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Their kisses were always silent.
It had become a normal occurrence. When Mydei got too annoyed by Phainon’s “complete idiocy”, he kissed the other to, by other means, say shut up. Phainon replied to the kisses, and even moreso, whenever Mydei did something for him, being caring towards him in a manner that just screams Mydei, or, just when he felt like it. They shared a kiss like it was nothing, like it didn’t mean anything, but oh. Oh, it did.
On the contrary, Phainon would think to himself, they meant everything.
The kisses were quick and chaste, their lips pressed together softly, and then parting right after. Phainon never got to have more than just a taste, but being so close, Mydei’s gauntlet on his waist or guiding his face in the right direction before going away just as quick, that was more than enough. He could smell the pomegranate, the iron, the smoke, the deep sea - everything Mydei had gone through, everything he was comfortable enough to tell him, everything he’s willing to offer. He could also feel the warmth, feel how tender those fleeting moments were, how his love for the man just grows and grows and grows, and it may never stop.
Mydei doesn’t make noises. Not when they kiss. For a man so fierce on the battlefield, his touches were gentle and patient, they lingered for just a few seconds before always, always pulling away. Phainon wanted to chase after them, stepping closer, but he knew he couldn’t. So he never did. Mydei only hesitated when it came to other people, to the people he thought dearly of, and that became his weakness. Phainon wasn’t so selfish as to lead him to his doom like that. But occasionally, the thought of being the prince’s only weak point was a tempting one - That would mean they could be together for longer, that would mean they can accept each other, Phainon could protect himself and Mydei, and this doomed world did not matter. But they could not. He could not. This world needed saving, Mydei’s people were counting on him, and responsibilities were not something one could easily throw away.
They never spoke out loud, those feelings that had become so big they got too hard to conceal, but they tried, for the other’s sake. Because once the words were formed, it was over. They did not dare step over that line, when parting days were to come, and both of them knew it. Mydei knew that Phainon had lost everything, once. He could not be so cruel.
They talked about shared responsibility. They talked about bitter pasts. Mydei told him about how dark it was, under the Sea of Souls, and Phainon remembered the blazing flames that swallowed his whole being, leaving behind a child with nowhere to turn to, his name forgotten, buried under the prophecy of one day saving the world. Mydei told the stories of heroes and companions, their dead came, but with pride and blessings for the crown prince - their only trust. Phainon thought about her pink hair under the warmth of the sun, on that field he missed so dearly, about her death that came too early, her words echoed back like a hazy dream. And Mydei kissed him. A soft comfort, a way to say I’m here. Not forever, but here, now, with you. They were together. The scars could never be erased, unlike his immortal body, but they ached less under his touch.
They were there. The feelings. He acknowledged them, and so did Mydei. Hence the kisses. The lingering moments, the ways their hands touched lightly, the occasionally half-hugs. Every kiss held the most vulnerable confession. Mydei let Phainon circle his arms around his neck, nuzzling into him, inhaling the scent he loved, and would miss so, so much. They never spoke about the tears, the deep loneliness in Phainon’s deep blue eyes, and the tenderness in Mydei’s gaze, reserved only for him at that moment.
They always knew it would never last.
So when Mydei decided, Phainon already knew the answer. The parting moment, unlike their fleeting kisses, feel too long, and cut deeper than any blades. Phainon could never hide himself in front of him, his expression bare, a mix of knowing, acceptance, and longing. Longing for something more, for whatever they could have had, for a life where this would never happen. Mydei knows. He always knows.
So he gave him that: the promise of the afterlife.
Not only his weakness, Mydei gave him what might seem uncertain, but just what Phainon needs. In this life, they can never have more, so he promises him that maybe, just maybe, after all these - all the world saving, all the heroic acts - are over, he can say the words out loud.
And if our hearts remain beating
Will you keep the promise to me?
“May triumph always be yours, Mydeimos.”
May we meet again, the threads connecting us, even in the afterlife. Phainon will allow himself to cry after, but they part ways with the most beautiful smile.
The last kiss is silent, but speaks more than they can ever tell. And that’s enough.