Chapter Text
Phainon was, undeniably, for a lack of better word choices, broke.
This wasn’t the type that makes pockets feel loose after spending an exorbitant amount of money on trinkery that you only use once every blue moon. This was soul-sucking debt or sleeping on the streets kind of broke. The one that could start a man’s journey on the path of poverty.
He didn’t say he liked either option though.
The few pennies in his wallet figuratively jingled out a response, signalling a not very friendly reminder of his current situation, as if they themselves can sense damning evidence that points to him being filthy poor.
Renting a one room flat and spending the day going to classes and eating cup noodles may seem like your average college student lifestyle.
But living in debt and risking getting evicted any second by his landlord?
Less so.
…Probably not part of the college experience.
The moment Phainon finished his coursework, he flopped onto the bed, faceplanting into a plump pillow like it was a small, treasured luxury. The bed welcomed him with open arms, a comforting embrace that soothed his soul and body. He didn’t do as much as sigh contentedly, melting into rightfully-earned bliss.
Sunlight streamed through the thin curtains, casting long, warm stripes across the cabinet, filling the room with a temporary peace. Everything stayed still and perfect for a moment. Just how he liked it.
With a muffled groan, Phainon shifted his body weight to face that of the wall. A backdrop of white greeted him. It was comforting, just one more droop of his eyelids before sleep took him away from this painful world.
Of course, peace could not last forever.
His heart skipped a beat or two when his eyes unfortunately chose that exact time to land on the countertop. A tightly sealed envelope with sharp, pointed edges was hastily shoved into the small drawer, like someone disposing of a particular unwanted corpse.
A small red stamp with the icon of a house on the top right corner stuck out like a sore thumb, pretending to justify the internal turmoil he was currently experiencing.
Ah right, that. The reason for his suffering.
Today was a great day, which also meant it was a great time to reflect on life choices.
The burning questionnaire of the day: Why was he so broke?
Phainon surveyed the room, averting his eyes from the white-papered devil. It wasn’t entirely his fault, really. Most of his money had gone into furnishing the apartment—furniture, decorations, ambiance, comfortability. The usual.
A row of potted plants by the windows to emphasise short, diminishing lifespans of living beings. Different coloured clothes in the wardrobe for diversity. A droma-shaped keychain because Professor Anaxa had insisted the whole class buy it, but he never had the heart to throw it away. It looked kind of cute anyways.
Snap out of it, now’s not the point. Duly noted. You get what he means.
Sure, people called it all “useless stuff”, but in his defense, it was state-of-the-art useless stuff. The things that made it hard for life to feel the same without.
It was also the reason why he was relying on processed meals and late night existential dread as ways to keep himself alive and kicking.
‘Just drop out and start working already.’ His brain unhelpfully supplied.
It would've helped anyone but him.
Phainon slammed his hands onto his wall hard, before immediately regretting it while wincing at the brief pain that flared up from his palms.
Ignoring the plain display of violence that overcame him a mere few seconds ago, the point still stands. The point being: Absolutely Not. With capital letters and full stops.
He had spent days crying over soupy beef bowls and sobbing into far too many old school neon green post-it notes, and sacrificed too many beauty sleep hours, during his torturous, boss level, mid-year project. There was also the entirety of last year to account for.
There was no way in hell he was dropping his degree after all that pain and suffering.
After all, he did have the cowboy resilience of his parents, grew up on a family farm and had spent his younger years wrangling animals on a daily basis.
He was patient.
He would survive this. Somehow.
So yeah, dropping out was a no go. Not when he was this far in. However, perseverance was the least of his worries for now.
Maybe he could try his luck by staying a few more months…his landlord surely wouldn’t mind right? If the knocks came, he would turn off all the lights and pretend he wasn’t at home.
It was a solid plan.
A good, decent plan, if you asked him.
It wasn’t.
Not when it could be easily refuted by one person.
And who else could have struck Phainon’s internal compass so hard he started spiraling? Well…
“Not a chance.” His best friend and, unfortunately, totally not his 100% loser boy crush, Mydei, said. “There's zero chance of you lasting a single day in that apartment.”
If anyone else had said it, Phainon would have at least still had some form of self assurance that what he did was still okay.
But Mydei had said it. The rejection itself felt like a death sentence.
Confidence? Obliterated. Dignity? Dead six foot under. All done efficiently, and without a care in the world by one two centimetres shorter and way too devilishly handsome blonde man.
It was worth the shot when it lasted. A pat on the back would have sufficed as a job well done.
Phainon frowned, wounded from the insult. “Don't you believe in my luck and good fortune?”
Even persuasion couldn’t break the hardest of men. Mydei’s gaze hardened. His jaw set. He scoffed, low and dismissive. “No.”
His tone left no room for argument.
Phainon didn’t argue back, but he resorted to the worst trick in the book—pouting.
Mydei just gave him a long, hard stare. The kind that could melt planets, slaughter chickens and reduce a boy into shreds.
The white haired sighed in apparent defeat.
That didn’t work. Damn Mydei’s immunity to puppy eyes. Mission aborted.
Phainon then proceeded to take a long, good moment to admire how unfairly attractive Mydei looked while he was currently being vaporized by laser eyes. The man practically radiated under the cafeteria’s poor lighting, even when pissed. Curse the good family genes. He wasn’t usually one to complain, but he would roll and die on the ground before he got onto the strawberry blonde’s level of immaculacy and perfection.
“He's right, Phainon. Your luck is really…something else…” A pink girl commented, her voice trailing off to the void. Hyacine. She shared a glance with Castorice, who bopped her head in wordless agreement. “What would Cyrene say?”
Cyrene, as in his older sister, Cyrene. The best sister in the whole world, aside from the fact that she loved to tease him relentlessly for his atrocious habits.
She wasn't really his sister, they had no blood ties after all, but she sure felt and acted like one.
He could already imagine it in his head—getting mocked by her for being broke. He quickly dispelled the thought, but was already imagining her smile and her laughter in the recesses of his mind.
What the fuck. That was not on his agenda.
“I expected these two to say that, but even you Cas? I'm wounded. And don't you dare bring Cyrene in this, she would just tease me!” He groaned, head in his hands, sinking his chair, sighing loudly. If even Castorice, his soft-spoken but kind-hearted friend, reacted like that about him, titan forbid, he was doomed.
Officially the worst day ever, only narrowly beaten by that time when he got scammed by the vending machine. Honestly, that thing just had to eat his coins when he was already on life support. He didn’t regret the kick he gave it, even if it caused quite the bruising on his leg.
“Besides, don't you remember what happened the last time we trusted your ‘luck and good fortune’?” The words sliced through the air, sharp and threatening.
A certain someone looked like he was ten seconds away from wringing Phainon’s neck and throwing him into the ocean. And that he was not going to save him from drowning.
Granted, this was Mydei, so anything was possible.
He winced. Hard.
Okay fair. He definitely remembered getting sent to detention, after an extremely loud earful from Aglaea.
On the speakers.
It felt like public execution via megaphone.
That woman was scary.
His sore eardrums rang a whole week. He still had nightmares about her furious gaze. He even avoided looking her straight in the eye for a whole month, afraid that one more wrong move, it would have been his demise.
It hadn’t been his proudest moment.
“Urgh…I’m aware of that…You didn't need to remind me…” he slouched, already mentally chanting an unspoken ‘fuck you’ to scoliosis when his back jerked back in pain.
Nope, acting fine was too much work.
This was where he left all presence of self preservation.
His head hit the table with a loud thud. The bowl of ramen jumped in the air. His brain gave up on life. Somewhere, his soul packed up its bags and left, clearly too tired to deal with the sheer force of bullshit he was doing today.
The four were eating lunch at the school cafeteria, as they always did when they were not weighed down on assignments like little ants, when the topic of his lack of money surfaced.
They were definitely, he was positive, ganging up on him on this matter.
Bless Hyacine, who caught the bowl of ramen right before it fell to the ground, placing it on the table like a seasoned professional. She shot Phainon with an unimpressed look. He returned it with a hollow expression, reclaiming his food with as much vigor and enthusiasm as someone who was very much ready to disappear from the surface of the universe completely. Degree be damned.
“Maybe you should get a job, Phainon.” the purple haired girl spoke, staring at his slunken figure with concealed worry. Much to his chagrin, the other two nodded.
“But all of you don’t need them! Besides, what if something fatal happens to me while I’m there? Traffic rules aren’t going to save me from a car accident!” He protested while slurping the broth of his noodles, adjusting his posture upright again. As delicious as the noodles, they were not helping his cause.
It was a reasonable excuse. At least to him.
Mydei’s parents ran a multi-million company, passed down from when his ancestor established Krenmos. The man was literally born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Hyacine worked at her family’s clinic as the best healer and nurse the family saw in years. She was also studying her medicinal degree, and Phainon had no doubt she would do wonders to the world. Castorice saved up plenty of money from her childhood doing odd jobs to support her sister, Pollux, and herself, so she was also living a pretty decent life.
It always seemed like he got the short end of the stick out of the four. His one was probably five hundred metres shorter.
Fate must really hate his guts. He must be their favourite punching bag.
“Phainon, a job interview isn't that hard, and it certainly won't kill you! The chances of getting hit by a car is already minimal and getting killed by it is definitely lesser!”
Yeah, right. Speak for yourself.
“Then please enlighten me, how am I supposed to do that? March up to the interview and say ‘hi, I want to work for you, can you let me join?’ I'll look like I'm insane! Which, if you didn’t know, is a horrible first impression!”
“Obviously, don’t do that. You'll have to be prepared. Try memorising interview questions and submit your resume. You were class president three years in a row and still are. Use those records. Don’t tell me they’re collecting dust!”
Judging by his track record, they were indeed collecting dust, lost to time or chucked out into the bin long ago. Let it be known that he wasn’t the best person to ask if you wanted to keep things organized and easily found. His bedroom was a complete warzone. Try to find a pencil and instead end up with a pile of ancient artifacts from who knows where. He still didn’t know how he found a pair of old demonic scrolls in his bedroom on a random Tuesday evening. Must have gotten the wrong books from the local library. Someone better remind him to return them tomorrow.
“Why not buy something to store them then? Like a shelf? It would help with the organizing, surely.”
There was only one reason why he hadn't done that yet.
The man subconsciously adjusted his ‘class president’ badge pinned on his coat, suddenly feeling very self aware.
“I don’t have money to afford a cabinet,” he muttered. “I spent them all…”
There it was. A moment of clarity sparked within him.
He was, in fact, spending his last few cents on ramen before he went bankrupt.
Excellent display of financial security, Phainon. Would someone please do the honours and hit me right now?
He then shook his head violently.
No, he still needed to patch up whatever was left of his professional dignity. If it even existed in the first place.
He suppressed a long, deep sigh. Sighing would just mean admitting defeat.
And Phainon of Aedes Elysiae was no such loser.
“Well, I wonder why.” Sarcasm dripped heavily. “Unlike a certain someone, I use my money wisely on essentials. Not on some fancy new ultra premium deluxe pillow that probably never lasted.”
“Your animosity towards cuddly pillows has been noted and for the record, it hasn’t spoiled yet!” He yelled out defensively. That was offensive. He at least spent half his lunch money on that. “That pillow was 50% off! Excuse me for wanting something to sleep on!”
Phainon then, against all sense of morality and social etiquette drilled into him since his younger years, all abandoned in the surge of frustration, jabbed a finger towards the blonde. “Also, mind you, you don't even need to save your money! Your family—”
The words died short in his throat.
Mydei sent him one of those glares. The ones that went ‘don’t mess with me or you’re in trouble’. He looked away, but his expression cracked marginally from the usual indifference to something akin to betrayal. Phainon’s own jaw clamped itself shut so quickly his brain lagged behind a few decimals, practically skidding from the brakes.
The table grew quiet. The silence sunk in like an unavoidable insect. A long, withering beat passed.
The silence that fell was palpable. Suffocating, even.
The worst part? Everyone knew what happened.
Castorice covered her face with her hands. Hyacine shot him a dirty look, one that somehow conveyed both utter disappointment and heavy disapproval through the creases of her eyebrow.
It was then when it registered.
What he said was wrong.
Wrong in so many ways possible.
‘I fucked up.’ The single line of thought ran through his head. His face burned in shame. Something tight twisted in his chest.
That was insensitive. He knew he overstepped and crossed a hard line. He knew Mydei and his family had issues. The subject had always been a touchy one, he didn’t know many details but the unspoken gestures; the brief curling of fists, or how his posture let out the tiniest bit of twitch, was crystal clear.
Phainon came from a poor family, but they loved him deeply. He would never trade them for the world.
Mydei probably didn't know what that felt like in a long time.
He felt like such a terrible idiot.
Instead, he shifted his head down, suddenly finding the table much more interesting to look at. Didn’t look at Mydei. Didn’t dare to.
‘Great job, genius. You just insulted your own crush. He might never speak to you again. Real smooth.’ Awesome work. He was absolutely not five seconds away from crying if Mydei left and never spoke to him again.
A string of “I’m so sorry”s were about to be released from Phainon’s mouth. If Mydei didn’t want anything to do with him after that jab, it was fine. He understood. He probably deserved it. He would probably even willingly accept a punch or two for whatever he said.
But Mydei didn’t leave.
Didn’t stand up.
He was still seated.
And he just looked at him.
“Don't even try to charm your landlord. She's already given you more than enough time to pay off your debt.” He spoke out at last, tone unreadable.
Phainon did feel mildly regretful that he couldn't fulfill the promise he had made for months. His landlord was graciously generous enough to let him pay off his debt by this month.
He should try to keep his promises and not ditch them. For this one time.
“Fine, I'll try to find a job. No promises though.” Phainon bit his lip, mustering the courage to look up.
No backlash.
He was safe.
Phainon sagged his shoulders with immeasurable relief, feeling something heavy getting lifted from his chest.
Internally, he was crying with inexplicable joy, praising every godly deity that was somewhat watching over him that he was given a second chance to make things right.
Phainon opened his mouth once more to apologize for everything, but he stopped.
Mydei had glanced at him.
His amber eyes flashed, not in anger or hurt, but just quiet understanding. The words ‘I forgive you, idiot.’ went unsaid. Mydei’s expression remained the same casual indifference, but the corners of his mouth twitched slightly upwards, albeit traitorously.
That hit him harder than it should have.
He wasn’t ready for whatever job application he had to do, but if it could please Mydei, he would do it.
For his sake.
And his wallet.
Goodness, he was in too deep.
“That's the spirit!” Hyacine clapped her two hands together. Her previous expression had changed from bad spirited menace to friendly divine entity. Phainon controlled a shudder that threatened to be unleashed between his shoulder blades and scooted a little more inconspicuously to the left of the table.
She had spent way too much time with Aglaea recently. When did she become so scary?
‘Note to self,’ he placed an imaginary post-it note on the corner of his brain. ‘Never get on her bad side or I might be singing more than just soprano in choir class...’ Now that was something he needed to avoid with all his life force.
The atmosphere lightened, visibly. Tension forgotten, the four friends sunk back into the comfortable conversation it was before.
“She looked like she would skin him alive. Our golden boy’s dead meat.” Mydei purposely glanced at his direction as he loudly faux-whispered to Castorice, and the two burst into cackles. It was eerily similar to one of those cursed meme stickers that someone would send at 3AM for shit and giggles.
“I can hear you, you know! At least try to be silent!” Phainon rolled his eyes.
“And miss out on this grand opportunity? Never.”
Phainon groaned once more, twirling a pair of chopsticks in a circular motion with one hand, the other grabbing the bowl of ramen. He then gobbled up the remaining food at one go, sighed satisfactorily, and promptly sank into his seat, stomach full and happy.
If only the same could be said about his wounded pride.
“If all else fails, will you guys let me stay at your places? I don’t mind taking turns on different days.” He sat upright again, and asked with pleading eyes. Phainon was shut down with simultaneous versions of “No.” immediately.
“You guys are the worst. I have such great friends.” He grumbled, resulting in a hit on the head and the eye rolls of three people.
Time to find himself a job.
“Thank you for stopping by!” Phainon overheard the female interviewer yell out as he shut the door.
His steps quickened.
The sooner he was out of here, the faster this experience would be gone from his mind. As they say, ’Out of sight, out of mind.’ However, the more steps he took, the slower he seemed to himself.
Psychology sucks.
He sighed in relief when he spotted the exit door and practically ran to it like it was moral support.
It probably was, after everything.
Phainon let out a sigh, hand dragging down his face, as he leaned against the corporate building’s outer wall, thoughts entering his head before he could stop them.
If coming back empty handed was considered a job, then yes he found himself one. Full time. With benefits. Even came with a tag that labelled him as unemployed employee of the month.
He tried, he really did, his ridiculously large collection of collectible multicoloured pens could swore to that, but none of it worked.
By it, he meant the numerous attempts he had made in order to secure one. How none of them were successful was really bugging him, he was sure he did everything—he meant everything, perfectly.
His posture? Impeccable.
Attitude? Confident, calm, cool, collected.
He answered the questions to the best of his ability, and even gave some suggestions on what he would improve on. A-star worthy behaviour if you asked him.
Phainon didn’t just go the extra mile, he practically sped through it multiple rounds—asked his parents for possible job ideas, questioned his sister over video call to ensure he got his forms filled right, and promoted the web browser’s status as his pseudo best friend. Even plucked up the courage to ask Professor Anaxa to write him a recommendation letter, which in hindsight, wasn’t the worst idea, unless you were Phainon, and had a reputation of never getting his beloved professor’s name pronounced correctly.
“As I said for the thousandth time, Phainon, it’s Professor Anaxagoras. A-n-a-x-a-g-o-r-a-s!” The older man snapped, not before scrunching his nose in apparent distaste. “Not that other blasphemous name!”
“You didn’t say it a thousand times, Professor. Probably only nine hundred and fifty times.” Phainon, matter of factly, spoke. “Anyways, Professor Anaxa is a much better name! It sounds much cooler and easier to remember than whatever that Anaxadoras is!”
The mentioned man’s eye twitched. He looked like he would rather have a concussion, an aneurysm, or three talkative students disrupting his classes than what he was dealing with at the moment.
Phainon couldn’t blame him. The same conversation had occurred plenty of times, but only this time was with a different context. Or subtext, if he's being totally honest.
“Out.” He pointed to the door, voice flat. Phainon didn’t protest, but dragged his feet as slowly as he could out of the classroom, making sure to be as close to the teacher’s table as possible.
The man didn’t twitch, but an eyebrow was raised.
Phainon ignored the gesture.
Professor Anaxa was the embodiment of what they called a “tsundere”, in Castorice's terms. Moments after Phainon ‘left’, the white haired boy lingered discreetly to find the green haired professor penning down his statements on the paper, eyes sharp and focused
After a few more scraps of pen against the wooden table, the man stood up, walked to the door's side, and wordlessly handed him the recommendation letter like someone who was finally free from whatever they had gone through the past decade.
“You noticed me?”
Deadpan. “You aren’t exactly subtle.”
Ouch. Critical hit right into his own pride. He staggered backwards, hand clutching his chest like the words physically stabbed him. The green haired man did not help him up, just looked at him with the most dead-eyed stare known to mankind. It would have won an Oscar.
“Professor! That was offensive!”
If glares could kill, someone would have resembled withered crops. The older man’s fingers flexed slightly as if he was already planning crime cases on him but Phainon remained unfazed. He knew his professor well enough that he wouldn’t touch any of his students, let alone think of hurting them
The numerous perks of being a favourite student.
“Get out of my class.” And there was that.
Phainon jabbed the familiar button of store-made hot coffee on the vending machine with the fluidity and grace of a man five seconds away from dropping dead on the ground.
The machine rumbled and clinked, churning out a black cylinder shaped can into the pick-up box. The white haired boy picked the drink up and gave it a little spin.
He had assumed a sip of hot, steaming coffee would have at least cheered him up and reminded him that life wasn’t a bed of roses, and that failures were a key method to success.
Besides, he always wanted to try decaf anyway. A classmate recommended it to him once and his description sounded real good.
He was sorely mistaken the moment he cracked the lid off.
The coffee looked as if someone had poured the unholy combination of tar and white glue to make it brown. The hot water felt cold. There was still white foam at the top. It smelled like defeat.
Phainon should have known this was a bad idea.
Still, he gave it the benefit of doubt and took a sip.
Bone-deep regret followed.
The drink was a health hazard. He wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up in the ER, stuck on abnormal heart rates and a heart monitor glued to him by sunrise.
He could feel his lifespan shortening just from that can. His soul wilted. His heart accepted reality to become paste.
“You're telling me Leonardo liked this crap? I think he needs to get his taste buds checked…this is just pee-infused terror!”
The worst thing?
He forgot his surroundings. Apparently bad coffee made him blind 360 degrees.
Not even a second later, because the world loved being ironic, just as he turned his back onto the wall, he managed to collide into someone.
Just his luck.
He was about to quickly mumble aloud an apology, but…
"Well, well, if it isn't Phainon," the man let out a low rasp. "Looking a bit... down on your luck, aren't you?"
Phainon's blood ran cold.
The coffee cup fell onto the ground with a splash, its contents wasted.
His mouth opened, and was closed almost immediately, the words stopped short.
He knew that voice all too well.
It was Uncle Lygus.
The man wasn’t in his family, but he was close enough to be a family friend. He didn’t know what in the world Cyrene saw in him, but he damn well was creepy as heck. Lygus was always weirdly interested in him, like some sort of specimen that needed to be studied.
He hated that unsettling feeling he always had around him.
“I apologize if I startled you.” He looked pointedly at the fallen cup. Phainon didn’t particularly care about the cup or spilled coffee right now. Nothing was going to help it not taste like shit. There were more important things to talk about.
"Huh…? Uncle Lygus? What…are you doing here..?" he stammered, taking a small step back. Rookie mistake. His uncle stepped a little closer. The air became a little bit more tense.
"Let's just say I have a knack for being in the right place at the right time. I heard you're in a bit of a pickle. A little birdie told me you're looking for a job."
Phainon's stomach dropped.
Who told him?
The thought sent a shiver down his spine. His friends? No, they wouldn't, they didn’t even know him. He had never told them about Lygus before. His sister? She might have, but she promised him she would never tell anyone.
It must have his shitty luck, manifesting in the form of his creepy uncle.
Right there and then, the white haired cursed his misfortune.
His back was turned. Arched. Prepared for an aviation takeoff, even if he would've looked like a fool doing so.
He should have ran.
Should have left.
But he didn’t, feet stuck on the pavement like a deer in the headlights.
Phainon was often regarded as ‘Prince Charming’ of their school. He was charismatic enough to get the whole class a week off of school, and was the champion of debate competitions eight times in a row. He had the flair, the confidence, and the right amount of persuasion to get what he wanted.
Unfortunately, that same skill that brought him so much triumph in his numerous activities had chosen today off all days to stop working.
The man sighed internally.
He may have to rework his internal calendar so that this doesn't happen again.
Maybe it was just him, or he was too prideful to admit that he was just a bundle of nerves at the moment.
‘Breathe, Phainon, breathe. You got this. Just walk through all attempts of a conversation.’
"I'm fine, thanks," Phainon responded at last, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "Just a few financial hiccups. Nothing I can't handle." He flashed the most charming smile he could muster. It wasn’t convincing. Not when it looked like someone who had taken a bite of mouldy, stale bread and quickly spat it out.
Lygus's smile widened. He didn’t comment on his expression. "Of course, you can handle it." The way he said it made the hair on his back stand and his skin crawl. This was why he couldn't stand him. “Which is why I bring you a proposal.”
The man took out a sleek black card, and wordlessly handed it to him. He stretched out to take it with barely concealed hesitation, grasping the hard, plastic card with both hands.
He turned the card around.
‘Nero Nova’ was written with big bolded text at the front. In smaller-sized, Comic Sans font, it stated a business number, email address, and business hours.
He blinked at it.
The card itself probably cost more than his rent.
And the only thing he could think of currently was…
‘Wow, that’s the dumbest company name I have ever heard of.’
Phainon’s lips twitched. He held back the grin that threatened to form, laughing internally at the sheer absurdity of the name.
“Big company. Big conglomerate. Big money.” Of course, the old man’s words hit back, a stark reminder that he had company tonight, even if it was unwelcomed. He even had the audacity to act that they explained everything.
Trick question. It didn’t.
Phainon looked at the card once more, then back at his uncle. The whole thing reeked of shadiness, especially since it was coming from Lygus. He would rather eat a billboard than trust him. In the first place, he didn’t even like business, logistics and the stuff.
But high pay.
It echoed in his head like a cursed ringtone, making him reconsider. He was desperate. Everyone knew that. Even the pigeons living outside his bedstilled window. Eviction was real and a dangerous threat to his living conditions. He didn’t want to be thrown off the streets homeless.
So, he did the most logical thing someone could do if they were a week away from being deserted: ask questions. Then he’ll decide for himself if it was good or not.
"Before you say anything,” Phainon clarified. “If it’s illegal, I’m outta here faster than you can blink. Or do a cartwheel. Or pick up Shiroron’s poop. Which is admittedly harder than you think. That dog is a walking waste disposal.”
Lygus didn’t even blink. Phainon was almost impressed.
“Of course it’s not illegal. This is a legitimate business. We have contracts with some of the biggest names in the city.” At the younger’s hesitation, he continued, “If you’re still not convinced, you can search it up yourself.”
It was better to be safe rather than sorry, and since this was regarding his uncle, the white haired at least thought he earned the right to question Lygus’s credibility. Unfortunately for Phainon, the company proved its legitimacy. Five stars. Sparkling partnerships. Positive reviews.
Fate was never kind to him once. Phainon was probably its favourite punching bag.
“Naturally, I would never lie to you.” Okay that was straight up the weirdest thing he had ever heard in his life. He didn’t even notice the tremor of his fingers, until he tried to place his phone back into his pocket.
He caught it with his other hand before his fingers could drop it, hastily shoving it in.
Phainon let out a small sigh, voice crackling slightly. “I don’t even think I can travel overseas…my degree…it’s very important to me…I need it..."
“It’s not compulsory for you to travel overseas. You can choose to remain here until you have completed your educational duties. You don't have to worry about working the logistics, we're looking for more of a talker, and I believe your debating skills are much more qualified for the job than you think.”
It didn't sound half bad, decent enough to pass his standards and rent, and better than having to work with all the technical stuff but he still had his doubts.
Logically speaking, who would trust a man who randomly comes up to speak to you about job plans right after getting coffee. Honestly.
As though the man could sense his uncertainty, Lygus just chuckled and handed him a note.
“Just meet me at the location tomorrow. Pass by the green coloured building and go behind the garden. We’ll work out the details there. And if you do, I promise you, I’ll put in a good word for you.”
Something weird flashed in his eyes.
It disappeared just as quickly as it showed.
Phainon squinted.
So I'm hallucinating now.
Great.
“Now if you would excuse me, I have some urgent matters that I need to attend to.” The words came abruptly.
Phainon barely had time to process that when-
Lygus turned, gave him a nod, and vanished into the crowd.
He blinked.
The blue eyed boy could bet all the coins hidden in his room that his uncle was either a fairy or some sort of shape shifting entity.
He didn't even register that people had started surging into the four corners, remembering that peak hours were here and that he was starving. Barely three sips of poor caffeine was not a meal, let alone dinner.
Phainon placed a hand on his head and sighed warily.
“What an eventful day…time to go home before I actually die on the streets.” he muttered, securing the coat over his shoulders once more.
To be honest, he didn’t even know how he got to his apartment. His body navigated the streets on autopilot, crossing streets with a mind of its own.
Nearing the apartment, he practically pounced onto the door, fumbling the lock with the urgency of a wounded animal.
Coat shed, shoes kicked off somewhere near the shoerack, and one too mentally exhausting walk to the couch later, Phainon tossed the card on his nightstand, and promptly faceplanted onto the bed.
The void welcomed him.
He let himself sink into the darkness, before opening his eyes again, spotting the business card.
He looked away.
He knew better. He knew his uncle. This was a terrible idea. What was he doing? He knew out, could see it, it was right there, clear as day. Just don’t reply to his message.
Simple. Easy. Remarkably so.
But then he looked at the stacks of overdue bills and the looming eviction notice he placed on his desk the night before. He thought of his friends' faces, filled with concern and worried for his wellbeing. He thought of his family, doing everything they could to help him. He thought of Mydei. His hand tightened its grip on the plush he was holding, and before he even knew it, he grabbed his phone and swiped.
Phainon:
I’ll be there.
It was short. It was improper. It was enough.
As the phone pinged a response, he looked away. He took the risk. It was a bad decision. He knew it. Maybe it would be one he would regret forever. But for now, it could help. Help him. That was what mattered.
And even if it meant suffering under his bastard uncle, he would do it. What was the worst that could happen?
“Gods, they should’ve picked a better company name…maybe it would’ve helped me avoid it…” He let out a snort, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Somehow, the thought brought some comfort.
As midnight sank into the horizon, cool air filling in the bland room, Phainon curled up onto the side of the bed, hand clutching the blanket, another clenched into a fist, feeling just a little more peace and ease than the past few nights.