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“I... really don’t think you should see me like this, partner.”
There was an anxious waver lingering within Phainon’s voice as he addressed you from behind the nearby wall; a broken, unsure cadence familiar to your ears, but deeply foreign as it rang forth from his lips.
It was hard not to frown at his desperately uttered sentiments, but it didn’t come as a complete surprise. After all, upon the days that followed both the retrieval of Kephale’s Coreflame and the subsequent beginning of Era Nova’s end, Phainon had grown increasingly distant.
It had stung, of course, being gradually pushed away by the very man who had already sworn nearly everything to protect you from whatever turmoil that’d erupt—and was, already, erupting—upon the disintegrating planet, not realizing that he was actively hurting you in the process, but you tried to regard the circumstances with as much understanding as your wounded heart would allow.
Still, never once did you suspect he’d ever go so far as to physically avoid you, too.
But despite all your growing fears of abandonment and the countless streams of resentful thoughts that had trickled forth from them, you swallowed down any trace of the biting poison that resided upon your tongue, and lathered your words with the patience you knew was far more productive to possess.
The vile aftertaste of the hastily downed bitterness had burned your throat, but you knew it was only a small price to pay to maintain a bond once so sweet.
“You’ve avoided me for the past few mornings,” you finally stated, silently praying none of your deeply bruised feelings would surface. “You’ve hid behind pillars, slipped off into abandoned corridors...” you trailed off with a frown. “Whatever it is, it can’t possibly be as dire as you so clearly fear.”
A small, shaky chuckle from the other side proved he was still there, still listening.
“You’re right,” Phainon agreed, and it had lifted up your hopes for only a second, before they were chased back down with a weary sigh. “...it’s worse.”
“Phainon.”
The stubborn man didn't yield, even at your utterance of his name. “I know,” he whispered, despite his own cluelessness. “I know what you're thinking—that we’ve stuck to each other's side through thick and through thin, rejoiced in both our highs, and tried to cheer the other up at both our lows...”
He took a breath before he continued. “But, this is... different. This-”
“Phainon.”
You were pleased by the silence that had followed—it always was hard for him to outshine your own obstinance, after all.
“...amidst all this chaos and all this uncertainty, I really just wish to see you again.”
In light of your earnest sincerity, Phainon allowed for nothing to escape in response; not a word was uttered, nor did even a single sigh escape past the separating barrier. All you could hear was a series of light tapping noises against the surface—rhythmic, yet hurried, steady, yet unassured.
This time, his silence had worried you.
“I think,” Phainon continued after moments had passed, as if he had taken the time to deeply mull over your words. “...that if you’re trying to avoid any sort of ‘chaos’ in your life, then I’m right, and I really should stay behind this wall.”
“Oh, please.” you brushed his words off with a huff, growing weary of your unwilling role in this endless song-and-dance. “...how bad can it really be?”
You swore you heard a soft gulp.
“...very bad?”
It had taken an arduous amount of restraint to force down a harsh groan that, judging by Phainon’s current tone alone, would’ve certainly deflated him into a completely pitiful pile, but you willingly did it for his sake.
“My love,” you uttered the endearment abruptly, before softening your voice down to a pleading whisper. “...please.”
It was a terribly cheap tactic, but it was one you had indeed learned and mastered from the indirect guidance of the very worst. After all, the master must’ve surely been even the slightest bit fallible to the very weaknesses he exploited?
The small, hushed ‘that’s hardly fair...’ you heard Phainon whisper—whine?—underneath his breath already allowed you to picture the pitiful expression upon his features, from the slight frown upon his lips, to the widening of his pupils as he immediately yearned to rectify his mistakes.
“...I never could say no to you, could I?”
Upon his confession, a bitter, resigned sigh had escaped him, as if Phainon had finally accepted his own fate.
“But... you can’t say I never warned you.”
Even amidst such a dire situation, you couldn’t help but crack a weak smile at the familiar words. It was a phrase that once would’ve forced a loving wince out of you in happier times, but now, you were just thankful to be even brief acquaintances with a fleeting touch of normalcy at all.
As expectant as you were to hear approaching footsteps, tapping against the shared ground beneath both your feet, you were taken aback by the stillness that followed. Even if you could somehow sense that Phainon’s presence was drawing near, you weren’t certain as to how that was.
That was, of course, until Phainon finally revealed himself.
What stood—moreso hovered, really—in what you had expected to be Phainon’s place, was a floating figure that strongly resembled a man of similar stature, if not just the slightest bit taller.
The first difference you had recognized was his hair, once a comforting shade of snow-white and lightly fluffed, now a glowing hue of pale gold, unruly and tousled about. Phainon’s sudden lack of the typical armor that adorned his body was the next thing you noted, as unfamiliar wings of black and gold shielded his form away from your perception, the shiny, nearly mechanical plumes wrapped around his torso like a curtain that hid away all of his shame.
You finally looked up to meet his eyes, hoping to still see the same pair of aquamarine you’ve familiarized yourself with, only to gaze upon shimmering gold instead.
The man who levitated before you might’ve looked so vastly different compared to what you’ve always known, but despite all the physical changes that might’ve separated one from the other, deep down you could tell it was still him.
And as you cast your gaze upon the spiked, gleaming halo that clung behind Phainon’s head and bathed his form anew with warm, ethereal light, you swore he was a sight ripped straight out of a myth of old, a celestial vision bestowed upon only a select few.
You weren’t scared like he had feared you to be, no.
Matter of fact, it was hard to feel anything but downright awe at the sight.
Still, in light of your sudden brush with speechlessness, Phainon’s lips obliviously downturned.
“...you must think it’s pretty bad, too.”
Phainon’s voice, despite his tensed features, was still soft, as if he had already resigned himself to the likes of his false beliefs, yet remained so dejected because of them.
It was then you swore to yourself you never wished to hear the once-beaming man sound so uncertain ever again.
“What? No, you look-”
“Like a monster, prepping himself to strike?” he guessed.
“No!” you cried out, your boiling frustrations over his lack of understanding starting to spill over into your words. “We’ve both seen monsters before. We’ve both seen the depraved hunger in the eyes of the creatures consumed by the Black Tide, the crazed bloodlust radiating off the corrupted Titankin—we’ve even both been on the receiving end of the Flame Reaver’s blade!”
You paused, hastily chasing after the air that eluded you upon your spiel.
“We’ve both seen the very epitome of evil before, my love—”
Even as your gait trembled, with every step more cautious than the last, you stood before him, closer than either of you expected to be.
“—and I’m positive you couldn't look anything less alike.”
Phainon had froze at your words, a slightly hitched intake of breath giving his surprise away.
The silence that fell upon the atmosphere was solely broken up by the pattering of more careful strides towards him, all gentle in their approach, treating him as if he were a wounded stray at high risk of snapping forth to protect himself.
But even despite his new, slightly imposing visage, Phainon remained incredibly docile.
“You really are breathtaking.” you whispered with earnest reverence.
Phainon chuckled weakly before he shook his head. “You know, if I were you, I’d... probably be running away from me in utter fear.”
“Right, well,” you clicked your tongue, unable to prevent the smile that soon formed. “...you’re also sometimes an idiot, so...”
Cautiously, you lifted up your hand and cradled Phainon’s cheek against your palm, the surface of his pale skin surprisingly warm against the thumb you stroked it with.
“...maybe it’d be for the best if I didn't always listen to what you’d do in my shoes, yeah?”
It didn't take long for Phainon to lean—no, melt, into your soothing touch.
As your fingers reached skyward to thread themselves through his mussed locks of ivory, it was if your presence alone had been what finally stilled him, as Phainon all but clung to you like a scared, helpless puppy would still cling to a beloved tattered toy, his arms firmly wrapping around you and pressing you closer against him as if you were the very fragile, fraying tapestry that upheld what little remained of his diminishing stability.
Maybe because to him, that's nearly what you were.
And as you basked in the comfort of his embrace—even if it had, indeed, felt far stronger than the likes of the ones he bestowed from his other form’s arms—you willingly molded yourself against Phainon’s frame in kind, bathing yourself in the pleasant, perfect warmth that radiated from his body, breathing in the sweet scent of the morning's dreary dew that had bonded itself to his skin.
Phainon soon turned his head and pressed fleeting kisses to the skin of your palm, his eyes squeezed shut, as if this were a blissful dream he had no desire to rouse from.
“I’m sorry for avoiding you.” Phainon murmured, further sealing his apologies against your hand with another press of his lips, the brief touch nearly trembling, as if he’d rather soon perish than to allow for even a mere inch of your palm to go unloved.
You deeply loathed the waver that remained in his voice.
“It’s alright,” you tried your best to soothe, hugging him ever closer. “...the past few days have been absolute living nightmares. I could never fault you for falling prey to any stressful whims.”
Phainon didn't respond further, stiffening at what you presumed was the reminder of all the discord that wreaked havoc upon the surrounding world. Before you could apologize for bringing such a depressing topic up, however, the man had scooped you closer and floated down until you both rested upon the ground, propping you upright against the wall that once separated you, before choosing to rest his head against your lap.
You froze.
Hesitant to break the tranquility of the moment, and even more reluctant to shatter the peaceful expression upon Phainon’s features that had only grown to be an increasingly rare sight as of late, you didn’t dare question his actions, choosing instead to resume rubbing soothing circles against his warm scalp.
“...angel?”
Your fingertips stilled at the abruptly whispered name, and you were quick to glance down towards the source.
What had met your gaze was the precious sight of Phainon looking up at you through long lashes, his softened, golden eyes gleaming—tenderly, pleadingly so—with the same levels of potency as the bright blue you’ve always known.
He then grabbed onto one of your hands—utterly careful with exactly how he had grasped it, solely so that the gilded claws of his armor would not penetrate your flesh and draw pointless blood—and squeezed it within the confines of his own, firm enough to ground himself in the moment, firm enough to remind himself that yes, you truly were there with him.
Phainon’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.
“I never wish to live a life where you’re not there by my side, you know.” he confessed quietly.
It was such a profound thing to admit so suddenly, but you knew why he had done so; Phainon’s life had always been dotted and dashed with countless loss after loss, and so he must’ve feared that you...
You squeezed his hand in return.
“I... I don’t think you ever will.”
Of course, you both knew that neither of you could ever wholeheartedly afford to keep such a lofty promise, but you were more than willing to take your chances upon whispering flimsy sentiments none could ever fulfill, if it meant your beloved hero could finally find some temporary semblance of rest.
And it must’ve worked, because the tension that had once left Phainon’s shoulders haggard seemed to have ebbed away at your reassurances, which only encouraged him to hold you even closer, his arms now lazily draped over atop your legs.
“Mm, good.” Phainon finally whispered against your thighs, his voice slightly muffled.
Your heart warmed at his sleepy murmur, your hands still idly playing with his hair.
“Why ‘ good?’ ”
“...because you really were my greatest miracle.”