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Phainon would be fine without him, Anaxa surmised. He didn't need both eyes to see the way Mydei looked at him, the deliberate way Phainon avoided looking back whenever Anaxa was around. He always did have more tact than most people assumed.
Anaxa was fully aware that destiny would never have decreed him to be Phainon’s partner, and he had made his peace with that fact a long time ago. He was a stain to the prophecy, a mere footnote to fate, and with his last act, he had chosen to defy the Titans again and bring Amphoreus closer to the new era—one that he would ensure would become infested with the seeds of “Suspicion.” So it was only right that he would be replaced, someone more noble taking his place.
It was ironic, really, that his irreverence was what drew Phainon to him in the first place. At first, everyone at the Grove held a blind adoration for Phainon, but Anaxa treated him like any other student. To Phainon, it was a breath of fresh air.
He remembered the first time Phainon had approached him after graduating, a too-wide grin fixed on his face and nervousness in his step. Of all the ways to start a relationship, a debate was less than romantic, but Anaxa was self-aware enough to know that he would have rejected Phainon if he tried any other way.
Everyone could see why they would never fit together, holy sunshine and hideous truth. Phainon couldn't see why they wouldn't. Anaxa wasn't convinced by his rhetoric, but he let himself concede anyway. He already knew he was a heretical, selfish blasphemer. Why should he hesitate to sully the sanctity of the destined savior of Amphoreus?
At the very least, he could allow himself this before his time was up.
That was how Anaxa and Phainon became Anaxa-and-Phainon to the small circle of their closest friends. And the more time they spent together, the more Anaxa noticed evidence of the qualities that everyone else had already seen in Phainon: sublime divinity in a mortal body. It was the way he grew incandescent even under the weight of the world, the way Amphoreus itself seemed to tremble under his presence.
His irreverence was what drew Phainon to him in the first place, and now that he was a believer, the two of them would have to part. Still, there were no regrets for him to imprint upon the world. Phainon would be left in good hands. Aglaea would guide him, Hyacine would soothe him, what remained of Tribbios would look after him, and Mydei would...
Well. Mydei.
Without him, Phainon would be fine. For his sister, Anaxa was willing to sacrifice one of his eyes for the chance to see her again. For Phainon, Anaxa was willing to give his life for the man to fulfill a destiny that Anaxa would never be able to witness. Anaxa had always scoffed at the existence of the prophecy, but with all that he had experienced with the man, he would gladly dedicate his death to Phainon’s divinity. There was no being that was more worthy of his adulation. And if demise was where his worship led, then so be it.
In his last moments, Anaxa couldn’t bring himself to see what sort of expression Phainon was wearing. He didn’t want his last memory to be of Phainon’s face twisted in despair, or even worse, the subtle relief that must’ve been present now that he was free from Anaxa. He deserved this small mercy, the freedom from this truth.
As Anaxa finally completed the finale of the grand performance that Cerces had thrust upon him, that he had willingly embraced in the all-consuming blaze of his curiosity, that he had finished for Phainon’s sake, bitter laughter burst from his lips. All his ruminations had led to one last inescapable truth before his existence faded away. It sat on his tongue like the slow decay of a beautiful rose, now gone putrid.
He was right. They never would have been able to fit together.
It was his last thought before he let himself be consumed by the divine.