Work Text:
Phainon sighed at the gloomy sky above his head. His commute to work took him down a high street shopping centre, though most of the shops had already long closed down. The area was lifeless, the weather was always bad, and the people moving around him were just the same, all of them moving inside the clockwork hellscape of late-stage postmodern capitalism.
None of those facts helped Phainon’s intrusive thoughts. They were of the philosophical kind, as was normal for him.
What is life? Why can’t I ever feel truly happy? What’s it like to die?
He sighed again. That’s where his brain went without a distraction.
But then, he heard something. The soft strumming of guitar strings. A husky voice drifted on the breeze.
Phainon was instantly captivated by the voice. He followed it, his gait getting faster, until he found its source.
There was a man busking on the side of the street. He had a muscular build and strawberry blond hair, tied into a small braid which fell over his shoulder. An acoustic guitar was propped up on the side of his thigh. A guitar case was on the floor by his feet, littered with a couple coins and bills. He strung the guitar gently, his eyes closed.
“And if you wanna go down in history then I’m your prince,
Because they’ve got me in a bad way, I’ve never seen a heart I couldn’t break…”
Despite his physique, his voice was fairly quiet in reach, as if it wasn’t supposed to be heard.
“It was never about the songs, it was competition,
Make the biggest scene,
Make the biggest…”
The timbre of voice that arrived in Phainon’s ears was almost rustic. He sounded husky and breathy, and wistful. That voice, combined with the soft guitar chords, created a nostalgic yet melancholic acoustic ballad.
“Which came first, the music or the misery?
We’re high-fashion, we’re last chances…”
It was soothing and raw and real, resonating straight through Phainon's chest and pulling at his heartstrings.
Before Phainon could process, the busker had started strumming a new set of chords. A melody stricken with regret bloomed from his lips.
“Last year’s wishes,
Are this year’s apologies,
Every last time I come home.
I take my last chance,
To burn a bridge or two,
I only keep myself this sick in the head,
‘Cause I know how the words get you -”
The way he strung the guitar was more forceful than before. There was a bite to his voice, as if he was trying to hold himself back.
“We’re the new face of failure,
Prettier and younger but not any better off,
Bulletproof loneliness,
At best, at best…”
One would expect a man of such a stature - if he did sing - to be baritone in nature. However, the man’s voice was incredibly dynamic. His voice crooned to the high notes of the song, breaking on occasion. Those voice cracks revealed an ethereal, transcendent voice. Each voice crack was piercing with emotion, so intense and expressive that Phainon broke out in shivers.
“Me and you,
Setting in a honeymoon,
If I woke up next to you,
If I woke up next to you…”
However, the vocal leaps in the melody weren’t entirely seamless; there was some kind of dark shade to his voice, something troubled beneath the surface, which seeped through in the small voice cracks, the wavering on the last syllable of some words, the shake of his head, how his strawberry hair fell into his eyes.
It was in those small glimpses unto the real man behind the guitar that had Phainon spiralling down, as if he was entering a haunting memory.
So, Phainon had to stand and listen as he sang another song. And another. The juxtaposition between the voice, the face (and the body) of the man, was enough to make Phainon completely shut down.
Phainon had been standing in place for a good three songs, when he realised that his heart was beating wildly in his chest.
“And the best,
Way to make it through,
With hearts and wrists intact…
Is to realise,
Two out of three ain’t bad,
Ain’t bad…”
The high note of the bridge soared from the busker’s lips, breaking apart in Phainon’s arms.
Phainon blushed hard. I've found an angel, he thought.
Beautiful vibrato serenaded his ears, until another thought entered Phainon’s mind: Do I know this guy? Why does this feel familiar?
No, he would've remembered such a face had they met previously, not to mention the celestial voice.
Intense eyes suddenly connected with his own, causing both the fleeting thoughts in Phainon's head to turn to ash.
The angelic busker was staring at him. It felt like it was just the two of them, as if Phainon was beholding and worshipping a god of his very own.
Phainon's mouth fell agape. Those eyes, what colour were they? What secrets did they carry? In what world could Phainon have those eyes never look away from him?
There was a slight scowl to the busker’s beautiful face.
Then, Phainon remembered that he'd been ogling like a fool for at least three songs.
Phainon panicked, putting a hand in his pocket. Without checking how much he'd pulled out, he threw the coins into the busker's guitar case.
He couldn't trust himself around this voice. He turned to quickly leave before he could embarrass himself anymore, when -
“Thank you.”
Phainon met eye contact with the busker again, who bowed his head slightly, before closing his eyes and continuing to sing, as if he hadn’t just directly acknowledged Phainon’s existence in his heavenly realm.
Phainon's face set ablaze.
He managed to get himself to proceed. As he walked the rest of the street, he listened to the sound of the busker's voice getting quieter and quieter behind him, until he could no longer hear mellow guitar strings, nor that soulful voice.
Phainon froze in place again, putting his hands to his cheeks just to feel how much he was burning up (which was a lot).
‘What the hell was that!?’
*
Phainon spent the rest of his day thinking about the busker. He tried to remember how his voice had sounded, but he could only hear remnants of the voice in his head. If only he could’ve lasered the memory into his brain.
However, the next day on his commute to work, Phainon heard a soft tune carried on the breeze once more.
“They said, ‘If you don't let it out,
You're gonna let it eat you away’,
I'd rather be a cannibal, baby,
Animals like me don't talk anyway -”
Phainon rounded the bend, and there he was, propped up by the side of the street, guitar on his thigh, ethereal voice on full display.
“Put another X on the calendar,
Summer's on its deathbed,
There is simply nothing worse than knowing how it ends -”
The song was nostalgic and yet melancholic. The busker wove around the high notes of the chorus, his voice controlled, yet airy and breathless, as if he were ascending alongside the notes he sang.
Once again, Phainon was the only one who stopped to watch him sing, and it made him feel giddy.
“And I meant everything I said that night,
I will come back to life,
But only for you -”
Those untamed eyes met his again, gold on blue.
“Only for you…”
A voice crack, a rawness seeping through.
Phainon unknowingly raised a hand to his chest, biting his lip to stop tears forming in his eyes, tears he couldn’t explain nor rationalise.
The busker continued singing with a cute little scowl on his forehead, but otherwise giving Phainon no more time of day. Perhaps that was for the best, considering the palpitations that Phainon was experiencing.
The same as the day prior, Phainon listened to a few songs, losing himself to the stranger’s beautiful voice, before throwing a few coins into his guitar case, and stumbling away with a dumb blush all over his face. On the inside, he was screaming.
‘This isn’t normal, is it?’ He said to himself when he was at a safe distance.
He looked up at the dull sky above his head. Normally he would sigh, at his damned commute to work, at the weather, at the existential dread that he was going nowhere with his life…
But instead, he wanted to smile, maybe even pray a little, that this heavenly busker was going to be a more…permanent part of his morning commute going forward.
*
Sure enough, the busker was in the same position the following day. And the next. And the next.
Phainon quickly got into his new routine. He looked forward to getting up in the morning, so he could go to work, and hear the busker’s voice once again.
Every morning, the busker leaned against the same quiet wall, strumming his guitar and filling the surrounding gloomy area with his gorgeous harmonic voice, like he was Phainon’s own little patch of sunshine.
When Phainon approached, the busker would look at him once. And when Phainon tipped, the busker would look a second time, sending him a small thanks between breathy lyrics. If Phainon was lucky, he’d catch a glimpse of the man’s vermillion eyes brightening just slightly.
*
One morning, Phainon opened his curtains to see a particularly dark and gloomy sky. It looked like rain was on the way. He made sure to pack an umbrella before he left home, hoping that the rain wouldn’t stop his busker from singing.
By the time he got to the usual spot, it had started to rain quite heavily. Phainon had his umbrella over his head as he scanned the area. He couldn’t hear the voice that he’d become attached to; it seemed nothing could carry over the rain.
However, as he came around the next bend, just as Phainon had hoped, the man was there.
The busker continued to sing as if the rain couldn’t touch him, as if his wet hair hadn’t fallen all in his eyes, and his clothes weren’t completely soaked, as if the rain didn’t drown out the sound of his guitar, his voice.
“How cruel is the golden rule?
When the lives we lived are only golden-plated?
And I knew that the lights of the city were too heavy for me,
Though I carried carats for everyone to see…”
It was a sombre song, as if to match the weather. It made Phainon feel bad. This poor guy looked like quite a sorry sight, singing his heart out to an invisible audience, whilst the rain seeped into his bones. He hadn’t even looked up and noticed that Phainon was there watching him.
The busker did look up, however, when someone shuffled into the space beside him, and an umbrella was held over his head.
Their eyes met. The busker’s finger slipped on a string, filling the chord with dissonance. He stopped playing.
For a moment, all either of them could hear was the rain.
Phainon simply smiled.
The busking man looked somewhat unsure, but strummed a chord, and continued to sing once again:
“And I saw God cry in the reflection of my enemies,
And all the lovers with no time for me,
And all of the mothers raise their babies,
To stay away from me,
And pray they don’t grow up to be…”
The man strung the last chord until it quietly faded off into the rain.
“...Thank you,” the man said after a while. That was the usual thing he said, only it seemed slightly different this time.
“Next time it rains, you should bring an umbrella,” Phainon said.
“It wasn’t raining when I left,” the busker tsked.
Phainon watched the man lift his guitar strap over his head from around his neck. He began inspecting his guitar, polishing some rainwater off the wood. Phainon was still holding the umbrella over them both.
“What’s your name?” Phainon found himself asking. The busker paused. The pattering of rain overhead filled the silence.
“...Mydei.”
Mydei?
“Well then, Mydei, has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful voice?”
Huh, the name rolled right off the tongue.
Half a huff came from Mydei’s lips in response.
They fell back into silence again. Phainon decided he didn’t like hearing Mydei be silent. So, he reached into his pocket, and flipped a coin into Mydei’s guitar case.
Mydei paused. He didn’t speak straight away.
“You tip me everyday,” Mydei said.
“You busk on my route to work,” Phainon replied, trying to remain calm at the implication that Mydei had noticed him all these times. “Wouldn’t be very charitable of me not to tip such a beautiful voice,” Phainon winked. “But if you want my advice, I think you should busk over by the square. More people will hear you over there.”
Mydei bent down, putting his guitar into its case.
“It’s not about who hears,” he said.
“Then what is it about? Why do you sing, Mydei?”
Mydei was silent for a moment. “...For my mother.”
Mydei plucked a guitar string quietly, as if that was more interesting than their conversation.
Phainon raised an eyebrow. “A mother’s boy, hey?”
“She’s not here anymore.”
Crap.
“My apologies. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need your pity.” Mydei zipped up the guitar case in a single motion. “She raised me to be strong, and I am.”
Mydei stood, throwing the guitar case over his shoulders. Phainon noted that when Mydei stood, he was just a little shorter than himself. That simple fact filled Phainon with glee.
“Strong and a beautiful voice? Must be my dream man,” Phainon teased. Mydei rolled his eyes and grit his teeth.
“HKS,” he said.
“What was that?” Phainon asked, only to have Mydei huff again.
“I need to go or I’ll be late for work.” Mydei pulled a hair tie from his wrist, biting it between his teeth as he reached up to tie his wet hair into a messy bun. Phainon eyed the back of his neck.
Mydei cast an unsure glance back to Phainon, who was still standing with him, despite the fact that the performance had ended more than five minutes ago.
“You should go also,” Mydei said. “You’re usually gone before now.”
Phainon blinked himself out of his trance.
Right. Work.
“Crap, you’re right.”
Mydei rolled his eyes and began to walk. Phainon found himself following. He noticed that Mydei was walking the same way he usually did. “Wait, where do you work?” He asked.
“Why should I tell you?” Mydei grumbled in response.
Phainon jumped into the spot at Mydei’s side. “That’s right next to where I work, who would’ve thought!? I’ll walk with you!” He reinstated the umbrella over both their heads.
Mydei deadpanned at the path ahead of them. He seemed to try and walk faster. Every time he did, Phainon matched his pace, making sure the umbrella remained square over Mydei’s head.
“What are you trying to do? This isn’t a competition,” Mydei eventually grunted.
“Perhaps it could be?” Phainon winked, only to be met with another eye roll.
Silence passed between them for a couple more minutes, before Mydei cleared his throat. “So, what’s your name?”
Phainon had never felt such warm sunlight.
“Oh, I’m Phainon!” He nudged Mydei’s shoulder. “But you can know me simply by my title,” Phainon pretended to bow. “Which would be Mydei’s biggest fan.”
Mydei shoved him back.
“HKS.”
They continued that way all up the rest of the street.
*
From then onward, they would walk together after Mydei busked.
Phainon gradually learned more about Mydei. He wasn’t one to open up lightly outside of a song. It took quite a few morning walks to get anything out of him at all. Phainon eventually learned that Mydei lived alone on the other side of the city. He worked as a chef in the restaurant just opposite the office where Phainon worked. His mother had taught him how to play the guitar, and how to sing. He wanted to honour her through his singing.
On the weekend, neither of them had work, but Mydei continued to busk at the same time and place every morning. Phainon often went to meet him. At first, Mydei looked annoyed to run into his favourite fan again, but Phainon was sure that glare of his was becoming a little less deathly each time they met. Who knew, perhaps that glare would eventually turn into a smile?
After Mydei’s busking session on a Saturday morning, they began hanging out. Phainon took Mydei to his favourite coffee spot, they visited the local restaurants (he was still trying to convince Mydei to cook for him at his own restaurant) and they went for walks around the city.
Phainon found himself enjoying Mydei’s company more and more. It was nice to enjoy Mydei’s company outside of his singing. Plus, not only did he have a perfect physique and a gorgeous singing voice, he was also so damn easy to aggravate.
One Saturday, they were sitting in the park by one of the lakes, watching a couple swans and their cygnets swim by. There was a stand selling bags of corn to feed to the waterfowl. Unfortunately, the seller was only accepting cash payments that day, and Phainon was severely lacking in change after tipping Mydei after every single one of his performances.
That was when Phainon turned to Mydei, who was still carrying his guitar case, the coins from his busking session in his pocket.
“Can we buy some corn to feed the swans?” He asked.
Mydei turned to him with a frown. “How old are you? Five?” He scowled and crossed his arms. “And what do you mean, we? Go buy your own if you have to.”
“But I don’t have enough change!”
Phainon fluttered his lashes in Mydei’s direction. Mydei shook his head. “No. Not happening.”
“But the birds are hungry! Look, they’ve got babies!” Phainon pointed at the cygnets in the water. “You’re really going to let baby swans starve!?”
“There’s literally three other families feeding them over there already. No.”
Phainon ended up doing puppy dog eyes at him. “Please?”
Mydei gave him a look. At first, Phainon thought it was a look of utter disgrace and abandonment.
But then he saw Mydei’s scowl stutter, something wavering in his eyes.
“HKS.”
The next thing Phainon knew, and the two of them were standing at the edge of the water. Phainon was holding a bag full of corn, which he threw for the swans and signets. He laughed as he watched the swans suck up the corn from the water.
Mydei had his arms folded and was pretending to scowl, but Phainon could see that even Mydei was struggling to resist the adorableness of feeding baby swans. Perhaps that was why he trained his eyes on Phainon instead.
Phainon gave him a side glance after a while. “What? Like what you see?” He winked.
“You’re insufferable,” Mydei grunted, turning the other way completely.
“How about we have a competition. Who can feed the most swans wins.” Phainon held the bag of corn out to Mydei.
“That’s ridiculous,” Mydei responded. “And childish.”
“Chickening out already are we?”
Mydei scowled at him deeply. “Give me that!” Mydei snatched the bag of corn straight from Phainon’s hands.
One swan feeding competition later, and the two of them had attracted the entire park’s worth of swans and ducks, scared off every child in the vicinity, and gotten corn…literally everywhere. And they were also told to leave by park security.
Mydei was still pulling bits of corn out of his hair as they walked back towards the highstreet. Despite the corn everywhere, he was smiling to himself.
“I win,” he stated smugly.
Phainon strolled a little behind him, crossing his arms and pouting. “You only won because you were holding the bag,” he said.
Mydei shrugged. “Perhaps you should’ve tried harder to get the bag off me then.”
“You won’t win the next one!”
That made Mydei stop. “Next one? We are not doing that again.”
“Oh we are, Mydei. I can get you to do anything I want you to~” Phainon ruffled Mydei’s hair and tapped him on the nose just to illustrate that point.
Mydei stuttered, then growled. “HKS!”
Phainon dismissed the redness on Mydei’s face as pure unfiltered anger.
*
The next weekend, the two of them were sitting in a different, more quiet corner of the park. Phainon hadn’t realised that they’d been hanging out all day, until he saw the sun beginning to filter down through the trees.
Mydei was casually strumming his guitar, working out chords and chord progressions to one song or another. He hummed quietly to himself, he was quite content to do that around Phainon these days.
Phainon propped himself up on an elbow and watched Mydei for a while, inspecting how the late sunlight hit his hair, how long his eyelashes were when he closed his eyes and concentrated on a song.
He really was so beautiful.
And this sight was just for Phainon’s eyes only.
“Can you sing ‘Somewhere Only We Know’?” Phainon asked all of a sudden. “You must know the one? The one that goes -”
“No.”
“You already know the chords, don’t you?” Mydei said nothing in response. “And it’s not too far from your usual style. C’mon, for me~?”
“I said no.”
Phainon leaned in closer to him, until he could whisper the words: “But I know it would really suit your voice.”
He was sure he saw Mydei shiver. However, Phainon had already closed his eyes, expecting Mydei to whack him over the head with his guitar.
To his surprise, the guitar was gently strummed instead, and a familiar song began to emerge.
Phainon watched as Mydei began to sing.
“I walked across an empty land,
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand,
I felt the earth beneath my feet,
Sat by the river and it made me complete…”
As Mydei sung, Phainon felt the usual blush creeping up his neck.
“Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm getting old, and I need something to rely on,
So, tell me when you're gonna let me in,
I'm getting tired, and I need somewhere to begin…”
Phainon liked it when Mydei’s voice broke around the high notes. He’d asked for this song specifically because he knew how Mydei’s voice would react to the vocal range of the song, it would break and crumble, but it would never give in. He liked it when he could hear the real Mydei, voice raw and full of emotion that he could not train nor hide.
He liked when Mydei gave him subtle glances, checking that Phainon was still listening to him, still enamoured with how he sang.
“This could be the end of everything,
So, why don't we go somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know,
Somewhere only we know…”
He loved it when Mydei sang just for him.
He knew that Mydei sang for his mother, that was why singing meant so much to him.
But, Phainon was a selfish man.
He’d finally found some colour in his life. For that reason, he hoped that he could continue getting Mydei to sing just for him.
After that, Phainon began coming to Mydei with suggestions often, songs he thought would suit Mydei’s voice.
“You’ve put a lot of effort into this,” Mydei said while listening to some of the song recommendations. They were sharing Phainon’s earphones, one earbud each. Mydei had finished busking for the day, and they sat together in front of one of the city fountains, which overlooked the main square.
Phainon was incredibly conscious of how close Mydei’s face was to his own.
“Well, when it comes to you, I do try and put in a little bit of effort,” he winked. He leaned closer. Mydei huffed and shoved his head away, but Phainon couldn’t ignore the small smile on his lips.
After that, Mydei’s eyes flitted with uncertainty. He seemed to be thinking deeply about something.
“Phainon. You’ve watched me sing everyday for months now…Why?”
Phainon was surprised by the sudden intimate question. “Because you have a great voice?”
Mydei sent him a glare. Phainon looked down into the water, at their two reflections together. He sighed. He wasn’t quite sure how to voice it, but…
“When I hear your voice, I feel like I’m…home. Like I’ve found something precious that I lost.” He looked up, making eye contact with Mydei. “So don’t ever stop singing, Mydei. I need to hear you sing.”
Mydei’s face contorted into something completely stunned and unguarded. Even his mouth had fallen open slightly. Never had Phainon seen him at such a loss for words.
Had what he said really been…that bad?
The more Phainon thought about it, the more he realised it really was that bad. What had he been thinking?
He raised a hand to the back of his neck and chuckled awkwardly, even as a pink blush creeped into his cheeks.
“Don’t read too much into it,” he backtracked, trying to play it off with an easy smile. “I just think you’re cool to hang out with. It’s hard to come by people who are almost as cool and handsome as I am.”
A long silence followed.
“...HKS.”
Phainon heard Mydei grit his teeth and turn his head away, giving that strange answer he quite often gave when Phainon annoyed him.
Phainon breathed an internal sigh of relief. If Mydei was still responding to him like that, then it meant nothing between them had changed.
Until Phainon caught a glimpse of Mydei’s expression in the corner of his eyes.
He was…blushing.
Phainon was awe-struck. He didn’t think that Mydei could get any prettier, but that dusting of red affected him the same way the man’s voice did. His heart began to beat, he started to clog with sweat, all words and thoughts died on his tongue.
They sat together in silence for a little while longer, Phainon’s playlist continuing to play in their ears, though neither paid it much attention anymore. Phainon’s mind was in a completely different place entirely.
Mydei equally seemed lost in thought. Phainon wanted to ask him what he was thinking about, but he couldn’t quite form the words.
“I should go,” Mydei said.
Before Mydei left, he turned to face Phainon. He reached out a hand. Phainon thought he might be about to get whalloped.
Instead, Mydei flicked the stray strand of hair that stood up on top of his head.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. That light blush was still on his face, this time accompanied by a curious redness to his face. “I have something I want to show you. So, don’t be late.”
Phainon tried to stutter a response, but he’d been caught so off-guard that nothing came out. “A surprise for me? I-I’ll be there!”
“And,” Mydei continued, looking over his shoulder. “Whatever the reason is that you watch me sing, I appreciate it…It means a lot. I hope you keep watching me.”
Phainon remained frozen in place long after Mydei had disappeared. Not only was he frozen, he was also completely burning up.
Could it be…?
Would Mydei really…?
Yep, he definitely died right there.
*
The next day was Sunday. Phainon cursed himself when he woke up, only to find he’d slept through his alarm. He couldn’t be late. Not for Mydei. Not for his special surprise. Matching pair of socks be damned, Phainon threw on the first set of clothes he could find, not even bothering to tie his shoelaces as he left through the door.
He cursed himself even more when he realized his train was late.
Phainon ran the rest of the way to the usual busking spot. He was late, later than late, but Mydei ran on a routine. He should be able to catch his last song of the morning.
However, when he rounded the bend, the busking spot was desolate. No one was there.
Phainon’s heart sank for a moment.
But then he heard it, the faint strumming of chords on an old guitar, and a familiar husky voice. It was coming from behind the next row of shops…from the city square.
Phainon smiled brightly before rushing over.
The square had turned into a makeshift stage. A crowd had formed around the area. In the middle of the stage, stood a tall man with strawberry blond hair, a guitar in his hands, and a microphone positioned in front of him. The final notes of the song he was singing rolled from his tongue, sounding breathy and heavenly as ever.
“Out of the darkness and into the sun,
But I won't forget the place where I come from,
I gotta take a risk, take a chance, make a change,
And break away,
Break away,
Break away…”
The song ended and the crowd clapped in applause. Phainon struggled to push his way through the crowd. No way was he having anything but a front-row seat!
Mydei thanked the crowd, wrapping his fingers around his microphone.
“This next song will be my last one for today,” Mydei said. His eyes scanned the audience. There was something uneasy in his eyes, and in the way he carried himself on the stage. He looked almost disappointed. Despite that, he continued onward.
“I sing for my mother,” he announced. “She’s the one who made me who I am.” He sighed. “But, she’s not the reason I’m stood here today -”
“Sorry! Sorry! Coming through!”
It was at that moment that Phainon finally managed to squeeze his way to the front row of the crowd. He may have climbed over a few children and elderly people to get there, but it was so worth it when he saw Mydei’s focus on him, when he saw his golden eyes burst with undiluted colour.
“...This last song is for someone else,” Mydei said to the audience. His eyes settled back on Phainon. “...You know who you are.”
Phainon had never felt so breathless, nor ever smiled so wide. Mydei sent him the smallest smile in return, before picking up his guitar once again, and starting to play.
It started as a simple chord progression, which Mydei strummed gently. It was light, somewhat nervous, like holding a breath. Phainon felt the same as he waited for Mydei to breathe against the microphone, and finally begin to sing…
“When I was younger, I saw my daddy cry,
And curse at the wind,
He broke his own heart and I watched,
As he tried to reassemble it…”
It was a simple melody line. Mydei’s voice was soft, intimate, almost whispered into the microphone.
“And my momma swore,
That she would never let herself forget,
And that was the day that I promised,
I’d never sing of love if it does not exist…”
His voice wove upwards to reach the higher notes, creating a beautiful raspy tapestry of so many emotions. A final hint of hesitation and restraint, before he let everything go.
“But darling, you are the only exception,
You are the only exception,
You are the only exception,
You are the only exception…”
His eye caught Phainon’s in the crowd.
Phainon had been holding his breath the entire song.
Holding his breath was so worth it.
By the bridge, Mydei was singing with complete vigour. He’d let all his restraint go, embracing each lyric, each sound he could make.
It didn’t usually matter to him who heard him sing. That was a lie. He’d always cared, and now he wanted that one person to know it.
“I’ve got a tight grip on reality,
But I can’t let go of what’s in front of me here,
I know you’re leaving in the morning when you wake up,
Leave me with some kind of proof it’s not a dream, woah!”
Like every time he heard Mydei sing, Phainon never wanted him to stop.
But also, he couldn’t wait for the lyrics to fade from his lips, for the music to fall to silence, so he could go up there on that stage and -
“You are the only exception,
And I’m on my way to believing.”
Mydei’s smile threw him off completely.
“Oh, and I’m on my way to believing…”
The crowd cheered, though the two men remained frozen in place, watching the reaction of the other.
What would happen next for them, Phainon wasn’t sure. But if Mydei kept looking at him like that, kept singing to him like that, filling his world with vivid colours and a beautiful red flush, then Phainon was pretty sure that he’d have to do something about it.
Fuck it. Phainon decided to throw his caution to a garbage can. I’ll do something about it right now.
In a swift movement, he leapt upon the stage. Mydei blinked at him in surprise, until Phainon crossed the space between them, and pressed their mouths together.
He’d never kissed anyone before, but here he was, kissing a sweaty man on a stage in front of a load of people.
The audience responded to their kiss with loud gasps and cheer. Phainon wasn’t bothered by their onlookers at all. He only cared for the way that Mydei melted against him, letting Phainon have what he wanted.
Phainon put his arms around Mydei’s waist, and Mydei responded by linking his arms around Phainon’s neck.
“You’re dead for embarrassing me like this,” Mydei mumbled against his mouth, before kissed Phainon deeper.
“Who embarrassed who, hmm?” Phainon crooned back, letting himself get dragged into this man’s world.
Dead or not, he could get used to this.
Yeah, he could more than get used to this.