closing up early?”

You nod. “Phainon and I need to talk about some things.”

In an instant, Caelus’s grin sharpens, March’s eyes sparkle like you’ve just dangled the promise of premium gossip in front of her, and even Dan Heng looks curious.

“We can help clean first,” Dan Heng says almost too casually. “There’s no rush.”

“Yeah!” March hops off the stool. “We can finish up the remaining dishes and wipe everything down. It won’t take long!”

Caelus stretches, hands folding behind his head. “Might as well make ourselves useful before you kick us out, right?”

The other two nods in agreement.

“You kids don’t really have to—”

Dan Heng cuts you off, even softly shaking his head. “It’s fine, Miss,” he says.

March claps her hands together. “Oh! Before we start… do you guys want drinks?”

You glance at Phainon, who only smiles at you. You sigh. “Just water is fine.”

“I’ll have the same,” Phainon says.

March clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “Only water? You old people are boring.” And then almost immediately, she brightens. “Coming right up!”

She darts toward the back, Caelus following behind her with enthusiasm and a dramatic salute sent your way. Dan Heng, on the other hand, trails after them more quietly. Their voices fade into the back, replaced by the clink of dishes and the sound of running water. And just like that, the front of the cafe is quiet again.

It’s just you and Phainon now.

You clear your throat. “Let’s sit,” you say, gesturing toward a table.

Phainon nods easily and pulls out a chair for you before taking the one across. He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over the backrest.

“Okay,” you begin, folding your hands on the table like you’re about to negotiate a business contract instead of fake date your best friend. “Ground rules.”

Phainon rests his forearms on the table. “Alright,” he says, “I’m listening.”

“So, first of all—we need a timeline. If anyone asks, we’ve been dating for… not too long.” You grimace. “If we say it’s been years, my mom will interrogate me about why I never told her.”

Phainon hums in agreement. “A few months then?”

“Three?” you say immediately. “I think three is safe. It’s long enough to seem stable, but also short enough to explain why it’s not… public knowledge.”

He smiles faintly, nodding. “Three months it is.”

“Second—” You bring up two fingers, “public displays of affection. We shouldn’t overdo it. It’ll look suspicious.”

“How much is ‘not overdoing it’?” he asks.

“Like… casual? Holding hands or maybe an arm around the waist is necessary. But—strictly—no kissing.”

Phainon looks contemplative. “Not even a peck?”

You stare at him.

He raises both hands in surrender. “Just clarifying.”

“No kissing,” you repeat, firm. “Absolutely not.”

It feels more like a reminder for yourself than for him, words coming out sharper than you intend, like you’re drawing a line using a permanent marker rather than a pencil.

Kissing is not casual—at least not when it involves you and your best friend who you most definitely do not have feelings for anymore. It’s not like lacing fingers together or resting a hand on someone’s waist for the sake of performance. And you already know yourself well enough to understand that you wouldn’t be able to file it under just pretend.

You’d think about it later—alone in your room, staring at the ceiling—and replay it frame by frame. You’d wonder whether it felt real to him or if he’d just been acting. You’d analyze the pressure of his lips, the tilt of his head, the breath between you. You’d probably memorize it and that would ruin everything.

You don’t think you can look at Phainon the same way ever again if that happens.

“Okay,” he says easily, softly.

“Good,” you say, quick. “Glad we’re aligned.”

Phainon doesn’t look offended. If anything, he looks thoughtful. “Alright,” he says. “No kissing.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes your ears burn. You clear your throat. “Next—pet names.”

His brows lift slightly. “We’re also making up pet names for each other?”

“Yes,” you say, and you hate that your voice comes out a little firm. “Couples have them all the time. I think it’ll be weird if we don’t.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Okay. Let’s test some out then.”

That sounds like a terrible idea, but— “Fine,” you say, even though it doesn’t feel fine. “You go first.”

He doesn’t hesitate, “Baby.”

You inhale wrong. “Absolutely not,” you cough out, choking on absolutely nothing and everything at the same time.

He tilts his head. “Too much?”

“Way too much! That’s— no. I feel like our fake relationship would get exposed immediately if I tried calling you that.”

“Alright.” He taps his chin. “How about ‘babe’?”

You deadpan. “That’s even worse.”

“Worse?” His mouth curves first—slow and crooked—and he ducks his head slightly, like he’s trying and failing to contain his laugh. “How is that worse?”

“It just is!” you whisper-shout. “I would rather walk barefoot across gravel. I would rather fake my death.”

He finally bursts into laughter, and you hate that he’s enjoying this. You really do because he’s not even trying to hide it.

His shoulders shake a little, and he has to look down for a second like he needs to compose himself. When he looks back up at you, his mouth is still curved and the corners of his eyes crease again—those small lines that only ever show up when he’s genuinely amused. And as much as you want to be annoyed—because he’s teasing you and you’re trying to have a serious discussion about fake dating boundaries—you can’t ignore the stupid, traitorous flutter in your chest when you hear him laugh and see him smile at you like that.

You cross your arms to compensate, like that will physically contain the ridiculous skip under your ribs.

“I don’t see what’s funny,” you mutter, even though your voice lacks bite.

He exhales, and the sound does nothing to help. He’s laughing right in your face and you think you shouldn’t react like this. But there’s something about the way he does it—like he finds you genuinely entertaining. And you hate that your body responds to that.

You hate that you have to look away for a second because if you don’t, you might start smiling too.

“Stop laughing,” you grumble.

“I’m not,” he says, even though he’s biting back another laugh.

Liar.

“Okay,” he says once he finally reins himself in, though there’s still a smile tugging at his mouth. “Your turn.”

You narrow your eyes. “My turn to what?”

“To practice calling me using pet names.” He gestures vaguely between the two of you. “Last I checked, there are two people in a relationship. You can’t veto all of mine and not contribute. That’s not how this works.”

You open your mouth to retort, but he continues, “If we’re going to be believable, we both need to practice.”

He stares at you, just a little expectant. That little tilt of his head, the soft look in his face, the way his lips curl slightly—it’s like he’s daring you to refuse. And you realize: you can’t say no to that face. Not that face—not the one that looks at you like you’re the only person in the room, like he’s waiting for you to cooperate, like it would break his heart if you didn’t. Not when he’s smiling that infuriatingly soft smile that somehow makes your chest flutter despite every warning bell in your head screaming at you to stay logical.

“Fine,” you mutter, finally relenting, because trying to resist that expression feels like punching the sun. You swallow, immediately wishing you hadn’t admitted defeat. “…Idiot.”

He gasps dramatically. “Hey, that’s not nice!”

He leans back slightly, hand pressing to his chest like you’ve wounded him, but the performance is completely undercut by the crinkle of his eyes.

“I gave you nice pet names,” he continues, voice full of mock offense, “and you insult me?”

“It’s affectionate!” you insist.

“In what world?”

“In ours!”

Then he laughs again, shaking his head. “You’re terrible at this.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

You glare at him. “You’re annoying.”

“And you love me,” he says easily, grinning. “My turn again.”

Your brain stumbles.

What?

You? Love him? You absolutely do not.

Well… you do. You obviously do because he’s been your best friend since high school. Because he used to sit next to you during class and slide you snacks when you forgot lunch. Because he knows the exact tone of your voice when you’re about to cry and the exact tone when you’re pretending you’re alright. Because he’s seen you at your worst and stayed.

But that’s it. That’s all there is to it.

It’s not—

It’s not the kind of love that—

You do not love him like that.

You don’t blush because you’re in love with him; you blush because he’s teasing you. Anyone would blush because it’s embarrassing. He’s weaponizing pet names and telling you that you love him like this is some kind of experiment and you are simply reacting like a normal human being under psychological pressure.

You love him because he’s familiar. You love him because he’s safe. You love him because he’s been around long enough to feel permanent. And that’s normal—it’s reasonable and absolutely not romantic.

And yes. Okay. Fine. There was that phase—that one embarrassing and completely short-lived high school crush.

You were sixteen. He had just started wearing his sleeves rolled up for no reason. He laughed at something you said during chemistry class and you thought about it for three days straight. You overanalyzed the way he texted. And you wondered—briefly—what it would be like if he ever looked at you different.

But that was years ago! It was small and harmless—the kind of crush that happens when you’re around someone all the time and your brain decides to experiment with feelings just to see what sticks.

And nothing stuck. You got over it. You moved on.

You dated other people. You lived your life. You stopped thinking about what it would feel like if he ever laced his fingers with yours or whether he’d ever call you pretty in a serious voice. That phase passed quietly without drama, so that’s proof, right? Proof that this—whatever this is right now—isn’t anything.

You don’t have feelings. You’re not secretly holding onto something unresolved. You’re not waiting for him to notice you. You’re not hoping he means it when he says things like that.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts and feelings that you don’t even notice he’s moved closer until you feel a light touch against your cheek. You jolt.

Phainon’s fingers are there, brushing gently against your skin. “What’s wrong, lovely?” he asks, voice low and soft as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Lovely. The pet name keeps echoing in your head.

What is he doing? What is actually wrong with him???

You stare at him.

He’s closer than before—close enough that you can see the tiny crease between his brows; close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. His expression is no longer teasing—it’s searching. He studies you for a moment longer, then his thumb brushes lightly along your cheek again almost absentmindedly.

“Hey,” he tries again. This time, he taps your forehead with a knuckle lightly. “Is my girlfriend still with me?”

He says it so easily and casually like it fits in his mouth—like it belongs there with him.

You are aware of your pulse in your throat, in your ears, and in your fingertips. You are aware that he is still leaning toward you, still close enough that you can see the tiny details on his expression. You are aware that your face feels so hot it’s almost uncomfortable.

My girlfriend. He called you his girlfriend.

Your mouth opens slightly, but your thoughts scatter in every direction. You can’t tell if you’re embarrassed or shocked or something worse. You can’t even tell if this is still a joke or if he’s just committing to the bit with terrifying confidence.

He studies you for another second, then concern flickers across his face.

“Did I break you?” he asks.

You blink once. Then twice.

You are, in fact, broken.

Your brain is trying to process that this is all just pretend. He’s just doing and saying things for practice. But the way he’s looking at you doesn’t feel like practice.

It feels like—

“I hope I’m not interrupting!”

You jump so hard your chair scrapes against the floor.

March stands a few steps away, tray in hand, eyes wide and sparkling in a way that says she absolutely thinks she’s interrupting something. And Phainon is still leaning over you, though he eventually pulls away like he wasn’t in a rush to move in the first place. And as if nothing strange just happened, he turns to March with an easy smile.

“No, you weren’t interrupting at all,” he says, light and unbothered. “Are those our drinks?”

“Yup!” she chirps. “I made iced tea instead because while water is healthy, it’s so boring!”

She sets the glasses down and two straws, but her eyes flicker between the two of you. The look on her face says she definitely saw something.

“There you go! Call for me if you guys need anything else!”

“Thanks. We will,” Phainon replies.

March presses her lips together like she’s physically holding something in—the smile on her face trembling—before she turns away. The look she throws over her shoulder is way too knowing. Then she pivots toward the back with suspicious speed, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process. The door swings shut behind her a little loudly.

You just know she’s about to tell the others and reenact whatever she thinks she witnessed. You exhale slowly.

“Oh, you—”

You cut in before Phainon can finish. “We should stick to calling each other by our names,” you say, because if you don’t, you’re worried he’ll casually drop another pet name that will fry your brain.

He pauses. “Oh.”

For a second, you think maybe you sounded too intense. Maybe you should’ve laughed, or framed it as a joke—at least something rigid—but the he chuckles like it’s nothing.

“Alright,” he says. “Are you okay now?”

And you answer, quick, “Yeah.”

He tilts his head slightly. “You sure? You looked a little…” He hums, searching for the word. “…out of it.”

You were not “out of it”. You were internally combusting because he casually said girlfriend like it was a regular noun and not something that rearranged your internal organs. But instead of admitting something as embarrassing as that to him, you say, “Yes. I’m fine.”

He studies you like he’s deciding whether to press. Then he shrugs and takes a sip of his iced tea. “If you say so. So what next?”

Right.

Focus.

“How about…” You pause, buying yourself a second to shove your pulse back into its cage. “How we got together? My mother would ask something like that.”

“Oh, yeah. She definitely will,” he agrees easily. He takes another sip, then adds, “Your mom’s a little nosy.”

That makes you laugh. It slips out of you, light and fond and helpless. “She is, isn’t she? She likes to gossip a lot.”

Phainon grins. “Looks like you’re actually fine then.”

Your face warms. “I just told you I am.”

“Well,” he says lightly, “can’t blame a guy for worrying about his girlfriend.”

There it is again—that word. It lands so casually in his mouth like he’s just saying “coworker”. Like he’s saying “friend”. Like it doesn’t echo in your head three times before settling somewhere dangerously soft in your chest.

Why does he seem so unaffected by it?

Is he really just good at pretending? Is this just method acting to him? Or is this what it looks like when you’re normal about things? When you don’t spiral every time a word brushes too close to something you buried years ago?

Maybe it’s just you. Maybe you’re the only one assigning weight to syllables. Maybe he’s just playing along like he promised. Maybe you’re the one making it weird.

You drag your gaze down to your glass.

Ignore it. Ignore him. Ignore the way your heart did that small, traitorous skip.

Focus.

You clear your throat. “Since we’ve been friends since high school, we can just say feelings developed gradually. Like… one of us finally said something eventually.”

“Yeah?” he says. “Which one of us did?”

“You?” you answer, though it comes out uncertain. “I think you’re the type to confess first.”

“Am I?” There’s something in his voice you can’t quite put into words, and you catch yourself trying to pin it down.

Was it a drop in his tone, a pause before he spoke, or the way the syllables stretched a little differently than usual? You can’t tell and that’s the problem—you feel it, but your mind has no word for it. It feels unsettling and strange because you’ve known him for so long that you think you could read him. You’ve built years of familiarity on that certainty. But ever since you asked him to be your plus one… something shifted.

One day you were just friends who understood each other without trying. The next you’re sitting across from him wondering why you can’t tell what he’s thinking anymore.

Before, you could look at him and just know. Now when you look at him, you second-guess.

“Well…” You fiddle with your straw wrapper, folding it in half, then again, then tearing it straight down the middle. “You’re definitely better with words than I am. And you’re braver.”

And that part isn’t even exaggeration—it’s just fact. He’s always been the one who speaks first. The one who raises his hand. The one who fills the silence instead of letting it swallow him whole. While you… you’ve always needed a minute.

He laughs, soft and almost pleased. For a moment, you wonder if you just imagined everything earlier. “That is true.”

You look up at him flatly, mostly because you need something neutral to hide behind. “You didn’t even try to deny it.”

“Why would I?” he replies easily, leaning back in his chair. “You said it yourself already.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but there’s no real weight behind it.

“So that’s our story?” he asks. “I confessed first?”

“Yes.” You nod, hoping the movement feels more convincing than you do. “You confessed first.”

There’s a small pause, just long enough for you to think the topic has passed. Then you hear him hum, thoughtful. “And what did I say?” he asks lightly.

Your brain short-circuits. “…What?”

“If I’m the one who confessed,” he continues, “what did I say?”

You stare at him, waiting for the grin that usually follows a setup like this. He just looks back at you. You scowl.

“We are not improvising a confession scene right now.”

“Why not?” he says. “If someone asks for details, we should have them.”

“No one is going to ask for the script.”

“Your mother might,” he counters. “My aunt might.”

“We can just deflect if my mother asks,” you shoot back. “And your aunt isn’t even invited to the wedding.”

Phainon grins, and there it is—that familiar expression, the same one you’ve known for years. It smooths something out inside you instantly; the strange distance you thought you felt earlier loosens its grip. You suddenly feel silly for even thinking anything had changed at all.

“This is already detailed enough,” you insist. “We have a timeline. We have who confessed first. We don’t call each other by nicknames. That’s sufficient.”

But your brain, traitor that it is, has already started filling in the blanks.

You picture him sitting across from you like this, except there’s no rehearsal, no agreed-upon pretense—it’s just the two of you and a question that isn’t rhetorical. You imagine him saying your name the way he does when he means something, before admitting he’s liked you for a while. That his feelings weren’t sudden. That the sudden realization just crept up on him one day and how he tried to ignore it and how he didn’t want to anymore—

Stop.

You blink and force the image away before it settles anywhere permanent.

“Fine. Maybe… maybe you said something simple,” you decide. “Nothing dramatic, no long speeches. Just that you liked me… and asked me if I wanted to try.”

“And what did you say?” he asks and his voice is softer now.

Your throat feels drier than it should. You take a second before answering, “I said yes.”

Because of course you did. In this version, there’s no hesitation—no second-guessing. You don’t overthink it. You don’t ask for time. You just say yes. Why wouldn’t you? It’s fake. This is fake. You’re just constructing a believable narrative for this pretend relationship. That’s all.

But why does it feel like you just admitted something real?

“Alright,” he says. “I like that version.”

You can’t look at him.

You pick up your glass and take a long sip of the iced tea even though you’re not particularly thirsty. The cold helps; it gives you something else to focus on because if you look at him right now—if you meet his eyes while your chest feels like this—you might start wondering whether he’s picturing the same version you are.

And that is not a road you’re prepared to walk down.

So you keep your attention on the glass. On the ice shifting when you tilt it; on the faint condensation dampening your finger; on literally anything that isn’t Phainon sitting across from you.

And then, suddenly, he asks, “Should we practice?”

Your brain doesn’t process his words at first, still busy replaying the imaginary confession you definitely should not have imagined. It’s like your thoughts are buffering.

Putting the glass down onto the table with a soft thud, you say, “What?”

“I said we should practice.”

“…Practice what?”

“You know,” he says, “like holding hands.”

You stare at him like he just suggested the two of you try skydiving indoors.

“Why do we need to practice that?” you ask, baffled. “We’ve held hands before—what’s so different about doing it now?”

You have, technically.

Crossing streets once traffic lights go red and he’d just grab your wrist and pull you along without looking back. At crowded festivals where he’d hold you close so you wouldn’t get separated in the sea of people. Or that time at the park when a very aggressive goose decided you were its mortal enemy and Phainon dragged you away—

“It’s different from before because we have to make it look like we’re actually in love,” he replies.

Oh. Right. Of course.

Hand holding as friends is way different from hand holding as a couple. And you said it yourself earlier already—public displays of affection shouldn’t be overdone, but holding hands is fine.

It’s literally the lowest tier of couple behavior. People do it absentmindedly while talking. People do it while grocery shopping. People do it while scrolling through their phones with the other hand. Which means your heart should not be reacting like you’re about to perform an open-heart surgery on yourself.

“Fine,” you say. And before your brain can spiral into another dissertation, you extend your hand across the table.

Then he reaches out.

His hand is bigger than yours—that’s the first thought that appears for absolutely no reason. You’ve known this for years—this is not new information—yet your brain treats it like a shocking revelation.

His fingers slide between yours one at a time, like he’s solving a puzzle and the correct solution is your hand. Then his palm settles against yours and your fingers instinctively tense for a second before relaxing again. His grip adjusts automatically, just secure enough that your hands stay together. Then his thumb brushes against your knuckles, as if he’s testing the feeling; or maybe he’s checking if you’re about to yank your hand back and run.

You don’t, but now you’re very aware of everything.

The texture of his skin. The way your fingers fit between his. The slight pressure where your palms meet. The tiny shift every time he moves his thumb. The fact that your pulse is currently pounding in your fingertips like it’s trying to escape.

Why are you noticing this much? This is literally just holding hands, and it’s not even like this is new. But as your fingers sit there, neatly laced with his, you vaguely remember sitting in class years ago and wondering what it would feel like if Phainon ever laced his fingers with yours.

And now it’s here and it’s happening and you wonder how sixteen-year-old you would have reacted.

You glance up.

Phainon is already looking at you.

“Looks like we’re ready then,” he says lightly, and you nod.

You nod because there’s nothing else you can bring yourself to say. All you can think about is the warmth of his hand intertwined with yours and the way they fit together so naturally as if they were made to belong there.

From the back, you hear March’s delighted squeal and Caelus’s audible gasp. The sound hits you like a gunshot.

You yank your hand away from Phainon so fast the chair legs scrape lightly against the floor as you twist around. Your hear hurried footsteps, a muffled “GO GO GO—”, something clattering, and the back door slamming shut with a loud bang! that echoes through the cafe.

Silence follows.

You stare at the door, then sigh—a long, tired, deeply resigned sigh that comes from the soul of someone who knows that somewhere behind that door March and Caelus are currently reenacting the entire thing to Dan Heng.

You slowly turn back around.

Phainon hasn’t moved; he’s still in the same position you’ve left him, except now he’s looking down at his hand—the same one that was holding yours a moment ago. His fingers flex absently, like he’s testing the space where your hand used to be.

You don’t think much of it. Instead, you narrow your eyes at him.

“You did that on purpose.”

His gaze lifts. “Innocent until proven guilty,” he says mildly.

“Oh, please,” you scoff. “You saw March and Caelus. Their heads were literally sticking out of the door.”

There had been hair—very noticeable and very pink hair. And beside it, an unsubtle tuft of gray that absolutely belonged to someone who has the subtlety of a marching band.

“You’re accusing me of a lot right now,” he says.

“You laced your fingers with mine after you saw them.”

He exhales through his nose, briefly looking down at the table like he’s caught somewhere between defending himself and enjoying the accusation too much. When he looks back up, he’s smiling.

“Maybe,” he says. And then he laughs.

“You’re so annoying.”

“It was still good practice though,” he says. “You want me to try holding you by your waist next?”

Your brain immediately supplies a very vivid mental image of his hand resting there—warm, steady fingers spread lightly at the curve of your side like it belongs there—and that alone is enough to make your cheeks heat up.

You glare at him to compensate. “Now you’re just making fun of me.”

He laughs like that was exactly the reaction he was hoping for. “You and your kids’ reactions make it fun.”

“Well, my kids have classes tomorrow, so let’s end things here,” you say, crossing your arms. Then another thought occurs to you, and you narrow your eyes at him. “And you—don’t you have work? Why are you always free?”

Phainon shrugs, easy and casual like the answer is obvious. “It just so happens that I don’t have flights when you need me.”

You study him for a second, not entirely convinced.

Your mind drifts back to something Aglaea said before—that you seem to be the only exception to his busy schedule. At the time, you’d dismissed it immediately. A coincidence, you’d insisted—bad timing on everyone’s part and good timing on his. But now that the idea has resurfaced, it refuses to go away easily.

You’re about to question him about it, but he speaks again before you can get the words out.

“Can I drive you home?”

The question is simple, but something about the way he says it makes your brain pause for a second and it’s not because the offer is unexpected. In fact, he’s driven you home countless times before: after late-night study sessions years ago, after work shifts when the buses are sparse, or after dinners with friends when everyone else disappeared one by one.

So no, the offer itself isn’t strange. If anything, it’s expected—which is probably why you only sigh and shake your head.

“It’s not like you’ll let me say no, anyway.”

“That is true,” he agrees immediately with absolutely no shame whatsoever. Then he adds, almost as an afterthought, “And I promised Aglaea I’d return you back in one piece.”

You stare at him for a moment, before rolling your eyes. “Wow,” you mutter dryly. “How chivalrous of you.”

“Well… what can I say,” he says, smug. “I’m a man of my word after all.”

You scoff under your breath. Then you push your chair back and stand, the legs scraping softly against the floor. The table between you is littered with the remains of your drinks and you pick them up automatically.

Yours is nearly empty, nothing left but watery ice cubes clinking against the glass. His, on the other hand, is still half full.

“I’ll let the others know we’re done here,” you say. “Should I ask if they want a ride?”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you notice the way Phainon’s expression changes. He stares at you like you’ve just said something stupid.

You blink at him. “What?”

He keeps staring. The silence stretches and you feel a tiny flicker of irritation spark in your chest. “What?” you repeat, more defensive now. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Phainon exhales through his nose, tilting his head slightly as if reconsidering his entire life. He lifts a hand and rubs the back of his neck. “Nothing,” he says, then sighs again. “Sure. You can ask them.”

The words come out calm, but there’s something in his tone that makes you narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. Still, you decide not to question it further and you flash him a smile instead.

“Great.” You gesture toward outside. “You can start the car and wait in there.”

Phainon straightens in his seat and immediately brings his hand to his forehead in a sharp, exaggerated salute. “Okay, Boss.”

“Stop.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“I swear—”

“Yes, Boss Ma’am.”

“Phainon!”

He grins, clearly delighted with himself. You shake your head, trying to look annoyed even though you’re smiling.

“Just go,” you say, as you turn toward the hallway leading to the back.

“Aye aye,” he replies.

Behind you, you hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, followed by the faint rustle of him grabbing his keys. A moment later, the soft chime of the front door rings as he steps outside.

When you step into the kitchen, the first thing you notice is that all three of them are gathered close together. March, Caelus, and Dan Heng are standing near the prep counter like a tiny council meeting has just taken place. The moment the door swings open, their heads turn in unison.

March’s entire face lights up, and she immediately waves both hands in the air like she’s been waiting for you. “You guys are done, Boss Ma’am?” she asks brightly, practically bouncing in place.

You walk over to the sink and set the two glasses down. “Yeah,” you reply casually as you turn the faucet on. “Did you have a great time eavesdropping?”

March lets out a tiny giggle and ducks her head, suddenly looking very guilty. “I wasn’t— well—”

Before she can finish fumbling through an excuse, Caelus jumps in. “I promise we didn’t hear anything!”

You glance at him over your shoulder. “Really?”

He grins sheepishly. “Well… we did see something.”

You sigh, turning back to rinse the glasses as you shake your head. “Right,” you say. “You and March made sure to let us know you did.”

March giggles again, this time covering her mouth with both hands. Caelus rubs the back of his neck, chuckling as well.

Then, Dan Heng speaks, “Are you and Mister Phainon finally together?”

The question catches you off guard, and a warm flush spreads across your face instantly. “Y-Yeah,” you stutter. You clear your throat, brushing right past it. “Anyway! Do you guys want to ride with us?”

March squeals. “Really?!” She spins towards the others, eyes sparkling. “Can we go with them please?!”

Caelus makes a face. “Let’s not—”

“We wouldn’t want to intrude, Miss,” Dan Heng says.

“What? Of course not!” you protest, waving your hands, sending little flicks of water into the air. “You won’t be intruding on anything. I asked, and Phainon said it was fine.”

The two boys exchange a look, then turn in unison to glance at March—who’s still staring at them expectantly, practically buzzing with hope. Dan Heng sighs.

“…Alright,” he says. “Since Miss said so, then we’ll take the offer.”

March lights up and jumps in joy. Caelus shakes his head.

“Great!” you say, smiling.

And it’s only as you turn back to the sink, reaching for a towel, did it hit you.

Finally?

Your hand stills for a moment. You frown slightly, staring down at the counter.

…What did he mean by that?

✉︎ My Favorite Cousin Ever

Aglaea: How did the conversation go? You: We went over everything. Rules, backstory, what we call each other, PDA You: How long we’ve been “dating” Aglaea: I trust it went well? You: I think so You: Though he was weirdly calm about it all Aglaea: That’s just how he is. Aglaea: And you? You: I don’t know, Agy… You: I guess I’m a little scared Aglaea: Of what? It’s just Phainon. You: That’s the problem. It’s Phainon You: I don’t want to ruin things between us 🥲 Aglaea: You won’t. Not unless you start overthinking everything. You: You make it sound so easy, Agy Aglaea: Because it should be. You’re the one complicating things. Aglaea: Tell me. Do you still have feelings for Phainon? You: I was over him, Agy You: But then this whole fake dating thing happened and now I’m not so sure Aglaea: 😪 Aglaea: And what are you going to do now? You: I’m going to pretend nothing changed Aglaea: That’s a terrible plan. You: It’s the only one I’ve got Aglaea: Then at least remember it’s fake. Aglaea: Don’t start believing your own act. You: I’ll try Aglaea: Good. Now get some sleep. You: Thanks, Agy 🥺 I love youuuu! Aglaea: And I love you.

✉︎ Aglaea + Phainon

Phainon: Aglaea, hello! Aglaea: Do you need something? Phainon: Not even a hello? :( Aglaea: Hello. What do you need? Phainon: :D Phainon: I come bearing a humble request! Do you happen to own any shirts or tops that match your cousin’s dress? Aglaea: The same color or something that just complements it? Phainon: Same color would be ideal! Aglaea: Alright. I’ll find something in the same shade. Phainon: You’re a lifesaver! Aglaea: You know, matching outfits will make things more believable. Why not match the entire time you’re there? I can lend both of you clothes. Phainon: That’s actually genius. I’m in! Aglaea: I’ll inform my cousin. Anything else? Phainon: Not at the moment. Phainon: Unless there’s something you want to say to me? :D Aglaea: There is, actually. Phainon: What is it? Aglaea: You’re an idiot. Phainon: Unprovoked?? I’m being attacked for no reason :( Aglaea: If you think this is unprovoked, then you’re a bigger idiot than I thought. Phainon: That’s harsh! I’m sensitive, you know :( Aglaea: No, you’re not. Phainon: Haha, fair! Aglaea: Good luck with your fake dating arrangement. You’re going to need it. Phainon: Hahahahahahaha Phainon: That obvious, huh? Aglaea: Painfully so. Phainon: Don’t worry. I’ve got it handled Phainon: Have a little faith! Aglaea: 😪 Aglaea: Good night, Phainon. Phainon: Good night, Aglaea!

FEBRUARY 8

You leave for Lushaka today.

The flight is in a few hours. Your suitcase is already packed by the door. Your dress—Aglaea’s dress—is somewhere safe, handled by someone far more competent than you. And Phainon is coming to pick you up.

You stare at your ceiling, then drag a hand down your face.

The apartment feels quieter than usual, like it knows you’re about to leave it behind for a week. You move through your morning routine on autopilot—shower, clothes, a quick check of your bag for the fifth time (passport, a book, wallet, charger, your ticket even though it’s digital). You hover by your suitcase after, staring at it like it might suddenly sprout legs and run away.

Your phone buzzes.

✉︎ My Favorite Cousin Ever

Aglaea: Are you ready? You: As I’ll ever be Aglaea: Good. Aglaea: Phainon will be there in 20. You: How do you know that?? Aglaea: He texted me. You: Why is he texting you??? Why didn’t he tell me??? Aglaea: Because I asked him to make sure you get to the airport in one piece and don’t forget anything important. You: Hmph You: And you? Aglaea: You’ll see me at the airport.

The conversation ends there.

You shove your phone into your pocket and move faster after that—putting on your shoes, double-checking the stove even though you know you didn’t use it, glancing around your apartment one last time like you’re about to disappear for months instead of days.

Right on cue, there’s a knock on your door.

You absolutely do not rush to open it. You walk at a completely normal pace, wiping your hands on your dress before reaching for the knob. You open the door—Phainon is there.

He’s dressed casually: a simple shirt and a jacket, sleeves rolled up, and jeans. His hair is a little tousled, and when he sees you, he smiles. “Good morning. You ready to go?”

“Good morning,” you echo. “I’m all ready.”

He glances past you into the apartment, then back at you. “You sure?” he asks.

“I already checked everything,” you say, defensive. “Five times.”

He shrugs. “Sixth time’s the charm.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but step aside anyway, gesturing vaguely behind you. “Fine. Go. Inspect.”

He hums, slipping past you like he lives there. He does a quick lap around your place, peeking into the kitchen, glancing at the counter, the couch, the table. You hover near the door, arms crossed, watching him like you’re waiting for him to fail some kind of invisible test.

He pauses by your coffee table and picks up your keys. You freeze.

“Okay… so maybe I did forget something,” you admit.

He holds them up between two fingers, turning back to you with a look that’s way too pleased with himself. “Sixth time’s the charm,” he repeats.

You walk over and snatch them from him. “You’re so annoying.”

“And you’d be locked out when we get back,” he says, and you hate that he’s right.

“Whatever,” you mutter, grabbing your bag and heading for the door. “Let’s go before I forget something else and you get another ego boost.”

He laughs softly behind you, and you try very hard to ignore the way the sound settles somewhere warm in your chest. You step out into the hallway first, and you barely get two steps in before he reaches past you and grabs the handle of your suitcase.

You blink, caught off guard. “I can—”

“I know,” he cuts in, already pulling it along like it’s his by default. “I want to do it, though.”

You stare at him for a moment longer than necessary, then turn back around to lock and close the door because there’s nothing to argue about. He’s already doing it, and it’s not like you really mind.

The two of you walk down together. He rolls your suitcase down the steps like he’s done it a hundred times (he probably does, given his profession), and you trail behind. Outside, his card is parked just where you expected. He pops the trunk before you even reach it, and again—without asking—lifts your suitcase in like it weighs nothing.

You hover beside him almost awkwardly. “…you know you don’t have to do everything, right?”

He shuts the trunk and looks at you. “I know.”

“Okay… I just thought—”

“Like I said, I want to do it,” he says. “You and I both know I like helping.”

You sigh. “Of course you do. Your childhood wish was literally to fulfill your friends’ and family’s wishes.”

He grins like that’s exactly the response he wanted, then walks around to the driver’s side. You follow, sliding into the passenger seat out of habit more than anything else. His car always smells faintly like something clean and something warm—like fabric softener and coffee that’s no longer there but somehow still exists in the air.

You buckle in, setting your bag on your lap, and by the time you look up, he’s already starting the engine.

He glances at you briefly. “Seatbelt?”

You tug on it pointedly. “Already on.”

“Good.” There’s a small pause, then he asks, “You forget anything else?”

You think about it for a second. Your keys are in your pocket. Your phone is in your bag. Password, checked. Wallet, checked. Charger, checked.

“No,” you say, more certain this time.

He nods once, satisfied, then he pulls out and you’re off.

The drive to the airport is uneventful. There’s no awkwardness, no weird tension, no pressure. Nothing dramatic happens. The fake relationship arrangement doesn’t even get brought up.

At one point, you reach into your bag to check your passport again and he doesn’t say anything, just glances over and then back at the road. At another, he hands you a bottle of water without looking, like he already knew you were about to get thirsty.

You don’t question how he knows—you never really have.

By the time you arrive at the airport, it doesn’t feel like a big moment. You think it should. You’re leaving for a week. You’re about to see your family. You’re about to pretend to date your best friend in front of people who will absolutely analyze everything. But instead, it feels… normal.

Your family’s private jet means there’s no long lines, no crowded terminals, no rushing through security with a million other people. Still, there are steps—check-ins, confirmations, small formalities that need to be handled.

And somehow, even in that, there are moments.

He takes your suitcase out the trunk before you can even reach for it, and you don’t even bother stopping him this time. When you’re at the counter, he stands so close to you that if you shifted slightly or turned around, your arm would brush his and you’d be face to face with his chest. You hand over your documents. He hands over his.

At some point, he leans in over just a little and you feel his breath ghost over the shell of your ear, “You’re holding your passport upside down.”

You look down. You are.

You flip it quickly, heat creeping up your neck. “I knew that.”

“Of course you did.” You don’t look at him, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

You step onto the apron with Phainon, both your suitcases rolling smoothly in his hands. Your family’s jet isn’t hard to miss; it’s just parked a short distance away. You’ve seen it a hundred times before—rode it a couple times even as a child.

You hear Phainon whistle next to you. “That’s yours?”

Right. This is his first time seeing your family’s jet.

You let out a short laugh. “Yeah.”

“Must be nice,” he says. Then he gestures forward, smiling. “Come on, then, pumpkin.”

You grimace. “Don’t call me that.”

“Yes, princess.”

You elbow him lightly.

The two of you don’t get far before you spot them.

Aglaea is already there—beautiful, composed, and put together, like she belongs in every space she steps into. Beside her is—

“No way,” you say as you approach, because there is absolutely no way what you’re seeing is real. “You’re Agy’s plus one?”

Anaxa looks up from whatever he was doing, and his expression shifts into something faintly amused. “Good morning to you too,” he says. Aglaea sighs from beside him.

“No, but seriously— you?” You look at Anaxa, then at your cousin. “He’s your plus one?”

Phainon laughs beside you, clearly entertained.

Anaxa crosses his arms. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Uh… Yes?”

“Right.”

“I mean— sure, we’re all friends,” you say, “but I thought Agy would be bringing Tribios. You two are basically like cats and dogs.”

“Can we not do this right now?” Aglaea pinches the bridge of her nose. “He’s here and he’s my plus one. End of discussion.”

“That settles that then,” Phainon says rather cheerfully. He nods toward the other two easily like nothing happened at all. “Did we keep you waiting?”

Aglaea shakes her head. “Not at all. We just got here ourselves.”

Anaxa then glances at the two of you, gaze lingering for just a second too long. You narrow your eyes at him slightly in suspicion. He smiles.

Ohh. I don't like that.

“So,” you say, turning back to Aglaea, “everything ready?”

“Yes. The crew’s already finished most of the preparations. We can board whenever we’d like.”

The four of you start moving toward the jet, suitcases rolling across the tarmac. You’re mentally running through your checklist again—passport, wallet, charger—when Anaxa speaks.

“I know about your arrangement, by the way.”

You stop walking. Phainon stops walking.

The wheels of your suitcase screech slightly as it lurches to a halt beside you. You stare at the back of Anaxa’s head because he’s still moving, completely unbothered, like he didn’t just drop a bomb on you.

You turn to Aglaea. “You told him?”

She doesn’t look at you right away. “He would have figured it out anyway.”

“But why?”

“I know it’s supposed to be something just between the three of us,” she starts, calm and measured, “but Anaxa isn’t going to tell anyone about your predicament. And is he not your friend, too? I think it’s better that he knows now than letting him figure the two of you out on his own.”

You open your mouth, then close it.

She’s not wrong—that’s the frustrating part. Anaxa has known you long enough to know when something is off, and he’s the kind of person who would notice things. If he’d spent even just half a day watching you and Phainon, he would have arrived at his own conclusions.

Still.

You look at him. He’s glanced back now, expression hovering between neutral and entertained. “I’m not going to snitch on you to your family, I assure you,” he says.

“You better not!”

“I won’t.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.” Anaxa glances at Phainon then, though brief.

Phainon clears his throat beside you. You turn to look at him. He flashes a placating smile at you, the picture of innocence.

“Right,” you say, mostly to yourself, and you grab the handle of your suitcase and start walking again because standing in the middle of the tarmac is not going to make any of this better. “Wonderful. Great. Everyone knows. Let’s move on now.”

Aglaea falls into step beside you. You don’t look at her. She doesn’t say anything, which means she’s waiting for you to work through it on your own.

“I’m not upset with you, Agy,” you murmur to her.

“I know,” she says.

You exhale. “I just would have liked a warning.”

“Would you have agreed if I’d asked first?”

You think about it honestly for a second. “…probably not.”

“Then you understand why I didn’t.”

You do. You hate that you do, but you do.

You walk the rest of the short distance in silence, and when you reach the steps of the jet, you let Phainon take your suitcase again without arguing—mostly because you’re tired of fighting small battles this early in the morning, and partly because it’s Phainon, and he was going to do it anyway.

When you step inside the cabin, it is warm and familiar and slightly too loud, layered with overlapping conversations. It’s got that particular energy of people who haven’t seen each other in a while and are making up for lost time.

You immediately clock most of the faces—cousins, aunts, uncles, and some family friends you recognize but can’t name immediately. The space is comfortable and well-appointed in that way that stops being impressive once you’ve grown up around it, though you notice Phainon isn’t beside you anymore—he’d peeled off just outside to handle the luggage with Anaxa.

Then your mother sees you.

“There she is!”

You barely have time to brace yourself before she’s crossing the cabin with your father right behind her, both of them wearing the kind of expressions that make you feel like you’re twelve again and coming home from a long trip.

Your mother reaches you first, pulling you into a hug that’s tighter than the occasion calls for, and you hug her back automatically, laughing a little despite yourself.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetheart.” She pulls back to look at your face, hands on your shoulders, studying you the way she always does—like she’s checking that everything is still where she left it.

Then your father steps in, quieter but no less warm, and wraps an arm around you briefly. “You look good,” he says simply.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Your mother spots Aglaea next and immediately pivots, opening her arms. “Aglaea! Come here.”

Your cousin steps forward and accepts the hug gracefully, returning it with the kind of practiced warmth that comes from years of being folded into your family’s orbit. Your father greets her as well, and for a moment, the four of you fall into easy small talk—how was the drive to the airport, how has the studio been, how long has it been since they last saw each other.

Then your mother turns back to you, and the shift in her expression is immediate. “So,” she says, “where is Phainon?”

Right on cue, the cabin door opens behind you.

You turn. Phainon steps in, slightly windswept from being outside, straightening the front of his jacket as he scans the cabin. His eyes find you first, and then he clocks your parents standings right beside you and smiles, easy, like he’d been expecting this exact moment.

Your mother makes a sound you would describe as delighted.

Aglaea smoothly excuses herself with a small smile before stepping away into the cabin, leaving you standing there with absolutely no buffer.

Your mother is already moving toward Phainon before he’s fully crossed the cabin, waving him over with both hands like she’s flagging down someone she’s been waiting for. Phainon doesn’t miss a beat—he meets her halfway and when she pulls him into a hug, he returns it with the same ease he does everything.

“It’s so nice to see you again, ma’am,” he says when she lets go, warm and genuine. “It’s been a while.”

Your mother lights up completely you almost have to look away. “Oh, you remember me! Of course you do—you were always such a sweet boy.” Then she waves a hand at him, almost dismissive. “And stop calling me that! Just call me Mom since you’re my daughter’s boyfriend now.”

Your heart skips a beat at that.

“Haha, okay, Mom.” The word rolls out of him naturally, and your mother looks like she could float. Then Phainon turns toward your father and extends a hand. “Sir.”

“Not sir—call me Dad now.” Your father bypasses the handshake entirely, grabbing Phainon’s outstretched hand and using it to pull him into a quick hug instead, with one firm pat landing on his back.

You watch all of this happen, smiling with your whole face because you are in front of your parents and that is the only acceptable expression to be wearing right now.

Phainon glances over at you from beside your father, and the look on his face is calm but also amused, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking and finds it genuinely funny.

You keep smiling. He keeps staring.

Your mother notices, of course, because your mother notices everything. She glances between the two of you and sighs contentedly, like she’s watching something she personally arranged come together exactly as planned.

“Well,” she starts, pleased with the world, “I’m so glad you’re both here.”

Your father settles back slightly, hands in his pockets, looking between you and Phainon with the quieter version of the same satisfaction your mother is wearing openly on her face.

“So,” your mother says, folding her hands together. “How long have you two been together?”

You glance at Phainon. He glances at you. It lasts maybe half a second, just something long enough for something to pass between you.

Just like what we practiced.

“Three months,” you both say at the same time.

Your mother blinks, then breaks into a wide smile, clearly reading the synchronization as something far more romantic than rehearsal. Your father makes a quiet sound that might be a laugh.

“Three months,” your mother repeats, as if savoring it. “And you kept it from me for three months.”

“We wanted to be sure first,” Phainon says, smooth and easy, and you could have not said it better yourself so you simply nod along like that was always going to be your answer too.

Your mother turns to your father with an expression that very clearly says I told you so without using any of those words. Your father receives it with the patience of someone who has been on the receiving end of that look for decades.

“Well,” your father says, returning his gaze to the two of you, “I’m glad you’re here, Phainon.”

Phainon smiles. “I’m glad to be here, sir—” He stops himself, and glances at your father. “Dad.”

Your father nods once, satisfied, like that was the correct answer.

“We won’t take up too much of your time now,” your father says. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up once we land. Your mother’s already made dinner plans.”

“Dinner,” your mother confirms, pointing between you and Phainon like she’s booking a reservation on the spot. “Just the four of us once we’re settled in Lushaka.”

“We’d love that,” Phainon says, and you nod beside him, smiling.

“Good.” Your mother looks satisfied in the way she gets when something she wanted has been granted to her before she even had to ask twice.

She reaches put and pats your cheek once affectionately, then Phainon’s arm, and then your father is already steering her gently back toward their seats. You watch them go for a second, then exhale.

“First obstacle done,” you say, though mostly to yourself.

“We’ll survive,” Phainon says, smiling.

The two of you make your way further into the cabin, looking for seats, and then that’s when it happens. Your aunt catches your eye from across the cabin and makes a beeline for you. Her gaze lands on Phainon and stays there.

“This is your boyfriend?” she says, not quite asking, reaching out to grab your arm.

“Yes,” you say.

“How handsome!” She’s already looking at him like she’s appraising something. “Oh, you did well. You did so well.”

Phainon laughs, gracious about it in a way you could never be. “Thank you, auntie.”

That does it—the auntie alone sends her. And where she goes, the others follow.

You spend the next several minutes being passed between relatives like a relay baton, except the baton is you and the thing being examined is Phainon standing next to you. There are cheek pinches—yours, not his, which you find deeply unfair. There are comments about how good you look together, about his height, his face, about how polite he is, about how your grandmother would have adored him.

One of your older aunts grabs both your hands and then his and holds them together like she’s performing a blessing. “You’re going to have such gorgeous children,” she says with complete sincerity.

You laugh because the alternative is you combusting. “We’ve only been together three months.”

“And? Your uncle proposed to me after two.”

You have no response to that.

Then another aunt claps her hands together and looks at Phainon directly. “So when’s the wedding?”

Phainon tilts his head, and the smile that settles on his face is relaxed and warm and just happy enough that you almost believe it yourself. “We just started dating, auntie,” he says, “but who knows—maybe if she catches the bouquet during the ceremony, ours could be next.”

The collective reaction from your aunts is immediate and extremely loud. Meanwhile, your face goes completely hot.

You turn to Phainon with your eyes wide and your mouth open and you smack his arm with the back of your hand. He doesn’t even flinch—he just laughs, bright and unbothered, like he didn’t just say that to a captive audience of your most excitable relatives.

“You—!” you start.

He’s still laughing.

“I can’t believe you,” you whisper, which only makes it worse because now he’s looking at you with such expression—the one that’s fond and amused in equal measure—and your aunts are watching all of this and sighing like it’s the most romantic thing they’ve ever witnessed.

You grab his arm and pull. “We’re going to sit down now,” you announce to no one in particular, already steering him away before anyone can ask a follow-up question. There are both delighted and disappointed sounds behind you. You don’t look back.

You find two empty seats near Aglaea and Anaxa and drop into yours with the energy of someone who has just survived something. Phainon settles in beside you, still smiling and unruffled.

Aglaea looks up from whatever she’d been reading. She takes one look at your face and understands. “The aunts?”

You nod tiredly. “The aunts.”

Anaxa glances at Phainon. Something passes between them, and you haven’t even looked much further to identify what it could mean before Anaxa looks back down at his phone without comment.

You sink a little lower in your seat.

The pilot’s voice comes through the speakers much later, letting everyone know they’d be taking off in the next minute or two. Around you, the cabin settles into that pre-flight quiet—the rustling of seatbelts, the last few conversations tapering off, and people shifting into their seats properly.

You buckle in, glance out the small oval window beside you, and then look at Phainon. “Have you ever been assigned to fly one of these?” you ask. “A private jet, I mean.”

He looks up from where he’d been adjusting his seatbelt. “Yeah, a few times. I don’t take them often though.”

“How come?”

He tips his head slightly, considering how to explain it. “Private flying is more luxurious on paper, but it’s a lot more exhausting than a commercial flight.”

You frown. “How?”

“On a commercial flight, I’m responsible for flying the aircraft,” he explains. “On a private one, I’m responsible for the entire aircraft. Loading the luggage—and that stuff gets heavy—cleaning the cabin, restocking everything, the toilets—”

“You clean the toilets?”

“I clean the toilets.” You stare at him. He shrugs, unbothered. “It’s part of the job.”

“What about when the client hires attendants?” you ask.

“It helps,” he says,” but it doesn’t change the fact that as the pilot, I’m still ultimately responsible for everything on board. There are physical and operational tasks that fall on me regardless of who else is there.”

You’d always known in the vague, general sense that Phainon’s job was demanding—the odd hours, the unpredictable schedule, the way he sometimes looked genuinely tired in a way that sleep didn’t entirely fix—but there was something about hearing it laid out plainly like that. And although he did say he doesn’t take these kinds of flights all the time, the luggage and the restocking and the responsibility that didn’t end when the flight did made it feel more concrete. He gave—gives—a lot to his job.

“That sounds really exhausting,” you say.

Phainon looks at you. Then he smiles and reaches over to flick your nose, gentle, before settling back in his seat. “You’re cute,” he says.

Your face warms and you rub the area he touched softly. “I’m being serious.”

“I know,” he says, still smiling. “That’s what makes it cute.”

You turn back toward the window because that seems like the safest place to look right now. You don’t say anything else, and neither does he. But when the jet lifts and the ground falls away beneath you, Phainon’s shoulder is warm where it presses lightly against you, and you find that you don’t particularly feel like moving away.

The cabin settles into its cruising quiet sometime after takeoff. Around you, conversations have tapered off, replaced by the sounds of people finding ways to pass the time. You’ve got your book in your lap. Phainon, somewhere along the way, had pulled out his phone and put his earphones in, and you’d both drifted into your own separate silences.

You’re somewhere in the middle of a chapter when you feel it—a slight shift of weight, and then his head comes to rest on your shoulder. You go completely still.

His breathing has already evened out, which means he’s genuinely asleep.

You look up.

Aglaea is already looking at you, while Anaxa is asleep beside her, head tipped back. You stare at her and she raises an eyebrow. You make a face that you hope communicates the full scope of what you are experiencing right now. She only blinks—like a cat who has found the situation beneath her to intervene.

How helpful…

You face forward again. Okay—you think—this is fine. People fall asleep all the time; sometimes on each other even. It’s a long flight and he’s tired—you literally just learned how exhausting his job is, so this is completely reasonable and normal and you are not going to make it weird by thinking about it too hard.

But I’m already thinking about it too hard!

His hair is slightly tickling your neck. His shoulder is warm where it presses against your arm. You are painfully aware of the weight of his head and his breathing and the fact that if you turn even slightly, you will be looking directly at his face.

So, you do not turn. You attempt to read the same paragraph you left earlier—only to fail four times. You read it a fifth time, but the words are all just shapes now and you can’t retain a single word. You close the book and set it on the table.

You stare out the window and try to think about nothing, which is to say you mostly think about Phainon sleeping on your shoulder and how your heart has been racing since then.

Eventually, your eyes get heavy.

Eventually, you fall asleep.

The first thing you register is a sound—a soft, short snap and it pulls you through the layers of sleep. Your eyes open slowly, and that’s when you feel it.

Your cheeks is against Phainon’s hair. Your arms are around him, hands loosely wrapped above his elbow, his arm tucked neatly against your chest like you’d decided somewhere in the middle of sleep that you needed something to hold onto. His head is still on your shoulder, still asleep.

You look up.

Aglaea is lowering her phone with the satisfaction of someone who has just accomplished exactly what she set out to do. When she sees your face, she says nothing. She simply sets her phone down the table calmly.

Your mouth opens, and she tilts her head slightly. Don’t wake him up, the look says. You close your mouth.

You look down at Phainon, still asleep and completely unbothered by all of this. Then you look back at Aglaea, who has picked up her book and is now reading it like nothing happened.

You exhale through your nose as quietly as possible, and reach over with the hand not currently wrapped around Phainon’s arm. “Phainon,” you say softly, and touch his arm. “Hey… Wake up.”

He stirs slowly. His head lifts from your shoulder. He blinks once, straightening up and running a hand briefly through his hair. Then he looks at you, still soft around the edges with sleep. “Are we landing?”

“No,” you say. You’ve already unlooped your arm from his without drawing attention to the fact that it had been there in the first place. “But we’re almost there, I think.”

He nods and leans back in his seat. He rolls his neck once, then glances over at you with a smile. “Did you sleep?” he asks.

“A little,” you say.

Across the table, Aglaea turns a page.

The jet touches down an hour later and everyone starts gathering their things, and you’re stuffing your book back into your bag when you feel Phainon’s hand brush against your shoulder—to let you know it’s time to move—and you nod and stand.

The heat hits you the second you step out of the vehicle, thick and salty and immediately making your dress stick to your skin. And the sky above Lushaka is so blindingly bright and blue you have to squint against it as you make your way down the steps.

The apron is already busy by the time you get there, family members spilling out in loose clusters, hugging and laughing and talking over each other, and you spot Elora almost immediately in the distance. She’s standing near the front with a man you assume is her fiance.

Your aunts and uncles go first, swarming toward Elora with delighted noises, and you watch from a distance as she gets passed around from hug to hug.

You, Phainon, Aglaea, and Anaxa hang back because you’d all gone to grab your luggage first while everyone else had already been shuffled ahead, and you’re honestly fine with being last—you’re in no rush to get swept into whatever this reunion is going to turn into. But then, Elora’s eyes land on you from across the open and her whole face lights up.

She starts walking over before you’ve even finished bracing yourself, and you feel your stomach drop because you know exactly what’s coming—you can already see it in the way she’s opening her arms. You plaster on the kind of smile you reserve for customers who complain about their coffee being hot even though they asked for it hot.

“You made it!” Elora says, arms already wrapping around you in a hug that smells like expensive perfume, and then she pulls back just enough to press a quick kiss to your cheek, and you just stand there for a while before finally lifting your hand and patting her back twice.

It’s awkward and you know it is and you can feel Aglaea’s gaze on the back of your head, but you can’t help it. Your body just doesn’t know how to do warm and easy with Elora.

“I’m so glad you came,” she adds, stepping back, and her smile doesn’t waver even a little.

“Yeah,” you say. “Thanks for having us...”

Her eyes flick briefly past your shoulder, and you don’t even have to turn around to know who she’s looking at. Elora’s gaze stays there, and then she tilts her head slightly.

“Is this your plus one?” she asks.

“Yes,” you answer. “He’s—”

“Phainon!” She cuts in before you can even finish, and the way she says his name comes out delighted, and she’s already stepping past you to get a better look at him. “Am I right?”

“That’s me,” Phainon says easily, and he offers her a smile that’s polite enough to pass for genuine if you didn’t know him as well as you do; though you catch the way his eyes flick briefly to you before settling back on her.

“Wow,” Elora says, drawing the word out. She looks at him the way you’d look at a car you’re thinking about buying. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! Never in my life would I have thought I’d get to meet my cousin’s boyfriend ever.”

Ugh, you think, I hate her!

She says the word boyfriend like she’s trying it out, even though you never once used that word in your RSVP. You just said plus one and left it at that, and you feel irked because she took one look at a name in an email and ran with the most exciting version of the story without even bothering to check.

She’s the one who put me in this mess!

“Right,” is all you say, but she’s entirely unbothered and uninterested in whatever else you have to say. Her attention is solely on Phainon now.

“So how did you two meet, exactly?” Elora asks Phainon. “I’m dying to know!”

“High school,” Phainon says. “We’ve known each other a long time.”

Elora smiles, bright. “That’s so sweet! Honestly, I’m just surprised, you know? You’re clearly very handsome, very put together—” she gestures vaguely at him, “—and I guess I just didn’t expect someone like you to end up with someone like… my cousin.”

The words land easily and casually, wrapped up in a compliment so you can’t even call her out on it without sounding like you’re the one being difficult, and you feel your face go warm. Not from embarrassment, but from something closer to irritation—the old and familiar kind you’ve spent years learning to swallow rather than spit back out.

Phainon doesn’t miss a beat. “I got lucky,” he says simply, and he reaches over, settling a warm and steady hand at the small of your back. “And she’s not hard to notice, really.”

There’s a deliberate emphasis on those last few words, small enough that Elora might not even catch it, but you do. And so does Aglaea, who you can hear making a small sound behind you that’s suspiciously close to a laugh she’s trying to hold in.

Elora blinks, and something flickers across her face briefly before she smooths it back into that same easy smile. “Of course,” she says. “I just meant it as a compliment.”

“I figured,” Phainon says, still smiling. And you think, not for the first time, that you’re really glad he’s on your side.

Elora is quick to move on from Phainon—like flipping a page before anyone can dwell too long on the last one—and her attention swings toward Aglaea and Anaxa standing just behind you, luggage still in hand.

“Aglaea!” she says, voice climbing back up into that bright and delighted register, and she steps forward to pull your other cousin into a hug that Aglaea returns with the same practiced warmth she gives everyone. “You look stunning as always. I swear you get more intimidating every time I see you.”

“You flatter me,” Aglaea says.

Elora giggles and then her gaze drifts to Anaxa, who hasn’t said anything yet. “And you must be Aglaea’s plus one,” she says, extending a hand toward him. “I don’t think we’ve properly met yet. I’m Elora.”

“Anaxagoras,” he says, shaking her hand once.

“Anaxagoras,” she repeats, testing the name. “That’s certainly a memorable name. How long have you and Aglaea been together?”

Anaxa doesn’t even blink when he says, “Long enough.”

Which, technically, isn’t a lie since they have been friends for years, but it’s vague enough that it tells Elora nothing at all, and you have to bite back a smile because you know exactly what he’s doing—giving Elora just enough to chew on without actually feeding her anything.

“Well, you two make a striking couple,” she says, undeterred, clapping her hands together. “Honestly, I don’t know how you all keep finding people who look like they walked out of a magazine. Must run in the family.”

Her eyes flick toward you for a brief second when she says it, long enough for you to catch it. You feel Phainon’s hand press slightly firmer against your back, like he caught it too—but neither of you says anything. And then Elora seems to remember something, glancing back over her shoulder before reaching out to tug a man close by the sleeve.

“Oh, right, I almost forgot,” she says, pulling the man into the little circle you’ve all formed. “Everyone, this is Nikolas. My fiance.”

Nikolas steps forward with an easy, almost sheepish smile—the kind that immediately feels warmer than anything Elora’s said in the last five minutes.

“Hi,” he says, giving a small wave like he’s not quite sure if a handshake or a hug is more appropriate and would rather not overstep. “It’s really nice to finally meet you all. Elora’s told me so much—I feel like I already know everyone.”

“Good things, I hope,” Aglaea says, and there’s the faintest curve of amusement at her mouth.

“Only good things,” Nikolas says, laughing a little.

He turns to you next, and his smile doesn’t shift into anything performative the way Elora’s does. “You must be the cousin who owns a cafe,” he says. “It’s great to finally put a face to the name.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you say.

He glances at Phainon beside you before speaking, “And, of course, the boyfriend. Nice to meet you too, man.”

“Likewise,” Phainon says, and this time his smile looks easier and much more genuine, like he’s already decided he likes Nikolas a lot better than the bride.

Elora claps her hands together at once, drawing everyone’s attention back before the conversation can wander any further. “Okay, we’ll catch up properly tonight, I promise, since we’ve got a family dinner planned once everyone’s settled in,” she says. “But for now, everyone should head to the villa first and get some rest. It’s been a long flight and I don’t want anyone falling asleep during appetizers.”

“We’ll see you tonight then,” Aglaea says, already steering the group toward the cars waiting at the edge of the apron.

“See you tonight!” Elora calls after you, and Nikolas gives one last easy wave before the two of them turn to greet the next cluster of relatives making their way down the steps.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Beside you, Phainon leans down slightly to your ear, voice low enough that only you can hear it, “Nikolas seems nice. How does someone like that end up marrying her?”

“Even I don’t know the answer to that,” you mutter and he laughs, and the sound helps loosen something tight in your chest that’s been sitting there since the second Elora’s arms wrapped around you.

The limousine rolls to a stop in front of the villa, and the driver comes around to open the door for you and the others. You step out, and behind you, Phainon is still climbing out of the car, looking around like he’s trying to memorize every detail of it before it disappears.

“Okay, so,” he starts once he’s beside you, voice pitched low with something like disbelief, “riding in a limo is actually insane. Like… genuinely. I don’t think I’ve ever sat in a car that had a mini fridge in it before until now.”

“Phainon, it’s just a car,” you say, though you’re smiling a little at how wide his eyes still are. If he had a tail, you just know it’d be wagging uncontrollably right now.

“It’s not just a car to me,” he says. Then he gestures back toward the other two limousines pulling up behind yours, doors opening and relatives spilling out onto the gravel in twos and threes. “And your family owns three??”

“Five, actually,” you say a little absentmindedly, already reaching for your bag. “The other two are probably back home in Amphoreus.”

Phainon just stares at you.

“What?” you ask, letting out a huff out of amusement. “You look ridiculous.”

“Five,” he repeats, like the number physically hurts him to say out loud. “Your family owns five limousines and I only found out about them now. And we’ve been friends for how long?”

“A long time,” you say.

“Yes, a long time,” he echoes. “And in that long time, you never once mentioned that your family owns a small fleet of limousines. I’ve known you since we were thirteen—thirteen!—and I’m only now learning this.”

“Well… The topic never really came up during past conversations,” you say, shrugging. “Our family owns a yacht too, if you want to know, and I think that’s far more interesting than a limousine.”

He shakes his head slowly, looking almost betrayed. “Okay, but then why did you even go to a public school? If your family has this kind of money, you could’ve gone anywhere. Some elite private academy with a uniform that probably costs more than my rent.”

You don’t even think twice about the words leaving you or how they might land when you say, “Then I wouldn’t have met you.” Because it’s genuine and it’s true—the same as the skies and waters of Lushaka being blue.

And Phainon goes still.

You glance over at him and he’s not looking at you anymore. He’s looking somewhere off to the side, ears going faintly red, jaw working like he’s trying to find something to say and coming up empty every single time, and you feel a smug satisfaction settle in your chest in your chest at having finally, for once, been the one to fluster him instead of the other way around.

“Are you—” you start, teasing, but before you can finish, Elora’s voice rings out from somewhere near the villa’s entrance.

“Everyone, if I could have your attention for just a second!” she calls, waving an arm to draw the group closer. “I know you’re all tired so I’ll make this quick. I just want to show you to your rooms so you can all rest before dinner.”

The crowd shifts and drifts toward her, and Phainon clears his throat beside you, still not quite meeting your eyes and mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “that’s so unfair” before he grabs both your suitcase and his and starts walking—just a little too fast—toward the villa.

Elora leads the group through the villa room by room, pointing out names on little cursive place cards taped beside each door, and one by one relatives peel off with tired, grateful sighs. Eventually, she stops in front of a door near the corner of the hallway, tapping the little card taped to it.

“And this one’s yours,” she says, glancing between you and Phainon.

You blink at the door, then blink again when you realize that there’s only one card—both with your names written on it—which means there’s only one room and you need to share it with Phainon. The thought of staying in one bedroom with your fake boyfriend hadn’t even crossed your mind until now.

“Wait,” you say, almost in disbelief. “Just one room?”

“Well, you’re a couple,” Elora says in a tone that says like this should be obvious. “It’d be strange to put you in separate rooms, wouldn’t it? People would talk.”

Your mouth opens, but absolutely nothing comes out because your brain has apparently decided to short-circuit at the exact moment you needed it the most. You can feel your face heating up—can feel the way your grip on your bag tighten. But Phainon is already moving, sliding smoothly into the silence you left behind.

“Of course,” he says. He speaks so easily and unbothered like he already prepared for something like this to happen. Like sharing a room with just you and him is absolutely okay and normal for him. “Thank you so much for showing us around, Elora. We really appreciate it.”

“Oh, of course, anytime! I just want everyone to be comfortable and I figured—”

“We should probably get settled in before dinner,” he cuts in—still smiling, still polite—already reaching past you to push the door open. “Thanks again!”

And before Elora can get another word out, his hand finds the small of your back and he’s steering you inside. The door clicks shut behind you with a soft, final sound that leaves the two of you standing alone in the middle of the room.

Outside, you can just barely hear Elora’s voice moving further down the corridor—”Aglaea, Anaxa, you two are just down this hall”—already onto the next set of names and doors, the two of you forgotten and left behind in favor of the rest of the tour.

Your eyes catch on the bed immediately. One bed, and it’s not even a particularly large one. You look at it, then back at the bed, doing quiet, frantic math in your head about positions and space and how exactly two grown adults are supposed to share something built for one person without it being A Whole Thing.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Phainon says, setting both your suitcase down near the foot of the bed. “I’ve slept in far worse.”

You look at the floor. It’s tiled and hard and looks unforgiving. Then, with a sigh, you say, “Phainon, it’s fine.” You set your bag down before you can talk yourself out of it. “I don’t mind sharing the bed with you. I trust you.”

He looks at you, assessing. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you say. “So please, no need to sleep on the floor.”

“You’re accepting this much easier than I thought,” he says, and there’s something curious in the way he says it. Like he expected more resistance, more flustering, more of the reaction you gave Elora in the hallway moments ago.

You think back to what Elora said—about people talking, about how strange it would look like if you and your supposed boyfriend weren’t even sharing a room during a whole week of family events—and you sigh again, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“It’s not like we can really do anything about it,” you say. “Beside, we can think of this like a sleepover. You know… like the ones we used to have before with the others.”

Phainon raises an eyebrow. “Those were more like torturous study nights. Anaxa made sure of that.”

“Still,” you say, “we all slept together in the same room.”

He sighs, dragging a hand through his hair, though there’s no real protest left in it. “Fine,” he says. “Though maybe we should put a pillow in between… Just so I don’t accidentally squash you in the middle of the night.”

“You are pretty heavy,” you say.

He laughs at that, shaking his head as he drops down onto the other side of the bed to test the mattress. “Wow. Okay.” He looks over at you, grinning. “Well, now that that’s settled, should we unpack for now? Or do you want to rest first?”

You glance at the suitcases still sitting by the foot of the bed, then out the window where the light outside has started shifting into gold over the water in the distance.

“Let’s unpack,” you say. “If I lie down now, I don’t think I’m getting back up before dinner.”

“Fair point,” he says, already pushing himself up off the bed and reaching for his suitcase.

You watch him for a second before you get up too and grabbing your own, and the room settles into something easy and quiet. It’s just the two of you moving around each other, familiar in a way that almost makes you forget—for a moment—that any of this is supposed to be pretend.

© 2026 kominigiru.

taglist: @ofcdimi

end note: i actually didn’t know how to end this chapter and the ending seemed kinda rushed but i’ve been writing this chapter for too long now and i feel bad for those who have been waiting since january akdbahfhsh

thank you to maemae for giving me the idea of “there’s only one bed” trope!! bwahahaha i can’t wait to do something about it…. (rubs hands together) 🪰 and for those who voted for phainon falling asleep on reader, yay for you! 😋

the amount of research i had to do for this chapter was ABYSMAL (not really) but it was actually so fun learning new things LOL i felt like a nerd (in a good way!!) writing the conversation between the mc and phainon during the plane scene. it’s not really relevant to the fic but phainon is a senior first officer. they’re basically the co-pilot and second in command—right after the captain (either the junior captain or the senior). in my head, both mc and phainon are in their late 20s (either or between 27-29yo. also imagine pining for someone for 11+ years 😅) and phainon can technically upgrade to a junior captain position but he just chooses not to because their schedules are a lot more flexible than that of a junior captain and they still need to work during weekends and holidays while a sfo is guaranteed to have off days on weekends. i think it suits phainon a lot, especially in this fic if you consider the fact that his schedule is almost always free when it comes to mc :D

For a moment you forget the animosity you have against boys. The memory of your brother dejected and purposely isolating himself last year rings clearly in your mind. Your family had left your town of Castrum Kremnos and moved to the more populated city of Okhema to get a fresh start, especially because of the grief caused by your father. However, this also meant that Mydei would be leaving his friends.

Hephaestion, Leonnius, Perdikkas, Ptolemy, Peucesta.

Though you have not had many interactions with them, you knew they were good friends and meant a lot to your brother, even if he didn't want to admit it. A dull ache lingered within your household despite moving to the free and prosperous Okhema.

So you decide to give this mystery boy a pass.

Your tablet flashes, signaling low battery, and suddenly you realize the predicament you're about to be in. Shit. You left your charger with Mydei after his broke, so now you have to go in his room to ask for it.

Did you really have to go in? Your mind goes back and forth between saving your tablet and staying in your room and waiting it out. Looking back in your room, avoiding interacting with the mystery boy and your stinky brother seemed really tempting. You had hobbies! You could definitely find something else to pass the time. But a part of you can't help but be curious, and before you know it, your feet were dragging you to Mydei's room.

You walk as lightly as you could, trying not to alert them of your existence before you were ready to go in. The door was half open, and you hear the low murmur of their voices, along with the electronic sounds effects of what seemed to be punches or shooting. You gulp, overthinking of whether Mydei would even hear you over the video game noises. You knock anyway.

"Yeah?" Mydei's voice calls out. You breath a sigh of relief- at least he heard you. You grab your nonexistent courage and push the door to enter. Keeping your head down, your footsteps hover lightly on his floor as if you were sneaking in. And then your breath catches in your throat.

The mystery boy- A boy sits on the edge of Mydei's bed beside him with a controller loosely in his hand. He looks up at you the same time your brother does, and you get a full glimpse of his face. He was sitting, but he looked around the same height and age as Mydei. White messy hair framing his face, bright blue eyes, and an even brighter smile. Why was he smiling at you?

And was that the scent of wheat?

Your brain barely catches up to the overload of the mystery boy, but Mydei fortunately snaps you out of your trance.

"What do you want?" Mydei's voice is curt and straight to the point as always. You catch the mystery boy stifling a laugh, nudging your brother and whispering something like "how gentle", to which your brother nudges him back subtly. You don't know why but you feel self conscious all of a sudden.

"I-I need the charger." You mutter. Ew. You become aware of how awkward your voice comes out.

"It's on the desk." Mydei replies, quickly focusing back on the video game. You cringe. The desk? The one all the way across the room? Where you'd have to pass this weird smiley boy? Your anti-social self loathes this, and you wish you could cuss at Mydei for not getting the message but alas there is a guest. 

Men. They certainly stress women out. Even your own brother.

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you swiftly cross your brother's bed to snatch the charger. Okay, you did it, just quickly in and quickly out, easy right-

"Hey."

The white haired mystery boy calls out to you, and you flinch like those cartoon robbers caught in the police lights.

"I'm Phainon." He says with a smile. "Do you wanna play with us?"

Your pupils dart quickly between the boys and Mydei's TV, where some sort of FPS game was paused. The thought crosses your mind so fast, you almost flinch in disgust at the thought of playing this violent video game with boys.

"I- what?" You grimace, though it comes out meek. Phainon only continues smiling, lifting his controller to gesture at the game.

"We're about to enter a lobby, you can join us if you like." Phainon only continues smiling, lifting his controller to gesture at the game. The invite makes your heart beat faster- though you're not sure if you should be flattered or weirded out that you're being included. Mydei seems to voice the latter.

"Why would we do that?" Mydei's words come out blunt as usual, though you don't fault him for it because you also couldn't find a reason to join them, especially when you didn't really enjoy your brother's video games. More importantly, you felt like it was gonna be awkward.

"Um, I'm okay. I don't really like shooter games." You reply, slowly backing off with the charger in hand. Weirdly, Phainon perks up more, still talking to you.

"Then we could play something else. Do you like Mario Kart? Or Party?" Phainon suggests. You and Mydei both give him a grimace like true siblings.

"We don't have to include my sister in everything." Mydei says. From the way he said it, you felt like Mydei briefly told Phainon about you, which doesn’t help with your face burning at the thought of being mentioned.

"I-It's fine, really. You guys play." You say, taking the last word to finally exit. You're at the threshold of Mydei's doorway when Phainon steals the last word, calling out one last thing.

"Maybe next time then."

You almost flinch again, your steps abruptly stopping, and shit. It signalled that you heard him, so now you had to answer. You slowly turn, putting on a smile.

"Yeah... sure." Your answer wasn't confident, and you realize you might have come off as fake- like you were putting on a customer-service smile with an empty promise.

And yet, Phainon- this smiling boy, continues to beam at you like he actually believed you.

You don't trust yourself to not embarrass yourself any further with that interaction, so you you quickly pull your brother's door closed and retreat back to the safety of your room. You sit on your bed, charger clearly forgotten and your posture rigid as a soldier as you reflect on what the hell just happened.

Your heart was beating too fast. Too fast, but... not for a boy, right? 

It's ridiculous, you think. Phainon was the guest here- a stranger. There was a supposed to be a sense that playing video games with them was some sort of uncharted territory when he was your brother's friend. But it’s like it has been reversed. 

You've met boys before, obviously in your elementary school. They were smelly, mean, and dumb... loud, reckless, and careless... Yet Phainon was strangely not like them. And you were sure as hell knew that none of them ever looked at you like that- like it was normal for you to be there, or that it made sense for you to join. You press your palms to your face, as if wiping it would get rid of your overcomplicated thoughts.

This is so stupid.

Somehow, you get the feeling that you weren't going to forget him.

A few hours later, you realize you actually aren't going to forget the boy. Especially when you find him setting up the dinner table.

Your mother called you and Mydei down that evening for dinner, and you pause for a moment in the hallway as you see the white haired boy still here. You caught a glimpse of him just washing his hands, meaning he was definitely staying to eat. He answers your mother with a cheerful "yes ma'am!" and you make a face- both at the thought of Phainon joining your family for dinner, and the fact that he just called your mother "ma'am".

Your mother calls you and Mydei to set the table as usual. You realize how giddy Phainon looked as you saw him from the corner of your eye, sleeves rolled up and posture upright like he was ready for your mother’s cooking. He suddenly realizes you too.

"Oh, hi again." Phainon's eyes blink at you as he turns away from drying his hands.

"Hi..." You quietly nod to him, and he smiles at you again. By this point, you felt that he could probably tell that you were weirded out by him a little- being a guest and all yet being so comfortable with people he just met. You don't even remember the last time you were comfortable in your own skin. And yet here you were, standing awkwardly at your own dinner table in your own house, while this random boy acts like he belonged here all this time.

For once you latch onto the task of setting the table gratefully, busying yourself with forks and knives in order to not to pay the obvious elephant in the room any mind. You definitely don't realize the way he kept glancing over, and you certainly don't realize how he pulled your chair out for you.

Once dinner was set, your family takes their seat and starts on a nice home-cooked meal. Your mother gets curious and starts asking Phainon questions, since she too realized this was the first friend Mydei brought home. You keep your head down mostly, as you weren't really a part of this conversation. Funny enough, Mydei stays quiet too. Birds of a feather you were.

"How long have you two been friends?" Your mother asks towards your brother and Phainon. Though of course, Phainon takes the lead and answers.

"Since the beginning of the school year. Mydei has been helping me with studying for history." Phainon beams, his head nudging towards Mydei to acknowledge him. "He's really good in that class."

Mydei grumbles something unintelligible in response. It's weird... weird how Phainon's praise for your brother warms your heart. You knew that your brother was good at history, that much was true. But nobody was perfect (and as his sister, you knew firsthand of Mydei's particularly annoying traits such as his attitude). Phainon goes on about how he met Mydei from how he admired Mydei's competitiveness in gym class, but Mydei of course mistaken it for rivalry. You internally cringe at the thought of more boys being over competitive in sports.

Still, the sound of Phainon talking about your brother like he was perfect was... different somehow, genuine- even though that wasn't part of the question your mother was asking. You poke mindlessly at your food, a small smile slipping out as you recognize the hidden weight behind Phainon's polite answers.

Your mom continues to pester Phainon and Mydei with questions, with Phainon answering and your brother contributing the bare minimum. At one point you swear you see your mother rolling her eyes fondly at Mydei's lack of answer. You knew she likely shared the same sentiment as you- thinking how your brother was secretly happy for making a new friend.

"What grade are you going to?" Phainon's voice interrupts your thoughts, and you blink up, realizing that he was suddenly talking to you.

"Oh- eighth..."

"Eighth? Cool. Are you looking forward to high school?"

"I don't know..."

"That's okay. I think high school is gonna be fun! What's your favourite subject?"

"Um, art."

"That's awesome." Phainon says it like he actually means it, which makes your grip on your fork tighten. "Do you draw a lot?"

"Yeah I guess..."

"What kind of stuff do you draw?" Holy moly. You start cringing more, feeling some sort of embarrassment as Phainon presses on with the questions. He really wasn't letting this conversation go.

"Um... just things..." You shrug. You’re not really sure you want to say out loud that you draw silly anime characters at the dinner table. There's a pause, where Phainon just nods at you. It's like deja vu, where you expected the talk to end here. And yet-

"I'd like to see them sometime." He says, smiling. Your heart seems to catch on to the deja vu, doing that strange little jump again like before.

You don't understand it.

You don't understand why he wants to know more about you, or why he's being so polite, or why he keeps trying to include you, or why he's smiling so much. Why it ironically feels physically hard for you to look him in the eye. Going to a friend's house for the first time is typically awkward, is it not? But nothing seemed difficult for Phainon. In fact, everything seemed relatively easy for him.

Dinner continues with your brother and Phainon bantering and bickering like boys do while your mother smiles fondly. Once you finish, you walk quickly back to your room, wanting to be back in the safety within your walls, where you will not be bothered by some stinky-

“Hey!” Phainon calls out to you, and you flinch, stopping in your tracks. His footsteps pad across the floor, with Mydei silently beside him. “I still don’t know your name.”

“It’s (Y/N)…” You reply softly. You would think that your brother would have introduced you, but alas there he stands, anti-social and nonchalant like all boys try to be. Well, almost all boys.

“Well (Y/N), do you wanna play Mario Party with us?” There was the question again, but rephrased with your name with the addition of a more family friendly video game. He was purposely trying to include you, wasn’t he? You pause for a moment, thinking. Phainon grins, pressing on. “Your brother told me that you need help unlocking a minigame in the two versus two mode.”

“But there’s three of us…”

“Yeah. It can be me and you versus Mydei.” Phainon remarks casually. Before you could quirk an eyebrow at the strange pairing, Phainon continues. “Your brother already claimed he would still win.”

And it’s strange, you think. How the stars are perfectly aligning, so much so that it almost seems suspicious. Something prickles at your pride. Mydei has always been competitive with you, but to be honest, playing Mario Party with your brother has started getting boring. Here Phainon was, offering a fresh perspective by fueling Mydei’s competitive spirit and wanting you to join.

You blink blankly at your brother. “…You wouldn’t win partnered with an AI.”

“Yeah? Wanna bet?” Mydei growls immediately after. It earns a chuckle from Phainon, as he gets a first hand experience of you and Mydei being essentially the same person, and furthermore a glimpse of your own sarcasm against your brother. Phainon looks over at you, beaming.

“So, what do you say?”

You look at the boy, whose posture remains hopeful that you would join. Your stomach fluttered again- why? At this point you realize how bad it would be if you declined him again like you subtly dismissed him before. But he was... intelligent, you think. Intelligent in how he phrased his words.

"Partners?"

Phainon is already pushing Mydei's door open like he owned the place (while the real tenant grimaces). His other hand is outstretched to you, and somehow you see the change now. The invite was no longer a push, but a sign of him waiting. This was weird. He's too warm... too-

"Yeah." Before you knew it, a smile slowly spreads on your face, and you take his hand. He somehow lights up even more, giggling with you as he tugs you into Mydei's room, with the shared goal of beating your brother. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Age: 15

Two years ago was when you’d say you officially became friends with Phainon: That day he was first invited to your house by Mydei.

You remember playing Mario Party with the boys, which turned into a whole marathon of video games. But you also ended up learning about Phainon. How he actually lives very far from school, in the countryside of Aedes Elysiae. Little things like how he wanted a video game console, but found it useless if he no one to play with- hence why he was so excited to get the invite from Mydei to play video games at your house.

As you finally come into your own in high school, you don't freeze up anymore whenever Phainon comes over. He’s starting to get taller and his voice has lowered, but you barely realize it because of how often you see him. However, there was still the notion that Phainon was more of Mydei’s friend than he was yours. They were classmates first after all, but now that you knew him better, you felt like being in his presence more. 

"Mydei, I need help with homework." You blurt out as you dump your bag on the couch as you come home. Mydei and Phainon were already there, sitting at the dining table, heads buried in their notebooks. Mydei clicks his tongue.

"What homework?" Your brother grumbles, already dreading your request and dramatically setting his pencil down. Phainon peers over at you behind him.

"Trig stuff." You reply casually. Mydei lets out a groan.

"No."

"What?!" You shout, immediately getting defensive. In times like these, you're reminded how obnoxious your brother is. Not that you ever forgot. "I have a quiz soon."

"I'm busy studying for my own test. Figure it out yourself." Mydei says. You catch the subtle sound of Phainon snickering behind your brother, and you get suspicious of whether he was laughing at you. Little do you know, the white haired boy caught a glimpse of Mydei's notes- messy and full of frustrated scribbles, because he too was struggling with trig stuff. Of course, he didn't want to admit it.

"Mydei, please. You're not saying no because you suck at trig too right?"

"No, I'm not." Mydei replies curtly. It was a lie of course. Again- birds of a feather you and Mydei were... both struggling with maths. You thought you could at least rely on your brother since he had at least a year of experience. But still, he waves you off. "Ask someone else."

You were about to open your mouth to argue, when-

"I can help." Phainon leans out for you to see him, offering his services easily. A beat of silence goes by until you and your brother both shout what?! without any shame.

What was it you said earlier? You don't freeze up anymore whenever Phainon comes over?

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle again, and you start feeling self conscious... like when you were thirteen meeting Phainon for the first time. Your notebook and past quiz that were prepared in your hands, slowly hide themselves behind you as if to back off. You knew your notes were messy- maybe even more than your brother's. But worst of all, your equations were half finished, red marks on your previous quiz with see me after class as the cherry on top.

You really don't want Phainon seeing this.

“I-It’s fine… I don’t want to bother you guys.” You try slowly backing away, hoping the boys would get the message that you changed your mind. Phainon only continues to smile, disregarding your stance.

"It's okay. I don't mind." He shrugs, already walking to the other side of the dining table so you could sit next to him. Shit.

Your brother rolls his eyes, seeing this as a sign for him to leave and study in peace. Wait, Mydei- He wasn't supposed to leave you alone with Phainon! He's so stupid!

"Whatever, I’m going somewhere else to work. Just don't fail her." Mydei glares one last time before dragging his stuff into his room and slamming his door like a princess, leaving you alone with Phainon.

"I won't." Phainon says simply, his arm resting on the back of the chair. He looks up at you, who was still standing there, and you flinch.

"Do you wanna come over here?" He asks. Your cheeks go warm at his... gentleness. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but there was a tiny part of his voice that sounded like he was teasing you. Still, you walk over, stiff as cardboard as you awkwardly sit in the chair next to him with your disappointing notes in hand. Immediately, you become aware of how close Phainon was, so you unconsciously shift your chair a little further from him, purposely distancing yourself. An awkward silence occurs for a good minute, until Phainon notices something and laughs quietly, looking at you.

“...What?” You stammer, your pupils flickering back and forth between him and the floor.

“Hm?” Phainon tilts his head as if he was an innocent puppy, though you knew he was far from innocent. Did he have to keep staring at you like that?

“What are you looking at?” You ask almost curtly, attempting to shoo him away.

“What am I looking at?” Phainon repeats your question with a knowing grin. 

God, why did Phainon have to be so stupid? He truly didn’t know the effect he had on you- making you forget how to speak despite him coming over to your home for years and teetering off embarrassing yourself whenever he spares you a little glance.

But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? It wasn’t just a small glance to you. 

Things like going the extra mile to help you with something you struggled with, being persistent in including you… Realistically, it didn’t mean anything special but oh, at the same time it definitely did. Why else did you wish you had looked in the mirror for before this, wondering if you should fix your hair a little before seeing Phainon? Why else would you think about changing into something that makes you look less like a bum? It was a little crazy now that you think about it. Mydei would definitely say something about it for sure. Something like “Why the fuck did you change your clothes when we’re in our own house?” to which was a valid argument- one that you didn’t want to have. So you usually end up doing nothing, but overthinking it anyway.

Phainon speaks again, seeing as you’ve seem to have gone silent for some reason. Thankfully, it stops your intrusive thoughts, but in turn makes your cheeks heat up a little.

“I’m looking at you because you’re sitting so far from me.” Phainon’s mouth curves upwards, his tongue teasingly between his teeth. He gives a playful pout. “Are you scared of me?”

You watch as Phainon grin turns into a playful pout. You realize what he meant with you sitting all the way at the end, accusing you of avoiding him or something.

Still, you deny it. “N-No…”

“Well then-“ Phainon lets out a soft grunt, and you get a little startled when you notice his foot hooking through the leg of your chair to bring you closer. That home-y scent of wheat wafts through your nose as soon as he got you where he wants. 

"Okay, show me what you've got." He says. You cringe, still cosplaying as cardboard as you slowly slide your embarrassing notes and past quiz over. He looks it over silently, and you hold your breath.

"Hey," Phainon looks at you with a certain softness, something you definitely weren't expecting after your atrocious quiz score. "This isn't bad."

"I-It's not...?" You think he's making fun of you. Phainon shakes his head with a smile.

"No. To be honest, I struggled with trig identities too. I think you're overthinking it, let me show you how I did it..."

Phainon teaches you how to approach the math questions you struggled on, and you start questioning whether he was lying about struggling on this too. From how he was explaining it to you, it's like he never struggled at all.

Then again, the only tutor you've known is your brother, so your standards are pretty low.

It's somewhat hard to concentrate as Phainon points out certain things and watches you do questions. He's close- really close. Your shoulders would be brushing if you hadn't purposely leaned away. It was so much so that you notice the little crease in his brows and the way he bites his lip when he's concentrating.

"See? You're getting it."

What was this...? Your heart starts doing those stupid little flips again, but you’re not sure if it’s just your brain mistaking it as nostalgia. Because it was the same way he was kind and patient with you two years ago. The same way he stayed for you at your dinner table despite you being difficult. The same way the smell of his hometown consumed you. The same way he continued to smile at you like it costs him nothing.

"What?" Phainon asks, softly glancing at you. You snap out of your trance and realize you were staring at him- daydreaming. How embarrassing.

"N-Nothing." You reply too quickly, ducking your head. Still, your eye flits back to him to peek, and he was smiling anyway. A warm feeling courses through your body, and you suddenly feel extremely comfortable. An idea comes up. "Can you help me with my English essay after?"

Phainon laughs, indulging you. "You need help with that? I thought your brother would be better with words."

You make a face at him, thinking, since when Mydei was good with poetry?

"You know- words like fuck and dumbass." Phainon clarifies. You laugh, realizing he was being sarcastic.

"That's exactly why I need help." You explain, and Phainon chuckles with a nod. 

While you were being tutored, you shyly asked him why the heck he was even doing this- why he was willingly tutoring you when he had his own things to do, and didn’t have to in the first place. He only smiled a little, saying, “I like helping you.” You sputtered, exasperated as you questioned him, not being able to wrap your head around why that was a valid reason. But the implication was forgotten because he just made things easy for you. It doesn’t pass Phainon’s mind, but to be honest, he didn’t mind.

At some point, your eyes start drooping and getting heavier. Your textbook and notebook pages get blurrier. You feel your neck giving up on you, making your head lurch forward a few times. 

“You falling asleep?” A soft voice whispers in your ear. 

“No…” Even the dullness of your tone betrays you. 

Phainon chuckles, and you get a little embarrassed. No, you cannot fall asleep at this point. Not when Phainon was right beside you. What if you drooled? Or snored? Mydei was always complaining about your snoring, and even though you were in denial, you get self conscious at what could happen. You force your eyelids open, but they only get heavy once more. 

Before you knew it, your head fell to rest on a squishy pillow. The pillow briefly shakes beneath your cheek just before you passed out. How embarrassing- you eventually did use him as a pillow. You need to get up, but you don’t. It was mostly because you were tired, but perhaps a teensy tiny part of it was because you never wanted to leave.

You were drifting deeply into dreamland for who knows how long, and by how soundly you were sleeping, it seemed like you never wanted to wake up. That is, until something soft taps at your shoulder. Your eyes don’t really open until the tap happens a second time. 

“There you are.” A soft chuckle reaches your ears, and you finally realize the predicament you were in. 

The first thing you saw was Phainon, and you realized that he was sitting much closer than expected, and close enough that you could make out the little crinkle in the corner of his eyes as he smiled down at you.

“Hi.” He says again, softly greeting you, seeing as you haven’t fully woken up. Your brain seemed to be blissfully empty in this moment, simply savouring the view without informing your body to move. It doesn’t last long though, since Phainon slowly tries to extract himself from you without jostling you too much. “Was my lesson really that boring?”

You don’t even have the energy to respond, your eyes barely opening, though you hear Phainon’s voice fading in and out.

“I have to go now. (Y/n)-” Phainon chuckles sheepishly as he attempts to pull his sleeve caught from under your weight. “(Y/n), you need to wake up for me. Your brother’s gonna get mad at me again.”

“Mmph- y-you’re leaving now?” You suddenly scramble to fix your hair, sitting up properly to look at Phainon who was already reaching for his jacket. He turns back to you with a smile.

“It’s late.” He simply says. And he was right. As you looked outside, you could see the sky already pitch black. Just how long were you out for? What time did you fall asleep? Did you really lay on Phainon’s shoulder for that long? The thought makes you blush. You glance down at your forgotten trig homework, and see a bunch of sticky notes written with arrows and small notes for each question.

“Oh.”

Phainon seems to notice the mortification slowly creeping on your face at your brilliant response. He laughs under his breath. 

“I’ve written down some notes for the last few questions you had. I hope they’re helpful in some way.” Phainon seems to be in deep contemplation, like he was thinking back to his notes and hoped they sufficed. He decides not to overthink it or potentially stress you out even more. So he smiles and waves, heading towards your door. “See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight…” You managed to squeak as he left. 

As your front door clicks shut, you collapse forwards on the table, simply staring at your scattered homework in silence. The living room felt strangely warm despite Phainon having already left. The scent of wheat lingered, the subtle air of his breath when he leaned in to explain something better, the feeling of his shoulder beneath your cheek- his entire presence lingered.

Mydei casually walks down the stairs, his eyes flickering between the door and you. He leans forward on the table, looking down at you with the same arms-crossed, unreadable expression on his face. Though it was the same perpetual look of mild judgment he always gave, this time you felt like he could be suspecting something else.

“What…?” You say with a hint of attitude in your tone, side-eyeing your brother who clearly had something on his mind. You hated when Mydei did this. 

“Nothing.” Mydei shrugs, reaching forward for the now stale popcorn. The silence continued to stretch, making you uneasy. “...Were you sleeping on his shoulder?”

“I- No…“ Smooth.

Mydei’s eyes narrow at you, getting skeptical from your very convincing answer. Fortunately, he scoffs and doesn’t address the secret you thought he was going to, but unfortunately, he decides he’s not going without a jab at you. “God, sleep on your bed next time.” 

Your eyes widen in embarrassment, realizing that Mydei did indeed catch you sleeping on his best friend’s shoulder.

“S-Shut up Mydei!” You knowing he was teasing you for drooling on Phainon’s shoulder. 

Mydei doesn’t even breaking eye contact with you. His gaze remains fixed, blinking blankly like he’s expecting something yet also wanting to ask something. You’re caught between deciding to stay silent or throwing something at him because you knew he was teetering off pointing out a certain something between you and Phainon. Why couldn’t you talk to your brother about other things? Trying to have a normal conversation with Mydei was like trying to argue with a brick wall that occasionally made blunt remarks and observations about your life. 

“You seem... happy.”

You stared at Mydei, your heart skipping beats- though you weren’t sure if it was because you were anxious or the fluttery feeling of actually admitting what Mydei was likely referencing. The thing about having a sibling was that you would be fluent in their lies, but the biggest problem was that they would be fluent in yours too.

Because later that night, after denying everything to Mydei which you were sure sounded suspicious- you realized the thought had finally taken shape.

Fuck. You looked forward to seeing Phainon. And it’s not like you haven’t, but after months of avoiding the question altogether, you slowly started to come to the terrible conclusion that your heart was craving his presence. There was no way you were going to get rid of the thought since you acknowledged it.  

You knew Phainon didn’t come here to tutor you, and he too had work of his own and things to study for. Phainon had stayed. And even though you made him explain the concept four times, and continued cringing over trying not to break over trigonometry, your previous feelings of thinking you were a bother eventually seemed to disappear. He was patient with you, and never sounded annoyed, which in turn ruined your life in the way that you never stopped thinking about this moment. 

You felt like you could depend on him comfortably without judgement or impatience. And he would let you take up as much of his time as you asked him for. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Age: 17

Ever since that night when Phainon helped you with your homework, you felt like you could be more carefree around him. Before, Phainon was just Mydei’s friend. Just a boy, who was annoyingly good at everything and nice in a casual way that easily made people gravitate towards him.

At seventeen years old, you think you know better. You were an adult, applying to universities, and thinking about careers.

You think you've matured. Which is why crushing on Phainon feels childish now.

You've admitted it internally in your head, that you've had a crush on him. A baby one at least. Over the years, you've watched him grow and you considered him a friend like your brother did. But somewhere throughout the multiple times he came over to your house, you found yourself finding every part of him attractive. It wasn’t your fault though, that he hasn't stopped with his whole golden boy persona. He was good at everything, liked by everyone, and fine, you'll admit he's cute. But he's eighteen now, already graduated and in university. So, you start seeing less of him.

And because you've matured, you pushed your silly little crush deep deep down early in the year.

Besides, there was a guy in your grade who you've been liking for a while now. You talked often with him, and he was funny and clever. You play the same video games, and share the love for art. He was super attractive too, and him teasing you lightly and seeking you out only made you fall harder. But you mistake the laughter and banter for warmth- for the kind of connection you yearned for. 

Near the end of the school year, you finally admitted it to the boy. Your feelings, out on a plate that trembles from your shaking hands and pounding heart and... he laughs.

"Wait, you thought I was serious?"

The words hit you and you instantly become hollow. You don't even remember the rest of what he said. Something about how he never saw you in that way. But all you could focus on was the little scoff, the awkwardness, the laugh. The humiliation replayed in your head all day, and you realized too late that the teasing was never friendly, and that your feelings were more disposable than you thought.

By the end of the school day, you feel nauseous. Ironically, not from the pit in your stomach but from how you didn't know how to keep your face from not looking nauseous.

And to make things worse, you had to keep a not-nauseous face in front of your brother... and Phainon, who were both picking you up after school.

You think you were doing a good job- purposely walking three steps behind them and looking down, lest they see you secretly wiping your tears. But as the three of you walk to the bus station, Mydei's eyes widen as he catches the sight of your reddening nose.

"You okay?" Mydei asks suddenly. You blink up, and fuck- even your eyes couldn't hide how puffy they felt.

"I'm fine." You reply. But your voice is croaky, and your sleeve suspiciously in front of your nose.

"You're crying." Mydei observes.

"I said I'm fine." You turn away defensively. Mydei's jaw gets tight, and he steps closer to you.

Panic and anger starts flaring up between you and Mydei, the two of your snapping and cutting off each other. 

"What happened."

"Nothing."

"Who did it then?"

"Nobody."

"I know it wasn't fucking nobody."

"Just drop it Mydei!"

Phainon steps in gently with his hands raised between you and your brother. "Hey, let's just get to the station, okay?"

You almost forgot Phainon was there. You didn't want to know what he was thinking, and in the moment you didn’t care. Mydei glares at you, growling as he turns to keep walking to the station, reluctantly following Phainon's advice. You follow the boys silently, your heart hammering. It's embarrassing you think, how you've just argued with your brother out in the open like a child. You were eighteen for fucks sake.

The bus ride was painfully quiet between the three of you, and you didn't dare look up from your feet. After a while, Mydei speaks again.

"Was it that guy?" Your brother's voice low, but clearly aimed at you. You start getting nauseous again.

"No." You lie. It was small and desperate. You almost cry when you see your brother shaking his head from the corner of your eye. Was he disappointed in you? For lying? Because of the guy in your class? You weren't sure. Still, you knew you should never have told him. Mydei says nothing.

When you finally reach your home, you don't wait to rush straight to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you. You drop onto your bed, face flat into your sheets as you sob into them, hoping they muffle the sound. You feel so stupid.

Meanwhile, Mydei stomps into the house, shoulders rigid with anger as he violently sits on the couch, his fingers pinching his brows. For once, Phainon is nervous to enter further into your house. Even with uncertainty and a small ache in his chest, he approaches Mydei.

"Are you okay...?" He asks, slowly putting his bag down. A long silence passes, and Mydei doesn't even look up at him.

"Do whatever you want." Mydei says, not even answering Phainon's question. Okay- so obviously Mydei (and you) weren't okay. Phainon sits beside him anyway. He eventually convinces your brother to go wash his face to cool down.

An hour passes, and Phainon realizes he was alone. Actually, he realized it a lot longer ago, when he heard the sound of the bathroom door closing... and then Mydei's own door.

This should be awkward for him. Being promised a normal hangout but now being left alone in a house that isn't his, where both his friends were upset. Against his better judgment, he softly walks down the halls to your door. He hesitates a little before knocking lightly.

"Hey... are you okay…?" He asks.

On the other side of the door, you gulp, swallowing your sobs for the nth time. You stay silent, both from not knowing what to say and not wanting to face him.

"I-I don't need to come in." Phainon continues cautiously, and you keep quiet. "I just wanted to know if you were okay..."

You shouldn't be replying to him, not now. Even so-

"I'm not." Ew. Your voice comes out watery and snotty. Weirdly enough, something in Phainon's chest breathes a sigh of relief at hearing your voice.

"Can I sit with you?" He asks immediately after. "We don't have to talk."

You hesitate again. Every nerve in your body is telling you no- that you should keep the door locked and not let him or anyone see you like this. But Phainon's voice was gentle, just like you've always known, and- ...this is so dumb. 

"...Fine." You mumble, creaking your door slightly open.

Phainon immediately pushes the door wider. His heart sinks when he sees you with red swollen eyes and hunched shoulders. But you don't even notice- in fact the only thing you do notice is the ghost of a hopeful smile just before he crushes you with a hug.

"Hey," He murmurs, as if greeting you after not seeing you for a while. "I've got you."

You stiffen for a second. The hug wasn’t even that tight, his grip light and loose like he was afraid of breaking you. His hold remained respectful, and so you let yourself melt into him, chin resting on his shoulder even if it was for a few pathetic seconds.

He pulls away eventually and gestures for you to sit back on your bed while he sits on your chair. You’re hoping Phainon doesn’t notice the disgusting tissues piling up in your trash can.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” He asks softly. And it’s really none of his business. But at this point you’re desperate and you’ve already let him in your room. So, you tell him.

You tell him everything despite the moments making your face hot with humiliation. From how you thought your shared interests and teasing with the guy meant something, to how you stupidly convinced yourself it was mutual. Somewhere along the line you also slowly realize how delusional you must have been. The boy simply didn’t like you because he didn’t see you in that way- no fault in that. But was it so bad to think that something could have came from it?

You shakily recall how much you trembled during your confession, voice and body and all. It should have been a sign since then. So, the answer is yes.

“I feel so stupid.” You blurt out, rubbing your eyes again. “

“Don’t say that,” Phainon coos softly. “It takes guts to confess. I’m sorry it turned out this way.”

“You are…?” You sniffle.

“I thought he would have liked you too.” He explains matter of factly. “Anyone with the same dynamic would have.”

Suddenly, a bitter type of anger twists within your stomach.

I thought he would have liked you too. Anyone would have.

Phainon’s words were kind, but you felt that they were too kind for the utter stupidity you subjected yourself to. You think about how some of your classmates knew of your playful rivalry with the boy and started encouraging it. You think about the nights you spent up texting your friends, secretly giggling and squealing over every little interaction and replaying conversations you had with the boy. You think about how much time you wasted.

And then it hits you- how stupid you look right now. Crying, eyes swollen, puffy nose, and your voice all watery and wobbly… with Phainon watching all of it. Heat starts flooding your face again, and before you knew it the bitterness was tumbling out of your mouth.

“You don’t know anything.” You mutter quietly. But Phainon hears it.

“What-“

“You don’t.” You stand up suddenly, your change in demeanour now prevalent. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

No wait-

Your seething words get to Phainon, the corner of his eyes turning downwards, heart aching. You immediately feel the guilt and shame, but it’s too late. 

“I’m not.” Phainon replies quietly. Somehow, his tone was normal- unaffected even after the bitterness from you. For a second your heart wants to double down. But your words tell a different story.

“Yes, you are.” You refuse to make eye contact with him, but your message remains clear. “Just- Just get out. Please.”

There’s a pause where a small part of you hoped that Phainon would stay. But of course, your words have already left your mouth and told him otherwise. Phainon stands up, a deep sigh coming out of him. He nods once with a bittersweet smile as if accepting something he doesn’t want to.

“Okay… I’ll give you space.” Phainon says softly. He hesitates at your door for a bit. “I’ll be outside if you still want to talk…”

Phainon finally leaves, making sure to close your door for you. Almost immediately, you start crying again, though the embarrassment lingers longer than the tears. Curled within your blankets, your mind can’t help but replay the moment, finding a new detail to hate each time. You shouldn’t even be crying this much. Even as you found yourself liking this boy throughout the school year, you internally told yourself to prepare for the chance of heartbreak. You couldn’t expect everything to be a happy ending, right? Yet as you become aware of the sorry state of yourself now, it seems to be more painful.

Because maybe, a small foolish part of yourself thought that he might say yes. 

The more you thought about it, the more humiliating this whole thing felt. The butterflies, the daydreams, the hopeful little fantasies you built in your head- how arrogant were you to think someone would like you back? The answer should have been obvious from the beginning.

On the other side of the door, Phainon stands there for a moment with a heavy heart as he hears your muffled sobs and sniffles. He’s about to turn and walk back to the couch when suddenly- a familiar pair of footsteps approaching make Phainon snap up. Mydei.

The boys both look at each other with wide eyes, not knowing where to start. Phainon’s mouth opens though nothing comes out, while Mydei stands there with an unreadable expression and his arms crossed.

“I-I wasn’t- I mean- I was just…” Phainon trails off, not really making any sense.

“I know.” Mydei replies while letting out an exhale. Phainon’s half relieved but also half confused. He knew Mydei was quite protective of you, but he surprisingly wasn’t mad at him for talking to you after a meltdown. Mydei opens his eyes, but avoids looking towards your bedroom door. “Was it about that guy…?”

Phainon is torn between telling his best friend and respecting your privacy. It was hard when Mydei was already this perceptive- what else was there to hide?

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” Phainon sighs with a meek smile. A neutral answer, yet it told Mydei everything he needs to know. Your brother doesn’t press on for information, only deeply exhaling again while walking towards the living room.

“I’m bad at this.” Mydei mutters, flopping on the couch. Phainon curiously trails after him. “You’re better than this than me.”

Phainon blinks, then rounds the couch to sit beside him. “That’s not true.”

“She talked to you, not me.” Mydei says flatly, rubbing his hands on his face. Phainon swears he saw the corners of Mydei’s eyes still recovering from redness(?) but he decides not to comment on it. He thinks back to your red eyes, and how he wished he could have comforted you more.

“I know you… never really liked that guy in the first place but,” Phainon says, giving a hopeful smile. “She needs you more than me. Even if she doesn’t say it.”

“And…? I’d just make things worse.” Mydei lowly protests. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Yeah, you probably would.” Phainon pokes at Mydei, and his head snaps towards him giving him a glare. Phainon chuckles, though he knew his friend would know that he was half joking. Phainon offers a weak smile. “But at least it meant you tried.”

A beat of silence hangs in the air, but it wasn’t heavy this time. 

“I’m sorry.” Mydei says, his voice low. Phainon’s ears perk up, unsure if Mydei really meant that.

“What did you say-”

“I said go home.” Mydei deflects, facing away from him. But even with the unsaid words, Phainon knew his friend had a lot of heart, and didn’t mean to cause this conflict and awkwardness. Mydei picks up Phainon’s bag and throws it at him. “I’ll talk to her later…”

And finally, Phainon breathes a sigh of relief, having a gut feeling that this would resolve itself soon enough.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Age: 18, start of university

It’s been about almost a year since that argument you had with your brother about that stupid crush. 

Mydei did end up knocking on your door that night, and you had a talk. It wasn’t perfect by any means- there was still some frustration and shouting. Mydei kept telling you how he knew he should have trusted his gut on how that guy was bad. You kept telling him that it wasn’t his business, and that you could take care of yourself. You weren’t a little kid anymore.

Eventually, the anger fizzled out and Mydei remembers that the whole reason for this conversation wasn’t about being right. 

You both sit in silence for a while, until Mydei gives you an awkward side hug, murmuring about how that guy sucked. If it was anything you could agree on now, 

“You’re not serious about beating him up are you?” You ask incredulously.

“Yeah I am. Got a problem?” Mydei replies without an ounce of care. You roll your eyes.

“Um yes, there is a problem. An ethical one.” You say like it was obvious- because it was!

“Who gives a shit?” Mydei shrugs. You can’t help but laugh at Mydei’s straightforward yet completely honest answer, because truthfully you would probably think the same if it weren’t for repercussions. You knew you couldn’t change anything from what happened, though a part of the embarrassment still remains deep in your heart. You decide to do your best and move on- and more importantly, you didn’t want to argue with your brother, or stay mad at him for his way of thinking.

Later that night, you also made sure to text Phainon, and you get a reply back pretty quickly.

(Y/N): I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I really appreciate you coming to comfort me, even if I wasn’t accepting of it.  Phainon: There’s no need to apologize. I understand you were hurt.

For a moment you stare at the screen. Even with all these years knowing Phainon, his gentleness still astounded you.

Phainon: You’re tougher than you think. Always have been. 

You smile at the text. Stubborn would have been a better word, you think, especially with Mydei as part of the context. Still, this was the last time you saw Phainon before entering university, which made things slightly awkward. Things are resolved, but you still can’t shake off the fact that the last impression you had was bawling your eyes out in front of him, and then snapping at him right after. 

The summer passes quietly after that. You don’t see Phainon much since you were preparing to start your own journey in university. You were ready for things to change.

Well, most things. Mydei was still protective of you, and you suddenly see a (less nice) carbon copy of your mother following you into the post-secondary life. 

Make sure you lock your doors, I don’t care if you’re just going for a coffee down the street. And don’t walk home alone when you have night classes. Holy moly, it was barely even the first day and he was already giving you orders like it was boot camp. Still, you don’t fault him for it. You figured you’d catch yourself forgetting something like that eventually, since these seemingly “normal” procedures might not be the first thing you think of.

Speaking of your first day and Mydei- he insisted on picking you and your friend up after the orientation party. 

“Please don’t tell me that stupid mascot was there.” Mydei groans.

“It was.” You reply, giggling as you and your friend hop in the backseats.

“I thought they’d stop doing that, bringing him to all these campus events.” Mydei scoffs, then mumbles something about how the mascot was just dancing in a corner. Clearly the mascot was haunting his dreams.

“Hey, he’s doing his best.” A familiar voice laughs. 

Your nose catches onto the realization first, the familiar scent of wheat drifting past you as you shifted into Mydei’s car. You abruptly look up from tugging on the seatbelt and realize- oh. Phainon was here too in the passenger seat. Wait- he looks… different. He wasn’t completely unrecognizable but his voice got lower, and he seemed much more confident which was somehow possible.

Well this was unfair. What was that line you heard from that one video game again? “Doctor- you’re… huge!” And you think that because holy fuck he was huge. From what you could see, his arms got all bulked up with muscle, shoulders extending past the width of the passenger seat of your brother’s car. What the hell happened over one year? Phainon goes through puberty and he gets taller and hotter. You go through puberty and you get pimples and a menstrual cycle. Or in other words: fuck you I guess.

“Is that Phainon? The guy you mentioned?” Your friend whispers to you, which snaps you out of your trance.

“Wha- I mean yes-”

“He’s cute. Super cute.” She whispers with a knowing grin. You’re hoping her statement falls on deaf ears but to your dismay, Phainon turns around, and you finally see his handsome face and smug grin.

“Was I supposed to hear that?~” He asks, looking at you straight in the eye. It wasn’t even the first day yet and your brain was already getting fried. Over a boy of all things. 

“No.” You seethe, smacking your forehead at your friend’s whispering that could have been quieter. Phainon laughs.

“Don’t inflate his ego.” Mydei adjusts the rearview mirror, casually making a jab at Phainon. Though, it doesn’t really do anything when Phainon was still smiling. 

“So, did you ladies have fun?” Phainon asks smoothly, looking back again, addressing the both of you. Your friend doesn’t answer, and you somehow get the feeling that she wanted you to talk, making your face subconsciously heat up.

“Um, yeah I guess.” You say awkwardly. You don’t know why you get shy when you respond, slowly sinking further into the seats as you struggle to even look at him. Phainon’s the same he’s always been- warm smiles, teasing lilts to his tone just to get you to talk to him, the scent of wheat. Still, your friend nudges your arm, telling you that she too noticed your speechlessness in front of him. Something is different. He is different.

As the car ride goes on, it’s fairly silent. Even though Phainon was sitting in the passenger seat, you couldn’t help but feel aware of your surroundings- like if he was gonna turn around or ask you something again. You tell yourself it was just to prepare yourself if he decides to look at you again. You hate that your eyes trace over him. 

“Are you gonna start going out like this every weekend?” Phainon’s poses this question to you and your friend, though his eyes linger on you mostly. 

“I dunno… Why?” You inquire, your shoulders slightly tensing when you watch Phainon’s lips curve into a teasing grin again.

“Just curious,” He shrugs. “Maybe you’d be better than Mydei who stayed in his dorm all the time when he was in first year.” 

Mydei grumbles, giving Phainon a light shove as his friend giggles. 

“There’s nothing to go out so often for.” Mydei proclaims with his arms crossed. His eyes then flicker to you in the rearview mirror, deciding to attack you for no reason like every older sibling does. “You couldn’t even go out without getting lost."

“I’m an adult Mydei.” You protest with an eyeroll as your brother embarrasses you (though he really is just a worrywart).

“Debatable.” Mydei scoffs.

“Mydei!” You yell. Phainon chuckles watching your short banter, then cuts in himself.

“She can handle herself.” Phainon gives Mydei a reassuring smile. There it was again- just a small little boost of confidence, that stupid faith he had in you that casually made you lose it. Not this again.

Still, even as the car pulls next to the curb and you’re ready to flop on your bed and gossip with your friend all night and more importantly brush off these feelings-

“Bye!” Phainon rolls his window down, waving at you. “Don’t stay up too late!”

Your feel that tingle at the back of your neck as you’re stunned at how Phainon said that phrase, though you barely have time to process it. 

“Oh my god…” Your friend latches onto your arm, startling you for a second. She hunches over as she walks to your shared dorm together, looking at you with a knowing smile. “Are you gonna address the elephant in the room, or should I just say it?” 

“What are you talking about?” You ask in a monotone voice as you unlock your door. You were hoping it wasn’t about-

“Uh hello? This Phainon guy, obviously.” Your friend says with an eye roll as if the topic was plain as day. “You didn’t tell me you guys were a thing.”

“We’re not,” you sputter. “He’s just a friend. My brother’s friend to be exact.”

“Yeah? Well this friend looks pretty happy to see you.” She hums, clearly not convinced. You both walk over to your her bedroom where you sit to talk. You roll your eyes, though you couldn’t stop how your body unconsciously tried turning away from her to hide your face. “He literally turned around to talk to you every five minutes. Did you even know he was gonna come to your orientation to flirt with you?”

You sputter at her bluntness, also not liking the way you got flustered so easily by her observations. But now that you think of it, why did Phainon even come along just to join Mydei to pick you up after your orientation?

“That wasn’t flirting.” You argue, cutting the conversation short and not willing to entertain any more questions. “Anyway- are you gonna tell me about the drama that happened at prom or what?”

You and your friend end up chatting into the late hours. More importantly, you end up skillfully avoiding and not responding to that statement she made. Truthfully, your own thoughts terrify you. 

Deep down, a part of you knows that if Phainon was gonna keep talking to you like that- like he was teasing you, being all confident, and smiling and implying he wanted your company, you’re not going to be able to pretend it means nothing. 

You remember yourself one year ago, when you confessed to that boy in your school and how embarrassed you felt when he laughed and scoffed. You remember how dumb you felt for misreading things, and believing that it was something more. You can’t let yourself do those things anymore. 

Unfortunately for you, confidence looked really good on Phainon. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Age: 18 (a few months later)

You think you settled into your classes and university life pretty well. Looking back at your orientation day, it felt a little ridiculous how much you spent worrying about Phainon’s perception of you. You were convinced that after you pushed him away that night when you were seventeen, that you had ruined everything. Or at least, that’s what you expected. You knew Phainon wasn’t the type to hold grudges or lie, but with the way he looked and talked to you that day, it was if he was entirely unaffected. 

As the semester goes by, you realized you were in your head too much after all. You were lingering outside with your friends, already complaining about a group project that was assigned when suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

“Hey, found you.” 

It’s Phainon.

“Oh, hey.” Your eyes widen when you realize it’s him. Your eyes trail up to finally meet his gaze, which looked a little too pleased with himself. Was he even aware of how he somehow just became unfairly attractive over one summer? Meanwhile, your friends’ jaws drop at the same time when they notice him spawn out of nowhere, and immediately interpret this as a signal to move two meters away.

“How are classes going?” He asks with a calm smile. You suddenly get a sense of scale of how much taller he got, now that you were with him standing up and not in a car. It was slightly embarrassing to you, how he was hunched over slightly to talk to you better.

“Okay I guess,” You say, shrugging. “Getting busy.”

Your friends watch, half in awe and half-deadpanned as you give Phainon a boring answer. And still, he smiles, remaining engaged as he talks to you.

“Good, good… Do you already have plans for the break?” Phainon asks, almost sheepishly. 

“I dunno, probably staying home with Mydei…” You reply. Phainon seems to inhale a little deeper before speaking again.

“I know finals are coming up soon… but I wanted to revive an old tradition, if you’re game?” Phainon asks. You cock your head to the side, unsure of what he meant. “The winter market, back near your home.”

Ah, right. You do remember the winter market- one you went with Mydei and Phainon when you guys were younger. You guys were barely teenagers, insisting you could go out by yourselves, and end up spending a majority of it listening to your brother whine about the cold. Still, it was a much simpler and nostalgic time you considered a core memory. 

“Do they still do it?” You ask, your eyes widening at Phainon bringing up something so nostalgic out of the blue. “I don’t know if I could convince Mydei to go… At his grown age I think he’d still complain about the snow.”

“He would do that.” Phainon chuckles breathily, knowing Mydei’s behaviour as well as you. “But I already convinced him to go.”

“You did?” You ask, your eyes widening. You truly underestimated Phainon’s power.

“Well, he did grumble about it for a good five minutes…” Phainon admits, scratching the back of his neck. “But he said he wanted to bring some of our friends, if we were going.”

Mydei has friends?

“Oh… your other friends…” A part of your confidence crumbles at the mention of your brother’s and Phainon’s other friends. You want to go- though you hadn’t really thought of why your heart was urging you to. At the same time, you’re not sure if you’d want to be in a group with randoms you didn’t know. For all you know, they could be just as stinky as your brother! Your response turns slightly dismissive. “I don’t know… I’ll check with Mydei if he’s going first.”

“He will. And if he says no I’ll make him go.” Phainon gives a devious grin and a thumbs up. Your uncomfortable posture turns more relaxed and you smile, seeing exactly what this was- the same game you’ve been playing for years. He was trying to invite you again.

“I’ll think about it.” You say finally. Phainon smiles wider, the corners of his eyes crinkling like he subtly won you over. 

“I’ll hold you to it.” He leans closer with a wink, and you think your brain stops functioning for a good second. He then straightens, giving you a casual wave before walking off. “See you then.”

You watch as his figure walks away, spotting one of his friend groups nearby and jogging to them. And-

“Oh. My. God.” Oh yeah, you almost forgot that your friends are still standing there.

They squealed and whispered animatedly, all nosy about your ties with this hot guy and theorizing on whether you’ve been dating or if the flirting was normal. The bombardment of questions and exclamations obviously pointing out Phainon’s… Phainon-ness made it hard to conceal your nerves. Wait- why were you nervous again?

“You guys-” You attempt to compose yourself, but your stammer already gives out your subconscious feelings. “You guys are delusional. Just because some attractive guy happens to be talking to me doesn’t mean anything romantic.”

“So you think he’s hot.” One of your friends chides, completely ignoring your argument and latching on a random detail. You pause for a moment, your mouth agape as you realize the small slip you made. You shake your head dramatically to dismiss any other thoughts, but your roommate beats you to answering that.

“That’s (Y/N)’s friend, Phainon.” Your roommate so graciously corrects with air quotes around the word friend. You have no idea why your cheeks start to burn up when your roommate sarcastically addresses Phainon as your friend. Or was it just an intrusive thought that you seemed like more than friends? Either way, you hope your flustered expression is not seen by your friend group. “And I’ve been saying the exact same things to her, but she’s denying the… well- whatever’s going on between them.”

“He’s literally my brother’s friend.” You roll your eyes as you correct her, emphasizing the involvement of Mydei in this whole ordeal. “As in he’s known me since I was like thirteen?”

“Uh-oh, that’s dangerous~” One friend sing-songs with a smug grin. “That means he’s already got a leg up in the game. And judging by what I just saw, men like him are hard to find. Y’know- kind, hot, knows all your habits?”

You want to roll your eyes again and ready to deny all these claims your friends are making, but you find yourself replaying that whole conversation with Phainon just now. Knows all your habits? It was certainly dangerous but not in the same way your friend stated. It was more like dangerous in the way that you didn't want Phainon remembering every embarrassing thing you did in front of him and being close enough that he would bring it up. You think back to how he kept trying to include you and ask you questions about yourself, and when you realize the exact same thing just happened-

“Sooo, what did he talk to you about?” Your friend interrupts your spiralling, and the rest of the group turns their heads to you expectantly. 

“He asked if I wanted to go to a winter market thingy we have back home.” You say casually. Your friends squeal- making you groan at their overreaction. 

“And? What did you say?”

“I said I’d think about it.” You shrug. Your friends dramatically sigh with disappointment, their hands sliding down their faces. 

“Okay- why did you say you’ll think about it? This is like… textbook winter arc in a shoujo manga where the leads go on a date and share hot chocolate.” Your roommate says incredulously. You roll your eyes, ignoring her obvious teasing as prepare to explain.

“It’s not a date.” You protest with an exhausted sigh. “Mydei and a few of their friends are going too.”

“Damn, that’s a lot of wheels.” She scoffs. The rest of your friends giggle. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You deadpan, the joke going over your head.

“Nothing.” She beams. “Anyway, what’s wrong with other people going?”

“It’s gonna be awkward as hell…” You groan, gritting your teeth as you drag out the words. Being as introverted as you are, situations like this felt iffy for you. You really don’t want to seem difficult, but if he was inviting other people you didn’t know, you felt like the odd one out. 

“So?” She scoffs, grabbing you by the shoulders lazily. “He’s going. He wants you there. He basically just asked you out. Isn’t that enough reason?”

You pause for a moment, your roommate’s argument surprisingly getting to you. 

“...That doesn’t mean anything.” You finally utter. Your friends groan in unison.

“Oh shut up, he’s cute! Just let yourself like him!” 

Your eyes widen at the bold command. Your friends burst out laughing, enjoying your embarrassed reactions from this so called gossip. It really sucks how now you couldn’t contain the tiny smile that creeps onto your face. 

Before you knew it, your thoughts spiralled and you couldn’t stop thinking about how Phainon smiled at you, or how easily he was able to spot you here on campus. Your gaze flickers briefly to Phainon’s direction again, where he was talking with his friend group. You end up staring for too long because Phainon seems to feel your eyes burning into him, and he turns his head to look at you. You awkwardly look away, not knowing whether to play it off or keep looking- either way it was gonna make you suspicious. But Phainon doesn’t seem to think so, because he sends you a small smile and a wave before going back to speaking with his friends. 

And now, with your friends observations combining with your own buried feelings, you’re realizing how hard it’s getting to believe that he was just a friend. You thought you’ve convinced yourself that you saw him as strictly a friend of your brother’s that you just happened to get to know. You thought you weren’t going to make another silly mistake about a boy. But… you’d be lying if you said you never thought he was… kinda…-

“Also- don’t you think (Y/N)’s brother is kinda cute?~”

Ew. Your friends continue giggling, not caring that they just called your brother hot in front of you. Yup, daydream-y thoughts gone. 

Nothing else needs to be said when a guttural scream tears from your throat.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Age: 18 (Winter break)

A couple weeks after stressing over exams, you find yourself standing in the middle of the winter market. For some reason, you felt like being here in and of itself was another way of admitting the real reason you were going- another way for your friends to tease you about you-know-who.

Speaking of friends, you realized something about Mydei’s friends.

You stuck to Mydei that night as you waited for the rest of the group to arrive. The market was glowing with the same warm lights and cold air, festive music drifting through the crowd. When they arrived, you greeted them all politely, offering a small smile. But you notice something-

All of Mydei’s friends were gorgeous.

What the fuck? As if it couldn’t make you any more anxious than you already were, they had to be stunning too. Even in the cold winter weather they dressed like they came out of a shoot for Vogue. You look at your own attire and feel hyperaware of how your coat makes you look like a puffball, and you tuck your hands in your pockets.

You see a girl with whitish hair that bleeds into a light purple, a cheerful girl with pink hair tied in two pigtails, a group of four that- wait… were those the twins? Stelle and Caelus? Oh god- you didn’t know they were a part of this hang out. Okay, it was probably dramatic to have this intrusive thought of hiding right now- but you couldn’t help it. They were well known across campus, and you couldn’t fathom them having connections to your brother of all people.

“Hey,” You feel somebody tap your shoulder and you turn around quickly- it’s Phainon. “You came.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You nod, breathing out. Your heart does that stupid flip again as you see Phainon- cheeks rosy already from the coldness, and flashing a toothy grin like it meant a lot to him. 

“He’s just a friend. My brother’s friend to be exact.” “That’s (Y/N)’s friend, Phainon.” You remember yours and your friends’ phrases being thrown around when Phainon was being introduced. You tell yourself again the same thing- that he’s just a friend, and this didn’t mean anything. That Phainon was just being friendly like he always was, and that whatever fluttering feeling you’re getting in your chest was just some naive hope that needed to be buried away again. 

The group moves slowly through the market, a safe distance enough to explore the booths and keeping sight of each other. You mostly stay near the back, hands tucked in your coat pockets as you listen to the group more than talking.

Before you could take notice of it, one of the girls falls into step with you.

“Hi! I don’t think we’ve met.” It’s the pink haired girl. “I’m Hyacine. You’re Mydei’s little sister, (Y/N), right?”

“Oh- hi. Nice to meet you.” You reply, adjusting your scarf to try and not seem anti-social. She then taps Mydei on the shoulder, who was walking in front of you two.

“Mydei, you’re sister is way cuter than you!” Hyacine clasps her hands theatrically and beams.

“Um… thanks?” Mydei blinks, then turns back. Hyacine laughs, and even you manage a small giggle. You kind of appreciate her humour (and jab at Mydei) and hope you didn’t come off as a stranger anymore. 

Before you could overthink it, Hyacine tugs you over to one of the booths, asking if you liked cute things. You stumble a little as the girl drags you to who knows where, though you reply saying you do. You notice the little unicorn plushie on her bag, and felt that it was on brand for her.

“Over here!” Hyacine giggles, not caring that you both were obviously straying from the group. There was no time to protest as you both weaving through the crowds until you both stop at one of the artist booths. You look around at what Hyacine wanted you to see, and see various keychains, stickers, and cute little handmade plushies lining the table. They were soft, mismatched coloured little creatures, sitting as if waiting for someone to adopt them.

“These are so cute!” Hyacine’s eyes light up, flickering from plush to plush. She silently hoped you felt enjoyment from this too. “Oh- and this one too.”

“They are.” You blink, picking one of the plushies up. It was a small pastel coloured star with a crooked smile. You thoughtfully turn it in your hands as you admire it. You wouldn’t lie if you said it didn’t intrigue you…

“Oh (Y/N)- that one matches your jacket!” Hyacine exclaims, pointing at the similarity.

“Huh? Oh yeah, it does.” You glance down at your attire and the coincidence that the plush you grabbed was the same colour. You didn’t even realize, but it was as if it was a subconscious gesture.

You stare down at the little star’s cute face and dangly legs. It was cute, and you certainly appreciate the maker’s craftsmanship. But you sigh, putting it down. “Mydei would probably scold me if I bought another one.”

“Aw, really? But he’s gonna be lonely. He even matches you!” Hyacine pouts, then shows you her unicorn plush. “You could match like me!”

You’re about to give an apologetic smile, but you think about the giant horde of stuffed toys you have at home and in your dorm and you feel like-

“What are we looking at?” Phainon’s voice comes from behind you, and you turn your head a bit too fast to where he was peering between you guys. Phainon bends slightly to take a closer look, snow dusting the shoulders of his coat. You get a whiff of his cologne and you have to look away. He looks relaxed in that unfairly easy way of his, even for doing something as basic as looking at stuff.

“We’re looking at stuffies!” Hyacine says joyfully. You shrink into your scarf a little, hoping Phainon doesn’t find it childish that you’re looking at plushies. “(Y/n) likes the star.”

“Hyacine-”

“The one with the little legs?” Phainon says simply. His eyes then flicker down to the one in your hand. “Were you gonna buy that one?”

“Oh-” You’re almost startled at how quickly Phainon noticed the plush in your hand, and you set it back down on the table. “Yeah- I mean… it’s cute, but I already have a lot of plushies at home.”

Phainon seems to be deep in thought as he stares between you and the star plush, but doesn’t say a word. You’re hoping he accepts your excuse and moves on. 

“Where were you? And everyone else?” Hyacine pipes up, tilting her head at Phainon.

“I was looking at the ceramics. I lost everyone else a while ago, but- oh, Cyrene said to regroup at the seats near the hot chocolate stand.” Phainon explains. A shiver runs through your spine as you briefly remember what your roommate said about this hangout being straight out of a shoujo manga. “You ladies can head back there when you’re finished. I’m gonna try looking for the others.”

“Okay, see you in a bit!” Hyacine waves to Phainon, then turns back to you. “Are you sure you don’t want to buy anything?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You say with a bittersweet smile. “I’ll probably forget about it in a few days.”

Hyacine nods, not wanting to pressure you. You turn away from the booth and walk with her towards the designated meeting place within the food vendor area. It was getting later, but from the way you were bumping shoulders with people, it felt like the amount of people were increasing. You both eventually find a few of the others at one of the picnic benches and join them to wait for the rest to arrive. You sigh, as you finally get a chance to sit down. Simply walking around a marketplace somehow exhausted you more than you thought.

For a moment, you close your eyes to rest from the clamour. Suddenly, you hear a little jingle coming from near you and you open them at the soft sound. 

“Hey.” Phainon stands in front of you, one hand holding a small fabric gift bag tied with sparkly string and tiny metal ornaments. From the lighting of this area, you could finally see the snowflakes clinging to his hair- even though they were the same colour. He sits down beside you, looking almost amused at your startled expression. 

“Hey, did you find everyone?” Hyacine leans over from the other side of the picnic table. 

“Most of them. I think Cyrene found the others I didn’t.” Phainon replies. On cue, Mydei and a few others walk past and take their own seats at the table. Phainon’s attention shifts back to you, still holding out the bag.

“What’s this?” You ask suspiciously taking the bag. You felt your heart beating faster, not believing it was what you thought it was. 

“For you.” Phainon replies simply, waiting to see your reaction.

“What did you get her?” Hyacine gasps with glee, leaning closer in anticipation. The curiosity overwhelms you too, and you freeze as you peek into the bag. 

The little star plushie stares back at you.

“You- You bought it?” You ask softly, though your eyes going wide gave away that you were surprised. Phainon watches your expression carefully, and tries not to smile too much. “Phainon, you didn’t have to.”

“You liked it, didn’t you?” He counters, leaning his elbows on the surface of the table. And oh, how you hated how his casual response mirrored what your friends said to you a few weeks before- about something as simple as this being reason enough. Phainon never seemed to stop, like helping you was the easiest thing in the world. 

You stare down at the plushie, then between him and Hyacine. “I told Hyacine I’d forget about it eventually.”

Phainon tilts his head slightly. “Would you have?”

You idly look at Phainon, whose eyes seem to burn into yours with intensity, turning the question into a challenge. It makes you more flustered.

“I-” You stammer, your jaw going slack, not being able to form an answer. You end up sighing with a smile, realizing any excuse you might make would be null in the end. You clutch the plush a little tighter in your hands. “...I guess I wouldn’t have.”

Phainon grins softly at your surrender, the market lights reflecting off his face beautifully. 

By this time, the entire group had finally come together and decided to chill out here. You continued talking to Phainon, and for a while, you forget that you were here as a group- like it was just you two.

“Are you doing okay?” He asks you. “You seemed a little distant earlier.”

“I’m fine.” You say automatically. Phainon hums, not convinced. Somehow the tiny pout he sports makes you want to be vulnerable and tell him the truth, so you continue. “I just- it’s hard keeping up with everyone.”

Your reason sounded strange, but Phainon understood what you meant. He nods, but doesn’t push you, giving a reassuring grin. “You can just hang with me.”

The offer is casual, yet it makes you feel warm in the cold weather. And once again it’s like deja vu- where you felt like there was absolutely no reason for him to include you or make you feel comfortable in any way or for any reason. Yet he does. He always does.

“How did first semester treat you?” He says, changing the subject as he bumps his knee lightly against yours. 

“It was pretty normal.” You shrug. “I made a few friends, complained about professors and group projects a little. Exams were stressful, but nothing too out of the blue.”

“Complained enough to write a bad review on them?” He asks, clearly instigating. You watch as Phainon’s eyes twinkle mischievously, and you knew the website he was referring to. You snort before you could stop yourself, and Phainon grins faintly at the sound, visibly pleased he was able to pull it from you. 

“How else do you think I’m gonna spend my break?” You ask with a bit of sass. He laughs, nodding with approval. Phainon then shifts closer to you a little, his posture becoming more upright. It was subtle, but enough that he was creating a space where his attention felt undivided now. 

“You know…” He starts lightly. “We used to hang out more before university started.”

You’re caught off guard by his sudden observation. You didn’t expect him to speak up about the weird distance between you guys, but he was right. The last time you properly saw him was… before that day you bawled your eyes out and then shoved him away when he tried to comfort you. You cringe at the memory. God, you hope he forgot about that and remembered a different day when the two of you and Mydei were happy and playing games or something.

“I- have we…? What about… orientation?” Your grip on the plush tightens a little out of nervousness. You knew damn well orientation didn’t count for shit. Still, you attempt to feign obliviousness to ease some of the discomfort you felt inside, but Phainon chuckles, catching on immediately. 

“Yeah? And you probably saw the mascot more than me.” He pouts jokingly.

“No I didn’t-” You stammer, but suddenly stop yourself when you realize he could be right. You internally beat yourself up at the thought. 

“I’m just teasing.” Phainon laughs softly, then continues in a quieter tone. “Still… I kinda miss talking to you.”

And there it was. For once your heart wants to remember what it feels like to be wanted like this. You watch as Phainon straightens and closes his eyes for a second too long before continuing, as if he was trying to gather some confidence to prove the intention behind it.

“So,” His smile returns, charming as you’ve always known. “Do you wanna hang out sometime? Just us.”

Just as you thought your heartbeat could slow down, Phainon always seems to do something to prove that it was alive- that something inside was existing. Despite your shock and silence, Phainon doesn’t corner you with his proposal.

“We could go to a cafe, and I could buy you dessert… Or we can play video games over the break… Anything that doesn’t involve that stupid mascot.” He adds easily. Phainon gets another laugh out of you, and you somehow feel lighter. A beat of silence goes by again, and you watch as Phainon looks at you in anticipation.

“Yeah, I’d love that.” You say breathily, a smile escaping you. Phainon exhales, looking strangely relieved, like he-

“Phainon-” Another voice suddenly interrupts, and you both whip your head to the source from across the picnic bench. It was another pink haired girl- albeit a slightly deeper shade of pink than Hyacine’s. Her name was Cyrene, if you remembered correctly. “Wait, are you blushing?” The girl tilts her head at Phainon, and you almost choke on air. Phainon bursts out laughing. 

“I’m not.” He turns to Cyrene, insisting with a charming smile, putting his hands up in mock surrender. You take a closer look at his cheeks now that his face was turned more to the side. You swear you saw a bit of pink… was he- no, surely this was just the cold getting to his skin.

“Well you sure blush like you were just caught flirting.” Cyrene snaps back with a bit of attitude. You’re not really sure what to do in this situation, and seemingly neither does Phainon as he looks like he’s being teased by his friend. Cyrene then turns towards you with a soft smile.

“My name is Cyrene. You’re (Y/n), right?~” Cyrene asks, and you nod in response. You found it peculiar how everything she said sounded both playful and sweet- like a song. She looks at you with her eyes bright and cheerful. “You’re really pretty, you know that?”

“I-I am…?” Your cheeks go warm as you short circuit at the sudden compliment. Hyacine who had been off engaging with the others returns to insert herself in this conversation, and nods along, agreeing. Wait, Hyacine- she was supposed to be on your side! 

“Mhm~ So…” Cyrene drags out her words with a devious smile, wagging a threatening finger at Phainon. “If you are flirting, you do know Mydei would beat you up, right?”

“I would.” Mydei lazily chimes in from a few seats down, diagonal to you. You almost forgot he was here. Phainon’s skill at isolating you guys was certainly effective. Your brother’s two little words give you mixed thoughts: one making note of how little hesitation or humour there was in his tone, and another where you seriously have concerns of your brother threatening to beat someone up again. Perhaps a trip to a rage room was due soon. 

“See? He just said he would kill you.” Cyrene enunciates, clearly understanding that her friend didn’t seem to register the what she was implying. Oddly enough, Phainon just chuckles.

“And, I wouldn’t blame him.” 

The rest of the conversation becomes a blur. You start losing track of what they were saying after Cyrene groaned at Phainon for being an oblivious puppy in knowing the consequences. What a bizarre answer… …Consequences of what?

You think back to the compliments Hyacine and Cyrene paid you, saying you were cute and pretty. You thought it was just girls hyping another girl up- as girls do. But then you think of Cyrene calling out Phainon for blushing and threats for him potentially flirting, and wonder if she was teasing him… or if she actually meant it. There was a part of you that was in disbelief, inching closer to the fact that… you might actually have a chance.

On top of all that, there was Phainon’s own reply, confirming that he’d take a beating from your brother if he actually did cross a line. You tell yourself you were reading too much into it again. 

“So… I’ll see you soon, right (Y/n)?”

That night after everyone bid their farewells, and you and Mydei returned home in your childhood home, you quickly crash into the warmth of your bed and whip out your phone. You contemplate whether calling your roommate was gonna lead to her lovingly bullying you again, but you end up telling her everything anyway.

“I don’t know what else to tell you, girl.” Your roommate sighs endearingly at you through the phone. “He made an effort to invite you, he looked for you, bought you a present... I don’t think you’re imagining things… so what do you have to lose?”

You notice that you’ve gotten too excited from how high your heart rate must be. Your smile falters (not realizing that you were even smiling this whole time in the first place), and you remember your own consequences. 

“...That’s just the problem.” You sigh back, sitting up properly now. “I don’t want to be delusional again. I can’t just launch myself into… whatever this is and make up assumptions that aren’t real.” You grab your little star plush Phainon got you from your bag. You glance down at your star plushie again, fiddling with its stupid little legs, thinking- why does a star even need to have legs? 

Your roommate’s voice softens. “But it feels different, doesn’t it?”

You don’t end up answering her.

“I’m not expecting anything.” You say finally. Despite these months of your stubbornness with the topic of Phainon, your roommate doesn’t argue. She just smiles knowingly on the other side of the line, and lets it go.

You conclude the call by telling her the rest of the whole marketplace experience, and her own winter break shenanigans. Later, when your room is quiet, you lie back on your bed, holding the star plush up to the ceiling. 

You look at its silly dangly legs, finding something so out of place cute that makes it different from the rest. Stars were supposed to stay high above everyone else, beautiful from a distance. 

But perhaps this star had been made to reach people anyway.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Age: 19, second semester

Winter break came and went pretty fast. You and Mydei spend it mostly at home, spending time with your mom. Phainon went back to his hometown for the break as well. Like you said yourself, you weren’t expecting anything to happen during this time.

That is, until, a week after your second semester started, you started receiving texts from Phainon already. You remember your eyes widening at your phone screen when Phainon asked you if you wanted to do something during the weekends. From something as small as asking to join him in playing video games, to him insisting on accompanying you to a bookstore for your manga series, you said yes. Some small part inside you craved spending time with him, and you realized you did miss him a lot all this time. You felt like you reconnected with Phainon- just like when you were kids.

At the end of the semester, one of your peers decided to host a mixer and invited everyone in the class. The invitation sat in your messages for a while before you accepted it. A mixer… Just the thought alone of being invited sent a quiet thrill in your spine. 

Now, standing in front of the mirror, there was a brief moment where you wondered if you looked like you were trying too hard with your outfit… or too little. You wore something that showed a little more skin- a little more mature and confident, something you didn’t usually wear. Still, you decide not to dwell on the issue for long and head out. 

By the time you reached the location, there was already music and familiar people from your class there. People were clustered up, animatedly talking, hopefully having fun after the stress of final exams. A girl from your class waves you over, and passes a light drink to you. Soon enough, you overcame the initial anxiety and it felt freeing to mix in with the group.

Well, only for the first ten minutes.

You were going to excuse yourself to say hi to another acquaintance when a white-haired mass suddenly came into view- a particularly tall and handsome white-haired mass. 

Phainon? Here of all places?

Your stomach drops and you quickly duck near a corner, careful not to spill your drink or look crazy sneaking around. You peek over and see Phainon with his back turned, leaning against the kitchen island as he engages in conversation with other people. 

Your pulse was getting frantic, but you take a deep breath to try and calm yourself. Oh, but who were you kidding? If Phainon saw you here, you were sure that he would report you to Mydei within the minute. 

Phainon walks away from the kitchen counter, going off somewhere else, and you go the same direction as him to not cross paths with him. Could it be possible to avoid him this whole time? God, it was stupid when you thought about it. You basically just got here, and it shouldn’t even be scary to see Phainon here. But you weren’t really in the mood to see his smug grin or get lectured by your brother. Maybe you could hang with someone else and hide-

“That’s an interesting strategy.” A voice murmurs in your ear.

Phainon was already standing behind you, bending down to your height and way too close as amusement curls at the edge of his lips.

“Ah- Phainon! You scared me!” You hiss, your face going warm with embarrassment as you jolt backwards. Phainon only grins wider at your startled reaction. You become defensive, eyeing him up suspiciously. “What- why are you here?”

“I know the host.” Phainon says easily, then cheekily fires the same question to you. “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing.” You grit. Phainon chuckles and shakes his head at your answer, and you internally smack your forehead. Out of all excuses, you had to say the most suspicious one? 

“Nothing but drinking, you mean?” Phainon inquires, pointing at your cup and clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. “Mydei won’t be happy to hear this.”

Your face freezes at the mention of Mydei potentially knowing you were here. “I-It’s only five percent alcohol!”

“Ooh, how scandalous.” Phainon laughs, and you puff your cheeks in frustration of him teasing you.

“Oh shut up. I came here by myself so I’m not here to get drunk.” You say, rolling your eyes. 

“Even more scandalous.” He says with a whistle, and you groan. Phainon’s eyes soften, sensing he’s teased you enough. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Mydei.”

Phainon’s words surprise you a little. Oddly enough, he let's you have fun and doesn't report you like you thought he would.

As the night went on, you were pulled into conversations and stupid debates, laughing at some of your peers’ weird dance moves. Every now and then, you’d catch sight of Phainon somewhere across the house- sometimes talking to other people, sometimes smiling at you, and sometimes bumping your hip beside you as he indulges the conversation with you. 

The buzz of the music gets louder as the night goes on. You participate in the fun, but eventually you start feeling tired. Phainon notices and he taps your shoulder, leaning down, telling you something… but you don’t hear anything. Because he was so close, you suddenly realize the golden sun tattoo on the side of his neck- when did he get that? As Phainon spoke, you felt a little rush inside you, making you space out. You tried making sense of your surroundings but you soon realize that he was taking over all your senses. What you could see, what you could smell… muting all of them into one: him. Was he experiencing the same buzzing feeling? You watched as his lips curved up into a grin, whispering something to you. You stare at his lips- a faint blush colour, soft and plump… you wondered what it would feel like if you…

You nod plainly in response to him, though his words clearly weren’t getting through to you. Phainon realizes you were spacing out and he chuckles lightly and stands back up, holding his hand out. You blankly take it and he guides you out of the party. Also, did you just think of-

“You okay? I asked if you were getting tired.” Phainon breathes out, his voice finally reaching your ears.

“Hm- oh, yeah, I’m fine.” You perk up as you snap out of your daze. “I am a little tired…”

“I’ll drive you back then.” He says, already taking his car keys out. He phrases it not even as a question, like he would do it for you regardless. “Do you have everything?” 

You nod, and you both get into his car. The drive back to your dorm was strangely quiet. It was slightly awkward since your peer’s house wasn’t even that far from your residence, so the ride was gonna be short. However, it felt like there was something else underneath. It was something heavy, but not an uncomfortable-pit-in-your-stomach type of heavy. It was something more charged.

The blinker clicks lightly while the streetlights gradually slide across Phainon’s face in fleeting moments. His jaw, his mouth, the curve of his hands gripping the steering wheel. You looked away before you could get caught staring. God, you were going crazy for sure, you think. 

Your pulse still hasn’t settled. Was it adrenaline from the party? Maybe so, but even then it shouldn’t make you think of kis- 

“We’re here.” Phainon softly sing-songs. You get out of the car, and Phainon decides to walk you to your door. Again, not a question. 

When you both walk into the building together, you realized it was sort of awkward with the both of you being silent this whole time. Even more so as you arrived in the narrow hallway just outside your door. Phainon walks behind you, close enough that his presence alone fills your space. As you stop at your door, you decide to say something, though he’s closer than you expect when you turn to him. You clear your throat, your hand fumbling inside your purse to find your keys to regulate yourself. 

“Thanks for the ride.” You say, looking up at him gratefully. “And… thanks for not snitching on me.”

Phainon huffs a quiet laugh. “Anytime.”

You smiled despite yourself, like it was a subconscious thing- maybe it even a contagious thing, knowing Phainon was here. Even as you briefly look down to take your keys out, Phainon was already looking at you, like he had something to say, but he doesn’t. 

You were about to unlock your door and say goodbye, but somehow your body doesn’t want to listen. You don’t feel like doing it. Your dreamy daze continues, your eyes dipping over Phainon’s outfit. You suddenly felt aware of how good he looked in a white skin-tight shirt and jeans- did he always wear things like this? You catch a glimpse of the sun tattoo you saw earlier beneath the collar of his shirt, and you even swear you see a broad gold ring on his chest- another hidden one beneath his shirt. It makes you even more curious- but more than that, it made you want him. 

Before you knew it, your body had a mind of its own, leaning in without shame with your hands shyly but certainly reaching for him- to be closer to him. Your fingers brush his, and your breath hitches, the sparks making you second guess if you should even be doing this. But when you finally bring yourself to look up at him, his gaze was already looking down to your mouth.

“(Y/n)...” HIs voice drops, barely louder than a breath. His expression softens, yet his pupils were blown wide, as if there was something unguarded slipping through. He leans in, slow and careful, giving you time to pull away. Your breathing and your heart beats faster than ever. This definitely wasn’t just the adrenaline from the party.

Suddenly, a small click is heard and Phainon mutters a curse and pulls away quickly.

Wait…

You were stunned for a few seconds, watching as he pulled back. Before you could think of how to react, your door swings open to reveal Mydei looking sleepy yet confused. Oh yeah, your roommate already went home for the summer, so now you had a giant cat invading your space. You told Mydei you were gonna go out with some friends and then go back home with him after- you forgot you left him lounging here for a while. 

“Where were you?” Mydei quirks an eyebrow at you, and gives an even more skeptical look at Phainon. “And what are you doing here?”

“I was just dropping her off.” Phainon says lightly, though you could tell he was trying his best to not sound shaky. You weren’t sure how it was possible for him to reply and make up something so calmly.  Especially since the skin of your hand was still buzzing where you touched his just seconds ago. “She just got caught up saying bye to some friends.” Mydei gives him a weird look, but doesn’t question you both, and you give a sigh of relief.

Your brother and Phainon make small talk, both asking if they were heading home for the summer. Meanwhile, you remained silent, in your own little bubble unable to calm your racing heart.

“Get some rest.” Phainon addresses you with a simple wave, and just like that, he was gone. God, you wanted to… you wish you could…

“Why is he even still here on campus?” Mydei interrupts your train of thought as he holds your door open for you.

“O-Oh… I dunno. I bumped into him on the way back.” You say casually, walking into your dorm. Lies. “Why are you here so early…?”

“It’s night time.” Mydei retorts back. “Anyway, are you done packing your stuff?”

You nod, and quickly grab your bags and head back home with Mydei. 

The drive was silent, but for you it wasn’t. Even though you were exhausted after the mixer, you couldn’t seem to be able to rest during the long drive home. You look out the window, a small smile plastered on your face as you replay that brief yet charged moment in your head. The way he leaned in, the way you could feel his breath on your lips as he whispered your name…

You almost kissed him.

Was it always like this? Your heart was beating fast as it always did, but for once you didn’t feel surprised. It felt more like… you were finally letting yourself do something you always wanted to do. Like you’ve been waiting and wanting something, and that it was okay to want things. 

Maybe it was just the realization that Phainon was always perfectly within your grasp. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Age: 19, Summer Break

Phainon: Good morning. Phainon: I’m sorry about last night. 

It’s been a good twelve hours since you and Phainon almost kissed. At first you thought you had hallucinated it, and that you became delusional for real. Just as you had believed that this was just a figment of your imagination, Phainon never texted you- until this morning. 

(Y/n): Phainon, I don’t understand. (Y/n): Was it something I did…? Phainon: No, god no. Never. (Y/n): Then why are you apologizing?

You felt your smile drop, the warmth from last night following suit, slowly leaking away. 

Phainon: Because I'm sorry if I crossed a line. Phainon: You didn’t do anything wrong. I just didn’t want things to be awkward between us.

And it’s just so funny, isn’t it? How you’ve kept yourself safe on your own little island, with walls built so high and an army to guard your heart. And the one time you decide to let them down and embrace the sunlight, it hurts so much more. 

Confusion seems to consume you, making you anxious. The thought that you might have been too forward and was reading it all wrong feel like deja vu, specifically the same bitter feeling that you were so used to. The mere thought that Phainon didn’t want this to happen, makes your stomach coil. However, underneath the dreadful feeling was something else- because this wasn’t about you. Although you had this uncomfortable twinge of fear you refused to admit out loud, it wasn’t for yourself, but for Phainon. You stay rigid in your bed, staring at your phone. What exactly was Phainon thinking of that you weren’t?

A week later, you start getting antsy because you realize how quiet your summer vacation began. You continue to get nothing from Phainon. You gave him the benefit of the doubt, assuming he was probably busy with things back home. But as your phone sits on your desk, the screen continuing to be dark and empty, you find yourself constantly checking it, and it didn’t take long for your mind to spiral.

It’s ironic how noticeable an absence can be. 

Later, just past noon, you start to smell food being prepared, so you go down to investigate. You realized your mom was going all out for some reason, seasoning steaks and cutting vegetables as your kitchen became a room with groceries stacked high. There seemed to be something in the oven already as well. You get curious and decide to ask Mydei what your mother was preparing for.

“Hey.” You ask as you walk into his room, seeing him lounging and playing a video game lazily.

“Hey.” He responds. Mydei eyes you a little for a second then goes back to focusing on his game. “You’ve been in your room for a while.”

“Yeah…” You sigh a little sheepishly as Mydei points it out, straightforward as always. “Do you know what mom is preparing all that food for?”

“We’re barbecuing tonight, remember?” Mydei replies smoothly without looking up from his game. “I’ve got a honeycake in the oven too.”

Mydei was in charge of the cake apparently, and already had it in baking in the oven. You soften at the thought. And then you don’t because he might have put boogers in there. 

“Oh… that’s a lot of food.” You remark. Something feels off for some reason, ironically like an emptiness despite the feast being prepared. 

When you walked into his room, you considered asking your brother what he would do if he was hypothetically faced with the situation you were- with Phainon that is. But then you already think of his response and- “I dunno, they both sound like idiots to me.” Yep, no help at all. To think you almost considered bucking up the courage to ask your brother for advice, when it should be better to question his reliability. 

Instead, you ask him a more direct question-

“...Is Phainon coming?” You ask. Your cheeks get a little warm, but satisfying your curiosity was more important.

The mention of Phainon seems to get Mydei’s attention a little more. “...No?”

It’s ironic how one little word could get you to frown so easily. But it simply didn’t sound right to you. Ever since you were teenagers, Phainon has came over consistently to your house, showing up to practically everything. Barbecues, birthdays, movie nights… or even the simple weekends where nothing special was happening, he ended up staying longer than expected. And when you all became older and busier, he always made the effort to show up at least once. There had never been a question of whether he was coming. 

“Oh…” The disappointed response tumbles out of your mouth before you even thought about it. You tell yourself that Phainon wasn’t obligated to come over, that he had his own life and responsibilities. Heck, he wasn’t even your friend first- he was technically Mydei’s but…

Still…

“Why do you ask?” Mydei asks, pausing his video game, sensing that you were concerned about something deeper.

It still felt wrong to you. 

“Because… I thought he’d be coming. He always comes over during the summer…” You reply cautiously. 

“So?” 

“So... he’s your best friend.”

“Isn’t he also yours?” Mydei retorts back skeptically. 

“Well yeah… but usually you invite him over.” You say meekly. 

“I asked him already.” Mydei sighs.  “Said he was busy.”

A lump forms in your throat. God, what were you supposed to do now? There were too many things unsaid, and even more things you wanted to ask. A part of you felt like Phainon’s response was an excuse- that if you didn’t get him now, that he’d just get farther from you. Were you going to have to wait until who knows when to talk to Phainon again? 

As your hand idly trails along your brother’s bedroom wall, it was like you’ve experienced this before. You, at thirteen years old, gathering all the courage you had (none) to nervously enter in your brother’s room to get your charger back- all at the expense of meeting Phainon. You remember how shy you were when Phainon tried talking to you that time, how weirded out you were when he tried to include you out of the blue. You were at the same place you were then- at the threshold of Mydei's doorway until Phainon stole the last word, calling out one last thing.

"Maybe next time then."

Before you could overthink it, you push yourself off the wall and face Mydei again.

“Can you ask him again?” You ask, and Mydei gives you a weird look.

“Why would I- he’s gonna say no again.” Mydei says. Now, why would his dear sister actively request Phainon’s presence? Even you, the sister, do not know. 

“Tell him I want him there.” You reply. The quiet determination in your eyes almost shocks Mydei. 

He blinks at you for a split second, like he understood the meaning behind it. Your brother doesn’t question you for once. He doesn’t get suspicious, or feel the need to protect you.

“...Fine.” Mydei sighs and picks up his phone again, and you watch as his fingers tap the screen to send the new text to Phainon. You stand there biting your lip, not even sure if this would work. You can’t even believe that Mydei actually agreed to do it. 

You thank your brother, and finally walk out of his bedroom, knowing the response might take time. But not even a second after you step into your own room, a buzz comes from your phone.

Phainon: Hey, I’m on my way. I’ll be there around 5. Phainon: Thanks for inviting me 

A glimmer of hope finally starts to exist within your mind. Phainon was coming, simply because you asked. And maybe you were right about him- maybe he was just waiting for you, just like he always has. 

A few hours later, your doorbell rings. Your mom is the first to dash to the door, dropping everything to greet Phainon with a bone-crushing hug. Of course, Phainon’s used to it so it does little to affect him. 

“Phainon! Oh my goodness, look at you!” Your mother coos, the same endearments making Phainon chuckle. She continues gushing about Phainon as if he was family already- which in a sense he was. “You’ve grown so much- and so handsome too! Mydei, can you believe it?” 

You can smell your brother’s eyeroll from here. Meanwhile, Phainon smiles easily, nodding and murmuring something polite and charming. You haven’t even gone down to greet him yet, but little does anyone else know, hearing his voice- the mere existence and knowledge that he was here sent a thrill through you.

You hear your mother tell the boys that the barbecue will start soon, and they should wash up. The boys insist on helping your mom and they argue in a good-natured way. They split up and start preparing different things, with Mydei helping your mom prepare the grill. You hesitate for a moment, but take this as a cue to finally talk to Phainon.

You walk out from your bedroom, and as you linger at the top of the stairs looking down, Phainon seems to subconsciously pause mid-motion. Your heart still skipped when he looked at you- hands tucked into his pockets and white messy hair catching the sunlight from outside your backyard’s door. He subtly turns his head to you, and his smile was still there- soft, slightly hopeless, and nervous, like he was bracing himself for this moment just as you have.

“Hey…” He says lightly. It’s only been one week since you last saw him, yet it feels like it’s been a year. He even greets you like it’s been a year, and you knew he was feeling the same thing you were. You step closer, and you watch as his eyes attempt to hide the tension. 

“Hi…” You take a deep breath, the feeling of determination not helping you steady your nerves. But truthfully, you cared more that he was just here with you. His hopeless smile seems to be contagious as you start to sport the same one as you sigh with relief. “You made it.”

“Yeah…” Phainon breathes out. Oddly, his smile gets wider, like he was happy to end up coming to your home.

“...Can we talk?” You ask hesitantly. As always, Phainon surprises you, as he willingly walks closer to you, as if to follow you wherever. 

“Of course.” He replies smoothly. You give him a nod and slowly lead to towards your bedroom for a more private conversation. 

You close your door after Phainon walks in. He seems to curiously look around your room, noticing the little trinkets and photos that have changed over the years. He hasn’t been here for a while.

“Can I sit?” Phainon asks, patting your bed. You nod and say yes, and you both sit on the edge. You didn’t know where to start- diving straight into the obvious thing seemed too heavy.

“I thought you weren’t gonna come. Mydei told me you were busy…” You remark.

“I know.” He admits sheepishly. You felt the honesty beneath his words as he tries to ease any negative feelings you might harbour towards him for his initial excuse.  “I just thought that... I had crossed a line.”

“Crossed a line?” You repeat. Phainon pauses, then sighs endearingly. Your question was innocent, yet posed a different meaning for Phainon. For the first time in weeks, he feels the weight of what he’s kept inside.

“Remember what happened after the mixer?” Phainon asks. You nod, and he continues. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?” 

“You know what.” He says with a light chuckle and nudge to your arm to ease the tension and awkwardness. “I… I almost kissed you.”

“But I almost kissed you too.” You reply guilelessly. Your gaze was unwavering, and you can feel him register the resolve behind it. You weren’t going to drop this were you? Of course you weren’t. So Phainon exhales slowly, giving a small awkward smile as he lowers his guard a little.

“...And that’s the problem. You’re Mydei’s sister. You’re not just anyone to me (Y/n)- you’re important. I can’t risk ruining what I have with you and Mydei.” Phainon sighs, rubbing his forehead like this was making him sweat. With how he was behaving, you get the feeling that he likely felt guilty- like a bastard who shouldn’t be liking his best friend’s sister, making it equivalent to a sin. Phainon seems to know something you don’t. Phainon sputters a little as he’s stuck between going off on a nervous rant and being gentle. Then he finally brings himself to explain further. “I-I mean… what would you have done if we really leaned in? Do you even know how to kiss?” 

“No…” You admit. “But you seem like you’d be good at it.”

“You really think so?” Phainon laughs softly, seeming curious at your remark. Oddly enough, his tone gets softer like a whisper as he presses you for another question. “Why do you say that?”

“You’re… you know…” You stammer, trying to latch onto something specific, but truthfully you could say anything. You take a good look at him and he’s still perfection incarnate. Phainon laughs softly again.

“I think you think way too highly of me.” He smiles, his tone slightly teasing like he found your answer amusing. You might even go as far as to say that he might’ve sounded a bit shy when he said that. Phainon’s hand lays on the bed, his pinky millimeters away from yours. He leans back a bit, as if to get a better look at you too. “How would you know if I’ve kissed anyone?”

You think again for a moment, except this time you didn’t have an answer. Phainon looks back at you patiently.

“I don’t know...” You admit quietly, but determination lingers in your eyes. Did you really know? Of course not. No matter how perfect you thought he was, there was no way you could know if he had that kind of experience. So there was only one way to.

“But I want to know.”

Phainon’s breath catches in his throat, genuinely speechless for a moment at your response. He simply looks at you, the noises of the evening starting to disappear. His blue eyes seem strangely brighter than usual, like they were seeing every past version of yourself. And now here you were, your present self saying words that mirrored his own when he first met you, yearning to know more about each other. Just a girl standing in the hallway, waiting for someone to notice her, and a kind boy simply smiling back at her, who always has. He suddenly lets out a chuckle, small and breathless as he finally surrenders his noble front.

“Come here then.” He coaxes softly, his lashes seemingly fluttering in slow motion as his eyes open. You blink in surprise.

“What?”

“Come here.” Phainon repeats, his expression softening. His smile doesn’t falter, in fact- only getting wider and making the corners of his eyes crinkle in that boyish way you’ve always known. Somehow, you understood, and you start to surrender your own noble front as you move closer to him, unashamedly smiling just as bright as him. 

Phainon’s eyes trail your own as your thigh touches his. His hand comes up carefully to cup your cheek. There was no more hesitation in either of your movements. No more almosts and no more waiting- only the split second pause where you both realize this was the closest you’ve ever been, breaths mingling and eyes hazy as if you both couldn’t believe this was happening. You lean in even more, just the same as you did that night, and Phainon does too, just like you always knew he would. 

He leans down, and presses his lips to yours, letting his restraint crack just to taste what he’s been waiting so long for. You both close your eyes, savouring soft warmth of each other’s lips. Even the little smiles and chuckles, and now your hands softly laying on his chest were enjoyable. 

You pull away for a brief moment, yours and Phainon’s lips leaving with a soft smooch sound. There was a flicker of disbelief in your eyes, with Phainon’s looking equally as stunned. But the easy smiles that come after make you realize how it came so effortlessly for Phainon- nothing but affection. 

You both stare at each other, a little breathless and a little shy as if it was a way to come back down to Earth. But neither of you seem to want to let go. Phainon’s hand remains near your cheek, while yours remains loosely gripping onto the hem of his shirt. 

“I’m glad you wanted to know.” Phainon says softly with an awkward but loving smile. He gets a laugh out of you too, and even now he finds himself craving the sound more. He’d like to make you laugh like that more in the future. Now if only… “Shit- your brother’s gonna kill me.”

You watch as Phainon looks away slightly, his face going pale except for a sheepish blush. The consequence dawns on you as well, but in this moment as you’re still high on dopamine, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel it. 

“He’s gonna kill me too.” You shrug, trying to make him feel better. “And you say it as if you’re not one of his favourite people.”

“You’re his sister, he can’t be mad at you. Not for long at least.” Phainon says while sighing. Even though this guilt eats him up, he can’t help but smile. “Me though… I might need to pay in my next life.”

“But he’s never threatened to disown you.” You challenge. Phainon lets out a hearty laugh at your honesty, knowing his best friend could get quite creative with insults.

“Maybe not, but I feel like I’m about to find out.” Still, even if you both were about to be disowned by Mydei, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Phainon look this happy to be disowned. 

“We should head down now.” Phainon says softly, as the laughter dies down. You nod, though neither of you really move, both still sitting on your bed, smiling like dopes. You both laugh again, until Phainon stands and offers you his hand to stand up as well.

You take it without hesitation, and he pulls you up gently. And he doesn’t let go- neither of you do actually.

His fingers fit between yours easily, like it was meant to be this way. You and Phainon begin to walk towards your bedroom door to exit, though he seems a little hesitant.

“(Y/n)- how exactly are we going to explain to Mydei about this…?” He asks nervously, looking mildly embarrassed. You shrug, still not really caring.

“He’s just gonna have to deal with it.” You say casually, reaching for the doorknob. “Also, maybe don’t mention my brother within five minutes after we kiss.” 

A cheeky grin spreads on Phainon's face, finding your response utterly defiant yet endearing. He chuckles, shaking his head while smiling helplessly. A thousand teasing responses are circling within his head, though he opts to sprinkle a little sarcasm in there. “My bad. I’ll try to do better next time then.”

“Oh? There will be a next time?” 

A guttural scream tears through your throat (again?). MYDEI?!

Your’s and Phainon’s jaws both go slack, speechless as you both remain frozen in the threshold of your doorway. There stood your brother, deadpan with his arms crossed… wearing an apron and oven mitts. 

“Wh- MYDEI!!” You scream, mortified. You want to throw something at him, but the only thing beside you was a Phainon. “How long have you been standing there?!”

“How long have I been standing here? I think the better question is why you both aren’t downstairs.” Mydei’s tone reeks of sarcasm, very much not in the mood to take any bullshit from either of you. 

You realize Mydei was right- the entire house smelled delicious with the smells of good food was wafting everywhere. 

“There are steaks being grilled outside. I made honeycake...” Mydei lists, looking genuinely perplexed. Then his eyes look between you and Phainon, looking absolutely disgusted. “And yet here you both are… …kissing?”

You think you see Mydei shiver and gag slightly when he says the k-word, which should have been funny but right now you feel too defensive to think about that.

“MYDEI!!” 

Mydei barely has time to react when you suddenly decide to launch yourself at him.

“Hey-” Mydei sputters, grunting as you smack his arm, and then his shoulder. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“What is wrong with you?!” You snap back and hit your brother more though it doesn’t really affect him since he was holding you back. 

Meanwhile, Phainon watches the petty catfight of a sibling argument with a fond smile on his face. With Mydei looking disgusted while wearing an apron and oven mitts, fighting against you who was aggressively clawing at your brother like a cat, Phainon internally declares that he has never seen a more stupid thing in his life. Goodness, was this the glory that Kremnoans were known for? Somehow, it endeared him even more. 

“I don’t get why you’d be busy kissing when there’s good food downstairs.”

“STOP SAYING IT!”

“I made you a honeycake… for this?”

“I know you made honeycake! You mentioned it fifty times in the past two minutes! Is this seriously your priority?!” 

“My priority?- Look at yours!”

Was there really any point to this argument anymore?

After a few more lovely seconds of arguing, Phainon sighs fondly and clasps his hands, one of yours and the other on your brother’s shoulder. You and Mydei oddly stop bickering, both looking at Phainon’s expression which could only be described as fond disbelief. This entire scene was ridiculous, but somehow also his favourite.

“Alright alright, let’s just go down now. Hm?” Phainon smiles, hoping to ease the playful bullying. Mydei continues to glare at him. Right message, wrong messenger…

“...I’m gonna kill that guy.” Mydei seethes, looking straight at Phainon yet addressing you.

You want to start fighting your brother again, but to your surprise, Phainon laughs harder before you could react. Then, with the same gentle amusement from years ago, he reaches over and lightly pats Mydei’s shoulder. 

“I’ll hold you to it.”

The words feel familiar, because they are. You look at him now- his eyes crinkling with mirth as he said nearly the same thing months ago. For some reason, as you watch Mydei glare at Phainon- the bastard you just kissed had the audacity to smile at him, the silent look they gave each other somehow explained something you were secretly worrying about this whole time but never had to. 

Mydei probably knew, you think. You’re not sure how long he’s been suspecting it, though when you look back at your own antics it was probably obvious anyway. You cringe internally, not wanting to think about your brother knowing about this thing with Phainon for who knows how long. 

“Now- can we go eat before someone gets murdered?” Phainon asks tenderly, interrupting the chaos. It’s ironic how Phainon seems the happiest here, while you and Mydei both grumble and surrender. He’s still smiling, still patient with you and your brother. Phainon laughs again, and you all head downstairs together- though this time, Phainon doesn’t let go of your hand. 

And naturally, you don’t think to let go either. 

Your porch lights seem to glow with the same warmth that you’ve felt over the years. Your mother lovingly scolds Mydei for disappearing, and Mydei only grumbles saying nobody appreciates his cooking. 

You feel thirteen again as your memories overlap with reality. The smell of home cooking, summer air drifting through the windows, your brother being broody… And Phainon- a boy who started out a mystery, a teenage boy who simply sat at your table smiling like he already belonged there. You come to realize something: Phainon had never been a guest at this house. 

All those years, while you were busy mourning things you thought weren’t meant for you, something else was growing beside you the whole time. He became so much more to you, simply because he wanted to be, and because you finally let him.

And for Phainon? Of course it was easy for him. He had always been reaching for home in the first place.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Notes:

For reference, this fic is called Seventeen :)

Anyway thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed <3

You woke up in the middle of the night, in the room you shared with March. She had one arm splayed across your chest, with her face buried inside a pillow. Thankfully, she didn’t snore… unlike a certain Trailblazer. However, the current arrangement wasn’t the best. Any other day, you wouldn’t have minded, since the rest of the crew say you could potentially sleep through the apocalypse. You had to limit your breath intake to not disturb March right now, since she was the lightest sleeper you’ve ever known. And you were hungry.

Fortunately, as you stared into the void of the ceiling, March rolled over onto her side, leaving you with the ability to get up. The problem now… you have to get up silently. So you slowly sat up, and let one leg go over the edge of the bed slowly. Then the other leg followed, and all you had to do was stand up quietly. That you could do. You finally got up, and put on your slippers at the edge of the bed. After that, you looked back at the room, and made sure March was still asleep.

Then you treaded carefully into the hallway, hearing a pleasant piano melody. It was faint, so you thought that someone left a phonograph on again. After confirming once more that March isn’t awake, you walked towards the end of the hall. As you carefully stepped towards the source of the melody, you thought this was going to be a simple in-n-out. Take the snack, and then leave. Easy enough, right?

Wrong.

Because when you finally reached the end of the hall, no, someone did not leave a phonograph on. Someone—Sunday, you realized, was playing the piano. You stood there like an idiot, completely baffled by the melody sounding so good, and the fact he’s playing this late at night. Sure, he was a bit eccentric sometimes, but not to this extent, you thought. This’ll definitely be awkward, because… you two hadn’t interacted much. He was here before you, but never made much effort on his end. And you didn’t really try talking to him either. But, you both got along. You noticed how the light from whatever galaxy you were in bathed the entire room in a soft, silvery glow. This moment felt peaceful, and yet… private is the word to describe this, you thought.

It was pretty much vulnerability on full display. You decided to step as quietly as you can with slippers on, towards the bowl of snacks that laid at the center table. In the middle of the room. After the first step, the playing ceased, and Sunday stood up from the piano bench.

Oh fuck, you thought.

“Mx. [____?] Did I wake you?” Sunday asked gently.

“No, I was just hungry, that’s all,” you stammered. It didn’t help that the starlight from outside the Express shone in his eyes so brightly either.

“I’ll just get a snack and leave, that’s it,” you said.

Sunday nodded, and sat back down at the piano bench. He placed his hands tentatively on the piano, deciding on what to play next. He ended up going with a more somber melody. Beautiful low tones filled the room, and paired with the silvery starlight, it set a haunting atmosphere.

Not the best for eating a snack in peace. You walked towards the center of the room, more confident now that you had no reason to be afraid. A pack of cookies was just sitting on the large circle table, and you took it as soon as you were within reaching distance. You sat in an armchair, glad that Sunday paid no attention towards you.

Until he made a comment whilst playing. “…Mx. [____], do you know how to play an instrument?”

You paused mid-bite of the brownie cookie, before swallowing and deciding to answer. “Yeah, I used to play cello. Don’t do it nearly as often as I used to… but I still remember the basics,” you said with nostalgia in your voice. Those were good days, being part of an orchestra and laughing with your friends. You remember the glances everyone gave each other when a piece with divisi was handed to them. The way your friends giggled when the conductor just assigned ‘top,’ and ‘bottom.’

“Ah, I see.” Sunday looked down at the piano solemnly, and you wondered what exactly he seemed to be sad about.

“Say, Mx. [____], how would you feel about… playing the piano?”

You blinked. You might’ve heard him wrong or something, but nope. He was genuinely asking you to play the piano. You assumed it was most likely a sentimental thing of value, and you didn’t want to intrude on that aspect of his life. But with that curious look he gave you, something like hope swirling in his eyes, how could you say no? So you obliged, and walked up towards the black piano bench. You sat beside Sunday, and he shifted towards the side to make room for you.

Meanwhile, you were internally panicking. It did not help that you were beside him without an inch of space.

This was not fair at all. Too close, you thought. Way too close.

The only thing eventful so far was that Sunday mainly corrected you about using both hands, and not just one. Thankfully.

“Sorry,” you had said for the nth time now. “Old habits die hard, am I right?” You grinned, hoping that he could not feel your heart rate escalate.

Sunday looked thoughtful for a second, before nodding and asking you to play a simple melody again. It was one you were unfamiliar with.

Your left hand kept doing most of the work, while your right was occasionally pressing some keys here and there. Not on purpose, obviously, but it was still challenging.

“Mx. [____], try using only your right hand,” Sunday suggested.

You looked at him curiously, and then he put his left hand on top of yours, effectively immobilizing it. Your hand wasn’t squished, but it was held down firmly. Sunday’s grip was oddly gentle, and his hand was warm. Really warm.

You thought he would’ve been fed up with you by now, but clearly not. Well, maybe he was, but he probably didn’t want to show it.

Not even a single sigh of resignation from him, just gentle guidance and kind words.

“Honestly, how are you not annoyed by now?” You said, playing it off as a joke.

Sunday tilted his head in confusion. “What could possibly be annoying about teaching?”

“A lot, really. Anything could go wrong,” you replied dryly. “That’s why I’m not a teacher. Don’t have the same kindness you do.”

Oh, the irony.

“…I’m sure you know of my crimes. But I did them with pure intentions. Would you consider that kindness?” Sunday asked.

“…No,” you managed. “But you’re trying to be better, and that’s what really matters. You can forgive and remember at the same time, Sunday.”

The silence afterwards was thick with emotion. After that, you had finally played the simple melody, using both hands equally instead of one or the other.

Sunday smiled, and as you got up to leave, he said it so quietly you almost missed it.

“…Thank you.”

You stopped where you were, looked back at him, and nodded. You walked back to your room after that, slithered back into bed next to March, and decided you’d actually initiate a conversation with him the next time you saw him.