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The text comes a couple hours earlier than it normally does: hiii free to call????
It’s early enough that Phainon would almost certainly still be in the library studying. Luckily for him, Mydei has just closed the front of the bakery and thus has the time to indulge whatever his boyfriend may be up to.
He calls in lieu of responding. Phainon picks up immediately.
“Hi, honey!” His voice washes over Mydei—slightly tinny, but warm and sweet nevertheless. Mydei didn’t understand his preference for calling over texting at first, but he thinks he gets it now; it is nice to hear Phainon’s voice.
“Deliverer. You’re calling early today.”
(Phainon had earned that nickname back when they were in college, after he had made the fatal mistake of calling Mydei ‘De’ at their first meeting. Now, Mydei uses it whenever Phainon calls him one of those silly words—a pet name for a pet name.)
He can almost hear Phainon’s pout through the phone. “What, can’t I just miss you?”
“We called last night,” Mydei reminds him. “And we texted this morning. And we were going to call tonight.”
“You got me there,” Phainon sighs. “Okay, fine. Some of my friends wanted to come with me when I come back for break. They want to meet you, see the city. I wanted to ask before ticket prices went up.”
Mydei thinks about it. If Phainon likes them enough to humor their request, they must be genuine friends, and Mydei is curious about what Phainon’s life at law school must be like. But then again–
“For the whole break?” he murmurs, barely conscious that he’s speaking aloud. “It’ll be the first time you’re home.” And I wanted to spend it with you, he at least has the wherewithal to not say.
Phainon nearly cuts him off in his rush to explain. “No, no, of course not!” Mydei pulls the phone away from his ear slightly. “It would be just for the first few days, and then it’d be just you and me. Don’t worry”
Mydei wasn’t worrying, but fine, then. “How many would come?”
“Three? Is that okay? There’s Stelle, her twin Caelus, and Dan Heng.”
Three is perfectly doable, granted that at least two of them are fine sharing a bed. It’s settled then. “They can stay with us,” Mydei says.
“Really?” Phainon sounds awed.
Wincing, Mydei hurries to do damage control—“It’s only polite,” he tries—but it’s already too late.
“Mydei,” Phainon coos. “My sweet, darling Mydeimos. You really are too good to me, aren’t you?”
“Hotels are expensive,” Mydei defends. “Especially during the holidays.”
“You spoil me.”
“Hmph,” Mydei says, but he makes no move to correct Phaiinon. He does spoil him, and there is nothing wrong with that.
—
Mydei stands patiently at the train station. He does not lean against the wall, because leaning shows a lack of discipline, but he does allow his gaze to drift into the distance as he waits.
(Phainon had been working three jobs when they first met: He was a research assistant with the mathematics department, a front desk worker at the campus gym, and a delivery driver for a food ordering app. All together, the income was just enough to cover his tuition and living expenses—and the monstrous pile of debt he had been saddled with when his father had passed.
He and Mydei had planned to move in together after graduation. The family-sized apartment above the bakery has two bedrooms—one for them and one for guests—and the former owner had bought it decades ago when the housing prices were laughably low and passed it on to Mydei for free. Phainon would attend law school at the nearby university they had graduated from and commute to school.
But even the best-laid plans went awry. Their university did not give Phainon nearly as much aid as he had expected, while the school in a city a few hours away offered a full ride—plus a stipend to cover living expenses and the summers. For a man planning on becoming a public defender and adamantly opposed to working in big law ‘just for a few years to pay off his loans,’ the offer was too good to refuse.
Phainon almost did refuse, clinging to Mydei and whining loudly whenever he tried to bring it up. “I’ll make it work,” he had said. "Don’t worry about me.”
Mydei knew, though, that ‘making it work’ would entail more sleepless nights, more jobs upon jobs, more working himself until he broke. So he told Phainon in no uncertain terms that he would drag Phainon to that other school by the scruff of his neck if he had to. In fact, he might have used that exact wording.
And thus began their long-distance relationship.)
Lost in thought, Mydei doesn’t notice Phainon approaching until he’s standing right in front of him.
“Hi, gorgeous,” he says, alerting Mydei to his presence. “You here all alone?”
“Waiting for my boyfriend,” Mydei responds with faux nonchalance.
Phainon beams at that, too excited to keep playing along. He wraps two warm, strong arms around Mydei’s waist to pick him up and spin him around in the air.
“I missed you,” he says into Mydei’s torso, muffled by the fabric of his shirt.
Tucking his face into Phainon’s fluffy hair, Mydei allows himself a small, private smile.
It isn’t until Phainon finally sets him down that Mydei sees their three guests, standing a respectful distance away. Phainon waves them over.
“Darling, this is Stelle, Caelus, and Dan Heng,” he says. Mydei sees one of them raise their eyebrows and mouth the word ‘darling’ to the others. “Guys, this is Mydei.”
“Wow,” the one who must be Stelle says, drawing out the syllable and giving Mydei an appreciative look up and down. “The Boy Wonder wasn’t kidding. You are cu-ute.”
Startled, Mydei looks to Phainon for his reaction. He’s looking back at Mydei though, eyes fond and expression unconcerned, which means that she is saying it with only a joking intent. Mydei relaxes and turns back to the group.
“Welcome to Okhema,” he says. “I am Mydeimos.” A warm arm wraps around his waist as he says, “You may call me Mydei.” The hand on his hip squeezes, and Mydei does not need to look to know that Phainon is smiling.
—
They had left right after exams, Mydei knows, which explains the comfortable, albeit tired, silence that settles over the car on the ride back to their apartment. The silence is punctured by Phainon’s stomach growling.
In the backseat, their guests burst out laughing. Mydei laughs too, though his laughter manifests more as a quirk of the lips. Phainon notices anyway.
“Mydei,” he whines. “I didn’t have dinner yet.”
“Hmm,” Mydei says, teasing. “And what did you have for lunch?”
He is met with guilty silence.
Mydei narrows his eyes. “What did you have for breakfast?” It comes out sounding more like, If you don’t say you ate something balanced and filling, I swear, I will throw you out of this moving vehicle. Do not lie to me.
“A granola bar?”
“Is that it?”
“Honey–”
“Do not ‘honey’ me right now.”
“Baby–”
“That’s worse,” Mydei seethes. In the rearview mirror, he can see three pairs of eyes darting between them like a tennis match. “HKS, I cannot believe you. You will eat everything I make for you while you are here, am I clear?”
“You don’t have to–” Phainon quails under the sheer force of Mydei’s gaze.
“Three meals a day,” Mydei says. It is not a request.
Phainon is smart enough to know when to concede. “Yes, honey.”
(Unheard by both of them, Caelus is frantically whispering into Dan Heng’s ear: “Oooh, look at me, I’m Phainon,” he says. “My big, beautiful boyfriend loves me too much. I have to eat all of the homemade food he makes me. Oh, the humanity. Fuck you, man.”
Dan Heng nods. He does not say anything, but he looks equally as exhausted.)
—
Their apartment has two full bathrooms; one is an ensuite attached to his and Phainon’s bathroom, but their guests are welcome to use the shower there. Spare towels have been left in the guest bedroom. Mydei has put an extra laundry hamper there, and he will do laundry the night before the guests leave, so they should put anything they’d like washed there before then.
He relays all of this information as they walk up the flight of stairs. Just inside the door are three pairs of indoor slippers lined up like tiny sentinels, still in their plastic packaging. The living room has a bottle of fragrance sticks with an understated, neutral scent—good for Phainon’s sensitive nose and susceptibility to headaches—but the smell of warm, spiced rice drifts from the kitchen.
“I’ll heat up dinner,” Mydei says. “Please, feel free to shower in the meantime.”
Stelle, who has been observing all of this with her mouth slightly open, throws her hands up at that and says, “Dude, did you go to like, hospitality school or something?”
Mydei frowns slightly. He majored in history, minored (reluctantly) in business, and taught himself how to bake; he doesn’t quite know what she’s asking about.
“Mydei’s always been the best at everything,” Phainon swoops in. “Especially hosting.” He sends a wink Mydei’s way.
“Hmm,” Mydei says, trying not to let his satisfaction show on his face. This should be the bare minimum when having guests, in his opinion; most ‘hosts’ are simply woefully underprepared. Still, Phainon’s words are nice to hear nevertheless.
—
After dinner—which consists of spiced rice, roasted vegetables, and herby chicken, healthy but not too harsh on the stomach considering the relatively late hour—Mydei walks out of their bedroom, having taken a shower of his own. Phainon and Stelle insisted on doing the dishes. Unlike in the car, this was not an argument Mydei could win.
He stops in his tracks as their voices float into the living room.
“He’s a total catch,” Stelle is saying. “Very hubby. Very wifey.”
Mydei preens at that, but only slightly.
Phainon laughs. “I know,” he says. “I’m the luckiest man alive. I must’ve saved a billion people in my last life to have gotten him.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t put a ring on it,” Stelle says. “You know, lock it down before anyone else gets any ideas.”
Mydei creeps a little closer to the kitchen, holding his breath.
“I want that more than anything in the world,” Phainon says, voice so unusually quiet that Mydei has to strain to catch every word. “But I’m waiting until after I graduate. We didn’t expect to do long-distance, and I know it’s been hard on him. It’s been hard on both of us. I don’t want to propose just to leave him alone again.”
“I guess that’s fair,” Stelle offers. “I mean, you know him better than I do. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think he’d say ‘no’ right now.”
She is correct. Mydei approves. He turns and slinks back into their bedroom, footsteps as silent as a cat’s.
Of course, Mydei wasn’t pleased that Phainon had to move away. But he’s not remotely worried, either, about the workload that might prevent Phainon from texting as regularly or the students that might get crushes on him. He has far too much faith in Phainon and their relationship for that.
Still. Mydei does dislike that others will have a proximity to Phainon that he will not for the next three years. They’ll get to hear his boisterous laugh every day or see the way his brows furrow when he gets competitive. (And though he would never call them this word, because his mother taught him it was rude, he knows that some utter floozies there will throw themselves at his boyfriend.)
Perhaps a more visible claim is warranted.
—
Stelle, Caelus, and Dan Heng leave after a few days, hands laden with freshly baked cookies and pastries, fervently thanking Mydei as they leave. They had even run out to buy a bouquet of flowers and a small cake as a joint gift of appreciation; Mydei puts the flowers in a vase but wrinkles his nose after tasting the cake.
Phainon eats it. It’s not as good as Mydei’s baking, that’s for sure—but Mydei’s cakes simply can’t be beaten, so it’s an unfair comparison, anyways.
That night, they’re cuddling before bed when his perfect, darling Mydei looks up from where he’s resting his head on Phainon’s chest and says, “I would like to get married.”
Caught off guard and at a rare loss of words, Phainon can do nothing but gawk at him. Mydei stares back expectantly, blinking slowly as if to say, Well? Don’t you?
“Honey—Mydei—I’d marry you in a heartbeat, you have to know that. But it’s not fair of me to tie you to me like this and then make you wait. I can’t ask that of you. I don’t want to put that on you.”
Mydei hmphs, his golden eyes narrowing in irritation. “It is no burden to me,” he says. He shifts again so that his head is tucked back into the crook of Phainon’s neck, with Phainon’s chin pressing into his soft, sweet-smelling hair. “And even if it were,” he continues, “I would gladly carry it, because I am strong, and because it would be for us.”
Phainon’s heart swells so fast it feels like it will shatter into a million tiny pieces. After all this time, his Mydei still surprises him.
“My sweet, darling Mydeimos.” He runs a hand down Mydei’s spine and, when Mydei melts into it, marvels. “Have I told you how much I love you?”
“You have,” Mydei says. He sounds like he’d be purring if he could. Then, after a pause, he says: “Silly Deliverer. Tell me again.”
“Yes, dear,” Phainon says, and he does just that.