Chapter Text
Anaxa squared his shoulders, a smile on his face as he got off the dromas taxi service that carried him all the way to his childhood home. The large bag that was slung over his shoulders was full of presents in preparation to greet his family. He had just finished a long research expedition to Janupolis to observe their religious practices, and he was more than happy to finally be done with it and be home for the holidays.
Outside, the air carried with it a chill crispness that made Anaxa reflexively tighten his coat around. Luckily, home was in sight. As he approached the entryway, he saw a silhouette behind the front window’s curtain. He suppressed a grin. Phainon was as excitable as ever. That was one truth that had never changed about him.
The instant he rang the doorbell, the door was already swinging open. Phainon grinned at him through his lashes, eyes roaming appreciatively up and down Anaxa’s body before settling on his face.
“Brother! You’re finally home!” Phainon used the six inches he had on Anaxa to advantage, tilting his head and smiling down at Anaxa sweetly.
Anaxa rolled his eyes, his lips curling in an attempt to suppress the smile that the mere sight of his brother sparked. “I must have the wrong house.”
Phainon smacked Anaxa in response. He let his hand linger on Anaxa’s chest for a few seconds longer than was socially acceptable. Then, he smirked and launched himself at the other man in a hug. He burrowed his head into the side of Anaxa’s neck and closed his eyes, breathing the other man’s scent in.
Despite how much Phainon liked to pretend that he was as light as a feather, Anaxa barely managed to catch him. With Phainon’s arms around his neck and legs around his waist, Anaxa trembled under his weight. Before they could topple over, he moved one arm around Phainon’s waist and firmly gripped his thigh with his other hand to better support their combined weight.
There was a pause as Anaxa closed his eyes too and leaned into Phainon’s embrace. He was about to say his next line, until—
“CUT!”
So clearly, Anaxa was out of practice. In what some people might describe as his prime, he nailed every role that he was given. From a hardboiled detective in the noir genre to an unruly rock star in a rom-com, he had done it all. Anaxagoras Cerces had been a household name before he decided to stop taking roles at all and faded off of the stage.
Not that Anaxa cared. The only reason he decided to enter this business was because Aglaea had found a job for him after his umpteenth research proposal had failed to secure any funding.
“You must focus on what you can achieve, rather than some ideal that no one else is interested in pursuing,” she had said back then, his overdue rent letters brandished in her hands.
She was as aggravating as ever, and as always, Anaxa strived to prove her wrong.
She might’ve been the one to put him on the stage, but he was the one with the talent and gravitas that carried him onto the silver screen. He was the one who made the decision to quit after he made enough Celestial Ambrosia to fund his own research. Aglaea had shaken her head at him, but that had only brought him a vindictive joy.
And that was the story of how Anaxa had gone from a movie star to an eccentric but renowned scientist. He had won several accolades for his work with Nousporism and the essence of the soul, until they began to outnumber his acting awards. His achievements secured him enough grants to last a lifetime.
Unfortunately, he had also not-exactly-accidentally disfigured his face and carved out an eye to see if he could pierce the veil between the living and the dead, but. It was all for science.
Not that the research community understood. After that incident, despite all the progress he had made, his funding was cancelled. With his stockpile of Celestial Ambrosia drained, he had no choice but to foray back into the acting industry to continue his work.
That was how he found himself acting in a C-rate commercial for low-grade ambrosia. Again, anything for science.
His skills as an actor might have lapsed, but it wasn’t like he had been recruited for anything other than his name anyhow. The script was not the troublesome part. Despite the subpar writing, money was money.
No, the troublesome part was that the actor that was cast along with him was Phainon of Aedes Elysiae, a man whose fame eclipsed every other star in the era with his roles in hit films like i>The Flamechase Journey and Irontomb, Lord Ravager. What the tabloids didn’t know was that Anaxa had personally trained the man when he first started out, then had subsequently cut him out of his life once Phainon had gotten his first major role.
When Anaxa had told him in an unwavering voice that it was better for them to cut ties, Phainon had looked at him with a plea on his lips and heartbreak in his eyes. Therein lay the problem: there shouldn’t have been any hearts to break in the first place, and yet. Here they were.
“Anyone would be lucky to have you, Phainon,” he had said. Both in a professional and a personal context. “You’ll be fine on your own.” Phainon could do far, far better than a washed-up, out of touch old man whose first and only priority was to discover the truth behind the existence of the Titans and their world.
With all this history, the commercial’s script carried with it a bitter tinge of irony.
Two siblings, one coming home for the holidays and greeting the other with a platonic hug and a platonic smile and purely platonic feelings. Even after all these years, Anaxa couldn’t claim to feel anything so innocent like that toward Phainon.
If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t have been a problem. This was another truth that had never changed: Phainon had always been the blazing sun that Anaxa couldn’t help but stray too close to with wings made of wax. Anaxa just had to remember that Phainon’s radiance was not for him to bask in, or they would both be swept away in an endless fall.
Anaxa could endure this until the end of filming.
Like he said: anything for science.
Maybe if he said it enough times, it’d finally ring true.
“Phainon. Anaxa.” The director pinched the bridge of her nose. “Listen, I know I mentioned earlier that we’d just do it in one take because the only thing that people’ll care about is that you two are in it, but seriously. The commercial is supposed to be between two brothers, not... whatever that was.” She gestured a hand vaguely towards the two of them. “Let’s just try that again, from the beginning.”
“Sorry, sorry!” Phainon laughed sheepishly. “I’ll do better next time, I promise.”
Strangely, Anaxa noticed that Phainon didn’t seem to mind that his performance was less than stellar. When he had been training under Anaxa, he would’ve beaten himself up over any kind of mistake. It was good to see that he had learned to separate his craft with his sense of worth, like Anaxa had advised him multiple times before.
“Alright, let’s reset the scene. Anaxa, you get back on the dromas, and the two of you, reminder. Siblings.”
The second take was worse than the first. This time, Phainon kept a careful distance between the two of them when they hugged, but he didn’t stop the gaze that crawled up and down Anaxa’s body appraisingly. Rather, the unrelenting heat in his eyes blazed even brighter than in the first take.
The third take was only slightly better. They managed to make it past the scene at the entryway, but when Phainon took Anaxa’s coat to hang up, he had caressed Anaxa’s arms softly. In response, Anaxa’s face had turned a bright red that couldn’t be explained away by the cold.
The fourth take, Anaxa embraced Phainon far longer than was platonic. The sixth take, Anaxa forgot his lines and froze when he saw the way a thin line of liquid trickled down the corner of Phainon’s lips, a hot flush on his face. The tenth take, Anaxa’s eyes flickered to Phainon’s lips far too many times when the other man was speaking. The seventeenth take, well.
That one they didn’t talk about.
By the time they reached the thirty-seventh take, the filming studio was filled with a thick awkwardness so heavy that it stifled any conversation.
It had been years since he’d taken acting seriously, but he thought that this commercial would have been fine. He hadn’t foreseen just how much of this shoot was an exercise in frustration.
It was all Phainon’s fault.
The way the lights glinted off of Phainon’s hair, the sun-bright smile adorning his face, his easygoing demeanor. Phainon.
Anaxa had to keep reminding himself that an unyielding truth was that Phainon’s radiance was not his to hold. The days where it might’ve been possible had long since passed.
His only solace was that Phainon wasn’t faring any better. Phainon hadn’t forgotten any of his lines, but all of his actions had a romantic undertone that no one in the room could ignore. The romantic way he treated Anaxa during filming didn’t reflect his prominence as an actor at all.
It got to the point where the director had to step in.
“Okay, you two. We only had the studio booked for an hour, and we’ve already gone way over that. Let’s just do one more full runthrough and call it a day.” She didn’t even bother asking the two of them to reel their behavior in. “I mean, no publicity is bad publicity, right?” It sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than anyone else.
This take was as excruciating as the others before it had been, but before long, it was over.
“You’re my present this year,” Anaxa finished saying his final line. Then, he stuck a red bow onto Phainon’s chest while smiling far too genuinely at the other man. Phainon returned his soft look.
The studio was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
Finally, the directory declared, “It’ll do.” Though, after everything had passed, she sounded more like a downtrodden chimera than anything else. No one in the room could look either Phainon or Anaxa in the eye anymore, and Anaxa couldn’t blame them.
He was just looking forward to being back home with a paycheck in hand.
The good news was that Anaxa’s latest hypothesis was a success: it was possible to extend the duration of a spirit medium connection to the afterlife given a more refined method. The bad news was that Phainon had invited himself over using the spare key Anaxa had hidden underneath his dromas garden gnome, armed with a bottle of ambrosia and some news.
“Have you seen our commercial yet? They finally finished editing it and they’re airing it on a couple of channels.” Phainon didn’t wait for an invitation before seating himself on Anaxa’s couch and grabbing the television remote, flicking through several channels until he found one that was rerunning some old movies. “Maybe we’ll be able to catch it.”
Anaxa could only hover awkwardly, not sure what to make of the situation. The last time that they had both been under his roof... well.
He didn’t want something like that to happen again.
“What are you here for, Phainon?” Short, direct, and to the point. It would be best to get this over with quickly.
“Sit down and relax a little. Don’t you want to watch our commercial together?” Phainon patted the cushion next to him. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, and I just thought it’d be nice to catch up again.”
Anaxa took a seat and turned his gaze forward, keeping a careful six inches between the two of them. Onscreen, a woman was monologuing at a character named Khaslana. He looked like he could be Phainon’s twin, if not for the blond hair and golden eyes.
“One of my roles from a couple of years ago,” Phainon supplied, noticing his confusion. “The colored contacts were a pain to wear, but I think it was worth it. What do you think, Anaxa?”
“I think you’ve done very well for yourself.” The Without me went unsaid, but it still resounded clearly through the room.
“Thanks.” Phainon half-smiled, bittersweet.
A clumsy silence carried the two of them until the movie’s finale, where Khaslana and the woman were finally reunited after he returned to his hometown. Just as Anaxa was beginning to get invested in how the plot would turn out, the television channel switched to a commercial break.
Phainon sighed. “Aren’t you going to say anything else?”
“What else is there to say?”
Phainon finally turned away from the screen and faced Anaxa. He reached out a hand to touch Anaxa’s cheek, but the other man leaned backwards. Phainon’s hand hovered briefly in the air before dropping back to his lap.
“I think,” Phainon said, “that there’s a lot that we should talk about.”
He closed his eyes briefly before soldiering on. “I wanted to say this to you years ago. I know why you cut me out, Anaxa. I know it was because you thought that it was the best decision for me. And that it was because whatever we were becoming was too much for you to handle.
Phainon sighed. “And I think it might’ve even been the right choice. I’ve grown a lot since then, and I think being forced to connect with other people has helped me find new opportunities in the industry. I respect your choice, but that doesn’t mean that I like how you decided to do it. Telling me to leave, refusing to explain yourself, ignoring all of my messages. I hated it. Maybe even hated you for a little bit.
“You know, I always thought you were a star. Someone beyond my reach, who inspired me to work hard to catch up to you. Even now, even though you’re not acting anymore, you’re still doing so many amazing things. It was only recently that I realized you felt the same way as me, and that...”
Phainon broke off, lowering his eyes. “Anyway, the past is in the past. I forgive you. Filming the commercial though. Tell me I wasn’t imagining that you also feel what I still feel for you.”
A pause, until Phainon spoke again. Weightily. ““if you had asked me back then, I would have said yes. I still would, even now.”
He lifted his gaze to meet Anaxa’s. He said everything that he had wanted to, and whatever happened next was up to Anaxa.
The trust in his eyes was almost intoxicating. The fact that Phainon trusted him at all, the fact that Phainon trusted him enough to let him decide what to do next about their relationship. Only he could ever have this kind of effect on Anaxa.
All Anaxa could do was try to return Phainon’s honesty with his own.
“You weren’t imagining it. All this time, I’ve still cared about you.” Anaxa took a deep breath. This was the least that Phainon deserved. “We’re two different people now though. We’ve walked separate paths. We can’t even hold a real conversation together anymore.”
He lightly touched the golden embroidery of his eyepatch before letting out a cutting laugh. “Besides, have you thought about how dating someone like me would affect your career? Most people also think I’m crazy. I disagree, but I suppose that most crazy people would too.”
Anaxa sobered up. “I’m callous, I always place the truth above everything else, and I’ve hurt you once already. You deserve someone who will treat you with greater care than I ever did.”
Silence once again enveloped the two of them. Phainon gathered his thoughts, while Anaxa braced himself for the inevitable rejection.
“You’re right. We’ve both grown into different people, but all this means is that we have a chance to relearn who we were together. I think that’s something worth exploring. I know you feel the same way.”
He continued with, “Stop holding yourself back because of your own insecurities. You told me a long time ago that anyone would be lucky to have me, Anaxagoras. Take your fortune into your own hands. Be lucky. If you want me, you can have me.”
Phainon really had become a stronger, more confident person while Anaxa hadn’t been looking. He was the sun, radiance incarnate, but maybe Anaxa didn’t have to be afraid of plummeting from the heat. Maybe instead of burning to ashes beneath the fire of Phainon’s brilliance, he could be reborn in the blaze instead. So why not let himself be consumed as kindling?
All this time, it had gone both ways. Phainon had said it himself: he used to think that Anaxa was unattainable, a star out of his reach, but he still tried to reach him anyway. To him, Phainon was the sun, radiance incarnate, but to Phainon, Anaxa was a distant light that was just out of reach.
It was only right that Anaxa reciprocated. In answer, Anaxa closed the gap between the two of them and took Phainon’s hand in his own. He pressed it to his cheek and closed his eyes.
Peace, at last.
Eventually, he let Phainon’s hand drop, but to his satisfaction, Phainon’s arm curled around his back instead and pulled him into his side.
I want you. The words were still too much for him to say, but he could start with something easier.
“Let’s get coffee tomorrow at that place we used to go to together.”
Phainon grinned, delighted. “That sounds like a plan.” Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar sight on the television. “Hey, they’re finally playing our commercial!” He grabbed the remote and turned it up, watching as the two characters on screen acted out their lines.
In unison, the two of them cringed.
“Why did they decide it was a good idea to let this air again?” Anaxa asked.
Phainon shrugged. “Any publicity is good publicity. Besides, I have a small confession to make.” He noted the way Anaxa side-eyed him and tightened his grip on the other man. “I might’ve been trying to rile you up during filming once I noticed that you still had feelings for me. I didn’t quite expect you to forget the basics of acting though.”
Anaxa glared at him.
Phainon only grinned at him unrepentantly. He bent down and pressed his lips to Anaxa's cheek and then, in perfect sync with the television, he whispered, “You’re my present this year.”
Anaxa smacked him, then pulled him down into a proper kiss.
After all this time, Anaxa really was lucky to have Phainon back at his side once again. Things might have changed between them, and they would have to relearn what they meant to each other, but an unshakeable truth was this: Phainon was the sun, and Anaxa would always be drawn into his orbit. But perhaps there was more to it.
Perhaps this could also be true: they were a binary pair, inexorably bound by each other’s gravity,
And if Anaxa were lucky enough, this would be a theory that would take him an entire lifetime to prove.
He looked forward to it.