Chapter Text
Sighing heavily, Anaxagoras takes another sip of his drink. It’s far too sweet, sickeningly so, and it burns on the way down. He was never particularly fond of drinking, but tonight he’s decided to give in and forget his troubles for the time being. Current circumstances justify what is ultimately a rather sad, perhaps pathetic decision. Divorce is always an uncomfortable subject, and it’s an especially bitter one for those who’ve experienced it. Sixteen years, wasted.
There’s no nice way of putting it: Anaxagoras feels like shit. He certainly does not miss his ex. In fact, they had hardly spoken to each other for the last year or so. But his whole life has been uprooted, and he misses the comfort of familiarity, no matter how undesirable that familiar setting was. He supposes he should be grateful that there were no kids involved to complicate things further. That’s unsurprising, really — they never so much as touched each other.
His companion is in no better shape. Actually, the young man is a mess. Phainon had once attended one of Anaxagoras’ classes a number of years ago, and they’d maintained a friendly relationship after he’d finished the course. Phainon had always been of the charming sort, well-composed and sociable. At least, he always seemed that way on the outside.
Phainon, who had arrived to their monthly outings without fail for years, is at present sobbing into the table, hardly bothering to try to keep quiet. He’s surely drunk by now, having abandoned his normal restraint in favor of downing shot after shot of some strong-smelling liquor.
How did they get here again?
Anaxagoras has hardly had enough to be rendered wasted, but he’s beginning to feel a buzzing in his brain and warmth under his skin. He can’t exactly remember how his drinking buddy had ended up in hysterics. Phainon was acting normally for the most part when he’d arrived, although he did look tired. He was talking and laughing as usual until he just wasn’t anymore.
In hindsight, it was rather obvious that something wasn’t quite right. Although they aren’t especially close, Anaxagoras knows Phainon well enough by now to notice the slump in his shoulders and the way he’d carried himself when he walked in, as if simply being alive were too heavy a burden for him to carry.
At some point, Phainon had mumbled something or other about missing someone — badly, by the look of it. A name came up every now and then, too: Mydei. Anaxagoras had heard this name before, somewhat regularly. Mydei is, or rather was, Phainon’s partner. Unfortunately, it seems that he and Phainon are in a similar predicament.
Now isn’t the time to ponder this, however. Phainon’s pitiful cries are attracting unwanted attention. Anaxagoras isn’t one to shy away from pointed looks himself, but getting kicked out of the bar would complicate the duo’s night, which they certainly don’t need. Besides, he has no intention of allowing his friend to be humiliated any further.
So, he opts to rouse him from his noisy wallowing and take him home. Luckily, Phainon’s apartment is just two blocks away from the bar, so getting him there shouldn’t be a particularly harrowing task. But tonight, nothing is as it should be, and it becomes apparent that leaving won’t be especially easy when Phainon stumbles as he gets up. He’s a total wreck.
“Come on, we’re leaving now,” Anaxagoras mutters. He steadies his companion, then wraps his arm over his own shoulders to support him. The position is a bit awkward considering Phainon’s towering height, and the fact that he’s hardly trying to support his own weight, but Anaxagoras pushes on regardless.
Together, they unsteadily trudge across the floor, eventually reaching the entrance to the bar. Although he can feel idly curious eyes on the back of his head, Anaxagoras doesn’t look back as he pushes the door open, Phainon in tow. Many of the people who bore witness to the minor scene won’t remember it at all come tomorrow morning, and none of them will care all that much.
It’s dark outside already, but there’s no chill in the air despite the lack of sunlight and the gentle breeze that ruffles their hair. Then again, that could easily be because of the alcohol in Anaxagoras’ system. The moon is nearly full, and the way it washes everything in pale silver is almost beautiful. Even though the steady rumble of traffic isn’t so far off, the street in front of the bar isn’t busy at all. Only a handful of cars pass by as the pair begin their trek to Phainon’s apartment complex at an ambling pace.
For a short while, no words are exchanged between them. Anaxagoras has no issue with this. After all, he’s not one to fill air with speech just for the sake of speaking. He’s quite comfortable with only the sounds of their footsteps and the city around them to accompany them on their journey. Contrarily, however, he can tell that Phainon is becoming restless by the raggedness of his breath and the way he trembles ever so slightly.
After they cross the street at the first light they reach, the taller man breaks the silence. “‘M sorry for ruining your evening,” he mumbles. He sounds utterly distraught, so much so that it’s almost like a different person is speaking. This isn’t the Phainon that Anaxagoras knows, who would take each challenge and setback in stride, who would at the very least try to keep it together in front of others so as not to worry them.
“Nonsense,” Anaxagoras responds coolly. “I don’t place much importance on having a drink or two — or going out, for that matter.” What he says is the truth. He’s certainly not one to lie just to placate another’s feelings, and it’s true that he doesn’t feel much different than he did at the start of their outing. In fact, he didn’t really want to stick around there much longer anyway.
Phainon doesn’t speak again. He only whines, eyes watery and face red from all his crying. Only briefly, Anaxagoras thinks he looks like a lost dog, pleading to be taken in and cared for. He dismisses the thought as soon as it crosses his mind.
Although it doesn’t take an especially long time to reach the door to Phainon’s apartment, it’s not exactly quick or pain-free either. Regardless, they’ve made it, and Phainon has started fumbling for his keys. Honestly, it’s almost frustrating to watch him look for the one that unlocks the door, finally find it, and then proceed to miss the keyhole several times.
At this rate they’ll be standing out in the hallway all night, and Anaxagoras wouldn’t be able to tolerate standing around under the sterile white, fluorescent lights for such a long period of time. The hallway almost looks like a hospital corridor, or at least it would if it weren’t for the dark grey-ish carpet that is most certainly full of grime.
“Oh, give me that.” He snatches the key from Phainon’s hand, but he at least tries to be gentle about it. Unlocking the door is an exceedingly simple task. “You’re going to drink some water, and then you’re going to bed.” It would be the wisest thing for Phainon to do, Anaxagoras reasons. If there’s any way for him to assist, they can talk about it in the morning.
For now, Phainon simply nods obediently and shuffles into his apartment, with Anaxagoras close behind him to make sure he doesn’t fall over. It’s easy to find the kitchen from their vantage point by the door, and Anaxagoras makes no hesitation in fixing a glass of water after closing the door behind him.
Meanwhile, Phainon sways on his feet in the foyer, looking lost. He looks so pitiful like this, it honestly makes Anaxagoras sad. Such behavior is out of character for the taller man. His presence always seemed much larger than his body, with the way his smile seemed to light up every room. Now he seems impossibly small.
Anaxagoras hadn’t realized how tense his shoulders were until he felt them relax.
He doesn’t say anything when he walks up to Phainon, glass of water in hand. He steps lightly, almost as if he were approaching a frightened animal. Anaxagoras then grasps his forearm gently, like it’s made of brittle ceramic, and guides him further into the apartment. It’s easy to find the bedroom, what with it being the only other door to walk through.
Phainon dumps himself onto his bed without having to be told, face-first. His bedding is already a mess, with one corner of the fitted mattress sheet having lost its purchase. Sheets are crinkled, and the single blanket is bundled down at the foot of the bed.
Anaxagoras waits a few seconds for the man to flip himself over, but it becomes apparent that he has no intention of moving whatsoever. He opts for lightly pushing his shoulder to get his message across. “If you would please lay on your back and sit up…”
Staying true to his behavior for the past few minutes, Phainon obeys without question. He only hesitates when Anaxagoras, leaning precariously over him, brings the cold glass to his lips. One hand is placed at the back of his neck, but it doesn’t grasp or press. It simply lingers. For a heartbeat, it seems like Phainon isn’t sure what to do, but he’s not so far gone that he’s unable to simply drink water, and he parts his lips slightly. Anaxagoras is careful as he tilts the glass so as not to cause the man to choke.
Once the glass is drained, it’s set on the dark wooden nightstand next to the bed and promptly forgotten about, and the supportive hand is withdrawn. Phainon immediately leans back down and closes his eyes. Under normal circumstances, he would probably be chattering like a songbird at sunrise, but tonight he can’t seem to bring himself to speak.
Anaxagoras doesn’t complain. He himself is bone-tired, and he can feel his head spinning with a certain weight that could be compared to a lead ball chained to his leg, dragging him further and further down into a deep body of water. That is to say: He’s exhausted and despondent.
Before he turns and leaves the room, he takes the discarded blanket in his hands and lays it out over Phainon. It’s pale blue in color, and even though he can tell it was once vibrant, it’s dulled with time. It’s soft, yes, but the pilling on the fabric betrays its age. What’s more, the whole thing only covers Phainon’s upper body and half of his thighs.
The fact that he’s lingering on this detail for an uncharacteristically long amount of time tells Anaxagoras that he’s well and truly gone. Although he isn’t drunk — unlike his friend in the other room — he’s most definitely still intoxicated. That coupled with the undeniable fact of his exhaustion mean that driving back home wouldn’t be a very good choice.
Maybe if he were a little more sober, he’d be a bit more apprehensive about sleeping in someone else’s house uninvited. But then, if he were a little more sober, he’d be down the street and starting his car by now. Besides, he’s sure that Phainon wouldn’t mind, and he also trusts him not to take advantage of the vulnerable state he’s in (not that Phainon could anyhow, seeing as he’s much worse off).
So, Anaxagoras unceremoniously flops onto what is possibly the most uncomfortable couch he’s ever sat on. The fabric is scratchy and awful, and he’s sure that he’ll be sore in the morning from the stiff upholstery. It’s only marginally better than sleeping on the cold tile floor. Regardless of all this, sleep comes to him easily.
For once, his mind is silent as he slips into unconsciousness mere seconds after his head meets the cushion.
✦✦✦
With daylight filtering in through half-shuttered blinds, it’s difficult for Anaxagoras to keep his eyes closed when he finally rouses from sleep. As predicted, his shoulders are stiff and uncomfortable, and his left hip is aching in a particularly unpleasant way. For just a second, he’s a little confused as to where he is, but he almost immediately remembers the events of the previous night, and the bewilderment disappears. That said, there are still some more questions to be asked this morning.
Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Anaxagoras quickly glances at the time. Although it’s only about nine in the morning, he isn’t too pleased at having woken up so late. That said, the rest was probably needed. Admittedly, he’s hardly slept for the past few weeks, what with the stress of his divorce and the discomfort of a disrupted routine. Waking up to an empty bed has been both a massive relief and an anxiety-inducing nightmare. He’s busied himself with working late into the night in order to avoid thinking too hard about it.
Really, he’s no better than Phainon over in the next room. He’s just much better at making himself seem put together and unaffected to outsiders.
Speaking of Phainon, Anaxagoras figures he should go and check on him. Given the fact that he hasn’t seen him yet this morning, nor has he heard anything, it would be safe to assume that the man is still sleeping. Regardless, Anaxagoras wouldn’t feel right without making sure he’s at least still breathing, even though there’s nothing that could have happened to him in the night while they slept.
Peeking quietly around the door frame, he confirms that Phainon is indeed sound asleep in his bed. He’s turned over in his sleep, and is now laying on his side with his back to the doorway. His bedding is strewn about the mattress, much more tangled and messy than the night before. It seems he was rather restless last night. Anaxagoras briefly wonders whether he always moves so much in his sleep, or if his uneasy subconscious simply caused an unusual bout of tossing and turning.
He doesn’t linger on the question for long, since whatever the answer is doesn’t matter at the present moment. Before turning away, he notices the empty glass on the nightstand beside the back of Phainon’s head. Refilling it for him would be a good thing to do, Anaxagoras thinks, so he decides that he will. The poor guy probably had a rough night, and he’ll certainly be feeling awful this morning. With how wasted Phainon was yesterday evening, it stands to reason that he’s got a nasty hangover in his near future.
In any case, breakfast is on Anaxagoras’ mind, so he figures he’ll see what’s available in the kitchen when he goes to refill the glass.
It isn’t until he turns around that he realizes the absolute state of the apartment around him. He hadn’t noticed before simply because there were other things to attend to. It isn’t filthy, luckily. It’s just… lived in.
There isn’t much furniture, but there are various objects scattered on what surfaces are available. They range from books, to writing utensils, to charging cables. There’s a small amount of dishes piled in the sink with some food residue still stuck to the plastic, but it hasn’t started to smell, nor is it extreme. As for the countertops in the kitchen, they are mostly free of clutter, but the marble tops are streaked with dried droplets of one benign liquid or another.
Based on this information, Anaxagoras guessed he might not find much in the fridge, a hunch that’s quickly proven correct. It’s very sparsely populated with a half-full gallon jug of milk and a random assortment of ingredients — none of which he can use. Phainon doesn’t even have eggs. If either of them are going to eat, Anaxagoras will have to go out and get something.
He knows that there’s some fast food joint walking distance from the apartment that serves breakfast. It would make a solid option, even though Anaxagoras doesn’t find the idea especially appealing. Still, it’s better than nothing, and he’s decided that he’s too hungry to sit here and twiddle his thumbs.
But, before he goes, he figures he should leave a note in the unlikely event Phainon wakes up in the few minutes he’s gone. It’s not difficult to find a loose notepad and pen among the belongings haphazardly strewn about. He leaves the piece of paper beside the full glass of water on the kitchen counter. It simply reads:
Going to get breakfast. Be back soon.
Figuring that to be sufficient, Anaxagoras takes his leave. He’s not so entitled as to take Phainon’s apartment key — after all, he doesn’t live there — so he has to leave the front door unlocked. It’ll probably be fine… but he should be quick anyway. Just in case.
He returns with a styrofoam container of pancakes in record time.
Despite how quickly Anaxagoras completed his little trip, he immediately notices Phainon laid out on the couch when he opens the door to the apartment. Against all odds, he’s not only woken up, but also made his way out of bed. A truly valiant endeavor considering how even Anaxagoras can tell he’s currently battling a headache of monstrous proportions. The way his brows furrow and his face is scrunched up make it obvious (at least to those who know what to look for).
And even though he’s surely in pain and uncomfortable, Phainon perks up when he hears Anaxagoras shutting the door behind him. And he smiles at him then, in that genuine and sweet way only Phainon can smile at another person. He even smiles at strangers like this.
Anaxagoras can’t help but give him a smile of his own.
“I’m surprised to see you’re awake already,” he says, though not unkindly. He certainly would understand if Phainon had slept until noon, even though he usually would have the tiniest bit of distaste for such action, or rather, lack thereof.
In response, Phainon lets out a little huff. “Oh really? Even though you left a note out for me?”
There’s no trace of his distress from the night before. He’s acting just like the normal Phainon, with his good-natured rebuttal and his bright smile still playing on his lips. You’d never be able to guess how much of a wreck he’d been the previous night. Anaxagoras can’t help but wonder if he’s still feeling all those same, messy emotions, but is keeping them neatly wrapped under his usual bravado now that he’s sober and rested.
“Well, I figured it was the polite thing to do. Besides, I’d hate to leave you behind with no notice, considering the sorry state you were in last night.” Phainon visibly winces at Anaxagoras’ words. Maybe he’s feeling guilty, or maybe he’s simply embarrassed. Whatever the case, his smile is gone now, and he looks more like a kicked puppy than the happy dog he resembled earlier.
“I’m really sorry Anaxa…” Phainon begins, sounding utterly dejected. “I really should’ve had more restraint. I’ve just been… having a hard time lately. I didn’t want to think about it. I never should have drank so much.” While that is true, the fact that he remembers last night is a good thing.
“That’s Anaxagoras to you.” He’s less annoyed at Phainon about the unwanted nickname than he would be under normal circumstances, but his words have the same amount of bite as usual regardless. “Anyway, as you may remember I said yesterday evening, I don’t care much at all for public outings or going drinking. I can forgive the change in routine. I honestly didn’t want to sit there for much longer. In a way, you did me a favor.”
Even though Phainon doesn’t look entirely convinced, he doesn’t insist upon his apology like he might were he talking to anyone else. He knows that the great Anaxagoras won’t be swayed.
Anaxagoras only lets Phainon fidget uncomfortably in silence for a few seconds before he starts speaking again.
“Did… did something happen with Mydei?” Even though he’s usually so confident in his words, he can’t help but feel like he’s crossing into forbidden territory. He and Phainon are friends, yes, but they’ve never gotten so close and personal before, not beyond passing mentions of various life struggles. “Your drunken ramblings were mostly incoherent, but I could pick out some things here and there.”
Phainon looks away then, seemingly no longer willing to meet Anaxagoras’ gaze, or perhaps no longer able to. He’s never looked so sad before, not in front of Anaxagoras, and doubtfully in front of anyone else. Poor thing. It’s easy to guess that something had indeed happened in his relationship. Though guessing isn’t necessary when Phainon eventually speaks up after a few long moments.
“Ah, we uh… we broke up.” It sounds like every word is being cut out of him. “Just. Didn’t work out. You know?” It’s obvious there’s a bit more to it, but it’s equally obvious that he doesn’t want to talk about it.
Anaxagoras doesn’t press. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he says sympathetically. He truly does feel for the man, his friend. Phainon always spoke highly of Mydei. Although Anaxagoras had never met the man, Phainon talked about him so smittenly (and so frequently) that it’s hard to believe that they could have ever parted ways. Anaxagoras clears his throat and continues. “You can’t wallow on an empty stomach. I’ve brought food, and I think you’d best eat it.”
As if he were just now realizing how hungry he is, Phainon perks up at the mention of breakfast. He has that same forlorn look on his face, but he at least has it in him to get up. He’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes, Anaxagoras observes. He chooses not to comment on it.
Phainon quickly thanks Anaxagoras before he takes two of the four pancakes out of the container. They’re a little soggy from condensation, and Anaxagoras is sure there’s several cold spots all over them, but Phainon doesn’t seem to care whatsoever.
“You don’t have much of anything in the fridge. Do you even feed yourself? What do you usually have for breakfast?” Although not one for small talk, he couldn’t help but ask anyway. Besides, he feels comfortable idly chattering right now. It would be a nice way to spend the late morning.
Having the sense not to speak with his mouth full of food, Phainon swallows his mouthful before he replies. “I have a bag of shredded cheese in there.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. The way you’d tell someone that the sky is blue, or that grass is green.
Even though Phainon doesn’t seem all that troubled, Anaxagoras is appalled. Actually, he’s almost horrified. He knows the other man is capable of funding actual proper food and groceries. He just… doesn’t? “It’s a miracle you’ve survived this long,” he mutters disdainfully. A grown man lives like this. Incredible.
If Phainon takes any offense at the comment, he doesn’t show any sign of it. In fact, he takes it in stride with the same playful attitude he usually sports. “Well, it’s a good thing I have you here to keep me alive, then!”
“You’re hopeless,” Anaxagoras deadpans. He doesn’t mean it, of course. He has to admit, the whole situation is pretty humorous, despite the revolting reality of eating cheese for breakfast every morning. Unfortunately, he has break their cozy comfort all too soon. There’s still a bit of discussion to be had. He doesn’t intend on pushing Phainon for details he doesn’t feel comfortable sharing, but it’s clear that the man is devastated over his breakup, and Anaxagoras knows him well enough to guess that he’ll try to bury his distress under his usual collected facade. Truth be told, he’s worried. Very worried.
Somewhat reluctantly, Anaxagoras starts speaking again as Phainon finishes his rather meager meal. “I’m sure you’d rather I not bring it up again, but…” He hesitates, not sure of the best way to word his statement. “I confess, you and I are in similar situations at the moment. I know it would break the norm of what our friendship entails, but if you need support, I… well, I can try my best to offer it.”
For a long time, Phainon doesn’t say anything. Long enough that Anaxagoras uncharacteristically begins to wonder whether he should have said anything at all. “I’m sorry, I just-”
“Thank you.” Phainon’s words are just barely above a whisper. His voice wavers then, and Anaxagoras realizes that the man’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “It’s been… so hard. I never imagined he’d leave me like that.” He was really going to spill his heart out. Anaxagoras was almost surprised that he’d opened up so quickly. But, he reflected, Phainon has probably been holding it all in without cracking once for who knows how long at this point. “He said he didn’t resent me- just needed space. ‘Breathing room,’ he said. Said we probably aren’t compatible. I think that’s worse than if he just didn’t like me at all.”
Phainon breaks off into sniffling. It’s nothing at all like his intoxicated sobbing from the previous night, but it feels more raw, more vulnerable.
He takes a moment to collect himself. “And what about you? You are- were- married, right? For a long time too, if I’m remembering right. What happened?” Anaxagoras hadn’t expected the spotlight to be shifted onto him, and even though he’s a little uncomfortable thinking about it, he isn’t one to shy away. He’ll give a genuine answer to a genuine question.
“Well,” he begins, sighing heavily. “We didn’t exactly get married for the right reasons, so to speak. We didn’t love each other. We weren’t so much as attracted to each other — even if there was a time we thought we were. She had no interest in men whatsoever, actually. Conversely, I realized I wasn’t especially interested in women either. I suppose she got tired of simply tolerating me, just as I got tired of avoiding her.”
Phainon is silent again for a while, but the air between the two of them doesn’t feel quite as heavy. Truth be told, Anaxagoras felt a little lighter. His relationship with his ex wife, Aglaea, is complex and messy. It’s not exactly something he feels the need to shout about from the rooftops. Even so, it felt good to get a bit of his burden off his chest, even if he’d been somewhat vague.
When Phainon breaks the not-so-uncomfortable silence, he sounds less miserable. “What a serious problem to have. I don’t envy you, Anaxa… goras- Anaxagoras.” Phainon catches his slip up, not wanting to risk his companion’s wrath after getting off so easily last time. “Although, I’d rather not have my own problem, either… I miss being close to someone like that, you know?”
“I don’t, unfortunately,” Anaxagoras responds dryly. “As much as I admittedly would like to, I don’t have any experience on the front of romantic closeness.” He and Aglaea married young, just because they both thought they ought to marry someone who they could put up with. He’d never even dated before then, and had certainly not fallen in love or felt any sort of intense affection. He’d lamented that fact countless times before, but not to a great degree. He simply had other priorities to attend to, and he still does.
Hearing that, Phainon looks thoughtful as he sits quietly. Anaxagoras, on the other hand, has just realized he hasn’t eaten his share yet. Predictably, the pancakes are moist, and cold, and a little bit tasteless too. He tells himself that eating this is better than eating nothing, and finishes every last bite despite how unappealing they are to his senses.
“You know,” Phainon begins once Anaxagoras finishes eating, “I could be someone for you to experience that ‘romantic closeness’ with.”
“… Sorry…?”
Anaxagoras blurts out his question before his brain can catch up, because he’s not entirely sure he heard that right. Meanwhile, Phainon begins to look sheepish. However, much to his own detriment, he’s not one to back down from a challenge. So, he does what must be in his mind the only logical next step, and doubles down.
“Err… Well, I thought that pursuing a romantic relationship of sorts could solve both of our struggles at once.” Phainon is beginning to sound less and less sure of himself as he struggles to explain his reasoning. “I think it would be helpful for me to have someone to focus on to get over Mydei… I… I know he’s not coming back,” he adds sadly. “And if you ever get out and start dating again, it would be good for you to have at least some experience with that, no?”
“You’re kidding.” Anaxagoras has to admit, Phainon’s logic is… well, he can track the line of thought, although he wouldn’t call it a sound conclusion. It has a level of appeal as something new and novel, and it would be safer than having a similar arrangement with a stranger. After all, Anaxagoras trusts Phainon (even when he’s talking nonsense and making bad decisions at bars). Still, something like this couldn’t possibly end well, and he states as much.
Phainon already has a rebuttal. Because of course he does. “Well, if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t have to end badly, you know. We can just pretend it never happened. Besides, we don’t have any feelings for each other, so the stakes are low! At least, I think that’s the case, unless there’s something you want to confess to me?”
His teasing tone of voice has Anaxagoras’ mild disbelief instantly transform into irritation. He doesn’t dignify the question with a response. Instead, he fixes Phainon with a sharp glare usually reserved for especially belligerent students who attend his lectures.
“Look, I won’t push you, but… I would really appreciate if you’d at least think about it.” Phainon slightly smiles, apologetically. Then his eyes widen, and Anaxagoras just knows another hair-brained idea has popped into his head with the way he pauses. Phainon is a bright young man. Smart. Too smart to be spouting such a stupid suggestion. “How about this,” he begins again. Oh, here it comes! Anaxagoras groans internally. “Let’s go out for dinner tonight, have a proper date of sorts. I’ll even pick up the bill. If you hate it, we’ll never talk about this again. If you don’t… Well, I think we can try it out. No strings attached!”
Anaxagoras sighs once more, exasperated. “I suppose I don’t have anything better to do,” he relents. He rather mercifully doesn’t call out Phainon’s use of his shortened name. “You have my number, text me with the place and time. For now, I’m going home.” He doesn’t drag his feet about standing up. He needs some time to process what he just agreed to, which hasn’t fully sunken in at this moment.
“‘Kay!” Phainon sounds a little too pleased for Anaxagoras’ liking. Then again, maybe he’s just relieved at not spending the evening alone. Whatever the case, Anaxagoras doesn’t look back as he takes his leave.
✦✦✦
Brimming with the unfamiliar feeling of uncertainty, Anaxagoras taps his fingers on the steering wheel of his car after pulling into the parking lot. The place Phainon had chosen is a charming little restaurant on the outskirts of town, locally owned. The view of the rural hills leading up to a dotted tree line not far off in the distance alone is enough to justify the long journey there; a forty-minute drive. The Chrysos Grand Maze, that’s what it’s called. It’s seven o’clock on the dot. He’s right on time.
Reluctantly, Anaxagoras steps out of his car. He’s already spotted Phainon at the entrance, looking around and fidgeting in place. It would only be right to end the man’s torment. It is a little reassuring, however, to see that the man looks to be equally as nervous as Anaxagoras about their little “date,” if you could even call it that.
As soon as Phainon catches sight of Anaxagoras approaching, he stills and shoots him that damned bright smile of his. Honestly, with his charm, it probably wouldn’t be hard for him to find anyone else to go out with like this. He’s certainly very attractive. That’s something Anaxagoras would never be able to deny even if he wanted to (not that he does).
“You came!” Phainon beams at him. He genuinely seems delighted to see him.
“Well, I made an agreement, did I not?” Anaxagoras responds coolly, not betraying much emotion. The gentle breeze and the setting sun make for a wonderful atmosphere outside. As the calm wind weaves through his hair and smooths over his skin, he can’t help but relax. It feels like all his worries are being carried away. “It’s… nice. It’s beautiful here.”
Phainon simply hums in agreement. They stand there together, just for a few moments. To not stop and appreciate their surroundings would be a crime against nature, especially with a view like this. The sunset is usually blocked by tall buildings at the bustling heart of the city, but the horizon is clearly visible from here. Vibrant pinks and oranges paint the wispy little clouds in the sky, all while the expanse opposite the sun is a beautiful blueish-purple. It really is a sight to behold.
Unfortunately, because all good things must come to an end, the fragile moment is shattered like glass when an awfully noisy group of people exit the restaurant, hollering about something or other that Anaxagoras doesn’t care to pay attention to. As much as it would have been nice to stand there forever, watching the sunset, going inside to eat is probably something they should get to doing by now.
Ever the gentleman, Phainon holds the door open for Anaxagoras. They walk side-by-side, hands just barely brushing against each other — but nothing more. Inside, the air is warm, but not uncomfortably so. Golden-yellow light bathes the walls, making it feel all the more inviting. It’s not especially spacious. Actually, the restaurant leans more on the cozy side, but it’s certainly not cramped. Guests chatter away and silverware clinks over freshly-cooked meals, but despite how each table is buzzing with life, it’s not overwhelming in the slightest. Phainon picked a good place, Anaxagoras decides.
It doesn’t take long before they’re greeted by a sharply-dressed man at the front, and Phainon requests a table for two outside, on the patio. Yet another excellent choice. They take their seats and are given their menus after being led to their table. Against all expectations, this is shaping up to be a rather pleasant night
“Well, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae, you’ve chosen a superb place for our dinner,” Anaxagoras compliments him. “Let’s hope the food holds up to snuff.” Privately, he thinks he just might agree to that stupid idea of Phainon’s. He must really be hopeless if just a nice atmosphere is already swaying his decision. If the other man manages to impress him at all, he’s doomed for sure.
“Of course it will!” Phainon almost sounds offended at the mere idea of their food being so much as unimpressive. “I come here pretty often,” his voice softens. “Well, as often as I can, anyway. It’s a great place to be, and the food is delicious.”
Anaxagoras hums in mock uncertainty. “Hmm… I guess I’ll have no choice but to trust you. I know you wouldn’t dream of disappointing me.” He feels a little bad teasing his date like this, but he feels even more amused. Plus, any guilt on his conscience is quickly erased by the overly-enthusiastic shake of Phainon’s head.
They don’t end up waiting long, chatting about nothing in particular, before the waitress arrives. Phainon orders a salad, and Anaxagoras orders some meat dish he doesn’t really care to remember the name of. To be completely honest, he doesn’t care what shows up on his plate as long as it’s at least vaguely edible. Still, seeing as Phainon had invited him out with the intention of securing a romantic relationship, he had to raise his standards. If they’re going to do this, Anaxagoras will at least make the other man put in some effort.
Their food arrives remarkably quickly as well. Even if the date doesn’t go well, he makes a mental note to return here, if only for the wonderful atmosphere and excellent service. Phainon doesn’t hesitate to dig in, and Anaxagoras tentatively takes a bite of his own meal, and wow. Phainon wasn’t lying, the food really is delicious. In fact, it’s superb.
…Yet, despite how amazing it is, Anaxagoras can’t bring himself to stomach very much. He can feel his mind folding it on itself as anxiety crawls under his skin. He’s never been treated out like this before, he’s never even been on a proper date. It’s almost pathetic at his age, but it’s the truth. There’s nothing in particular that worries him, or at least not that he can identify. Maybe it’s just the new situation, or the embarrassment at never having done this before, or even something as silly and childish as the prospect of going on a date with someone who could have anyone they want.
And that someone sitting across from him, ever observant, takes notice of the way he’s hardly touched his plate.
“What’s wrong?” Phainon wastes no time in asking, his voice is laced with concern. Hardly anything slips past him. It’s a praise-worthy trait, but right now Anaxagoras is finding his tendency to notice everything to be rather annoying. “Is the food not good? Are you feeling okay?”
“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Anaxagoras responds after clearing his throat uncomfortably. He knows that a lackluster “I’m fine” would be scarcely believable at best, especially to someone as sensitive to changes in others as Phainon. Opting for honesty in all their past interactions has gone well thus far, so that’s what he decides to do here as well. “You may or may not be aware that I’ve never actually… done this before. I’m a fish out of water, so to speak.”
Anaxagoras doesn’t miss the fleeting glimmer of relief in the other man’s eyes. He really does love this place, huh? “I had guessed,” Phainon says, almost reluctantly. “I get it though. I’m honestly pretty nervous, too,” he admits. That fact hadn’t been difficult to ascertain, what with the incessant bouncing of his leg. “If you want, we can call this whole thing off. I’ll level with you, I’m pretty desperate for affection right now and… well, I think you deserve someone who’s crazy about you over someone who wants a kind of transactional sort of relationship.”
Even though the circumstances are unromantic, Anaxagoras thinks it’s a sweet thing to say. He also notes, rather importantly, that Phainon is taking his wellbeing and comfort into heavy consideration. Maybe this stupid little potential arrangement could work well in both their favor.
“I appreciate the thought, but I’m not especially interested in putting my heart out there at the moment,” Anaxagoras answers after a few seconds of contemplation. “There’s no need to put a stop to things before they’ve even started. Besides,” he continues before Phainon can interject, “I have as much to gain from this little escapade as you do. You said so yourself.”
Looking a little like a deer in headlights, Phainon huffs good-naturedly. “I suppose I can’t argue with that.”
“No, you can’t,” Anaxagoras confirms.
“Then, that means we’re doing this…?”
“Yes, we are. Unless,” He just can’t hold himself back from teasing and prodding a little more. “you’re having second thoughts? You won’t get cold feet now, will you?”
Phainon replies a little too hurriedly, “No, of course not!” Good. His eagerness is awfully endearing. Whoever ends up dating this man properly will certainly be able to count themself lucky.
Though they don’t talk much after that, the air between them is much lighter as they finish their meal. The anxiety that had burrowed into Anaxagoras’ chest has almost completely dissipated. He feels remarkably comfortable. Maybe, just maybe, he can get used to this. Once they’re done, Phainon flags down the waitress and keeps his promise of paying the bill. “Maybe I’ll let you split it next time,” he says teasingly.
With that, their date draws to a close. Anaxagoras would consider it a success. As they stand up, rather unexpectedly, Phainon holds out his hand for his companion to take. That said, maybe it isn’t so surprising after all. Phainon has always been sort of the romantic type, even though it could be argued that romantic gestures aren’t necessary in a situation like this. Regardless of what could or could not be argued, Anaxagoras takes his hand — although he doesn’t intertwine their fingers — and allows himself to be led away.
The dark night sky has settled over the city of Okhema by now. There’s scarce lighting in this rural part of town, and the restaurant doesn’t have especially bright lights out front, so it’s much easier to see the stars from here. Just like the colorful sunset about an hour before, it truly is beautiful. Crickets chirp somewhere unseen, singing hopefully in search of a mate.
Phainon’s palm is warm in his, and he holds on with a comforting sort of firmness that gets close to being a little too tight, but not quite. Anaxagoras almost doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t, at least not while he leads Phainon over to his car. He’s parked some distance away, so he gets to savor each precious second that their hands are joined.
Unfortunately, he eventually has to break away to dig in his bag for his keys. He pretends he doesn’t mourn the loss of contact. Once his vehicle is unlocked, he turns back and looks Phainon square in the eye. “I’m glad I came,” he confesses. “And, I look forward to our relationship moving forward.”
“I’m glad too,” Phainon says softly. He looks like he wants to say something more, do something more, but he doesn’t. Anaxagoras doesn’t point it out. Instead, the man coughs and reaches out to tuck a stray strand of mint-green hair behind his ear. “Will you text me when you get home? Drive safe, okay?”
Anaxagoras pays no mind to the way his heart beats just one rate faster at the action. He doesn’t even notice. “I will,” he agrees. Without saying anything more, he steps into his car, and hastily pulls out of the lot. He can feel Phainon’s eyes on him, but he does everything he can to ignore it. His mind is alive with a sort of buzzing, though it’s not unpleasant.
Yes… This will be a fruitful arrangement, indeed.