Archive of Our Own

Phainon likes to think he is Mydei’s biggest fan. And also well, thankfully, friend and sort-of-rival before all of that, at least.  

It’s an open secret between them that Phainon has almost an entire room dedicated to Mydei’s merchandise ever since he’d started his basically sort-of-professional career as nothing less than a rock star. (Mydei says he’s just making music and performing on okay-sized stages for nice-audiences but Aglaea definitely doesn’t just market her up-and-coming best selling act as just a musician - ) 

They’d actually been roommates in college, and a little after that, sharing an apartment that Phainon's now taken over mostly and continues living in. (He prefers the words sentimental and loyal over, perhaps, hopelessly pathetic - )

They’d both attended business school - Phainon hadn’t really put too much thought into it, just went with the flow since it seemed like something useful to have under his belt. Didn’t his aunt back in the suburbs always say his sunny disposition and somewhat chatty nature would do him well in sales?

Mydei though, had been sent there by his father. His family ran a huge multinational conglomerate (so Phainon has heard) but Mydei had wanted nothing to do with it, not until he’d lived life on his own terms -

(Aglaea had always sort of been in the orbit of Mydei’s family - even if their companies empires weren’t in the same industry, Aglaea had caught wind of the heir apparent’s disdain for the future his father had attempted to cement for him, offering Mydei the opportunity of an alternative pathway - )

In that whole time they’d stayed together, nothing ever really happened. Well, except for Phainon developing the biggest, most humongous crush on his room mate —

But that was all he’d ever been (be?) - the steadfast supporter-slash-(verbal) sparring partner for Mydei; the one who saw him through his highs and lows, and occasionally helped keep Mydei’s mother updated on how her son was doing when the latter would sometimes be too busy to reply immediately (his parents were estranged after all) —

(When are you going to tell him, dear? A meek lion never gets its prize —

Haha, I’ve never heard that saying before! Did you make it up on your own, Mrs. Gorgo?

Don’t change the subject, Phainon —)

It was good enough for him. This - whatever it was - was good enough for Phainon. And, so he thought, it must be good enough for Mydei too, as long as Mydei would have him. 

On stage, Mydei exudes the aura of something like a sex god but Phainon knows it’s not his true character. The poise and confidence just comes naturally to him - and the magnetism that pulls people in - coupled with fiery eyes of molten gold, and it certainly doesn’t hurt that the man has an above average, shall we say, dedication to the gym and nutrition - 

(Phainon thinks he is a jealous, petty man - that he both resents that so many more people are able to witness Mydei like this now, when he was the one at the start of it all, yet also takes vain pride in that he was still the one Mydei seems to actually pay attention and stay close to - )

But what Phainon doesn’t know, preoccupied with his own misgivings and insecurities, is that every time Mydei performs - even through the blinding lights, scattered smoke and haze, and the cacophony of sounds -

Mydei always always scans the crowd, searching almost desperately - like his life depended on it somehow - for a head of silver and divine sky blue eyes. And sometimes, when Phainon manages to snag front row, Mydei even sees that dopey, lopsided gorgeous smile — 

That he can do this because Phainon is right there next to him, having his metaphorical back - 

Always.

This time, Phainon manages to nab a single first row seat at centre stage for Mydei’s show (well, technically, he’s sort of a plant - Hyacine had passed him the ticket earlier backstage and briefed him on the general gist of what was going to happen - )

It’s midway through the concert and the crowd is already whipped up to the height of excitement - Mydei is taking a water break, his back to the audience as they chant his name (Phainon is utterly buzzing with anticipation, though he’s trying his hardest to keep a cool facade on because Miss Aglaea said to please have some bit of a poker face, Mr. Phainon, Hyacine had awkwardly chuckled out - )

The sudden roar from the crowd jerks Phainon out of his thoughts, as he sees Mydei turn back around with one hand still on his crimson guitar, and another holding a marker pen - oh, this is it - starts stalking towards where Phainon is standing, steps fluid and confident, doesn’t even pause as he bends down on one knee - proceeds to take the cap off with just his teeth - 

The look Mydei gives, even though he’s probably just concentrating on maybe not stabbing Phainon in the eye as he starts putting ink into Phainon’s cheek, is unintentionally smouldering, eyes half-lidded and brows slightly furrowed - Phainon feels so giddy he thinks he might genuinely faint - 

(They hadn’t agreed upon exactly where Mydei was going to sign his name so somehow they just run with it and - )

The fans around Phainon don’t know that it’s all a set up - or maybe don’t even care perhaps - everyone bathing in the atmosphere, adrenaline, and high of the live show - Mydei was right there after all, within arm’s reach - the cheering grows to a fever pitch as Mydei finishes the autograph, and Phainon can feel the joyous, excited envy in the eyes on him - 

(But all Phainon is looking at is Mydei, and - maybe it’s just a trick of the lighting - he thinks that bright halo around the other man really does suit him.)

A deep frown sets itself into Mydei’s features - he's so engrossed in trying to rub out the lettering on Phainon’s cheek that their current proximity doesn’t even seem to register bother him - 

A grit of teeth (though Phainon does wonder if any of it is directed more at Mydei himself than - ) “Did the smoke effects get into your brain - why offer here of all places, idiot - “ 

Phainon has to almost bite down on his tongue to stop himself from blurting out your idiot -

“You’re the one who signed my face - “

“I—“ Mydei looks almost hurt - maybe he was just offended - before his expression shifts back to being disgruntled, huffs out a short breath and clicks his tongue, “I didn’t think they’d pass me a permanent marker to use —“ 

Phainon takes it all in his stride, an airy laugh, blue eyes almost sparkling - how can he not, when Mydei was just a hair’s breadth away, hand on his cheek, thumbing at his cheekbone (even though it’s probably just to try and scrub off whatever letter he’d hastily signed onto Phainon’s skin - slams shut whatever thought that was starting to from, something appealing about being marked as Mydei’s - )

“It’ll come off eventually, don’t be too harsh on your staff - “ a roll of golden eyes - “They have a hard time supporting you after all - ” (that’s not very fair - Mydei treats almost everyone with the respect they deserve, more so the ones he works with directly - )

“What’s that supposed to mean - ” 

Another laugh, another jibe, until he’s riled Mydei up enough that the latter starts cursing in some Latin tongue he’d had to learn when he was still a young heir under his father’s directives, a language or dialect that Phainon’s never managed to pick up even after all this time -

(In the end, maybe it’s all just a ploy, Phainon thinks - to distract Mydei long enough that he doesn’t think too hard about the position they were still in -

Phainon doesn’t know when he’d ever have a chance like this again anyway.)

The door to Phainon’s apartment opens and slams shut unceremoniously - and he would be way more worried about a possible intruder if it weren’t for how quickly he hears the person basically drop themself onto his couch with a frustrated sigh -

(And Phainon would recognise that sound anywhere - )

Pops his head out of his room and -

Sure enough, Mydei sits with both arms outstretched to the sides, spanning the headrest of the couch, head tilted back so Phainon can’t see his expression - 

“What do we have here? What’s gotten the high and mighty Mydeimos all down like that?”

He makes his way towards Mydei, steps purposely slow, steady - they sparred with words and taunts and some frankly inane challenges, but their actions always spoke louder - what’s wrong - I’m here now - you can tell me -

Mydei doesn’t even shift his arm away when Phainon settles down next to him, so Phainon instantly knows - softens and - 

“Is it your dad?”

(A nod. Phainon swallows and slaps the snap of anger he feels back into somewhere labelled it’s not about you right now - )

“The usual? I hope he didn’t go down to the agency again this time - “

“No. Just a phone call.”

(Nights like these - always makes Phainon wish they were something more - that he could hold Mydei close and mutter reassurances into sunset hair, wave away all of Mydei’s worries that he doesn’t show to anyone else - but he doesn’t know, maybe will never know, and all Phainon can do in return is clap a hand onto Mydei’s shoulder and smile like his heart isn’t splintering from the action - )

“That’s better, at least.” 

(It’s not enough, it was never enough —

But it would have to be.)

It's another day, another show - and Phainon finds himself once again in Mydei's dressing room (a different one), seated on a couch this time, looking yet not really looking at Mydei's reflection in the large mirror as the latter gets ready for his performance -

(Mydei's not looking at him as well, focused on getting the bright red eyeliner just right - so Phainon's mind wanders and wonders - about -

A grimace, Phainon can't help it - not when the spiral takes hold and shoves lamenting thoughts like when would Mydei finally drift out of reach for him - )

"Phainon."

"Yeah?" He replies Mydei immediately out of instinct, an almost plastic smile easily adorning his lips in response - it's basically second nature for Phainon - but the mask falters a little when he notices that Mydei has turned around now, expression almost unreadable -

“Kiss me."

(Phainon's mind does its best imitation of a flaming car crash careening off a cliff - )

“Wha- hah, i-is it for some act in your show later?” Fuck - (it shouldn't fill him with despondent rage - ) “I-I wonder who’ll be the lucky person - “

“No," Mydei answers simply. “And in that sense, I suppose the lucky person is you—

"Unless… I’ve misread you in all the time I’ve known you, and you’re more of a coward than I ever realised.” 

The world stops and freezes on its axis - Phainon can’t hear anything for a good few moments besides his heart thundering in his chest (he thinks it might just spontaneously grow legs and leap out of his throat) - he’s not even aware his jaw has been slack the entire time he’s staring wide eyed at Mydei (the latter still leaning almost too casually with his back against the table, arms crossed over each other - just waiting, patient, even as something resolve - desire - burns aureate in his eyes - )

Phainon’s mind races to give reasons and excuses and no way, surely not - until - 

A meek lion never gets its prize -

Of course this is exactly how Mydei gets him - a baited challenge that neither of them really loses at anyway - 

Steels himself, steels his mind, steels his own resolve - Mydei is right there, extending his hand (figuratively), could Phainon really not rise to this challenge in return? - gets up from the couch and strides over to Mydei, so swiftly and decisively that he sees Mydei blink once, twice at his approach, brows rising into his hairline in mild surprise even - 

- before he places both hands on either side of Mydei's jawline, thumbs brushing against the jut of the other’s cheekbones - gently, tenderly, reverently - angles them just right and - 

(Of course they’d slot together perfect - the only doubt had always just been in Phainon’s own mind, the walls and pedestals he’d built out of his own insecurities - )

When they pull apart again - just a tad, breaths mingling and smiles still touching - Mydei huffs out a small breath (Phainon doesn’t know how he can take all of this so well, as always), the edges of his lips tugging up in a self-satisfied smirk, “Finally… you’ve been thinking of doing this for a while now.”

Even at Mydei’s words, Phainon doesn’t feel like he’s lost (the grin that’s threatening to split his face says as much), “How’d you know?”

The smirk grows a little wider, a little sharper - “…Now I know for sure - ”

A bark of laughter, but it does nothing to dull the shine in crystal blue eyes - “Hah, sneaky bastard - “

Phainon quickly leans in again, and -

(Maybe, it can finally be more than just enough.)