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Phainon can’t exactly remember the first time he realized there was a small space in his heart that was reserved for Mydei. Somehow, through all the bickering and sparring, tender moments and shared stories over food, he had caught a huge puppy crush on the man.
Phainon isn’t exactly subtle, but he doesn’t say “I love you.” He doesn’t whisper sweet nothings in the dark while the two stargaze on a random rooftop. He doesn’t say “I miss you” or “I need you” or anything remotely close to that.
Their relationship is more than just petty rivalry and frequent spars, though it may seem that way from the surface. It consists of late nights relaxing on some random civilian’s rooftop together, lunches packed full of witty jabs and banter, and Mydei pulling a blanket over Phainon when he forgets to rest and ends up sleeping at the Kremnoan’s.
Phainon says “Nice weather, huh?” (Stupid line, it’s always the same perfectly sunny weather in Okhema.) “Perfect day for a spar! See you at the training grounds, Mydei! Unless you’ve gotten rusty and don’t want to, of course~”
Phainon, dangling a bottle of Mydei’s favorite pomegranate juice in front of his face, says “I figured the Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos could use a little pick me up from his recent mission.”
Phainon says “You must be tired from our spar. Let’s go eat lunch together! My treat!” And drags Mydei to his favorite restaurant in Okhema, one that he knows Mydei loves because he said once that it reminded him of home.
Mydei says “I accidentally made a little extra batch of honeycakes today, HKS. Come over.”
Mydei says “The Flame-Chase Journey can wait one day. Rest, Deliverer.” As he drags Phainon home.
Mydei protests “You took me to the bathhouse two times already today, Deliverer. We don’t need a third time” as he walks into the Hero’s Bath with Phainon side by side. (Notice how Mydei’s statements are always much shorter than the latter’s.)
Their lives are simple. Steady. Intertwining like Aglaea’s golden threads, thrumming with energy neither of them dare to speak of.
Phainon’s admiration for Mydei is unwavering, strong but soft at the same time. He wants to write flowery love letters laced with perfume for him, and at the same time he wants to hold him close and kiss all of his scars and tattoos like they are the only thing keeping him tethered to this mortal plane. (Which is definitely not a thought he should be having about his best friend, right? He scolds himself.)
He doesn’t dare ask for more. That is not something he does— something he stopped doing long, long ago, after Aedes Elysiae burned down along with everything else he loved.
Leading a safe, simple life is best. He would not trade his and Mydei’s friendship for the world.
And so Phainon manages to keep himself grounded. Doesn’t expect more, doesn’t watch Mydei’s throat bob when he swallows his pomegranate juice, and definitely doesn’t get lost in the Kremnoan’s amber eyes. Because in his eyes, playing it safe is for the better. It’s just logic. Plain, simple logic.
But at some point, their relationship has evolved into something more, and it frightens him.
When did Phainon start showing up on Mydei’s doorstep nearly every day, bringing him pomegranate juice or food or some kind of trinket he found at Marmoreal Market because it “reminded him” of Mydei?
When did Phainon, lying in bed wide awake at night, sweat-slicked and disheveled after a nightmare about his past, start instinctively reaching for his teleslate to talk to Mydei?
It makes no sense, no sense at all. Because Phainon of Aedes Elysiae is stronger than this. He doesn’t fall in love, doesn’t want anything more. He has responsibilities, duties, and a reputation to uphold. He’s focused on the Flame-Chase Journey. He has no time to be distracted by trivial things like love.
And yet, when Mydei looks at him, all of the walls that Phainon of Aedes Elysiae has built up over the years to shield himself from judgement crumble, and he is just Phainon. Mydei’s Deliverer.
Phainon loves Mydei more than anything Okhema has to offer. But his head hurts, and his heart aches, because he knows he will never be deserving of the Crown Prince of Kremnos. How could he be?
Phainon once wanted to be Aedes Elysiae’s hero. He wanted to vanquish monsters and lead everyone towards a better future, and look how that turned out. He wasn’t strong enough. Does he really deserve anything good in his life?
But when Mydei, jolted awake by one of Phainon’s nightmares (Phainon had crashed at his place after a few sparring sessions), holds him close and cradles him like a child, like he’s the only thing that matters, Phainon breaks.
Because Mydei, tough, solid Mydei, makes him want to believe. Believe that he is worth something, that he is deserving of love and joy and peace. And Phainon is torn, because really, when the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid eyes upon holds you and tells you that you mean something and are worth more than just your sword and stories, what else can you do but blindly place your trust in him?
There is newfound understanding between the two after that night, perhaps the sort of connection that is formed only between two broken boys who both barely learned how to love.
They go through their daily lives, sparring and laughing and talking and everything else they usually do. But something in the air is different.
“I love you,” Phainon will never say, even as he watches Mydei walk past the gates of Okhema, on his way to Castrum Kremnos to fight against the Black Tide. “I miss you,” Phainon will never text, because Aglaea’s golden threads do not reach far enough past Okhema for Mydei to receive his messages, and he’s probably too busy to check his teleslate anyway. “I need you,” Phainon whispers into the empty dark, heart beating in his chest erratically after another grueling nightmare, in which Mydei was stabbed in his tenth thoracic vertebrae and left to bleed out by the Black-Robed Swordmaster, which almost feels too real, but it can’t be, because no one but Phainon and Mydei know about his weak spot.
Phainon grips his blanket, fingers fumbling with the fabric, screwing his eyes shut as tears prick at the corners. He’s stronger than this. He knows he is.
Phainon gives a shaky breath, burying his face into his pillow. It’s fine. Mydei is fine, probably still alive and fighting, and Phainon will see him again after they succeed and the Flame-Chase Journey comes to an end. And then he’ll never leave Mydei’s side, not again, even if the Kremnoan is pissed about it.
Everything is going to turn out fine. Aglaea’s plan will succeed. The Coreflames will be retrieved, the Black Tide vanquished. And maybe, just maybe, at the end of the journey, once everything’s done, Phainon will be able to confess his true feelings to the one man he’s ever maybe loved.