Chapter Text
The house is quiet when he enters, silence momentarily interrupted by the soft sound of the door clicking shut behind him. Phainon takes a moment to lean against it, letting the back of his head gently thud against its surface. As usual, his home is as cold as the man standing inside himself, but he likes it that way.
He’s never been too good with the heat.
The day’s weight settles into his bones, deep under his skin, and he slumps against the door just a little further once the adrenaline really starts to leave him.
Being outside has never been easy. If Phainon had it his way, he would never have to step out into that dreadful world ever again. Everything he loves would be within hand’s reach– everything wonderful. His mind drifts to one of those very things in that moment, a fond smile gracing his deceptively soft face when he thinks about the cute little cat he has at home waiting for him somewhere within these walls. He pushes himself off the door’s comfort with a new vigor and goal in mind, suddenly feeling a tad more energetic than when he first entered through these doors.
Fixing his practiced features into place, he goes to tend to his slightly dishevelled appearance from his earlier tantrum. Phainon turns to greet his own reflection through the wall mirror— satisfies himself with a quick card of a hand through his own hair. In these moments, he feels partially blessed for his own handsome face.
After all, he can’t afford to look like shit in his beloved’s eyes.
Phainon moves through the house with ease, steps light and casual. He does his best to keep the exhaustion out of his movement— the thought of worrying his lovely Mydei sends a pang through his heart. Eyes scan the living room first with no head of amber in sight, so he moves onto where he knows Mydei would usually be around these hours while he’s out. The kitchen.
He feels himself growing steadily warmer— if that were even possible for someone of his body temperature— the closer he gets to the kitchen entrance. What is Mydei wearing today? Is it perhaps one of the many adorable aprons Phainon had gifted him? He wonders about what Mydei was cooking. Wonders if maybe today, they could have a meal without the crashing of plates and waste of ingredients.
Cuts were always so annoying to deal with. Broken porcelain, too. But he doesn’t mind. He would have all the bowls and plates ever crafted in Mydei’s hands if he so much as whispered it.
Phainon smiles to himself again at the thought. How silly. Mydei would never need so much tableware. If he had his way, he wouldn’t even mind if Mydei was to eat directly out of his hands.
He pulls his mind from his mental wanderings once he reaches the kitchen entrance, greeting on the tip of his tongue and grin fixed in place before he looks up and halts dead in his spot. Blood runs cold within his veins, and if he hadn’t thought better distantly at the back of his mind, he’d have willed his heart to stop at the sight in front of him.
There stood Mydei, his love— his treasure — in the middle of broken glass shards surrounding bare feet. Phainon’s mind immediately begins racing. He tries to will the panic off of his face, even when his eyes have shot open and he could feel sweat beginning to gather at his nape despite his body’s natural freezing temperatures. He attempts to take in every detail in front of him before he acts, vision darting every feature of Mydei’s thankfully still figure.
Phainon registers the knife in Mydei’s hand; suspicious red splashes covering parts of the loose white sweater he’s donning, no doubt one of Phainon’s. Despite the situation, he feels himself preen at the thought of Mydei willingly wearing his clothing.
Fuck, focus.
With a trembling breath, he moves to look at Mydei’s face next— frantically searching for any injuries. His muscles relax just a bit from their tautness when he finds none. Mydei seems dazed, gaze falling to the floor, unmoving. Strands of soft amber tipped in vermillion softly curtain his eyes, obstructing Phainon from a proper view of his face.
Phainon decides then to finally act while his panic hasn’t fully consumed him. Willing his voice not to crack, he speaks.
“Mydei… baby, what are you doing over there?”
No response. He tries again.
“It’s.. it’s dangerous. Why are there glass shards everywhere? What were you doing?”
With every second that ticks by, Phainon feels the crushing weight of silence bearing down on him. The overwhelming stillness of the room adds to the monstrous anxiety ripping him apart, and he realizes now that there wasn’t a singular sound saved for his own ragged breathing. His mind races in all directions, panic gnawing at his mind so deep he could feel its grip around his throat. Every inhale and exhale is felt on his skin— a pushing sensation against the back of his eyes forces them to burn.
Mydei hasn’t moved to even acknowledge him, and somehow that feels worse than the violent thrashing of his own heart against his rib cage. He moves then to try and close the distance between them, but Mydei whips his head around in that moment and steps even closer to the glass. Phainon instantly stops in his tracks, voice shaking as he quickly protests.
“No! Please, please don’t move, Mydei. Stay right there, okay? Let me carry you out huh? You’ll.. you’ll get yourself hurt.”
He tries moving closer again— slow, as slowly as he could. The rising lump in his throat begins to numb him.
“I’ll do anything. Just please don’t move, yeah? Let me carry you out, please. I.. I won’t touch you after, I swear. I swear so.. let me, okay?”
Dull honey-colored sunsets meet his gaze then, and he feels the world zeroing in on him just through the look of those eyes. On any other day, he would be ecstatic to have that lovely gaze drown him, but this wasn’t the time. Mydei was in danger, and Phainon would be damned if so much of a singular hair on Mydei was harmed at this very moment. He attempts to flash the prettiest smile he can, fully intending to use his pretty face— the only thing he knows Mydei may ever like about him. He begs and begs and begs despite the lack of words that greets him back, desperately keeping himself from moving without Mydei’s permission.
At long last, the tension leaves his body just a bit and his heart picks up its pace again for different reasons this time. Relief, joy, devotion, as he watches Mydei slowly nod his head in agreement. Phainon quickly moves then without hesitation.
He steps right through the glass shards, jagged edges digging into his feet, cutting into his soles. He doesn’t even feel it.
With one swoop, Mydei is lifted into his arms, cradled in his embrace as he pulls him closer towards his chest. His face falls into Mydei’s hair, inhaling the lingering scent of pomegranate and fresh soap as his grip tightens around him. He can’t help but nuzzle into the softness, a sickening satisfaction blooming in his heart.
He’s safe. He’s safe. He’s not hurt. He’s here.
Phainon turns to walk out of the kitchen towards their shared bedroom, face once again lighting up into his usual grin. He talks and talks. About his day, asks about Mydei’s in a tone full of eagerness— as if whatever happened only minutes ago was no more than a passing illusion between them.
Mydei does not look at him, arms slung over Phainon’s shoulder and around his neck. He digs his face into Phainon’s shoulders then, closing his eyes as lets his thoughts drift and tuning out Phainon’s distant words of assurance.
This man is mine.