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Summary
There was no one else whom he could communicate his woes to, simply because his woes did not come verbally, but through blood, fists, and action.
And, even then—
The taste of Phainon on his lips still lingered.
Lifting a hand, Mydei covered his mouth with his fingertips, feeling the ghost of another man press closer into him. If he closed his eyes and grasped the memory a little firmer, he’d recall the way their bloodied lips would clash—teeth on teeth— and the bruises they'd leave across each other’s bodies. Whether they were fighting in battle or in bed, the differences mattered little.
All was fair in love and war.
After Phainon leaves to face Nikador in his trial, Mydei finds himself alone on the rooftop, trying to reconcile his feelings about Phainon only to be plagued by the memory of him.