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Though the Astral Express is quiet, the usual residents having gone to sleep already, the kitchen still simmers, with a blond man keeping watch over his borrowed pot gently, the blue filter hanging low over his head— something Himeko must have manually set before she went to bed. His lover would still be awake— like him, those who set foot on Amphoreus haven’t been able to sleep since. He expects Tribios in all her grown glory to stalk down the hall soon, looking at the stars his love lives in— has lived in for a while now.
But for now, the corridors are quiet, all except here , and Mydeimos is content with that.
“You shouldn’t be scurrying around, [name].” he whispers into the dark as the pot threatens to gently boil over. He doesn’t even have to turn to know it’s you. “Come here.”
You pad over blearily, eyes half-open like you were in the middle of trying to sleep, and like all those who had left Amphoreus, you had failed. Again. “Smells good.” you murmur, arm intertwining with his, bicep-to-bicep. His warmth seeps into you like a heavy blanket, though it still isn’t even to chase your sleeplessness away.
Mydei doesn’t answer— he rarely does, for the art he calls cooking demands his every bit of attention and care— staring at the pot before stirring, pausing to switch off the stove before gently asking you to grab some plates.
“Made enough for you and me?” you ask, though you never have to think about the answer— it’s always the same. “And more, just in case.”
The two of you silently pad your way to a section of the Party car, the lights dim enough where you struggle to see his face, but bright enough that you know he’s there. It’s been long enough since Amphoreus that neither of you need to struggle like this— hiding from the implications of what this journey means, what him and the rest of the Chrysos Heirs being here means.
All except Phainon , your mind unhelpfully supplies, and you take a larger bite of the hot porridge to shut it up.
“I was thinking.” Mydei murmurs, breaking the somewhat-easy silence that laid between the both of you. Of course, calling it somewhat easy was a delusion neither of you could afford— one heir was missing, for reasons yet unknown, and what this journey had to offer the both of you, including your death in Amphoreus, your silent confession as he drove his spear through your heart, with all the fury of a Titan filled with hate, and—
“What if— we’re not meant to find him? Phainon, I mean.”
You stay silent, not having an answer to give him. “From what we know, and what we’ve been told— Phainon wasn’t… wasn’t exactly real , was he.” Not a question, a statement— perhaps of defeat, or perhaps of something else.
“I don’t think there’s an answer to that, to be honest.” you murmur back, and for a minute, you wonder if you’re hallucinating the shudder that ripples through Mydei’s muscles. You pause, wondering what to say, choosing instead to sample the porridge cooling in your bowl.
The flavours burst on your tongue and in your mind, a perfect constellation of myriad flavours you weren’t sure had sourced correctly from Penacony, the Xianzhou Luofu, and Amphoreus itself. “ Oh , Mydei, this is wonderful .” For all your compliment’s worth, Mydei flushes, the skin under his red tattoos and inking turning a shade of pink.
“But to answer your question— I really don’t think there’s one answer to that, if you get what I mean.” you start, placing your bowl in the narrowing space between the two of you— a space so wide, yet so little. “I’ve seen a lot of worlds before Amphoreus. Things.. get complicated, sometimes. People— I mean, they’re complicated.” You shudder lightly underneath your own skin, but no matter how much you try, you feel like the point that’s attempting to come out should come out.
Exist in this narrowing and yet ever-wide space between the two of you.
"People don’t always make sense, either. Sometimes, they’re just men , and other times, they’ve become these… myths , you know? Mythified through the hope, rage, sadness of others, they… strive to be the best versions of themselves, through everything they’ve gone through, and yet, the mythification is what kills them, in the end. I have a feeling that’s what happened.”
You don’t say the name. His name, though it hangs low in the air, low enough that it drips between the space you and Mydeimos created together, like the tears of the soul the two of you thought you knew. Maybe you did truly know him, or maybe, he’d never existed at all, a figment of a final memory, the final regrets of a dying ravager. Neither does Mydei, though you see his Adam’s apple bob up and down, like an actual apple floating down the river to nowhere.
“Would it— would it have been easier, if any of us had stepped in?” Mydei whispers hoarsely, the now-empty bowls of porridge abandoned in the space between the two of you, and you hesitate, inching close enough to him that the bowls clatter in the emptiness. “F—for him.”
“Maybe.” you murmur, now close enough to be seated on his lap. “Maybe so. But you know him, Mydei. Would he have taken it?”
“Maybe not.” Mydei’s response is light, a touch too light— feathery for the discussion of the night. “After all, he was— he was always built for the light. The center of the story, the glorious epic that our lives were made out to be. And yet—” Mydei pauses, doing a dramatic wave to show off his surroundings, “He is not here to enjoy it.”
“What does that say about you— the ‘not built for the light’?” you ask, pushing away the topic at hand.
“Is it… not true? The Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos, who prefers to be… surrounded by spices and overgrown weeds rather than the cries of the damned and the blood of the cruel and honourless?”
“I’d rather be aurrounded by spices and overgrown weeds than the cries of the damned and honourless.” you respond smoothly, raising an eyebrow. “But I digress. I’d follow you anywhere, Mydei. I hope you know that, and that you believe me.”
Mydei chuckles, the timber sending a raw shiver through your spine. “I know you would, and yet, I have difficulty believing it.” he shifts a little in his place, reaching for your hand. “You have always been honest with me— not just with me, with Tribios, with Agalaea, with Anaxagoras— everyone I can think of or count on my hands. Of course, Dan Heng as well, the people on the Astral Express as well, but….” he pauses, looking away from you for the first time in a long time.
“I thought… that I had lost you that day. Lost any chance of— anything . Anything we’d dreamt of apart from what we’d discussed that night.” Mydei’s voice cracks like ice that grew too weary, too think, and the gap between the two of you feels like one of Belobog’s eternal glaciers. “When I—when I thought you were gone, all I could think was, ‘I never told them.’ Not properly. Not enough.”
“You never had to, Mydei. You were just as honest with me the entire time. I didn’t need to hear anything specific or special for that.” This time, it feels like the glacier halts, before time itself reverses, as if you still had access to Oronyx’s divine power.
Your fingers thread through his. You feel the tremor in his grip— like something inside him has just broken open, and the flood is warm and safe, with things left unspoken for sometime else. He doesn’t speak again. He just rests his forehead against yours.
“I’m tired.” he whispers against your cheek as you nod. “Shall we head back to bed?” All you can do is nod as he lifts you up gently, carrying you over the threshold between the party car and your room. It feels almost romantic, the pain and the love that courses through your veins and your heart, and you would cry if you had the energy to.
“I don’t know what story you want to write that has me in it— us in it— but regardless, until we reach our Era Nova, I’ll follow you anywhere. Your command, my weapons.” Mydei whispers as he tucks you in before shortly joining you.
“Can I have your heart and soul instead?” you murmur, the world around you slowly turning a deep black. “And your cooking. No more fighting. Not for a long, long time, Mydei.”
“Of course, my love. Rest well. I shall be here when you rise for the new day.” you hear as your eyes close against your will. For the first time in weeks, in the quiet press of his chest against your back, in the breath shared and steady, you sleep.
This time, you dream of wonderful things.
And he stays.