Chapter Text
Days pass, and Phainon lies in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, his mind an unrelenting storm of thoughts that just won’t settle. He shifts onto his side, then onto his back again, tugging the duvet up to his chin before kicking it off entirely. Nothing helps. His thoughts are running in circles around him, each one louder than the last, demanding to be resolved without offering any solutions.
He considers messaging Castorice, and he’s tempted to grab his phone off his bedside table until he remembers that she’s knee-deep in a group project right now, battling annoying teammates and drowning in deadlines. The last thing he wants to do is to disturb her during all that by piling his own mess on top of hers. He’s already taken up so much of her time with this through text, updating her whenever something new happens between him and Mydei - a new touch, a new shared joke, a new lingering glance.
Still, the urge to vent, to spill everything that’s been clogging up his chest for the past few days, is unbearable. He sighs, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes as if that might stop the ache. His heart feels too full, his emotions a tangled knot he doesn’t know how to unravel. He wants to talk to someone. He wants to be given a magic spell that will fix all this. He misses Mydei, and as much as he keeps acting as though his problems don’t have an answer, there’s one glowing solution: he should get over himself and reach out again. But more than anything, and before he can do any of that, he wants to know where he stands with Mydei - if this thing between them is real, if it’s worth the way it’s taken up every inch of his brain, leaking into every crevice of his being.
It stings that Mydei hasn’t reached out, either. Was their entire friendship foundation built on Phainon alone, and that all it takes for it to dissipate into a cloud of smoke is his lack of trying? Huffing angrily, he flips over onto his other side, staring intensely at the wall as if that’ll offer up an explanation. Would it kill Mydei to text him first? Or is this just proof that everything Phainon had gotten excited over - what he thought was progress between the two of them - wasn’t anything at all?
“Stupid Mydei,” Phainon mutters, reaching an arm out behind him to blindly feel for his phone. It takes a few tries to locate, palm slapping down on the table without direction until his fingers grasp at it.
Sleep is a competition he’s been losing since he last spoke to Mydei, favouring watching silly youtube videos until he passes out rather than actively trying to go to sleep. It’s been working, if he counts falling asleep at 3 am and having to wake up again at 7 am a working strategy. Tonight, he’ll do the same, already scrolling to find a mindless video to watch. At least it keeps his mind off things, enough that he can finally fall into a dreamless slumber, ready to be bombarded with his thoughts again once he wakes up.
Phainon’s eyes begin to drift shut 15 minutes into a video about thermodynamics when his phone vibrates. He blinks back awake, curious as to what notification he’s gotten so late at night. It’s probably a spam email, but his eyes catch onto something red before the notification disappears back up into the control centre. Red, just like the strawberry emoji next to Mydei’s contact name. His heart leaps in his chest as he drags down the notification bar, face to face with a new text. One from Mydei. Phainon’s thumb hovers over it, shaking slightly as he debates whether or not to open it. Isn’t this just what he was ruminating on, saying he wanted Mydei to contact him first? It’s right there, in front of him, a tap away, but suddenly he’s too nervous to look. From the preview alone, it’s a photo and nothing more.
He shakily presses on the notification, bringing their entire conversation into view. Phainon blinks a few times as he looks at the photo. It’s the moon, a perfect silver disc suspended in the midnight expanse, glowing with an ethereal light that softens the darkness around it with its ghostly glow.
It’s a beautiful photo. One that makes Phainon’s eyes widen as he rakes his eyes over it, wanting to take in as much as he can. He gulps down any trepidation and begins to type.
[11:59 pm] Phainon:
whoa it’s so bright
Immediately, his phone buzzes with a response.
[11:59 pm] Mydei 🍓:
You can also see Orion too.
[12:00 am] Phainon:
? the constellation?
[12:00 am] Mydei 🍓:
Yes.
Mydei sends another photo, this time, focusing solely on the stars. The night sky is pitch black, and small spots of white lights are dotted around the image. Phainon squints and turns his phone on its side before righting it again, pinching in to zoom and then zooming out as far as he can go. Despite all that, he still can’t see the constellation that Mydei means.
[12:03 am] Phainon:
i can’t see it lol
[12:03 am] Mydei 🍓:
The three brightest stars at the centre are Orion’s Belt.
Phainon scrolls up and taps the photo again, and there he sees three small dots that do appear brighter than the rest.
[12:04 am] Phainon:
impressive work for a phone camera
[12:05 am] Mydei 🍓:
Thanks.
I enjoy star gazing.
Phainon’s shock at the double texts lasts as long as it takes for him to realise that he’s been offered another small morsel of information about Mydei. One that exists outside of his interest in books and his job as a librarian. This is more, this is a hobby. Never, in all the weeks he’s spent exchanging messages with Mydei, has he ever sent two in a row. He’s always been reserved as he is in person, calculated with his responses, never giving or taking too much or too little. But here they are, clear as day, stacked on top of each other, offering him the olive branch for conversation that Phainon has so desperately been waiting for.
Phainon’s heart stutters, fingers hovering over the keyboard as he wonders what this means.
[12:08 am] Phainon:
i prefer the sun
but stars are pretty too
[12:08 am] Mydei 🍓:
Is that why you have a sun tattoo on your neck?
[12:09 am] Phainon:
not telling ;)
[12:09 am] Mydei 🍓:
Fine.
[12:10 am] Phainon:
don’t sulk lol
it’s kind of a boring story why i got it
[12:10 am] Mydei 🍓:
I don’t mind.
There it is again - another thread for Phainon to grasp at, another opening Mydei has unknowingly (or knowingly?) left for him. He could let it slip through his fingers, pretend he never saw it and leave the conversation to fizzle out on its own. It’d be easy enough to stop replying, to claim he fell asleep or say that the story wasn’t even worth telling. He’s sure Mydei wouldn’t push for more details and pry.
Phainon gnaws at his lip, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard once more, stumped. His mind plays out both scenarios - one where he dismisses it with a half-hearted excuse, and another where he takes the risk. He swallows, pulse thrumming under his skin as he backs out of the chat, ready to close it. Instead, before he can talk himself out of it, he taps on Mydei’s contact and presses down on the call button. The ringing begins instantly, each one feeling like an aeon as time slows to a stop. It goes on, and Phainon wonders if Mydei will pick up at all.
Then, a click.
“Phainon?”
Mydei’s voice - right there, real and close, oozing through the speakers like honey. Just one word and Phainon is back to square one, drowning in it, in him, in the way his name sounds when spoken in that voice. It’s softer like this, quieter, lacking the usual sharpness Phainon has grown accustomed to. Stripped of the careful restraint Mydei so often wears like armour, it feels… intimate.
The sound curls around him, settling in his chest where it takes up residence like it’s always belonged there. Phainon grips his phone a little harder, pressing it harsher into his ear as if that’ll dissipate the physical distance between them. His breath catches before he can stop it, his throat clicking audibly enough to be heard through the phone line. Phainon already wishes he could see him - wishes he could read his expression, watch his lips move around the syllables of his name, confirm that this moment is as real as it feels. But all he has for now is this voice, warm and low, threading through the quietness of his dorm, carving a space in the silence.
“Mydei, hey,” Phainon says eventually, wanting to say his name too to complete the cycle between them. “I thought calling you would be easier, I was getting tired of typing.”
Mydei hums, the sound deep and comforting. The hair on the back of his neck rises - it’s only been a few days without hearing his voice, but it comes right back to him, causing a twisty feeling in his stomach. The empty beat of his heart suddenly becomes more vibrant, flourishing under the sound of Mydei’s voice.
“That’s fine,” Mydei replies, the line slightly distorted by a rustling sound.
“Oh, are you in bed? Sorry, I should’ve asked before phoning.”
“No, it’s -” The rustling stops. “I am in bed, but it’s okay.”
“Okay,” Phainon echoes and turns over, swapping the phone to his other hand to accommodate his new position.
He can almost feel it, the picture so clear in his head - Mydei lying next to him in his bed, their foreheads nearly brushing with proximity, the atmosphere bending around them like a cocoon. The night chill wouldn’t dare creep in, not when Mydei’s warmth lingers between them, his breath fanning softly against Phainon’s skin. Their voices would be quiet, meant only for each other, drifting through the dark like ripples on still water. Every whispered word would be a thread pulling them closer, every pause filled with something unspoken, something felt. And Mydei’s words - steady, warm, real - would be the only thing grounding Phainon, keeping him from floating away entirely.
“So why the sun tattoo?” Mydei asks, breaking the silence when Phainon doesn’t reply.
“It’s all to do with Greek mythology,” Phainon begins, clearing his throat and coming back to reality. “My name derives from the mythological figure Phaenon, which then also in turn comes from an Ancient Greek term… which, uh, I can’t remember right now. I’d probably butcher the pronunciation anyway,” Phainon chuckles to himself self-deprecatingly. “But either way, it means to shine, and my mother always calls me her little sun. So, it just made sense to get something related.”
“The sky god of Cronus?” Mydei responds.
“Huh?”
Mydei huffs, but it’s not exasperated. It’s fond. “The figure, Phaenon, he’s the sky god of Cronus, which means ‘Saturn’, like the planet.”
“Oh,” Phainon feels a little silly for not having known that. He hadn’t done much research into his name past what his mother and father told him as a kid.
“The name suits you well,” Mydei replies. “Saturn is a bright planet, easy to spot when you’re looking.”
“I’m… easy to spot?” Phainon repeats hesitantly, confused.
“No,” Mydei begins, the tone of his voice softening. “You shine brightly.”
“Now who’s flirting?” Phainon replies, breathless.
“Humph, if that’s how you’re going to take it, then I won’t stop you.”
“You won’t?” Phainon asks, any remnants of sleep immediately disappearing. He’s wide awake, alert, and on edge. He was kidding, but is Mydei… really flirting with him right now? And admitting it?
“No,” Is the simple reply he gets back.
It’s enough. It’s more than enough. It’s so much more than he could’ve ever imagined.
He sinks into his pillow, giddy and slightly dizzy with relief and want. “Ah, Mydei, you’re making it difficult to not come and see you tomorrow at the library...”
“Then don’t hold back,” Mydei says. “I’ll be there anyway.”
Phainon wants to bite his knuckles, maybe even his entire fist, just to physically stop himself from yelling I’ll be there!!!! In response. He considers turning over and shoving his face into his pillow, screaming himself hoarse until his vocal cords give out - but with his luck, his dorm neighbour would think he’s being murdered and call security. Punching something seems like another solid option: his mattress? Too soft. His bedside table? Too sturdy. His own stupid face? Too tempting. He groans, not caring if Mydei hears, and by the small amused huff he gets, he definitely does.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Phainon says instead of doing any of those things, desperately trying to reign in his frazzled emotions.
“I’ll find you some books about constellations,” Mydei says. “Then I can show you a better picture of Orion.”
“Or I could just google it,” Phainon counters.
“You could…” Mydei trails off ominously. “But then you wouldn’t get to spend time with me.”
Phainon splutters, launching upright in his bed. “Mydei -!”
“Goodnight, Phainon.”
And with that, the call ends.
Phainon stares at his blank phone screen, his shocked reflection mirrored back at him. His name, again, from Mydei…
Oh dear, he thinks as he falls back down, cradling his phone gently to his chest as he stares up at the ceiling. I’m so, so fucked.
Phainon’s day has barely begun and it was already a disaster. He woke with a jolt, heart hammering in his chest as he registered the time glowing accusingly from his phone screen - ten minutes until class started. After his phone conversation with Mydei last night, he’d forgotten to turn his alarm on for the morning, resulting in this major mess up.
“Shit,” He hisses, flinging his covers off as he scrambles out of bed in a flurry of tangled limbs.
There’s no time for his usual morning routine, no carefully chosen outfit or good morning text to Mydei. Instead, he yanks on the first hoodie and pair of jeans he can find, and shoves his feet into his trainers - no socks, because who had time for socks? - and bolts out the door, bag half-zipped and hair sticking up at all angles.
The sprint across campus is brutal. His lungs burned, his legs protested with every step, and the cold morning air did nothing to wake him up properly - it just left him shivering as he burst through the lecture hall doors, fifteen minutes late and completely out of breath.
And, of course, at the front of the room was his least favourite professor.
“Well, well,” His professor drawls, voice echoing off the high ceiling. “How generous of you to grace us with your presence, Mr. Phainon. Please, by all means, take your time. We wouldn’t want to rush you.”
Heat crawls up Phainon’s neck as a hundred pairs of eyes all turn toward him. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Maybe if he walked out right now, dropped out of university and moved to a remote island, he could forget this public shaming had ever happened. But said remote island wouldn’t have Mydei, so that’s off the table.
Instead of all that, he swallows his pride, ducking his head in apology and hurries toward the back of the room. A few students shoot him sympathetic looks as he goes. It’s hard to concentrate on the lecture after that as he’s too busy wallowing in secondhand embarrassment and making a silent vow to never, ever forget to set his alarm again, no matter how distracting Mydei is.
It only gets worse when lunchtime rolls around. Phainon just wants a drink - something cold and refreshing to wash down the lingering taste of humiliation from this morning. But, of course, fate isn’t on his side today.
The vending machine hums mockingly as the bottle he’s paid for remains stubbornly wedged between the shelf and the glass, taunting him. He stares at it for a moment, despondent, praying to somehow gain psychic abilities that’ll make him able to move it to the tray at the bottom. When that inevitably fails, he resorts to the time-honoured method of brute force, giving the machine a solid kick.
Nothing.
Another kick, harder this time. The machine rattles, but the drink doesn’t budge.
Phainon exhales through his nose to cut off the sharp rise of anger building inside him. He presses his forehead against the cool glass in defeat, his eyes slipping shut for a brief moment.
In and out, he encourages himself, breathe in and out.
He pushes off the vending machine, walking away from his still-stuck drink without another glance.
And, of course, if his day couldn’t get any worse (which he really thought it couldn’t) he’s proven wrong at exactly 4 pm when the final lecture of his day finished.
“Hey, Phainon…” One of his classmates, Sophia, begins as she slides up beside him.
He glances at her out of the corner of his eyes, trying to focus on packing his equipment up.
“What’s up?” Phainon asks.
“So you know the group project that’s due on Monday…” Sophia trails off.
He turns to her, eyebrows drawn. “Yeah, what about it? Is the PowerPoint finished?”
“About that,” Sophia laughs, reaching her hands out to pat him on the back. “None of us have time over the weekend to work on it, and there’s a bunch of evidence in there without any citations. So… we were just wondering if you’d be able to handle it instead?”
Phainon’s confused expression turns into one of anger. “Are you kidding? Nico said he’d finished it ages ago, and I already did most of the work to begin with. His only job was to format everything!”
“Yeah, well,” Sophia shrugs, “I’m just the messenger.”
“Fine,” Phainon spits out, grabbing his bag and angrily slinging it over his shoulder. “Send it over and I’ll finish it tonight. I’m not wasting my weekend working on it either.” He’s also not failing this class because his teammates are all incompetent and lazy.
“Great!” Sophia squeals, patting him on the shoulder this time before hightailing it out of the room.
His glare follows her until the door slams shut, where it turns into a budding headache instead. He scowls, rubbing his temples as he tries to keep his breathing under control.
[4:47 pm] Mydei 🍓:
Are you still coming to the library today?
Mydei.
Phainon’s heart plummets straight to his stomach the second he sees the message. His breath catches, eyes beginning to feel suspiciously warm as frustration fills him. The day had already been an absolute disaster, a never-ending stream of minor inconveniences and outright catastrophes piling on top of each other like some cruel joke at his expense.
And now this.
The realisation hits like a gut punch - he completely forgot. The promise he made, the one thing he actually had to look forward to today, was swept aside in the chaos of missed alarms, scolding professors and vending machine betrayals.
[4:48 pm] Phainon:
i’m so sorry i forgot
i’m stuck doing a group project rn, not sure when i’ll be done
when do you finish?
[4:48 pm] Mydei 🍓:
I do a hand-over with Anaxa at 7 pm.
Don’t worry, we can meet another time.
But Phainon doesn’t want to meet another time. He wants to meet today, to see Mydei and read through the books that he’d picked out just for him.
[4:49 pm] Phainon:
i can do 7 if i really focus lol
[4:50 pm] Mydei 🍓:
Don’t push yourself, fool. Just keep me updated.
Phainon smiles. There, between the insult and blunt words, he can see it: care. If nothing else, Mydei cares for him. It’s enough for now.
[4:50 pm] Phainon:
sure thing, i’ll meet u outside the library?
[4:50 pm] Mydei 🍓:
Okay.
Phainon chucks his phone onto his desk as he links his fingers together, pushing them outwards to crack his knuckles. Time to get working.
Phainon throws himself into his work with a single-minded determination, furiously cross-checking sources and fine-tuning the PowerPoint. His fingers fly across the keyboard, correcting formatting errors, rewording awkward sentences and making sure every single slide is as polished as it can be. The effort is tedious, his eyes burning from the strain of staring at his screen for far too long, but eventually - finally - he’s done.
With a relieved sigh, he attaches the updated file and sends it off to the group chat. Within seconds, an onslaught of crying emojis and prayer hands flood in, souring his mood even more. He doesn’t bother reading the messages past that, muting the chat without hesitation.
Right now, there’s only one thing on his mind: Mydei. He checks the time and immediately swears under his breath - 6:55 pm. It takes at least 10 minutes to walk to the library from his dorm, but if he starts running now, he might just about make it.
As he gathers his stuff together, throwing on a jacket and shoving his feet into his trainers, he texts Mydei.
[6:56 pm] Phainon:
sorry just finished ppt
will be there soon
As soon as it is delivered, he shoves his phone into his bag and hightails it out of his room, barely remembering to shut the door behind him.
For the second time today, Phainon tears through the campus, legs burning as he sprints towards the library. His breath comes out in sharp, uneven gasps, the evening air biting at his flushed skin. His trainers slap against the pavement, the sound drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears and the single, desperate thought looping in his head: don’t be late.
As the library comes into view, his frantic pace slows into something closer to a stagger. His limbs feel heavy, his lungs protesting the sudden burst of exertion, but none of that matters because Mydei is right there, standing outside, waiting for him.
Mydei is alone, his face bathed in the soft, bluish glow of his phone screen. He doesn’t have his glasses on this time, which is new. His posture is relaxed, one hand tucked into the pocket of his coat, his attention fixed downward. For a brief moment, Phainon panics and worries that Mydei is going to be mad at him for keeping him out in the cold because of his poor time management.
But then Mydei looks up at his arrival, eyes wide and doe-like, lips parted as he watches Phainon stumble the last few steps, practically collapsing forward as he braces his hands against his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. His chest heaves, air burning his nostrils, vision swimming slightly from the exertion.
“Gods,” He pants between gasps, eyes squeezing shut. “I think - I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes.”
“Ever the dramatic one,” Mydei says lightly.
“I’m really sorry,” Phainon apologises. “I lost track of time. My teammates -”
“It’s okay,” Mydei cuts him off.
Phainon deflates at the dismissal and stands up straight, finally having caught his breath. His vision blurs for a second, something tickling his face as he realises a stray strand of hair has fallen across his eyelashes. He blinks rapidly, trying to dislodge it, but it stubbornly clings on. With an irritated huff, he lifts a hand to brush it away, but before he can, another hand moves first.
A featherlight touch sweeps across his face, tucking the strand away before his fingers even make it past his shoulder. His breath stutters as Mydei’s fingers barely graze his skin, but it’s enough - enough to send a current of something sharp and electric straight through him. His entire body stills, frozen, eyes widening as he looks up to find Mydei already watching him. The usual sharpness in Mydei’s expression is absent, replaced with something soft and intent, like he’s studying a delicacy. Mydei’s fingers linger for just a fraction longer than necessary, a fleeting moment where neither of them moves, where the space between them vibrates with a quiet, unbearable tension.
Phainon swallows, his throat suddenly dry. The world feels strangely distant - just the two of them standing there, the library doors behind them, the air cool against Phainon’s still overheated skin.
“...Thanks,” Phainon says, voice lower than usual.
Mydei blinks, his fingers curling slightly before it falls back to his side.
“You didn’t have to run here, I would’ve waited for you regardless,” Mydei says.
“But -” Phainon coughs, slightly out of breath once again. “I didn’t want you to wait.”
Mydei tilts his head, lips pressing together in something like amusement. “And why’s that?”
Phainon exhales sharply, still feeling the burn of his sprint in his lungs. He rolls his shoulders and straightens his back as if that’ll make him look less affected.
“Because,” Phainon starts, a little hoarse. “I already feel bad enough for forgetting. I didn’t want to make you stand around on top of that.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“It is to me,” Phainon counters, too fast, too earnest.
Mydei sighs, long-suffering like he’s entertaining the antics of a particularly unruly child. His fingers move before Phainon can react, flicking him right in the middle of his forehead. The touch is light, nothing like the sharp, teasing flick from the cafe days ago.
“You’re out of breath, red in the face, and sweating through your shirt,” Mydei’s voice is impossibly steady, but there’s a faint quirk to his lips despite reading Phainon for filth. “It’s cute.”
Phainon freezes. His brain short-circuits. The words don’t register at first, but when they do, heat floods his face; he's surprised he doesn’t combust on the spot.
“...What?” He croaks.
Mydei shrugs, casual as anything. “I said it’s cute.”
Phainon can do nothing but stare because Mydei just said that. Out loud. Like it’s normal. Like it’s nothing.
“How is any of that cute?” Phainon says in disbelief. If anything, all the stuff Mydei just listed should be grounds to be friend-dumping him and walking away this instant.
“Because it’s you,” Mydei replies simply.
“You - you can’t just say things like that,” Phainon splutters, feeling himself spiralling.
“Why not?” Mydei’s smirk is subtle, but it’s there, and oh, Phainon is in so much trouble.
Mydei is playing with him, testing him. And worse, it’s working.
“Because I’ll get the wrong idea,” Phainon mutters, not brave enough to voice it loudly.
Mydei eyes him up, silent and assessing, and Phainon can’t tell if he heard it or not.
“Let’s go, it’s getting cold,” Mydei says, and Phainon is relieved he wasn’t asked to repeat what he’d said.
They fall quickly into step beside each other, the soft rhythm of their footsteps the only sound between them. The night air is refreshing now that Phainon isn’t running about everywhere, and he relishes in the crispness of it as he breathes in deeply. The occasional street lamp flickers overhead as they pass beneath, its glow casting long shadows that stretch and shrink with each step.
Phainon walks without thinking, drawn forward simply by Mydei’s presence at his side. It isn’t until several minutes have passed that the realisation dawns on him, the cityscape unfamiliar - he has no idea where they’re going. He sneaks a glance at Mydei, who seems perfectly at ease, hands tucked into his pockets, gaze fixed ahead as if he has a destination in mind.
“Uh… are we actually going somewhere? Or are we just wandering around aimlessly?”
“We’re going back to my place,” Mydei responds.
Phainon bites down on the inside of his cheek, a last-ditch effort to keep himself from blurting out something utterly foolish. However, no amount of restraint can stop the thoughts running rampant in his mind, each one more suggestive than the last. Phainon, in Mydei’s personal space. Mydei, who is currently walking them back to his place. Above everything else, though, he’s intrigued.
“We are?” Phainon’s voice trembles. “I thought we’d go to the cafe or something.”
“The cafe doesn’t have what I want to show you.”
Phainon internally groans, anticipation flooding his system as he continues to follow Mydei.
Mydei’s apartment is nothing like Phainon expected, yet at the same time, it fits him perfectly. The space is open and elegant, with every detail carefully curated. Deep, rich wooden floors stretch across the room, polished to a subtle sheen that catches the glow of the lamps. Red accents punctuate the space - a throw draped over the back of a sleek leather sofa, the spines of well-worn books stacked neatly on dark oak shelves, and the curtains draped across the windows.
Everything is sleek, modern, yet undeniably lived-in. There’s no sterile perfection - a used mug placed next to an open book on the coffee table, a jacket chucked over the arm of the sofa - it’s a place that is used and appreciated. The air within carries a faint mix of bergamot and something slightly sweeter, something distinctly Mydei.
Phainon barely hesitates before making himself at home. He toes off his shoes, shrugging off his jacket to place on the coat peg next to the door, and waltzes right on in.
“This is nice,” Phainon says absentmindedly, still trying to take everything in. His eyes trace the endless lines of books on the shelving units, seemingly covering up the majority of wall space available.
“I didn’t say you could make yourself at home,” Mydei replies snidely, but there’s no bite to it as he follows behind. “What I want to show you isn’t in here, it’s on my balcony.”
Phainon whips around, “You have a balcony?”
“Adult with a job, remember?” Mydei jeers.
Mydei brushes past him, shoulders touching, leaving a trail of something sweet and tart in his wake. The soft brush of fabric and the quiet press of their footsteps against the plush rug are the only sounds as they cross the room. Without hesitation, Mydei reaches for the heavy red curtains that frame one wall, their deep colour rich and striking even in the low light. With a swift motion, he pulls them apart, revealing the glass doors behind them. The dark reflection of the room disappears as he slides one open, letting the chilly night air in.
The cold is immediate, infiltrating the warm apartment like an uninvited guest. Phainon follows, stepping onto the balcony with a quiet inhale, the chill biting at his skin. The wind is sharper up here, tugging insistently at his clothes, and ruffling his hair no matter how many times he tries to smooth it down again. The space is small, barely big enough for a simple pair of garden chairs and a circular table. Phainon is drawn immediately to the glass railing, peering over it with curiosity as he takes in the sprawling city beneath, a multitude of coloured lights scattered across the darkness.
Above, the sky is vast and clear, the moon casting a silver light over everything it touches. Phainon looks over his shoulder to point it out to Mydei, but the other man is already looking skyward, expression muted and almost reverent, caught in the view as if it’s revealing a secret only he can understand.
“I thought you were going to show me some books?” Phainon asks quietly.
Mydei tears his eyes away from the moon, “I have something better than that.” He walks over to the right corner of the balcony, gesturing.
Phainon frowns at his words but looks, eyes immediately widening when he realises what Mydei is showing him. A telescope.
He runs up to it, fawning over the white and black metal, hands hovering just above it so as to not touch it without permission. “This is so cool!”
Mydei sidles up beside him, bringing warmth with the gentle press of their bodies together. He adjusts the position of the telescope slightly. “You can see Orion through it if you want.”
Phainon nods enthusiastically, stepping forward and bending down to peer through the eyepiece. At first, all he sees is darkness, the lens revealing nothing but an unfocused void. He blinks, adjusting to the narrow frame of vision. Then, slowly, the sky sharpens before him, and there it is - Orion, no longer just an abstract pattern against the vast night, but something tangible. It’s so much better than seeing it on a phone screen or in a textbook. He pulls back, breath creating puffs of steam in front of him.
“It’s beautiful,” Phainon comments, voice quiet.
“Mhm,” Mydei nods. He lifts an arm to point towards the sky, “There it is.”
Phainon follows his direction, and it’s there again, crystal clear in the sky. The three stars of Orion’s Belt stand out immediately, aligned in a perfect row like stepping stones in the sky. They burn with a steady brilliance even from so far away, distinct and unwavering against the inky blackness. Around them, more stars emerge.
“What’s that one?” Phainon asks, pointing to a bright star nearby.
“Betelgeuse,” Mydei answers. He raises his arm again, tracing a pattern in the sky, linking up all the stars into a shape. “Rigel, Bellatrix, Saiph,” He lists out, moving as he goes to show the positions. “Orion’s Nebula.”
Phainon exhales, utterly captivated by the way Mydei speaks, by the quiet knowledge in his voice as he names each star as if he holds entire galaxies within himself. The vastness of it all settles over Phainon like a heavy weight - the endless stretch of the universe, the insignificance of his own existence in comparison, and yet, against all odds, here he is: standing beside Mydei, sharing this fleeting moment in the luminescence of stardust. He wishes he could capture it somehow - bottle up the warmth of Mydei’s presence, the way his voice shapes the cosmos into something intimate, something knowable. He wants to cradle this feeling in his hands, tuck it away safely like a fragile ember, so that no matter how much time passes, it will always burn brightly in his mind.
“Do you stargaze every night?” Phainon asks when Mydei is finished listing the names of the stars.
“Only when I feel like it,” Mydei replies. “Most of the time, it’s too cloudy.” He shifts then, not further away but closer, pressing their shoulders together more firmly. “I’ve never shared this with anyone else before.”
Phainon’s breath catches in his throat, heart stuttering and then starting again. His stomach floods with butterflies, their wings as gentle as dandelion seeds in the wind. “Then, I’m glad you shared it with me.”
Mydei hums softly in response, not saying anything else. Phainon becomes acutely aware of the space - or lack thereof - between them. Their shoulders brush with every small movement, their faces tilted inwards, no longer facing the sky but each other, drawn together by something unspoken. Phainon swallows, the clicking of his throat loud in the silence as he meets Mydei’s gaze, watching the way the moonlight spills over his features like the finest of silk, making his amber eyes glow a molten gold. Ethereal, otherworldly - a sight so mesmerising that Phainon physically cannot look away. It’s different than witnessing the stars in the sky, their tiny bodies full of hot gas because somehow, Mydei burns brighter than them all combined.
The wind tousles Mydei’s hair, strands whipping across his forehead in a way that should be chaotic but only makes him look even more effortlessly beautiful. His nose is tinged with pink from the cold, his lips slightly parted, and Phainon has never wanted anything more than to close the remaining distance between them. It would take so little to reach out, to touch, to take - but Phainon holds himself still, caught in the moment, drinking it in, afraid that if he moves the spell will break.
He’s beautiful.
He’s everything that Phainon wants.
Yearning crashes into him, sudden and all-consuming, like a tidal wave pulling him under. The vastness of the night sky stretches endlessly above them, making him feel impossibly small in the grand scheme of the universe. And yet, here - right here, on Mydei’s balcony, standing a few inches taller, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him despite the chill in the air - he feels larger than life. Every emotion swirling inside him is too big, too intense, filling the spaces between his ribs until he swears he might burst. Each emotion is because of Mydei, for Mydei. His presence grounds him and sets him adrift all at once.
Without thinking, moving as slowly as he can, he raises a hand, cupping Mydei’s cheek in his palm. It’s cold to the touch but quickly warms up with his body temperature.
“You’re cold,” Phainon whispers idly, wondering why Mydei isn’t shoving him away yet.
Instead, Mydei allows it, head tilting slightly into the touch. It’s delicate, warm and precious, but most of all, permission. It feels as though Phainon is holding the entire world and solar system within his hands. Mydei looks up at him through his blonde lashes, and they’re so close that if Phainon wanted to, he could count each one lining Mydei’s eyes.
One, two, three, he begins, keeping in time with his shallow breathing.
Four, five, six, he continues, and he can tell the exact moment that Mydei begins to smile just by the way his eyes curve upwards sweetly. Their noses bump together, but Mydei doesn’t flinch or tell him to stop. He keeps watching, his gaze saccharine, even as their breaths begin to mingle from their close proximity.
Seven, Phainon inches closer, their noses slotting against each other.
“I really like you, Mydei.”
Eight, Mydei angles his head slightly up, foreheads touching.
“I… like you, too.”
Nine, Phainon inhales deeply, finally able to pinpoint what Mydei smells like. It’s pomegranate, sweet and tart.
“Are you going to kiss me or just carry on staring at me like you want to?”
Ten.
Phainon sighs with relief and swoops in, pressing their lips together gently. His eyelids fall shut so he can finally - finally - kiss Mydei, the culmination of months’ worth of feelings overflowing. Mydei surges up like the ocean, arms coming up to wrap their way around Phainon’s neck. They turn towards each other, chest-to-chest, sharing the same bubble of warmth, warding against the cold wind.
It’s chaste at first, delicate and testing, their mouths barely touching. Phainon doesn’t move, too afraid that it’ll snap Mydei out of this daze and he’ll get pushed away. But then Mydei hums, the noise vibrating between them in a way that makes Phainon’s lips tickle. He sounds content and pleased, giving Phainon the last boost of confidence he needs to let himself go.
They begin to move, slow at first as if testing the waters, learning the shape of each other in a language spoken only through touch. Phainon repositions himself, tilting his head so he can get the angle just right to slot his bottom lip between Mydei’s. It deepens the kiss and his fingers twitch at his sides before he gives in, reaching out, grasping at the fabric of Mydei’s shirt. It’s soft beneath his fingertips, but not as soft as Mydei himself - warm and pliant, meeting him halfway with a sigh that Phainon swears he’ll replay in his head a thousand times over.
The world around them begins to fade, dissipating into nothingness as the sky and city below become nothing but background noise. All that exists now is the heat between them, and the way Mydei’s fingers find their place tangled up in the short hairs at the nape of Phainon’s neck, the grip steadying. A shiver rolls down his spine that has nothing to do with the cold but all to do with the way that Mydei is kissing him - each press of their lips deliberate, like he means it, like he’s wanted this just as much as Phainon has. The thought makes his head spin, the base of his neck tingling when Mydei tugs just so at his hair, his back arching. It presses them closer, not an inch between them from their chests to their knees as Phainon swallows the quiet, breathless noises that Mydei makes, his heart thrumming wildly with each one.
When they finally part, it’s only by a fraction, just enough for Phainon to catch his breath, to take in the sight of Mydei - lips swollen, eyes half-lidded, a soft, dazed expression on his face. He can’t help himself, now he’s gotten a taste, Phainon never wants to stop. He lets go of Mydei’s shirt to cup his cheeks, dragging him in for another kiss.
This time, there’s no semblance of gentleness left. Phainon swipes his tongue against Mydei’s bottom lip, immediately licking straight into his mouth as soon as Mydei opens up for him. It drags a groan out of them both as their tongues touch. Mydei tastes good, sweet and minty as if he’s just been chewing on gum. It’s addicting, making his mouth water as Phainon grips at Mydei’s slim waist, pulling him impossibly closer. There’s nothing tentative about this - not anymore. It’s messy, needy, fuelled by all the tension that had been simmering between them for weeks. Phainon doesn’t care - all he cares about is the way Mydei is kissing him back just as fiercely, just as desperate, fingers curled into his hair, tugging at them with each gasp and whine.
“Inside,” Mydei says between kisses, voice hoarse and wrecked.
Phainon pulls away long enough to nod, perhaps too enthusiastically, “Yeah.”
They stumble back inside, still tangled in their kiss, Phainon following Mydei blindly, only the hands on his hips guiding him. Phainon bumps into a table, his hip catching the back of the sofa, almost tripping over the rug, but nothing can break the connection between them. His fingers fumble desperately at the hem of Mydei’s shirt, tugging at it incessantly, silently pleading.
Mydei pulls away just enough to yank the shirt over his head, tossing it carelessly somewhere in the room. Phainon doesn’t even glance at it, his eyes fixated on the intricate red tattoos that swirl across Mydei’s torso. The artwork is mesmerising, following the natural curve of his body in perfect harmony. Phainon reaches out, his fingertip lightly brushing the ink, tracing its path over Mydei’s pec, down across his ribs, and disappearing behind his back. He watches in fascination as his touch leaves a ripple of goosebumps in their wake. It’s more beautiful than Phainon could have imagined, every line and swirl like a story written just for him to read.
It’s only when Mydei reaches out for him, hands grasping at his t-shirt, pulling it up that he gets the hint and raises his arms to allow Mydei to remove it fully. His t-shirt shares a similar fate to Mydei’s, being tossed aimlessly across the room. Phainon stands there, his skin slowly warming up with the heat from being back inside to Mydei’s hot gaze trailing across his exposed body. He almost feels shy, like he should cover himself up - his body is nothing compared to Mydei’s, after all, but the way he’s being looked at: hungrily, as though Mydei is drinking him bit by bit, makes him preen instead.
“You’re -”
“Bedroom,” Mydei cuts him off, grabbing his hand and threading their fingers together as he’s pulled along again, further into the apartment until they reach a closed door.
Mydei opens it, flicking on the light, and Phainon takes what little time he has before Mydei is back on him again, kissing, hands plastering themselves against his body, to look around the room. The room is regal, with a massive bed in the centre of the back wall, the colour scheme rich and dark with burgundies and browns. A large, intricately carved wooden wardrobe stands to the side while a velvet armchair sits near the window, adding a touch of luxury.
Mydei grumbles, clearly sensing Phainon’s distraction, and gives him a firm shove. Phainon stumbles, the force sending him reeling until the backs of his knees collide with the edge of the bed. A finger hooks underneath the waistband of his jeans, tugging at it.
“Off,” Mydei commands, and who is Phainon to deny?
Phainon can barely keep upright as his knees begin to shake and undoes his fly, shimmying out of his jeans until they pool at his ankles. He kicks them off, watching raptly as Mydei unbuckles his belt, the clinking of metal against leather loud in the silence of the room. Before he can reach out and help, another shove, and he sits down on the bed with a soft bounce, barely getting the chance to catch himself as Mydei begins to move forward.
Eyes wide, Phainon shuffles further onto the bed, scrambling until the cool wood of the headboard presses against his bare shoulders. Mydei follows with steady, deliberate steps, first placing his hands on the mattress, then his knees. Like a predator, he crawls forward, clad in only his boxers, his gaze fixed, movements slow and languid as he closes the distance between them.
“Ah, Mydei, um -” Phainon stutters as he suddenly has a lap full of Mydei.
Phainon’s eyes widen comically large, panic and excitement mixing as his heartbeat thunders in his ears, almost drowning out everything else. He holds his hands up awkwardly, trying to avoid touching Mydei, unsure of where to place them. Phainon wants to touch him everywhere: his neck, his chest, or his toned stomach. Mydei’s thick thighs rest across Phainon’s lap, the muscles flexing and shifting beneath the taut skin, and Phainon can’t help but feel the intoxicating heat of their proximity, his cock twitching in his underwear. He gulps, almost dizzy from how hard he is and with the rush of sensations going on, his joints lock up. Phainon’s mind races, trying to adjust to the weight of Mydei on top of him.
A finger snaps him out of it, sliding gently under his chin, lifting his head back up, forcing their gazes to lock. Mydei’s eyes are intense, especially considering he’s not wearing his glasses today, darkened with something fierce and possessive. Then, fingers entwine with his, bringing them down to rest on Mydei’s shoulders.
“You can touch me,” Mydei says, letting go of Phainon’s hands.
Phainon wants to savour this, to memorise every inch of Mydei beneath his hands. He starts slowly, fingertips ghosting over the broad slope of his shoulders, following the defined lines of his biceps, feeling the subtle flex of muscle beneath warm skin. His palms skim lower, dragging reverently over the firm plane of Mydei’s chest until his hands settle over his pecs. He squeezes, experimentally at first, but the give beneath his fingers is intoxicating. Phainon wets his lips as soft muscle tenses and yields under his touch, and something about it makes a deep satisfaction curl in his stomach. He kneads, pressing harder, watching how the flesh pools slightly between his fingers before bouncing back. The urge to mark Mydei overtakes him - his fingers itching and his mouth-watering with the need to press deep enough to leave imprints, to brand his presence onto him like another layer of ink woven into the red swirls of his tattoos.
Red and blue, just like them. Opposites, companions, lovers. Bound together in a way that is both fleeting and infinite, like the colours of a bruise blooming beneath the skin.
“Tell me what you want,” Phainon begs because he wants too much. His chest rises and falls too quickly, breathing shallow. He needs direction, permission, something to anchor him in the storm of his own longing. He searches Mydei’s face, looking for an answer, a sign, anything.
Hands cup his cheeks, squishing them together playfully until his lips pucker up.
“I want you to fuck me.” Simple, to the point.
It’s exactly what Phainon needed to hear. He breathes out, “I can do that,” Phainon replies, words slightly garbled.
Mydei lets him go easily. Phainon glances down at their crotches, noting that they’re both hard in their boxers, straining obviously against the material. He abandons Mydei’s pecs to slide his hands further down, trailing over each ridge of his abs, dipping slightly into his belly button, relishing in the shiver it gets from Mydei. His happy trail is thick, as blonde as his hair, disappearing into the waistband of his underwear. As Mydei did to him earlier, Phainon slips a finger underneath, pulling the elastic out just enough to let it ping back. The sharp sting makes Mydei jump, a frown appearing on his face.
Phainon smiles smugly, “Let’s get you out of these.”
“You too,” Mydei says, voice strained as he raises on his knees, shucking his underwear down his thighs as far as they can go.
Phainon focuses back on himself, shuffling out of his underwear as he watches Mydei do the same. Before long, they’re back pressed against each other, completely nude with nothing in between them. Their freed cocks bump against each other, sending a shiver through Phainon as he grasps at their joint lengths to hold them steady. They both gasp at the same time with the touch, Phainon’s hands cold against the heat. Mydei feels like hot steel clad in silk, thick and heavy, red and wet at the tip.
Phainon sighs dreamily, thumbing at the head just to feel the slide of precum. Mydei shuffles closer, hands on his shoulders to keep him steady as Phainon begins to work his wrist, up and down, twisting at the top before loosening as he gets to the base. He squeezes, watching the tips of their cocks disappear and reappear in the middle of his tight fist. Mydei shudders against him, little gasps and ah s escaping his lips with each pump, his pace slow and measured.
“Phainon,” Mydei gasps before falling forward, fingertips digging bruisingly into his shoulders as he buries his face into the crook of his neck.
“Too much?” Phainon asks, using his clean hand to brush the length of Mydei’s hair out the way so he can press kisses to his neck. He leaves little nips along the way, making sure to soothe over them with his tongue.
Phainon doesn’t stop, slow down or speed up. He keeps going, fingers getting wetter with their precum as it eases the slide even more, his stomach burning.
“Stop, stop - ‘m gonna cum,” Mydei slurs into his neck, the words muffled.
Phainon hears, stopping immediately. He pouts, “Already?”
Mydei doesn’t move, his shoulders shaking lightly. Phainon can feel the vibrations of words spoken into his skin, but they’re too quiet to be heard. He reaches up to thread his fingers into Mydei’s hair, giving it a gentle tug and encouraging him to pull back. When he does, Phainon’s heart almost gives out. He’s flushed, eyes dewy and lips spit-slick and bitten.
He’s divine, like a god. One that Phainon would worship every day for the rest of his life if he’s allowed.
“Shut up,” Mydei retorts weakly, reaching over to the side of his nightstand, and grabs a bottle of lube from the drawer.
He shoves it at Phainon who takes it without question.
“If I’m going to come, it’ll be on your cock. Got it?” Mydei says, cutting and strong, just like how Phainon knows him the best.
Phainon gulps, “Got it.”
It’s hard concentrating on slicking his fingers up with lube when he’s got a lap full of Mydei, already writhing in place with wandering hands and a curious mouth. Phainon lets his head fall back, grip loosening on the bottle as Mydei licks a strip up his neck, nibbling at the hinge of his jaw, breath coming in hot puffs that leave condensation in their wake. It doesn’t stop, not even as he parts Mydei’s ass cheeks and slides a finger down until it reaches the furl of muscle. Mydei jolts, breath stuttering, but then he’s carrying on, allowing Phainon to press in further, so good and so hot around him until he reaches the first knuckle.
“Hurry up,” Mydei grumbles, already pushing back on the single finger.
“What if I wanna take my time with you, hm?” Phainon asks, nuzzling into the side of Mydei’s head, inhaling the citrus scent of his shampoo, but he soon slots a second finger in.
“You don’t need to treat me like I’m delicate,” Mydei chastises, but he sounds breathless, hips jerking and rolling.
“Maybe not,” Phainon curls his fingers, smirking when Mydei moans loudly, hips shaking at the graze against his prostate. “But you’re precious.”
“Don’t say stupid shit like that,” Mydei curses, swallowing thickly, his cock twitching.
Phainon smothers a laugh, biting down on his bottom lip to keep it from slipping free. Mydei is so easy to read like this, his expression is completely open, with no trace of his usual guardedness. His amber eyes are dark with want, wide and pleading, every emotion laid bare between them. It’s like he was made for this, to be opened up and spread wide, preparing for Phainon. There’s minimal resistance when Phainon puts in a third finger, scissoring them open and closed, pulling out to the tips of his nails and pushing back into the top of his palm.
“Enough, enough!” Mydei snaps after being worked open on Phainon’s fingers for minutes on end.
“Sure?” Phainon asks, kissing Mydei’s cheek, nosing at his temple.
A hand wraps around his wrist, yanking his fingers out without a verbal response. Mydei’s chest is heaving, flushed up to the roots of his hair as he grabs for Phainon’s cock, holding it steady as he slicks it up and tries to line it up with his rim. Phainon’s hands clutch at Mydei’s waist, holding him as he watches determination pinch at his expression. It’s horribly endearing, even more so when Mydei fails the first few tries. He’s too tightly wound, the head of Phainon’s cock dipping in slightly before slipping past. Mydei grunts in frustration, but Phainon doesn’t interfere just yet, too caught up in the show unfolding in front of him.
“Relax,” Phainon croons eventually, hands sliding down over the curve of his waist to grope at his ass, pulling his cheeks wide.
“Wh -!” Mydei gasps, allowing Phainon to guide him until the tip finally catches, sinking in a few inches.
They both groan in relief, Mydei’s hands flying to grapple at Phainon’s shoulders for support. Phainon winces as nails dig into his skin, surely leaving crescent-shaped dents that will take hours to go back to normal. He doesn’t care, not when Mydei’s eyes flutter, lips parting on a whine as he slides further down Phainon’s cock, tight and burning hot around him. Mydei feels so good, letting him in so easily until he’s fully seated on Phainon’s lap, buried all the way to the hilt.
“Holy fuck, Mydei,” Phainon gasps out, “You’re perfect, so good, so tight, you feel -”
“Shut up!” Mydei snaps, shuddering.
“You like that?” Phainon asks, leaning forward to place his chin in between Mydei’s pecs, looking up at him. “Like being told that you’re good,” Phainon presses a quick kiss to his sternum before drifting to the left, “That you feel amazing around me,” He licks the breadth of his tongue across Mydei’s nipple, toes curling in pleasure when Mydei clamps down around his cock in response. “That you’re pretty, stunning…” A bite, this time, hard enough to leave teeth marks. “That I’ve wanted you since the moment we met?”
“Shut -” Mydei’s voice breaks, unable to finish his sentence when Phainon uses his grasp on his ass to move him upwards, bullying him to almost pull off his cock entirely. He stops when he reaches the tip, keeping the head inside.
“C’mon, Mydei,” Phainon urges, guiding Mydei back down, his cock sliding easily through the mess of lube covering it and inside, squelching obscenely when he’s back inside. “Don’t you wanna prove me right?”
Mydei’s back arches deliciously as he’s stretched full once again, mouth wide open and head thrown back. A line of drool escapes his mouth, dripping down his chin and over his jawline, following a path down his neck before pooling in the dip of his collarbone. Phainon follows it from start to finish, eyes burning with hunger and desire. He lets go of Mydei’s ass, placing one hand on his waist as the other comes up to cup Mydei’s sweat-damp cheek. It’s sweet how easily Mydei leans into it, allowing Phainon to rub his thumb absentmindedly across his bottom lip, dipping the tip between to feel the heat of his mouth. He tugs at the corner of his lips, more drool leaking out with it, following the same path as before. Phainon narrows his eyes when Mydei closes his lips around his thumb, sucking gently at it.
“You really are perfect,” Phainon comments, exploring Mydei’s mouth, feeling the ridges of his teeth and the undulating movement of his tongue swirling around his thumb. He hooks it behind the row of teeth at the front, using it to pull Mydei forward and into him, their foreheads almost knocking together.
Phainon removes his thumb, replacing it with his mouth, kissing Mydei once again. He swallows every whine, every whimper, every moan and failed attempt at saying his name as Mydei begins to move, up and down, faster and faster until he’s riding Phainon without abandon. Their kiss turns sloppy, mostly made up of panting and moans as they exert themselves. Phainon’s hips twitch upward, meeting Mydei halfway each time, the sound of their skin slapping together noisy in the quietness of the night.
Phainon is determined to get his hands on every part of Mydei that he physically can. They travel along his body, an endless journey with no stopping point, moving around from place to place without really settling. His face, his neck, his shoulders and back, his pecs that are swollen from being grabbed and his nipples that are sore from being pinched. The plane of his abs, his waist, to his hips that have bruises already forming in the shape of his fingertips. Phainon even smooths his palms up and down the taut muscle of Mydei’s working thighs, massaging them to feel the pure power beneath.
“You’re doing so well,” Phainon pants into Mydei’s mouth. “I’m so close.”
Mydei nods, scrunching his eyes shut as his thighs tremble with exertion. Phainon has no idea how long they’ve been going at it, the span of time between them feeling endless and simultaneously not enough. Sweat slicks their skin, rivulets of it dripping down Mydei’s body and over his chest, practically begging Phainon to taste. He does, licking it up and lapping at Mydei’s nipples, worrying the hard nubs between his teeth, sucking and kissing them.
“Phainon, I -” Mydei cuts off, curling inwards on himself.
“I got you,” Phainon replies, wrapping a hand around Mydei’s cock. It twitches and jerks in his grasp, completely soaked from how much Mydei has leaked all over himself.
A few languid slides later and Mydei is clamping down around him, shuddering and convulsing, back bowed and mouth and eyes wide open as he comes over Phainon’s fist, hot spurts of come wetting the skin and splashing against both of their stomachs. Watching Mydei come is like watching a supernova, beautiful and awe-inspiring. Mydei slumps against Phainon, coming down from his high in tiny swivels of his hips and the jolting of his shoulders, clearly still experiencing tiny sparks of pleasure that light him up from within. Phainon wraps his arms around him, pulling him closer, pressing delicate kisses to wherever he can reach, whispering praises and sweet nothings into his ears.
With nothing more than a protesting whimper, Phainon switches their places until Mydei is lying on his back, lounging amongst his pillows as Phainon looms over him.
“I know, I know,” Phainon placates as he begins moving again, fucking into Mydei to chase his own high. Mydei doesn’t stop him, instead pressing back into the thrusts, his soft cock giving a valiant twitch at the stimulation.
He curves over Mydei as if shielding him from the rest of the world, burying his cock in as far as he can go until he comes, shuddering and moaning with the release. He’s careful not to collapse fully onto the man beneath, instead holding himself up on shaking arms until he’s ready to pull out. They both wince as he does, his come flowing out, staining the bed sheets.
“Ah, shit, lemme go grab you a towel,” Phainon says, making a move to get off the bed.
A hand stops him, grabbing onto his forearm. “I have tissues,” Mydei jerks his chin towards his nightstand.
Phainon grabs a few and cleans Mydei up as gently as possible, chucking the used ball of tissues into the rubbish bin on the other side of the room. Thankfully, it lands inside, not missing the shot. He flops down beside Mydei, watching him fondly as he wriggles beneath the duvet, offering up the space next to him to Phainon. He goes, diving in quickly and cuddling up next to him, arms wrapping around his waist to plaster against his side.
He gets a shove for it. “You’re sweaty.”
“So are you,” Phainon replies, nuzzling into Mydei regardless.
Mydei sighs, defeated, and lets himself be cuddled. Phainon laughs, kissing his cheek before leaning up and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. Mydei’s eyes immediately flutter shut, and so Phainon kisses him more. It stays soft and slow, never veering into anything more than that.
Phainon doesn’t remember falling asleep after that, content and warm and with his arms full of Mydei.
Phainon stirs awake, the scent of something warm and sweet pulling him from the depths of sleep. His nose twitches as he inhales, the unmistakable aroma of butter and sugar curling in the air, mingling with the faintest hint of coffee. His stomach grumbles in response.
With a groggy sigh and a pout of disappointment that Mydei isn’t sleeping next to him, he stretches, limbs lazy and sated. He gets out of bed, searches the room for his boxers and slips them on. The cool air of the room prickles against his exposed skin as he pads towards the source of the smell, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
The open-plan apartment is bathed in soft morning light, golden rays filtering through the large windows. In the kitchen, standing at the hob, is Mydei. Phainon stills for a moment, taking in the sight before him. Mydei is focused, flipping a pancake with effortless precision, his back turned to him. The muscles of his shoulders and spine shift with every movement, his skin kissed by the morning glow. Then, Phainon notices with a grin, the apron. He tries to stifle a laugh the best he can. It’s a little ridiculous - pastel pink and far too cutesy for someone like Mydei, especially with the frilled edges and the way the ribbon cinches neatly at the waist. But there’s something undeniably endearing about the contrast of it all, the way it hangs against his bare back, leaving every inch of sculpted muscle on display.
Phainon leans against the doorway, watching for a moment longer, basking in the domesticity of it all. His chest warms at the thought - how lucky he is to have met someone like this, waking up to the smell of breakfast, to Mydei standing in the kitchen like they’ve done this a thousand times before.
Phainon doesn’t wait any longer - his feet begin to move, drawn in by the warmth, the smell and the sight of Mydei standing there. He rushes forward, arms slipping around Mydei’s waist, pressing his chest flush against the broad expanse of his bare back.
He buries his face into the space between Mydei’s shoulder blades, inhaling deeply, their touch making his body hum with satisfaction. His lips press against the firm muscle of his shoulder, then again, soft and deliberate, trailing a path of lazy kisses along the curve where his neck meets his back.
Mydei shifts, huffing as he halfheartedly tries to shrug him off, but Phainon tightens his grip, refusing to be dislodged.
“You’re in my way,” Mydei mutters, leaning forward over the frying pan as if that’ll make him let go.
Phainon ignores him and smiles against his skin, undeterred, his kisses growing more playful, nipping lightly before soothing the spot with his tongue. Mydei exhales sharply, his body betraying him as the tension in his shoulders eases, though his grumbling continues. The scent of warm honey and pancakes lingers in the air, but Phainon is far more intoxicated by the scent of Mydei himself - his skin, his warmth, the way he shifts under his touch, resisting but never truly pulling away.
“No need to be shy,” Phainon coos obnoxiously.
“I’m not shy,” Mydei snaps. “I’m trying to dish up our breakfast.”
Phainon pouts and reluctantly pulls away, watching Mydei plate up a fresh stack of pancakes on their plates, dusting the tops with icing sugar and garnishing with strawberries. He takes both plates in hand, directing Phainon towards the dining table where he places them down on the dinner mats already set up. There are two identical mugs already there, full of steaming hot coffee. Phainon’s mood brightens as he goes over, taking the seat next to Mydei as he digs into his breakfast.
The pancakes are divine - golden brown, pillowy soft, and airy enough that they practically melt on his tongue. Each bite is drenched in a generous drizzle of honeyed syrup, the sweetness coating his lips and making his taste buds sing. The edges have just the right amount of crispness, a delicate contrast to the fluffy centre.
Phainon doesn’t waste time with pleasantries; he shovels them down with enthusiasm, fork scraping against the plate as he devours every last bite. The warmth of the pancakes lingers, mixing with the smooth, slightly bitter taste of the coffee he sips to wash it all down.
He sits back in his chair, licking a stray drop of syrup from his thumb, already contemplating whether he can convince Mydei to make another batch. Instead, he’s met with Mydei watching him, eyebrows raised.
Phainon laughs nervously, “They were really good.”
“I can tell,” Mydei replies, barely even having started on his own.
“I didn’t know you could cook.”
Mydei hums, chewing and swallowing his mouthful before he speaks. “There’s still a lot of things about me you don’t know.”
“Oh?” Phainon grins, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin up on the palm of his hand. “Better start telling me everything then, dear.”
Mydei’s face scrunches up. “Don’t call me that.”
“Sweetheart?” Phainon suggests, grabbing one of Mydei’s hands, not caring that it’s holding onto a utensil. He presses a kiss to his knuckles. “Darling?” He turns Mydei’s hand around, thumbing his fingers open until the fork falls and clatters to the table. He kisses the centre of his palm. “How about the light of my life?” He punctuates the nickname with a kiss on the inside of Mydei’s wrist this time.
Mydei’s lips are pinched, eyebrows furrowed, but he’s flushed bright pink, the colour close enough to match the shade of his apron. “I’ll kick you out if you don’t stop.”
Phainon uses his grip around his wrist to yank him forward, pulling them closer so that he can press a kiss to Mydei’s lips, sweet and sticky from the syrup.
“Sure thing… doll?”
“Phainon!” Mydei yells, and Phainon makes a run for it, running straight back into the bedroom, laughing loudly as Mydei follows right behind him.