Archive of Our Own

They break up on a Tuesday in the middle of February.

“It’s not a big deal,” Mydei tells Cipher, as she helps move his couch into the living room of his new apartment. “It just didn’t work out. You know.”

Cipher looks at him knowingly with a quirk in her mouth. “Yeah? Then why’d you break up with him the day after Valentines? The romantic sex was that bad, huh?”

Mydei flushes. That day isn’t one he’ll forget easily, that's for sure. “That’s not it. We have different priorities, so we agreed that it would be better to split up. Phainon is doing his master's degree, and I’m starting my apprenticeship at the restaurant, and—it’s different. We’re different.”

“Uh huh,” says Cipher, setting down her end of the couch. “You wanted the couch over here, right? Not two feet away from the wall?”

Mydei looks down at the floor. He’s moved the couch a full three steps from where he intended to place it. “Yeah,” he mutters, and backs up again, so that he’s lined up with Cipher.

Cipher looks at him oddly. “You feeling alright?”

Mydei drops the couch down with a heavy thunk. “I’m fine. Help me put up the tapestry.”

“Okeydoke,” says Cipher brightly. She picks up a corner of the tapestry.

The tapestry was hung on the wall of his mother’s bedroom. It’s a giant red and gold wall hanging embroidered with a horde of elephants escorting a princess to her wedding. The elephants have tiny mirrors in their eyes, just big enough that if Mydei were to look at it from the right angle, he’d see his own eyes in place of theirs. Eurypon tried to throw it out with the rest of Gorgo’s possessions when she passed; Mydei was so distraught that he actually tore through the trash bags to retrieve it. It’s been with him ever since.

Mydei takes the other corner of the tapestry and drags a chair over to reach the top of the living room wall. If he aligns it with the corner of the room, it should just fit between the—

“Wasn’t this in yours and Phainon’s bedroom before?”

Mydei’s hand slips with the wall pin.

“Shit,” he hisses, pressing his thumb hard against his other hand. It’s bleeding. The puncture wound is small, and the stinging has already started fading, but still. He’s never messed up with the pins before.

Cipher glances up at him. “Need some help?”

“I’m fine,” Mydei says again, this time through gritted teeth. He tacks up the corner of the tapestry again, pressing the pin into the wall. His thumb still hurts.

Cipher looks up at him with a strange, unreadable expression. “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” she asks, tilting her head. “I mean, you seem weird. Even the cat seems weird.”

The cat is a little orange bastard named Nikador. Mydei got him about a year ago, just after he started dating Phainon. He’s underneath the chair Mydei is standing on. “Nikador isn’t being weird,” he says. “That’s ridiculous.”

Beneath the legs of the chair, Nikador flops down on his small furry back, looking miserably at the ceiling. He makes an odd whiny noise.

“Uh huh,” says Cipher drily.

“We’re both totally fine.”

“Of course. Totally fine.”

“Exactly,” Mydei says. His thumb starts bleeding again. Under the chair, Nikador moves his scrawny legs uselessly.

***

“Mydei, why did your cat bite me again?” Phainon wailed, holding his hand close to his chest. “I was holding the treat exactly how you hold it! It’s not like I’m doing anything different!”

“Our cat,” Mydei corrected him. “You have to hold the treat between your middle finger and your thumb. You keep using your index. Also, move slowly. He probably thinks you’re going to attack him.”

“I can’t do anything slowly,” Phainon groaned. “You know that! I mean, I asked you out after knowing you for about thirty minutes. And that’s slow for me! Usually I’d go for ten.”

“Ten minutes?” Mydei asked, incredulous. “I’d have rejected you instantly.”

“And that’s why I waited twenty more,” Phainon said smugly. “Because by then I’d proven my charm to you! I just had to fail miserably at history flashcards for a while, and the rest was—hah, get this—the rest was history.”

Mydei rolled his eyes, hopelessly enamored. He had lied; if Phainon had asked him out in those first ten minutes, he still would have said yes. “Get up,” he said, instead of admitting it. “I’m gonna feed Nikador his treat the right way. Watch and learn.”

***

Mydei has always been fast to adapt. He settles into the new apartment within a week or two. It’s not hard; he’s still in Okhema’s central district, not too far away from the previous place. All he has to do is move his furniture and his big tapestry, and set up a sacrificial portion of the living room for Nikador to claim as his own, and then he’s done.

It’s sort of anticlimactic, honestly. He thought moving into a new place was supposed to be a big deal. But here he is, moved in, with his pots and pans stowed in their proper places and his tapestry hung on the wall, and it’s entirely unremarkable.

“You should hold a housewarming party,” Castorice suggests one day, while she’s helping him build the litterbox nook in the bathroom.

“Huh,” Mydei says. It’s a good idea. He hates going to parties as a guest, but hosting is alright, because he’s in control of everything and he doesn’t have to freak out about the timing as much. “That sounds fine. Let’s do it.”

Castorice looks at him sideways. “Who would you invite?”

“You,” Mydei says. “Cipher. Maybe Aglaea, if she isn’t busy at the shelter.”

“That’s not very many people.”

“I don’t have very many friends.”

Castorice looks at him with her gentle, sympathetic eyes. “I’m sure you have a few more.”

“Like who?” Mydei asks, a little incredulous. He’s on good terms with Tribios, he supposes. But she lives in Janusopolis, and he doesn’t want to make her drive four hours into the city. Maybe he could invite Hyacine. She probably likes him. She likes everyone.

“You could invite Phainon,” Castorice says delicately.

Mydei barks out a laugh.

“I’m serious,” says Castorice. “He’d probably like to know how you’re doing. He’s been worrying himself sick these past couple weeks.”

Mydei turns away from her. “That’s his problem, not mine,” he says dully. “Anyway, I need to make space in the cleaning closet for the kitty litter.”

Castorice doesn’t mind his harshness. She just picks up the enormous bag with her freakishly strong arms and moves it to the closet for him.

“It’s a nice place,” she says eventually, as he tucks it away in the corner of the cleaning closet. “It’s about the same size as your last one, but it feels so much more spacious.”

“That’s because I don’t have all of Phainon’s shit here.” He dusts his hands off and gestures at the cleaning closet interior. “Look at that. Perfectly organized. He could never.”

Castorice laughs behind her hand. “Yes,” she says, smiling softly. “It’s much neater.”

Together they make the space under the sink into the litterbox nook. It’s a good project, if he says so himself. Castorice is handy; she sometimes helps build backgrounds for Hyacine’s videos. The litterbox is a piece of cake for her. They’re finished building by lunchtime. Mydei heats up some leftover slow cooker chili and makes rice and they eat together, looking out over the street he lives on. Then Castorice leaves, and he’s all alone in his silent apartment.

It’s better, he tells himself. This apartment is closer to the restaurant he’s started working at, and the public transit is good here. And he’s got a slightly bigger kitchen, and more pantry space, and no one to eat his leftovers when he isn’t looking.

It should be better. It has to be better.

Nikador meows mournfully.

“Yeah,” Mydei says softly. It echoes through the empty house, louder than anything he’s ever shouted. “I know, Nikador.”

***

“But it’s so beautiful,” Phainon sighed, staring at the gorgeous black faux leather couch. “I know it’s expensive, but wouldn’t it be worth it?”

Mydei checked the price tag. His eyebrows flew into his hair. “You want to pay this much for a couch? Really?”

“It’s super nice.”

Mydei crossed his arms.

Phainon’s eyebrows performed an impressive gymnastic feat. “Just imagine the couch sex we’d have on this thing.”

Mydei punched him in the stomach.

Phainon doubled over in pain, then in laughter. He hadn’t used that much force; Phainon was fine again after a few moments. Before Mydei knew it, they were both cackling in the middle of the furniture store, sitting down on the black couch next to each other. It really was a comfortable couch.

“Okay,” Mydei agreed. “We’ll get it. But you can’t get mad at me when Nikador rips it up.”

“He won’t,” Phainon declared. “He’s a good cat, isn’t he? And he likes us. He won’t mess up our couch.”

Two weeks later Nikador had the couch in shambles.

Mydei half-expected Phainon to be mad about it. He had promised he wouldn’t get angry, but it was a great couch. And he’d paid for half of it out of his own pockets, which Mydei knew were leaner than his own. It was no small amount of money.

But Phainon just laughed. “That’s what I get for trusting this cute little demon,” he said. Then he went on Craigslist to look for another couch, still grinning ear to ear.

***

Cooking at the restaurant is exhausting. Mydei likes it, of course, but it’s still a long shift and a lot of stress. He works during the dinner rush, so he doesn’t get off until ten in the evening. He arrives home twenty minutes later completely wiped out. The moment the door shuts behind him, he’s flopped down on the couch, his eyes sliding closed as his breathing evens out.

It’s a good couch, Mydei thinks, resting his head on the armrest. He and Phainon bought this one secondhand for the low price of two burritos and a bottle of Mexican coke. It was already a little scratched up when they got it. But Mydei wanted it that way, because then he wouldn’t feel bad when Nikador inevitably did a number on it later.

Now as he lies on the same couch, Nikador meows loudly and scratches at the armrest opposite him.

“Stop it,” Mydei reprimands, without any heat in his voice.

The scratching ceases. Nikador meows again, longer this time.

“What,” Mydei says flatly, not opening his eyes.

Nikador keeps meowing. His paws pad against the floor.

“Little bastard,” Mydei mutters, but he gets up anyway and follows Nikador into the kitchen, where he sits sadly next to his food dish.

It’s empty. It’s been empty for a while.

“Oh,” Mydei says. His chest hurts. Did he really forget to feed him before he left for his shift? He’s usually good at remembering things like that. “Sorry, Nikador.” He picks up the empty bowl off the floor and sets it on the kitchen counter, reaching up for the wet food.

Nikador hops up onto the dining table and meows at him again.

“I’m already doing it, don’t worry,” Mydei says. Then he glances over at the table. “Oh. Your water is empty too?”

Nikador meows in confirmation.

“Sorry,” Mydei says again, quieter this time. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

Once he’s done with the wet food, he takes the water glass from the table and fills it up again. Nikador only likes to drink out of glasses; he used to hop onto the table and drink from one of theirs, until Mydei finally caved and set out a Nikador-specific glass on the table and got rid of his water dish.

As soon as Mydei is done, he flops back down on the couch. He’s so tired. It’s already past ten thirty. He should move to bed, but his arms hurt from chopping, and his legs hurt from standing, and his eyes hurt from forgetting his glasses at home…

Nikador hops up onto the couch and sits on his legs.

“Yeah,” Mydei says, closing his eyes again. “I’ll remember tomorrow.”

Nikador meows again, a small mrrp sound, like he’s pleased.

“I’ll get up soon,” Mydei promises. “I just don’t wanna make myself dinner yet. I’m tired, Nikador. I’m so tired.”

Nikador scratches his tiny claws into Mydei’s legs. Mydei winces, but he settles down quickly, curling up into a comfortable position with his claws safely tucked away.

“Soon,” Mydei says vaguely. He strokes his hand idly through Nikador’s warm fur.

The next time he opens his eyes, it’s eight in the morning, and he’s hungry and disoriented and Nikador’s water glass is already empty again. Mydei sighs and drags himself up from the couch.

***

During their first winter together, Phainon came home barreling through the doors like he’d seen a ghost.

“In here,” Mydei called from the kitchen. He’d been working on making vegan marshmallows out of aquafaba; Castorice liked them in her hot chocolate. The current batch was overly sticky and his hands were gross. “What’s going on?”

“Mydei,” he rasped. “Mydei, it’s storming outside.”

Right on cue, lighting flashed through the open window, bright but still far away. “I know,” Mydei said. “Do you think the aquafaba makes these taste weird?”

The thunderclap sounded. A shiver went down Phainon’s spine.

Mydei turned away from the marshmallow pan. “Phainon?”

“Sorry,” he said, smiling shakily. “I just—don’t like thunder. It’s silly, isn’t it? I know it isn’t dangerous.”

Another thunderclap resounded, this one louder. Phainon’s hair bristled on his arms like an agitated dog. Then their power flickered out. The lights tried once, twice, and then died a quiet, suffocating death.

Phainon made a tiny choked sound.

“It’s fine,” Mydei said quietly, drawing him into a hug. “It’s going to be fine. The lightning is far away. We’ll be alright.”

Phainon tucked his head into Mydei’s shoulder. Slowly but surely, his breathing evened out. Then, once he was finally breathing at a normal rhythm again, he said, “Your hands are sticky.”

Mydei blinked. He tried to remove his hands from Phainon’s sweater. They didn’t move.

Phainon laughed, a breathy, hesitant shadow of his normal amusement. “I guess you’ve got no choice but to hold me through the storm, huh?”

“You suck,” Mydei muttered, but made no further effort to let go of him. “Come on. Let’s at least move to the couch if you’re gonna be clingy.”

Just as Phainon laid down, the loudest thunderclap yet echoed through the room. He shuddered, full-body, and his breathing stopped entirely. Mydei held him tighter, his heart racing. Phainon didn’t breathe for a full thirty seconds, like he was holding his breath in silence, waiting for the danger to pass.

Then Nikador hopped up onto the couch and curled up on Phainon’s chest.

“Hi,” Phainon whispered, his voice hoarse. “Are you cold?”

Nikador meowed. He licked at Mydei’s sugarcoated hands.

“Ah,” Phainon said, shaking his head. “Well, I guess Nikador likes the marshmallows?”

Mydei laughed against the back of his neck. “I asked if you liked them.”

“I didn’t get to try any.”

“That’s fine,” Mydei said. “You didn’t have to,” and then he kissed Phainon square on the mouth so that the sweetness of the marshmallows lingered in both their mouths the whole time the power was out.

***

In late March there’s construction on the street in front of his house. It’s not a big ordeal—replacing the bus infrastructure, Mydei thinks, from watching out his window—but it’s loud. Really damn loud. And they start at eight in the morning on the dot, right when Mydei returns from the gym to cook himself breakfast.

The third day is the hardest. As Mydei chops up a scallion, the noise starts up worse than ever. He huffs and flips off the street, like it can see him. Then he plunks himself down at the table and spoons some chili oil and scallion slices onto his steamed eggs and eats them, a little more annoyed than usual.

Then the jackhammers.

Mydei groans and shoves aside his bowl of eggs. He sits there miserably staring at the ceiling. Maybe he can switch his shift to lunch just to get away from all the noise.

Beneath the ruckus, he hears a tiny meow.

Mydei glances under the table. Nikador is standing proudly at his feet, his fur on edge, but his tiny expression firmly set. He hops up onto Mydei’s lap and curls up into a ball, meowing all the while.

“Hi,” Mydei says softly. He’s not even sure if Nikador can hear him over the roar of the construction. “Nikador, are you scared? It’s not going to hurt you.”

“Meooow,” says Nikador determinedly.

Mydei smiles a little. He pets Nikador’s head idly with one hand, the other on his spoon.

Then Nikador’s claws dig into his legs, just slightly. Mydei winces, but by the time he looks down, Nikador is already done moving. He’s repositioned himself with his head close to Mydei’s stomach. Then Nikador headbutts him, squishing his face into Mydei’s shirt.

Mydei raises his eyebrows, baffled. “Nikador?”

Nikador meows. Then he turns his face upwards and licks Mydei’s hand gently, like he’s trying to comfort him.

Oh, Mydei thinks. His appetite suddenly vanishes.

“He’s not here,” Mydei says, slowly removing his hand. “You don’t need to comfort anyone. I’m not scared of loud noises.”

Nikador meows at him sadly.

“It’s better,” Mydei tells him firmly. “You don’t need to worry about some damn crybaby who’s gonna pass out every time a motorcycle goes by. Or who’s gonna cry himself to sleep during thunderstorms.”

Nikador reaches up and bats at his hand. He sticks out his tiny tongue pathetically.

Mydei rolls his eyes. He drops his hand back down for Nikador to lick. “This isn’t comforting, Nikador. It’s kind of weird, actually.”

Nikador meows.

“You make a fine argument,” Mydei says.

Outside, the jackhammers come to a brief pause. Mydei thinks of Phainon again, of his easy smiles slipping away the minute he heard anything loud and sudden. He had always seemed unshakeable, before Mydei knew about that fear of his. He would have hated this construction. He would have come sprinting into the kitchen, socks sliding against the floor dangerously fast, and thrown himself into Mydei’s arms until his breathing finally evened out, and Nikador would lick their joined hands until he laughed. The thought makes Mydei smile, just a little.

Nikador makes a pleased sound and flops down harder onto Mydei’s thighs.

“Yeah,” Mydei says, still smiling faintly. “Good kitty.”

The jackhammers start up again. The noise feels unbearable after the brief peace. Good, Mydei thinks, his jaw tensing again. He was getting too sentimental.

***

“Hey,” Phainon said, tapping him on the shoulder.

Mydei groaned into the pillow. He smushed his face further down.

Phainon laughed softly. “Come on, Mydei.” He gently rolled Mydei over by his shoulder, so he was lying on his back. “I know it was a hard day, but you should get up.”

“Hard day,” Mydei muttered, pushing himself up sluggishly. That was one way to put it, certainly. “You ever tried cutting brunoise for five hours straight? I don’t think my hands will ever work again.”

Phainon took one of Mydei’s hands into both of his own, studying it intently. “They look tired, alright. Good thing you don’t need to use them!”

Mydei raised his eyebrows. He was pretty sure there was no physical indication of his hands’ exhaustion. “I still need to eat dinner, Phainon. That uses my hands.”

“Nope!” Phainon grabbed his hand and dragged him up from the bed, leading him into the dining room with a massive grin on his face. “Here—all you have to do is sit here and wait.”

Mydei blinked. There was already takeout on the counter: lemongrass soup and fried rice with sweet sausage and a plate of chili green beans. Slowly, he sat at the head of the table, where an iced tea already waited for him.

“I got you a straw,” Phainon said, dropping it into the beverage. “And the knife is for me! I’m gonna cut everything for you. You don’t have to use your hands at all!”

Mydei’s hands shook under the table. “You know they’re still functional, right?”

“Yeah, but you’ll need them next week, too,” Phainon said, already cutting his green beans in half. “You can rest up.”

Mydei swallowed thickly. Usually Phainon ate too fast to bother cutting his green beans in half. And yet here he was, putting in the extra work for Mydei. Mydei, who had spent all day cutting things. Mydei, who was tired enough that he nearly went to bed hungry. Mydei, who berated him and ignored him and put his career above taking care of him.

“Sorry,” Mydei said quietly.

Phainon glanced up, baffled. “Sorry for what? Are you not hungry? I can save it for later. It’ll reheat fine.”

“I haven’t been around,” Mydei said. “I’ve been so busy that I haven’t done any housework or cooking in weeks. I haven’t taken you out anywhere either.”

“I don’t mind,” Phainon said, unbothered. “You’ve been working hard at the restaurant. You’re busy.”

“You’re busy too. You’re still writing papers every week.”

Phainon set down the knife. “During finals week,” he said, “you packed me a lunch every single day, and had dinner ready when I got home. You refilled my water bottle every morning and set out my meds so I’d remember to take them.”

Mydei’s stomach sank. He hadn’t done anything like that recently; he hadn’t been doing anything nice for Phainon at all, really.

“So now it’s my turn,” Phainon continued, still smiling. “You were there when I was stressed out, and now I’m here for you. That’s how it works, right?”

Then he piled all the green bean halves onto Mydei’s plate.

Mydei stared down at them. “You even got the spicy ones that I like.”

Phainon beamed. “You noticed! I drove all the way across the city for these. They closed the location close to us, so I had to go to the one by the Hall of Talanton to—”

“Thank you,” Mydei interrupted.

Phainon fell silent. His face went pink.

Mydei ate his green beans. They were delicious.

“You should sleep in tomorrow,” Phainon said, moving on to cutting up the sausage pieces. “I’m gonna try to make cinnamon rolls! And I peeled the pomegranate and put the kernels into a container in the fridge. That way you can still eat them when I’m at my lecture.”

Mydei looked up at him, cutting up the sausage with a soft smile on his mouth. His heart skipped a beat. “Phainon, why are you so nice to me?”

Phainon laughed. “Because I love you,” he said, easy as anything.

It wasn’t the first time he’d said it. But it was the first time that Mydei had truly believed him. He loved Mydei even at his lowest, at his most exhausted. He wanted to take care of him. To make him smile. Mydei wondered, just then, if he’d been telling the truth the whole time. Had Phainon really been in love with him for all these months, and Mydei just hadn’t noticed? Had he really fallen in love with Mydei in those first thirty minutes in the library over his history flashcards, and never once changed his mind?

“So I’ll do my best to support you,” Phainon said. “Because that’s what you do for people you love.”

Then he piled the fried rice and sweet sausage onto Mydei’s plate like nothing had ever happened.

***

The party starts at five. Castorice is there at three thirty to help set up; Aglaea arrives at a tasteful four fifty-five; Hyacine arrives at two minutes past five with a large tray of blondies; Tribios arrives at five twenty, apologizing about traffic on the bridge to Janusopolis; and Cipher waltzes in at six forty-five, grinning at them all like nothing is wrong. But she brings two bottles of champagne, and also a sparkling pomegranate-apple juice, so Mydei forgives her.

For the first several hours, the housewarming party is wonderful. Mydei doesn’t have very many friends, but the ones he does have are precious to him. So he sits in his dining room with all the people he’s seen a future with, and he is content.

Well. Not all of them, exactly. But circumstances have changed.

Anyway, the housewarming party goes wonderfully, right up until the gifts.

“You really didn’t need to bring anything,” Mydei insists, his face heating up. “I just wanted to see you all.”

Aglaea looks at him, unimpressed. “If you think I could attend a housewarming party without giving the host a gift with which to warm said house, you are sorely mistaken.”

Point taken. Mydei takes the gift bag from her. “Then, thank you.”

He removes the delicately placed tissue paper and folds it up neatly on the table. At the bottom of the bag, he sees Aglaea’s gift: a high-quality waffle iron, complete with round and square molds for whichever shape he wants to make.

“I know you enjoy making pancakes,” Aglaea says. “This allows you to expand your repertoire without changing your batter recipe.”

Mydei holds up the waffle iron to the light. It’s even got a pink coating and a cute handle. “I love it,” he tells her, already placing it on his kitchen counter next to the mixer. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s great, Agy!” says Hyacine brightly. “It’s super cute, and I know Phainon loves waffles!”

Slowly, Mydei turns around from the counter. His heart sinks.

“I remember,” says Castorice, sounding amused. “He’d often arrive late to class, holding a waffle in a napkin… He ate them nearly every day for breakfast.”

Hyacine laughs. “Yeah! Once he got drunk and cried over missing his sister’s strawberry waffles. We had to call her and put her on speaker for him to stop crying.”

Aglaea smiles. “In that case, I’m glad my gift was doubly thoughtful. I must admit, I didn’t know he—”

“It shouldn’t matter,” Mydei cuts in, his voice a little sharper than he intends. He clears his throat, willing down the animosity. “Phainon and I aren’t together anymore. Aglaea, I appreciate the gift. It’s exactly my style. Thank you.”

“But you still live together,” Tribios says, tilting her head. “Right?”

Mydei suddenly feels a little too warm. “Of course not. I live here alone.”

Tribios frowns.

“What?” he asks, feeling a little tense. “Did you think I still lived with him?”

“No,” says Tribios carefully. “It’s just…”

“Just what?” Mydei asks, crossing his arms.

“There’s a space for his shoes by the door,” Tribios says quickly. “On the left, where he always put them at the old place. And there’s a hand towel on the left side of the sink.”

Mydei blinks. He glances at the kitchen sink. Sure enough, there’s a second towel on the left, unused. He’s right-handed; he only uses the right-side towel. “It’s for guests,” he says, though it sounds suspicious even to his own ears. “Like you all. You can use the left one.”

“Dei,” says Tribios quietly. “The left side of the bathroom counter is empty.”

“Well—”

“I did notice,” says Aglaea, “that you left an empty coat hook next to your own, rather than hanging your own coats on it.”

“I just—”

“And you have a second bedside table,” Castorice says quietly, not looking him in the eye. “I didn’t want to point it out when you were moving in, but…”

Mydei flushes.

“And,” says Cipher, raising her eyebrows triumphantly, “you left half the master bedroom closet empty.”

Mydei blinks. It’s true, but she shouldn’t know it. “You went through my closet?”

Cipher shrugs.

“The point is,” Tribios says, before it can get any worse. “You see why we thought he was still here, right…?”

Mydei looks between all of them. He sighs. “Well, he isn’t,” he says, turning around. “He’s not here.”

The room falls silent for a few moments.

The worst part is that Mydei didn’t even intend to leave the space for him. He didn’t even notice that he was doing it. It’s just become natural, to leave the space by his side for Phainon. Even if it will never be filled, he’s left it open, just in case.

Mydei sits back down. Underneath the table, Nikador shuffles quietly against the carpet, the only sound in the room.

“…I thought this would look nice in your kitchen,” Castorice says at last, holding out the little pot of basil she’s brought. “I was worried that Nikador might eat it, but I think you’ll be fine if you put it in the windowsill.”

Mydei glances down at the little bastard in question. “Yeah,” he says, forcing a smile to his face. He thinks vaguely about chasing something you can never achieve, about keeping something around that you know you’ll never get to have. “I’ll put it out of his reach.”

***

“Mydei,” Phainon said, suddenly sounding a little nervous. His feet scuffed against the pavement as they walked back home.

Mydei glanced up from his cup of gelato. “Yes?”

Phainon smiled. Then he breathed a laugh to the February night air, a faint puff of warmth against the cold.

“Did you want to ask something? Or did you just want to say my name?”

“A little of both,” Phainon said, his face red. “I like your name. But I also have something to ask you. Something important.”

Mydei raised his eyebrows. He took another bite of his gelato. They were almost home; he only had one more bite left before he was done entirely.

Phainon turned the corner toward their apartment. He unlocked the door and held it open for Mydei.

“Sweet,” Mydei said, smiling slightly. He took the final bite of gelato and pointed the spoon in Phainon’s direction as the door swung shut. “So gentlemanly of you.”

“It’s Valentines, Mydei! Of course I want to hold the door for you.”

Mydei scoffed. His face was warm; he was sure they could both tell. “Didn’t you have a question?”

“Oh, right…” He patted his left jacket pocket, then his right. “Hold on. I swear it’s here somewhere.”

Mydei watched in amusement as he searched through all his pockets. Whatever he was looking for, it wasn’t in his jacket, or his pants pockets, or even in his tote bag. “So?” Mydei asked, raising his eyebrows. “Do you want my help?”

Suddenly, Phainon dropped down to one knee.

Mydei’s heart stuttered in his chest. It looked like…

No. It just wasn’t possible. There was no way Phainon was already going to ask him to—

“Mydei,” Phainon said, pulling a golden band ring from the pocket of his shirt, complete with a round diamond at the center of its sun design. “Will you marry me?”

Mydei stared at him, baffled. He stood there in silence. His heart roared in his ears.

“Mydei?” Phainon said, quieter than before.

Phainon had always said he wanted a big, public proposal, and yet here he was, catering to Mydei’s preferences and keeping it private. He had chosen the perfect ring; gold for Mydei, and silver for him, with the sun delicately carved into each matching band. He had made that Valentines so perfect, from the shitty milk-foam art on his pomegranate juice to the private sparring room in the gym to the dinner on the balcony of Mydei’s favorite restaurant. He had done everything exactly right. And yet—

“We haven’t even been dating for a year,” Mydei said, still staring at the gold ring. “We’ve only been living together for eight months.”

“So?” Phainon said, looking up at him. “I’m sure about you.”

“But—you can’t be,” Mydei said weakly. “You can’t be sure yet. It isn’t—we’re not supposed to do this yet.”

“But I want to marry you. And you want to marry me, don’t you?”

Yes, Mydei’s heart sung. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

“Phainon,” he said instead.

Phainon’s eyes faltered. His grip on the ring went slack.

Mydei panicked. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just—”

“I understand,” Phainon said softly. His smile turned brittle as he stood back up, putting the ring back into his shirt pocket. “It’s not important, Mydei. It’s okay. I get it.”

Mydei tried to say something, anything, but the words got stuck in his throat.

“We’re pursuing different things, anyway,” Phainon continued, turning away from him. “I’m still doing my master’s, and you’ve already secured the job at the restaurant. You can move closer, and I can move toward the university. It’ll be fine. It’ll work out better that way, won’t it?”

Mydei blinked. “Move closer?” he asked, his voice breaking. “Like—move out?”

“You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?”

Mydei’s chest ached.

He didn’t want to break up, not really. He just wasn’t ready for that decision yet. Wasn’t ready for the ring in Phainon’s pocket to see daylight. Wasn’t ready to tell everyone he was imagining the rest of their lives together. But if Phainon wanted it, and he didn’t, then that was that.

He always did say he moved fast, Mydei thought bitterly. Maybe he’d move on even faster. Maybe—and here Mydei felt sick to his stomach—maybe the next time they saw each other, he’d already be wearing matching silver rings with someone else. He’d find someone willing to get married right away, someone ready to move at his speed. And Mydei would be left in the dust, with no one willing to wait around for him.

“Yes,” Mydei said finally. His voice didn’t even shake. “I’m breaking up with you.”

***

On Saturday, when Mydei returns home from grocery shopping, Nikador is nowhere to be seen.

Mydei frowns. “Nikador?” he calls to the empty house. “I bought more of your food. You can come out now…”

No response.

Mydei checks under the couch. In the bathroom. In the nook under the cupboards. Under the bed covers. In the pillowcases. In the cleaning cabinet. In the fridge. He doesn’t think Nikador has ever gotten into the fridge before, but he’s getting desperate. Still no sign of him.

It’s only when he returns to the kitchen to start making lunch that he notices.

The kitchen window, the one he placed the basil in, is open.

“Fuck,” Mydei mutters, slamming it closed. But the damage is already done. Nikador must have left through here. There’s a tiny bite out of the plant, too, like Nikador had pursued the basil and then scrambled out the open window to freedom. Below the window is a vague imprint in the dirt, and a trail of prints leading away from it.

He doesn’t even have time to put away his apron. He just shoves on his shoes and scrambles outside, scanning the dirt for Nikador’s tracks.

The paw prints lead around the house to the front. Eventually the prints reach the sidewalk and Mydei can’t follow them anymore. He stares down the sidewalk, narrowing his eyes. Still no sign of cat prints.

He can’t have gone far, Mydei thinks. Nikador isn’t really an outdoor cat. If he ventured too far, he’d get scared and run back home. So Mydei walks slowly in the direction the paw prints had trailed off in. He passes the florist, the bakery, the chiropractor’s office. He crosses the street. Nikador doesn’t really know these places; he’s never been far, even when Mydei carries him around the neighborhood. He’s just about to give up when—

His phone rings in his pocket.

Mydei freezes in his tracks.

He knows that ringtone. It’s custom. Phainon set it for himself almost a year ago, and Mydei never found the heart to change it. He hasn’t heard that ringtone in two months.

The ringing dies. Then it starts again, even more insistent.

Mydei gives up. He accepts the call.

“Mydei,” says Phainon from the other end, sounding relieved. “Um, hi! I know we haven’t talked in ages, but—well, not ages, but a few months, you know, not since the…”

“I don’t have time for this,” Mydei says, his voice breaking halfway through the sentence. He presses on, determined: “Nikador is missing. Can you please call me later? I don’t want to talk now.”

Phainon hesitates. His breath sounds uneven on the other end of the line. Then, he says, “That’s what I’m calling about.”

Mydei falls silent.

“Nikador’s at the library,” Phainon says softly. “He’s—um, he’s in my lap right now, sleeping. But I didn’t see you anywhere, so I called.”

The library. Of course Nikador would flee to the library. Mydei takes him there all the time, puts him in a carrier backpack and lets him watch the world go by from his little throne. The library is safe for him. Safer, perhaps, than the new house he’s still unfamiliar with.

“Marmoreal branch library?” he asks, already on his way. It’s only another block away.

“Mm-hmm,” Phainon says over the phone. “Want me to stay on the line until you get here?”

“Yeah,” Mydei says, relieved. “Please.”

Phainon hums. He doesn’t say anything, just stays connected to the call as Mydei rushes to the library. He takes the stairs two at a time and comes bolting in through the doors, over to the carpeted reading corner. Sure enough, Nikador is curled up on Phainon’s lap, looking more content than he has in months.

Mydei hangs up. He makes his way over, relief making his steps lighter.

“Nikador,” he whispers, sitting on the carpet next to them. He takes a conscious deep breath, trying to relax his suddenly-tense shoulders.

“It’s okay, Mydei,” Phainon whispers, smiling just slightly. His eyes look tired, heavy. “He’s fine. He’s right here.”

Mydei looks again at Nikador, curled up on Phainon’s thighs like he’s never been happier. He huffs in his sleep, messing up his whiskers. “Thank you,” Mydei says quietly, instead of asking about the circles under his eyes or the tense slant to his neck.

“Of course,” Phainon says back. His smile is a little stronger this time. “I love this little bastard too, you know.”

They sit in the library in silence for a while. Nikador sleeps delightedly between them. At the desk, someone checks out a stack of books higher than their head.

“You’re in your apron,” Phainon observes, gesturing vaguely at him.

“I didn’t have time to change,” Mydei mutters, tugging at the waist string. It’s a plain apron, at least. No embarrassing text on the front. Just pink and white stripes.

“It’s cute.”

Mydei’s face heats up. He readjusts the waist strings, leaving the apron on, and clears his throat. “Why were you here? Isn’t the Dawncloud branch library closer to you?”

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging. “But you like the Marmoreal branch, so…”

Mydei glances over at him sideways. It’s an odd thing to say. “You don’t have to oblige me anymore. You can go to the closer library.”

Phainon tilts his head down. He scratches behind Nikador’s ears slowly, methodically. “Mydei,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

Mydei frowns. “Sorry for what?”

“I can’t do it,” he says in a rush, barely above a whisper. “I can’t go to the Dawncloud branch of the library. I can’t take the extra water glass off my table. I can’t take the pomegranates out of my shopping basket when I go grocery shopping. I can’t—” Here he takes a deep breath, his shoulders shaking. He looks at Mydei with his heavy, shadowed eyes. “Mydei, I can’t pretend you aren’t part of me.”

Mydei doesn’t know what to say. He looks at Nikador’s head. He’s so relaxed here. At home, where Nikador is supposed to be most comfortable, he seems on edge half the time. Like he’s still missing something. Missing someone.

“I know that’s not what you wanted,” Phainon says, dropping his gaze again. He smiles wryly at nothing. “You’re doing fine without me, aren’t you? I always knew you would be alright.”

“My bathroom sink,” Mydei blurts, out of nowhere, loud enough that he gets a warning glance from the librarian.

Phainon is so surprised that he glances up again, his uneasiness forgotten.

“My bathroom sink has nothing on the left side,” Mydei says, his face warm again. “And my closet is half empty. I have two bedside tables when I only sleep on one side of the bed. And my cat is our cat.”

Phainon’s eyes widen. “Mydei, are you saying…”

“I’m saying,” Mydei says quietly, “that Nikador missed you.”

Phainon laughs, soft and breathy and brilliant. “I missed you too,” he replies, because he’s always been able to tell what Mydei really means.

Nikador finally wakes up, stretching his paws out above his head, toward Phainon’s stomach. Phainon grimaces when his claws dig in through his pants, but lets Nikador stand upright on his legs. Mydei picks him up and holds him against his chest, pressing a kiss to his annoyed, furry head.

Then he turns to Phainon again. “I’m going to take Nikador home.”

Phainon’s smile turns brittle. He stands up, following Mydei’s lead out of the library doors. “Of course. I’m glad you found him.”

As they walk, Mydei looks at him. Really looks at him. The tiredness in his eyes. The shadow of stubble on his chin. The tension in his posture. The crushed, extinguished light in his eyes when Mydei walked out the door on the fifteenth of February.

“You should come with me,” Mydei says, before he can lose his courage.

Phainon blinks.

“My new place is closer to public transit. It’s got better plumbing and it’s in a great neighborhood. And it’s too big for one person.”

“Mydei,” he says shakily. His eyes are blown wider than ever before. “Mydei, do you mean—do you mean just living together again, or—”

“I’m not accepting the proposal yet,” Mydei mutters, his face warm. “But… I want you to be my boyfriend. And live with me. And take care of our cat together. And we can get married, eventually, but not yet. Not for a while longer.”

Phainon laughs. He scoops Mydei up by the waist, beaming, and hoists him up in the air like he’s twirling him around for a dance, right there on the stairs of the library.

Mydei yelps. “Phainon—”

Phainon sets him down carefully, sweeping him down onto solid ground. “That’s easy,” he says, a little breathless. He takes the rings—one silver, one gold—out of the pocket of his slacks, and presses them carefully into Mydei’s hand. “I’ll just wait for you to propose instead, okay? Take as long as you want.”

Mydei stares down at the rings, his eyes wide. “You still have them? You carried them around?”

“Every day,” Phainon admits, his face red. He coughs awkwardly. “Just in case you changed your mind.”

Nikador meows in protest against Phainon’s chest.

“Oh, sorry,” Phainon says to him, very seriously. “I didn’t mean to squish you, Lord Nikador, sir. Will you hit me with the Lance of Fury in retribution?”

Mydei stows the rings safely in the front pocket of his apron. “His tail doesn’t even hurt. You have to stop calling it that.”

Phainon loops his arm through Mydei’s. “Ah, but don’t you fear the retribution of the Lance of Fury most of all, being his keeper?”

Mydei rolls his eyes.

Over his shoulder, Phainon looks at him with something strange in his eyes. His mouth ticks up, just slightly.

“What?” Mydei asks, his face warm.

“Nothing,” Phainon says. “I’m just—really glad to be back. And I know I move too fast for you, and that I’m terrible at waiting for anything, and that you probably want me to shut up sometimes. But—I still can’t help it. I’m really happy.”

Mydei holds Nikador tighter to his chest. “Yeah,” he says, barely above a whisper. He slips his hand into Phainon’s. “I’m happy, too.”

Together, they walk home.

***

“Thirty minutes of my time, and this is all the progress you’ve made?”

“I’m trying my best!” Phainon whined, dropping his head onto the table. “I’m really sorry. I told you timelines aren’t my strong suit.”

“It’s just memorization,” Mydei told him, his voice harsh. “All you have to do is get all these dates through your head.”

Phainon sighed heavily. “I’m terrible with historical dates. Give me a romantic date instead. I’m much better at those.”

Mydei raised one eyebrow, skeptical.

Phainon’s eyes widened. He shot up from the table, his spine suddenly straight. “Sorry! I didn’t mean—you’re really hot, but it’s not—like, I’m not just here for the—I really do need help with history, you know—”

“Phainon,” he interrupted. He had never done this before, but… “If you want to go on a date with me…”

“Uh huh?” Phainon asked, a little too eagerly.

“…Then you have to memorize all of the events from the Chrysos War period, in order, and recite them all to me.”

Phainon dropped his head into his hands.

Mydei crossed his arms against his chest, triumphant. “So? Ready to admit defeat?”

Phainon groaned.

Mydei stood up to leave the university library.

“Wait, Mydei,” Phainon said, reaching out for his hand.

The moment he made contact, Mydei’s heart skipped in his chest.

“Thirty more minutes,” Phainon declared, his eyes set. “Give me thirty more minutes, and I’ll have it all memorized. And then, once I’m done, I’m taking you out for beef noodle soup, and then we’ll get candied fruit for dessert. And if you don’t like it, I’ll find another history tutor and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“And if I do like it?”

“Then you’ll give me your number,” Phainon said, looking at him hopefully. “And you can plan our second date.”

“Hm,” Mydei said, grinning. “In that case… You’re on, Phainon.”