Archive of Our Own

The apartment was small. Extremely small, in fact, just a tiny living room, a small bedroom that fit his desk, bed and a small cupboard, as well as a kitchen that couldn’t fit two people comfortably. For him, that meant that he had knocked his elbow on the counters and kneeled in pain like a fallen warrior on his kitchen floor more times that he would admit just moving in. The apartment was small, yes, but ultimately, it was his. It was somewhere he could return to at the end of the day and have full freedom with.

He had seen the apartment, known the pains of living in a cramped space, known that he could´ve asked for a dorm-room, but still chosen this apartment. Moving to Okhema did warrant a downgrade in living standards, but it is to be expected in a big city like this. Everything was bigger, the university, the buildings, the amount of people in the streets. Janusopolis had been big, much bigger than he had expected when he had first moved there, but nothing could compare to the sheer size of this city.

Moving here reminded Phainon once again on how small and inconsequential he was compared to everything. Still, at least he reached this point in life. Look at him, the scrawny little farm boy from Aedes Elysiae now joining the university of Okhema, right after finishing his bachelor’s in medicine at Janusopolis. Or, at the moment he was simply lounging in his new apartment, sprawling over his two-seater couch. Maybe he will check out the university tomorrow, maybe even scope out some coffee-shops and stuff around it.

As of now, Phainon gets a packet of instant noodles from one of his new, white and sparkly clean kitchen cabinets, puts water to boil in the kettle, and settles in for the evening. He could cook, but his arms hurt from carrying the couch up the stairs.

He sets up his phone on the second-hand glass tea table, which doubled as his dining table, and calls Cyrene. “Hii, finished moving in, Phai??” her sweet cheerful voice calls out to him.

“Yea! My apartment is absolutely awesome. The view is crazy from my bedroom window. And it has a tiny ledge sticking out one of the in the bedroom, like my very own tiny balcony!”

“That sounds sooo cute!! Ughhh, I wish I could just visit you already, I miss you soo much! What time is it there, in Amphoreus? Did you call mom yet?” Right, his sister and best friend lives across the world, in the icy cold nation of Belobog. Their time difference is around 6 hours, if he wasn´t wrong. 7 during some months, which one was it now? Anyway, it should be around noon for her.

“Oh, it’s like 8 pm here, did you have lunch yet? I was about to call mom after you, have you heard from her yet?” Cyrene smiled at him, and he could faintly hear something on the other side. Yelling, mostly. He could’ve seen what it was, had he video-called, but he looked like a mess and really didn’t find a craving for her health lectures. He heard the kettle turn off and excused himself from the call to go get it. “I´ll call mom during dinner, Cy. Miss you!”.

Getting the kettle and pouring it on his ramen in a cute bowl he found on sale was easy enough, now he just had to cover it and wait for it to be done. Phainon sat down once again with his noodles and a glass of water, setting up his phone to video call his mother. She had to see him, or she would start to worry. Her “little baby boy” as she would worry about, despite him having reached his mid-twenties. He called and waited for her to pick up. She didn´t, and after a brief moment, he called again. What if something had happened to her, and neither him nor Cyrene were there to help her? What if she had slipped somewhere? She was a capable woman, not yet old enough to be helpless, but like what if it was something really serious? He called again. No answer this time either. He voice-called again. Maybe someone else would hear it, if she were outside, and check up on her. Titans, what had happened? She should be alright, right? What if she was out in the forest walking Snowy? He hadn’t done anything to make her ignore him, hadn’t he? No, his mother would never ignore him, no matter what. Then maybe she-

she picked up the phone this time. “Phainon Penthus Khaslana, the joy of my existence, if someone doesn’t pick up their phone, they´re busy!” Came her voice, dragging Phainon back to life from his panicked state. She wasn’t angry, she never was with her children.

“Mom, I thought something had happened to you!!” He squeaked back, his voice higher than a mouse. His own mother had the audacity to laugh.

“It´s going to take a lot to hurt me, Phai, no need to worry. Is something wrong?” Phainon shakes his head, struggling to get words out all of a sudden. See, there was nothing wrong, he was just worried for his family. Janusopolis had been a mere few hours drive away from home, but now… It would take at least a day for either Cyrene or Phainon to reach her.

“If you don’t mind honey, can I call tomorrow then? I´m out with snowy and can´t really talk right now since I´m carrying things, just settle in and tell me everything tomorrow, yes? And eat better, you look thinner already!”

“Yea, sure mom… bye.” His noodles were luke-warm now, but he shovelled them into his mouth anyway. Yea, he might just settle into bed for an early night now, and go to the university tomorrow. His classes start in a week and a half, but you can´t be too early to map out exact classrooms. He did visit back in the beginning of summer, staying at a friend’s house to see how everything was before he enrolled. It had been big, much bigger than expected, and he was sure to lose his way on the first day if he did not explore beforehand.

He finishes his food, gets some water to drink, leaves the dishes in the sink and heads straight to his bedroom. He will do the dishes tomorrow morning, he wasn’t really in the mood for chores right now. Settling in bed, after brushing his teeth, he wasn’t a barbarian, he made a mental note to apologise to his mother before he left next morning. But it wasn’t truly his fault, was it? He just worries, Titans he worries so much about his family, both his sister and mother. He called his mother every other day, kept texting her neighbour Livia for updates, as well as texting Bronya, one of Cyrene´s friends for updates every other month. Cyrene usually updates him should anything new come up, but his mom has a tendency to forget to call. Whatever, it still wasn’t fair of him to disturb her like that, he will apologise. At least they don’t have a time-difference.

He settled more comfortably in his bed, setting an alarm for tomorrow. The distant hum of the outside his window faded eventually. Yes, he got an apartment in a new city, but he had to get one in the outskirts in order to save money. He didn’t mind, this kind of silence usually didn’t come in cities, only interrupted from an occasional car passing or some young voice laughing on the streets below. Phainon fell asleep faster than he thought he would, buried beneath his clean, lavender-scented sheets (he needs to buy more of that fabric softener Bronya recommended, it´s heavenly). The exhaustion of moving for the past few days, the soreness in his arms, the warmth of the tiny apartment, it all mixed to a haze as he closed his eyes. His dreams were soft that night, blurry impressions of Aedes Elysiae, the wheat fields stretching beyond the horizon. His sister´s laugh, his mother´s garden, Snowy´s friendly barking all mixed together for a well-rested night. He didn’t remember when he drifted from dreaming to waking, only that sunlight had begun to sneak past his curtains, and his alarm ringing when he blinked his eyes open.

For a while, he just lay there, letting the golden morning light spill across his face. The air smelled of instant noodles and that new things smell, and he could hear the city wake up again. He stretched, bones cracking, and sat up with a yawn that practically ripped his jaw from the rest of him. Hmm, now his jaw hurt alongside of his arms.

Speaking of, he needed to find the nearest gym before he went out of shape. He loved the feel of working out, and missed it while moving here. Time to get up. Morning routine, easy enough for him, didn’t require concentration either. Brush teeth, cold shower (it´s healthy!), toss on something that would have the approval of his sister: A beige baggy sweater and his favourite well-worn jeans. He did wear a white t-shirt under, Okhema may be slightly chilly in the mornings, but he wasn´t a fool to fall for it, the days get very warm here. Luckily it’s soon the beginning of autumn, so the heat doesn’t get as hot as summer.

He combed his white hair (he wasn´t old, just built different in genetics) with his fingers, decided that its “good enough” (His mother would throw a fit) and shuffled into the kitchen. Breakfast was simple, toast, an egg and coffee so bitter it made him grimace at first. But it was peaceful, the kind of morning that made him feel solid. While he ate, he video-called his mother. She picked up after just one ring this time, Snowy´s excited barking echoing in the background. “Good morning Phai!” She greeted, her tone bright and teasing. “You look much better now, had a good night?”

“Yea,” he said, smiling at her, he did feel better actually. “Having breakfast now, look how healthy I´m eating! I just wanted to say sorry for last night. I overreacted.” Her laughter was soft and adoring.

 “Honey, don’t apologize for caring. Just don’t give yourself a heart attack every time I don’t answer.”

“Deal.” They talked for a few more minutes, about his apartment, his plans for the day, Snowy learning a new trick (Phainon suspected she was exaggerating by a fair bit.) By the time he hung up, his chest felt lighter. The morning sun hit his face through the kitchen window, and everything felt right. He rinsed his cup, procrastinated the dishes once more until evening (student life just works that way), hit his elbow on the counter, swearing at said counter and put on his shoes. He double checked that everything was in his used brown backpack (Sack-pack, Cyrene called it, since it looks like a potato sack apparently), his keys, wallet, charger and importantly, his sketchbook and graphite pencils. He rarely left home without them, despite drawing digitally as well.

Drawing helped him focus, and his “new city resolution” had been to sketch something new every day now that he was in Okhema. By the time he stepped out into the street, the city was more alive. People walked past him, air filled with the scent of roasted beans and the trees growing into a slightly lighter green than usual. He half-jogged, half-walked to the metro station, clutching his bag to his side. The train platform wasn´t that crowded, just some student, a few office workers, and a small family together waiting for the train.

He slipped his earbuds in, letting quiet music fill his mind and he stepped into the train that just came. Almost all trains led to Kephale Square, the busy centre of Okhema. He found a seat near the window, the glass glossy enough to reflect himself as well as the outside. The train started moving, and shorter building gave way to tunnels, then glimpse of neighbourhoods of pretty apartments and cars.

Phainon pulled out his sketchbook, flipping past old pages of sketches of faces, hands, the view from his old dorm room or his friends, until he found a blank one. That took a little longer than expected, so Phainon mentally added buying a sketchbook to his to-do list. A tiny ledge-like table by each duo of seats were convenient enough for the pencils. The motion of the train made the lines a little bit uneven, but he didn’t mind. He usually only sketched the basic linework while outside and detailed at home during weekends. Shading varied on how far he had gone with his sketch. Sometimes he could finish a sketch in one sitting, sometimes it took him a week, even after the muse had long disappeared from his sight. Great use of memory, right?

He began sketching the train-cart, the way light hit the wood and cloth seats, the screen showing the next station, and the middle-aged man on his phone. He smiled faintly to himself. A one-hour ride to the university didn’t seem so long now. The train swayed gently as it rattled along its track, the soft whooshing sound filling the background. Phainon´s pencil glided across the paper (Pencil 3H, just a light light outline of everything), his fingers moving on instinct as he caught the angles of the seats, the fold of the old mans jacket, even the direction of the reflection of lights on the smooth floor. Every now and then, the train stopped, the doors sliding open with a soft hiss. Annoyingly, the man stepped out at the very first station, but an older lady in a deep green coat took his place, so he just recycled the proportions of a human body for her anyway. A group of young men, presumably university students like him, stepped in, talking way too loud for this time of morning.

He sketched them too in the margins, their faces, the way their hair fell over their foreheads, the way their fingers curled at takeaway coffee cups among other things. The air inside the train was a mixture of perfume, coffee and city dust. People came and went in cycles, but it got more and more crowded the closer to Kephale square they got. Phainon´s eyes looked through each and every one of them, their anatomy, the way they stood, and finer details like the texture of their clothes.

He adored watching and remembering people like this, it was one of the reasons he had been so willing to buy an apartment so far away from the university, he could sketch and watch people every morning and evening. Sounded great to him. His page looked alive now, lines, half-finished details, a general outline of the train cart. He wrote down which seat he was sitting in, just to make sure that he sat in the exact same place later today. He wanted to finish this sketch. The announcer´s voice chimed softly through the speakers, distorted enough that it was slightly difficult to work out what it said. “Next stop: Kephale Square.”

Phainon blinked, looking around the train cart. He had been drawing for nearly the entire ride without noticing. Even the surrounding had changed to a busy platform, buildings just a bit away. Closing the book gently, he slipped it into his worn bag, gathered his things, and stood up as the train began to slow. The doors opened to the rush of morning air, warmer here than he expected, laced with the faint scent of something being roasted.

He stepped out into Kephale Square, the heart of Okhema. It was like stepping somewhere he had never seen before, despite having visited once before. The square itself was huge, framed by old stone buildings with tall arched windows and ornate carvings, remnants of an age that still clung stubbornly to the city. But between those heavy stone faces rose smooth towers of glass and gold, climbing high enough to catch the sun and scatter it in sharp beams across the cobblestones below.

Okhema had as a rule that all new architecture should try to follow the style of the old ones as much as possible or at least use the same colour pallet (according to the home-made looking pamphlet he was given by his friend, made by some home-princess person. She had refused to elaborate). That’s actually how Okhema preserves its name as the City of Gold. In many movies, they refer to Okhema as the City of Romance as well, since the people here used to pray to the Titan of romance, Mnestia. Phainon has heard (i.e. Cyrene info dumped onto him) that Mnestia is a very popular deity when it comes to all form of art here, whether it be statues, books or murals.

It truly was a beautiful city. Street vendors had set up shops along the edges of the square, their stalls a giving out wonderful smells that mixed in a heavenly way. Looks like he had found a lunch-spot, should he need one. He pulled out his phone, opened his maps app and typed in Okhema University central gate. The familiar blue arrow appeared, weaving its way through the streets. As he started walking, his steps didn’t even echo against the pavement. The city felt alive and full, more than Janusopolis had been for him. The streets here weren’t just filled with people, they moved like a current. Laughter, chatter, the sound of other footsteps and engines all merged into a steady hum.

Above him, old traditional buildings stood side by side with sleek buildings lined with digital advertisements. One displayed a golden glowing of an upcoming art festival, another flashed the face of a politician he didn’t know. He walked with the crowd of colourfully dressed people, just stopping once to take of his sweater and stuff it into his bag. It was already way too warm to be just mid-morning. Phainon did make a mental note that if he were to get here early enough to get to his classes on time, he would have to take an earlier train. “This place is just…. beautiful,” he says to himself, more an afterthought than a statement.

Back Home, in Aedes Elysiae, everything had been wide and open, wheat fields, fresh air, the constant murmur of cicadas. Even in Janusopolis, despite its bustle, there had been space to breathe. In Okhema, he felt much smaller, and he was kind of getting nervous on how he would manage to make friends. He crossed a bridge that arched over a canal. On the far side, rows of trees marked the start of the university’s grounds. It was what Okhema was most known for, the rival institute to the Grove of Epiphany. So many people applied each year, and alumni often ended up with great jobs everywhere.

He could faintly see the outline of its main gate in the distance. He heard from Cipher, the friend whose home he crashed a while back to visit, that even when it’s not school season, the place is almost always filled with students, professors and researchers. Seeing the building reveal itself, along with people rushing everywhere around it, he realised that yes, it probably was always filled with people. The building is enormous, sprawling stairs leading to massive doors, pillars and arches everywhere made the building look eternal. Like it would be here no matter what. Maybe it is the true library of Alexandria. Phainon slowed down, the corners of his mouth twitching into a faint smile. He had been here before, but somehow it looked entirely new now. The security that he got in, maybe? Could that really change how someone saw something though?

The morning sun made the marble glow, and the people walking in and out looked impossible small beneath it all. He wanted to reach for his sketchbook again and draw everything he saw and keep it in his memory. Maybe later though. For now, he should just see. He will have plenty of opportunities later. He took a slow breath, feeling the air fill his lungs. “Alright,” He murmured to himself, a grin starting to break out on his face. “Time to see how everything is gonna be from now on”

Phainon paused just beyond the gates, his phone still open in his hand and started to pull up his schedule. “Alright, let´s see…” He thumbed through the mail app and found it from the email he got weeks ago. Business analytics – Masters year 1. He was so damn proud of himself to have made that choice. Even now, seeing that master’s course on his screen felt weird, but it would be worth it. He´d spent the last few years buried in anatomy charts and lab reports, memorizing the structure of cells and nerves until they danced behind his eyelids when he slept.

But now, he was tired of that. He stepped through the wide halls, checking the directions and building numbers as he walked. People, presumably students, wandered in clusters, some sitting on benches with laptops on their laps, others leaning over open books. Most of them looked relaxed, like they belonged here already. He felt a small flicker of nerves in his stomach but shook it off.

His goal was simple, find every lecture hall on his schedule so he wouldn’t look like a lost toddler next week. “Hall N496…” he read, glancing at his phone again. He followed the signs, passing tall glass windows that opened to courtyards filled with trimmed hedges and statues of philosophers long gone. The corridors smelled faintly of old paper, cleaning solution and the sweet tang of coffee drifting from somewhere nearby. The first few rooms were easy to find, they were all in the same building, at least. He marked them mentally, taking note of landmarks like old vending machines and bronze busts.

By the time he reached the stairs to the upper floor, he´d started to relax. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Then he proceeded to turn a corner a little too quickly and dramatically colliding full-force with someone coming from the opposite direction.

“Oh-!” Books flew out of the girl’s arms in a scatter of pager and bindings. It was actually kind of theatrical and comical. Phainon barely reacted before he was on the floor, scooping up the nearest one. “I am so sorry, I didn´t see-”

“It´s fine, really” came a soft and sweet voice. He looked up to see a girl with long hair the colour of crushed lavenders, light pink with just a little bit of lilac. Her oversized seater almost swallowed her up, and she had a few books in her arms. One of them was labelled Applied Physics of modern systems. She blinked at him, clearly trying not to laugh. “You’ve got fast reflexes at least.” She said.

Phainon stood quickly, handing her the last of the fallen books. “Sorry again, I wasn’t paying attention. First day exploring the place, and I think its playing tricks on me” That earned him a smile.

“You´re not alone. I think half the new students are lost today. I´m Castorice,” she said “Engineering bachelors, third year.”

“Oh, I´m Phainon,” he said. “Masters in business analytics, first year!”

She tilted her head. “Most people looks like they´re tired of the world when they say masters. You sound…excited.”

Phainon let out a soft laugh. “Excited might be a strong word. Relieved, maybe. It´s a new start.” He hesitated, then added, “I actually came from a medical program before this. Thought I´d be a doctor”

Her eyes widened a little. “Medicine to business analytics? That’s a jump.”

“Yeah, everyone says that. But now, I can at the very least get more than 4 hours of sleep.” He smiles as Castorice laughs quietly. She seems like one of those people who are silent but still manages to wear her emotions on her sleeve.

“Fair point, I´m in engineering. So trust me, I get the sleep deprivation thing.”

“Well that explains the armful of books, at least”

She glanced down on them, sighing softly. “Yeah, structural and energy this term. Not as exciting as it sounds, I´m afraid. Unfortunately, that means I need a head start on it, so now I´m here.”

Phainon smiled reassuringly back at her. “No wonder you´re carrying half a library. I´d pass out immediately within seeing those equations. Trust me, I´ve seen my sister’s textbooks. She´s in engineering but in her last year.”

“then it´s good you switched fields,” she said teasingly. “You analytics people have your own kind of insanity with numbers. Models, prediction, statistics. It’s like engineering but invisible.”

He chuckled. “You like building what people see, while I build what makes it effective” She laughed again, softly. Then she shifted the books in her arms and eyed him up and down.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. Did you just move here?” He nodded.

“Yea transferred here last week actually. And I live like an hour away.”

“You´re not in the dorms? That’s brave,” she sounds genuinely curious, “Most people who try that run to the dorms a month afterwards” She continued. He laughed, once again. He likes Castorice. She sounds sweet and is a good conversation partner, not letting him bear the brunt of it. He would absolutely consider her his first friend here, provided Cipher never hears him say that.

“I considered dorms, but I like having a place that’s mine. Even if it barely fits a couch and I keep hitting my elbows on the counters.

The corners of her eyes crinkled. “Sounds cozy, you´ll have to send a review in a few weeks to me, whether freedom is worth the elbow injuries.”

They talk a bit more, and Phainon took the chance to ask her where all his other lecture halls were. They even exchanged numbers before parting, which is like, the ultimate friendship starter-thing. Maybe she also just wants new friends? He quickly visited the next few halls, made mental notes on where they were and finally ended up going home. Next week will certainly be fun.

This week, however, was irritatingly long and boring. But he did keep himself busy, called his mother every other day, texted and chatted with his friends in Janusopolis, Bronya and Cyrene´s other friends, got a headstart with his textbooks, explored like every nook and cranny of the area he lived in, as well as walking around Kephale Square. He did stay consistent and drew something in his sketchbook every day, usually just some knickknacks around the house, people on the streets and stray cats. Maybe if he settles in well, and becomes responsible enough, he might get a cat himself. He drew a cat from memory, one that he would like when he got one. Look at him, he´s so bored he´s drawing his potential future cat and managed to fill an entire page with it. He named his fictional cat Kokopo.

Monday morning finally came, leaving Phainon in front of his wardrobe trying to choose an outfit. After careful consideration, he went for light blue jeans, a black, kind of tight t-shirt and a red zip-up. Cyrene would be so proud. He ruffled his hair a little on purpose, because he was a genius who asked his barber for a haircut that looked better messy, and set out to the train station.

The weather had gone slightly colder during the past week, but not enough for him to bring out fall coats like a few others had started doing. Still, the misty, somewhat cool morning air was crisp to breathe.

The train station was somewhat fuller now, and Phainon half-worried that his favourite seat was taken. It was the one near the window, around halfway in the middle of the cart. It was close to the doors, was a window seat, and he had excellent view over the side of the cart he could see. Is there a seat better? No, Phainon didn’t think so.

The train finally came, glowing silver under the small bits of sun peaking over the morning mist. As soon as it hissed to a stop, he went inside, ridiculously fast, to see if it was taken. Thankfully, it wasn’t, so he sat there, placing his bag beside him on the floor. This train doesn’t have double seats for some reason, but it did have seats opposite to each other, with the small table in the middle. He placed his box of graphite pencils on that small table and kept his sketchbook on his lap, the table wasn’t near enough for him to comfortable sketch on it anyway.

That morning, the train was filled with more young students than older workers. It was somewhat more full than usual, presumably because of the term-start. He started sketching this middle-aged lady, who was holding a cute purse as if someone might snatch it from her. She didn’t seem to like the students that much, the scowl on her face deepening every time someone laughed.

He started with a light outline of basic body structure, switched pencil to a darker one, created shadows, switched pencils again and started the finer details. The basic sketch was easy, shadows are supposed to be hard, but years of sketching left him finishing them easily and quickly. Details were harder, even the smallest mistake could leave his sketch uncanny, still good, but just something wrong with it that no one would notice but the artist.

He kept shifting his posture to get closer to the book, almost as if trying to get inside it. Once he had the general details done, he checked the time. Around 35 minutes left. That was fast, usually it took him much longer than this to get this far in a sketch. It must be because he hasn’t started proper detailing and shading yet, as well as the fact that his vision has tunnelled, seeing only the old lady and hardly noticing her surroundings. She had shifted a few times, which annoyed him a bit, but now he just wanted to finish this quickly before she left the train again.

He turned back to his book, his hands flying around the paper almost maniacally. His hearing also tuned out everything, despite him not wearing earbuds. He must be in a focused phase, for when he looked up to the lady, she wasn’t there.

He jerked awake from his stupor then, not even realising the face that he was sketching was already gone. His awakening from the focused state, one he sometimes entered unfortunately, made his sketchbook fall from his lap, landing on the floor. He quickly prayed to all the titans that the pages weren’t crumpled.

Before he could pick it up, a hand shot out and grabbed it, and then the same hand proceeded to reach out and hold the book for him to receive. He looked up to see and jumped once again. There was a guy on the other side of the table, and had been there for a while now, judging from the way his box of colour pencils was on the table beside his own, and the guy had his own book on his lap. How was he so focused that he didn’t even realise someone sitting down in front of him?

His mother might’ve slapped upside his head and lectured him about knowing your surroundings for hours at this pathetic state. He quickly reached and took his book back, muttering a small thanks. He looked at his phone to check the time and realised that there were only a few minutes before he arrived. He sneaked a look back, and now that he wasn’t flustered, he could see the man more clearly. However, that just proceeded to make him flustered once more.

The man was beautiful. More than that, this guy looked like all the beauty in Okhema decided to make something to represent them at a beauty pageant. His face looked so perfect, it stole Phainon´s breath away. A perfectly sloped nose, pink and rosy lips set in a straight line, gorgeous golden eyes that looked just like a cat, elongated just so, like he naturally had eyeliner. His skin looked flawless, not in the way that it looks when you´re wearing makeup and all the splotches are hidden by concealer, (He grew up with a mother and sister, he´d been forced into makeup for their entertainment more times than he could count.) But this man´s skin looked naturally perfect, like he used dew and morning mist for facewash or something. His hair was silky smooth, a shiny beige-ish blonde slowly turning to dark red at the tips. The red looked like he had dipped his hair in the blood of titans, a deep and pretty red, and he meant that in a romantic sense, not like this guy actually murdered one and dipped his hair into it, besides, he was pretty sure titans had golden blood, not red. Look at him, failing on how to poetically describe someone.

Anyways, back to the guy, he had this deep red scarf wrapped around his neck, which stood out against the light-brown sweater he wore. Maybe his favourite colour is red? Speaking of read, his face had a mark on it. The underside of his left eye had bright red ink, and he had a red diamond shaped thing inked into his left cheek. The contrast of his empty right side and inked left side made him look even more heavenly. Did he have other tattoo´s on his body? Phainon couldn’t possibly know, because every other part of his body was covered up, and his hands weren’t visible from this angle. And, regrettably, he had been too shocked when he got his book back, that he forgot to look at his hands.

But in all seriousness, this guy must be like the most perfect being he had ever set his eyes upon. His hands suddenly itched, craving to sketch this beauty in front of him, posing so gorgeously too, leaning slightly forwards, long blonde lashes covering his half-lidded eyes, face neutral but clearly focused on his sketchbook. The sunlight hit him just right, illuminating him so that his entire being gleamed gold.

Gold and Red. Phainon couldn’t get them out of his mind even if he wanted to. Titans, he would probably be thinking of this divine man the whole day, maybe even longer. He wanted to sketch him. He would even pick up oil-painting again, for only black and white would never give this man justice. He wanted his name.

However, just as he opened his mouth, hopefully saying something more tactful than just “what´s your name?”, but at that moment, another voice cut through him. “Kephale square,” it said, in that calm, slightly distorted tone from the speakers that made the words feel distant, like he was waking up from a dream.

He snapped fully back to himself. Right. This was his stop. University. Life. Responsibilities. Not… golden-eyed, Titan-blood hair guy in front of him.

Phainon scrambled to his feet a little too fast, shoving his sketchbook and pencils into his bag with less care than they deserved. “Sorry… Excuse me…” he muttered, mostly to the table instead of the stranger. He couldn’t look at his pretty face again. His ears were burning. He could feel it.

He risked a glace anyway.

The guy hadn´t looked up. His head was bowed over his sketchbook, red scarf draped perfectly, a pink pencil held loosely in his hand like in was an extension of his fingers. His lashes cast thin shadows on his cheeks. He looked like he belonged in a painting, untouched, unbothered by the chaos of people standing up, shuffling bout, grabbing bags and bumping knees.

Phainon stepped aside to let a guy with a large backpack pass, then another elderly woman. Come on, say something. Ask his name. His brain offered him exactly zero functional sentences, something that had never happened to Phainon, smooth-talker of the century. Everything that came to mind sounded like: “Hi, you´re pretty, can I obsess over your existence but like artistically???” but with other words.

The doors chimed. It had only gone a mere moment, but the time he stood there staring and trying to speak like a fool felt longer. He had to go.

He swallowed, tightened his grip on his bag strap and forced himself to move. “Thanks again,” he blurted, even though the guy hadn’t actually said anything earlier, just handed him the sketchbook. Honestly, he wasn’t even looking at Phainon now, just calmy putting his pink colour pencil back in his box.

He thought he saw the slightest twitch of the man´s perfectly shaped brows, maybe a tiny tilt of the head to indicate that he heard, but then the crowd pushed, the doors slid completely open, and Phainon was carried out with the stream of passengers.

The outside hit him warm and bright. The world suddenly felt too loud, the square stretching out ahead of him in golden stone and morning chatter. He took two steps onto the platform, heart racing, then did a quick, panicked spin to look back into the train cart through the window.

The seat was empty.

He blinked. The man, just gone. No red scarf, no golden eyes, no glimpse of blond-red hair through the glass. Just a jumble of backpacks, shoulders and someone with a bright orange hat.

“What?” he mumbled under his breath, scanning the people spilling out onto the platform. No red scarf there either. No red marking on a cheek, no one coming even close to what he´d just seen. It was like he´d imagined him. Did he get off at before Phainon? No, impossible, he was there before Phainon left. Did he slip out while he was shuffled through the door? Had he gone out through another door while Phainon was busy being a socially incapable mess?

The doors beeped again, warning. The train slid away, silver body gliding out of the station, taking any chance of a second look with it. Phainon stared after it for a few second longer than necessary, the image of that man still burned behind his eyes. Red and gold. Calm and focused. Untouchable. Beautiful.

“Titans,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Of course. Perfect stranger appears from nowhere, saves sketchbook, disappears. That´s so… unhelpful.” He huffed a quiet laugh at himself. He had been so stupefied the very first day.

He shook off the lingering daze and checked the time on his phone. Great. If he didn’t move now, he´d be late for his very first lecture. And that would be a tragic start to this term.

The walk from the train station to the university felt shorter this time, probably because his brain kept replaying the train person on loop like an embarrassing drama. He half-expected end credits to come rolling. He forced himself to focus on his goals instead: find lecture hall N496. That´s the one beside the painting of Kephale.

The campus was buzzing in a new way now. Last week it had been half-empty, just scattered students, researchers and staff. Today, it felt like the whole world was here. Groups of freshers clung to each other like shipwreck survivors, older students leaned casually against railing as if they owned the place, and the air vibrated with overlapping conversations, laughter and the occasional panicked “Where even is hall L302?”.

Phainon joined the flow of people heading towards the main building. The marble gleamed softly under the sunlight, banners hanging from the pillars with the university crest and the words WELCOME WEEK stitched proudly. He paused for a second, staring up at it all, then let a small smile slip onto his face. He´d made it here. Somehow that still felt surreal.

Inside, he followed the signs as well as his own annotations from last week. He actually found N496 surprisingly quickly and stood outside it for a moment, double-checking his schedule like it might´ve rearranged itself out of spite.

Business Analytics – Intro to predictive modelling.

Professor: Dr. V. Ratio.

Hall: N496.

Yep. This was it.

He slipped into the lecture hall and picked a seat a little above the front, not too far in the back, not too close to the front. The room smelled faintly of whiteboard markers and coffee. Rows and rows of seats climbed upwards, most already occupied by students hunched over laptops, scrolling their phones or talking to each other.

Someone dropped into the seat next to him with the grace of a falling bag of potatoes. “Hey, is this free?”

Phainon smiled widely, then nodded. “Yea, go ahead. I´m Phainon, what´s your name?” Alright, now he just sounded overly eager. Way to go.

The guy blinked, then muttered. “Dan Heng”

Alright, not a talker. The guy had black hair, cool teal eyes behind a thin frame. He was tall, neat and composed. He just gave a nod to Phainon and sat down, placing his laptop on the desk. For a moment, he didn’t say anything else, just opened course page, eyes flickering over the screen.

Phainon bounced his knee once, the decided silence was illegal. “So, I´m a first year in the master´s for business analytics.”

Dan Heng glanced at him, like he was assessing whether this required a full reply or just a grunt. “Same program.” He replied eventually.

“Aww, don’t be like that Dan Heng!!! I´m Caelus, and I´m also in the same program! Haven´t seen you before, transfer?” A voice yelled out right behind him. Phainon jumped, then turned around to come face to face with another guy, this time Gray haired and yellow-eyed. Phainon nodded and smiled. “Yeah! I´m from Janusopolis, are you both from here?”

“Absolutely! I studied sports analytics before and my boytoy here studied data science. You, partner?”

“Oh, Medical actually! Then one of you might´ve had Dr. Ratio before, right? Is he strict?”

Caelus grinned like he had found a new toy to play with, all wolfish canines showing.

“Ahhhh, the benevolent Dr. Ratio. He is one of the most loving, adoring, most chillest profs available, in fact, he doesn’t even assign essays, or make hard exams, so you could just-”

“He´s one of our strictest. Do NOT under any circumstance believe that he is chill, Caelus is just being an idiot. He assigns harsh assignments and his classes are notorious for being hard to pass. Do not, and I repeat, do not get on his bad side Phainon.” Dan Heng interrupted.

Phainon laughed nervously.

“Except for Mr. Aventurine!!! He´s a huuge softie for him! Him and Aventurine, Prof Jade´s little brother who works in who knows what have this 70k slowburn going on, and the Uni page is dying to know who´s top. So, like if you see any indicator to which one of them is top, don’t hesitate yea? We need all the info we can get.”

70k slowburn? Top? What uni page??? What is he even talking about????? Dan Heng must´ve seen the question marks above his head, and he offers advice.

“There is a university group in social media, well two since one has official info and the other… is just us students. They often like to… discuss the private lives of professors and gossip about things that happen.” He shook his head defeatedly. “You don’t have to join…, but I can send the link should you want to.”

Phainon nodded, still somewhat confused, when the professor arrived. He was a large man with deep purple hair and goldish-reddish eyes. It made Phainon remember the man on the train, he also had such gorgeous golden eyes… He shook himself back to class. Caelus sat on his other side now, looking like a military sergeant just entered, back straight, hands on table, like Dr. Ratio was going to throw whiteboard pens at him or something.

Phainon copied his movements, better be safe than sorry, and started listening as the professor introduced his course.

The rest of the day blurred into a steady rhythm. Between lectures, he navigated new corridors without getting completely lost (he was such a genius for scouting out the area beforehand). He sat next to Caelus and Dan Heng all the time, he figured that they were a couple and might want privacy, but they seemed happy to be with him, so he counted them as his friends.

He found his statistics class in a slightly older building that smelled like disinfectant and dust at the same time. In another hall, an important sounding teacher with long white hair and a gold and white dress talked about statistics and finance like they were the essence of life.

He took notes, highlighted important points, doodles tiny boxes and arrows in the margins to keep his focus. By the time his last lecture ended, the sky was shifting towards late afternoon, sunlight softening over the campus lawns. His brain felt full, just shy of overload. Caelus rubbed his forehead (turns out, Dr. Ratio didn’t throw whiteboard pens at people, but literal chalk that somehow materialises his hand when someone makes a sound while he talks. Is that even legal?? Phainon made sure that even his breathing didn’t make a sound after Caelus got hit) and grabbed Phainon´s phone. He unlocked it with Phainon´s face ID and despite his protests, just used his phone like it was public property. He added his and Dan Heng´s phone numbers, as well as entering the Uni page. Dan Heng sighed like this was inevitable.

“Alright partner! Catch ya later!” Caelus winked and started dragging poor Dan Heng away.

Phainon smiled and left for the train station. First day of lectures? Survived.

Luckily, only Mondays would be this hectic, and every other day would only have two or three morning lectures. That meant that he was free to apply for part time jobs, whether here or around the area of his apartment. He had one in a small grocery store in Janusopolis, so it´s probably best if he gets one here too.

He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, instinctively patting the side where his sketchbook was. Maybe, if he caught the same train back, he could sit in the same seat again.

Not because he wanted to see anyone in particular, obviously.

Just… he liked that seat. For… routine.

And maybe, just maybe, would that golden beauty show up again.

The train station was somewhat less crowded than this morning, yet Phainon had never been so hyper-aware of his own footsteps in his life.

He scanned the platform casually. Casually as in absolutely-not-desperate-at-all-just-a-guy-who-likes-trains. His eyes slid over a group of students, an older man reading a newspaper like it was 1995, and a mother holding two screaming toddlers.

No golden-eyed beauty.

Of course not. Why would fate be reasonable twice in one day?

Phainon got on the train when it came in, sat in the seat (for routine, don’t question it), stared out the window for approximately seven seconds, and then immediately opened his phone. For some reason, he didn’t even feel like sketching anymore. Mnestia, he thought, If I get to see him again, I will dedicate three sketches of your envoy. For surely he must be, no way he is just that pretty for no reason than to serve the titan of romance.

He scrolled through student group messages (there was, indeed, an ongoing debate about Dr.Ratio´s love life, someone had made a 60-slide PowerPoint analysis with blurry pictures of him with some blonde person), then checked job listings. Café work? Sure, but he couldn’t be trusted around espresso machines. Grocery store clerk? Been there, done that, could do it again. Data entry? Titans, kill him. Sales assistant in shoes? Perhaps.

The train ride from there was mostly spent scrolling, then he got off where he lived. He made actual dinner because he was a responsible adult now. That meant pasta. Plain pasta with tomato puree he found in a tin. He added some chili flakes for good measure.

His phone buzzed. When he checked it, he saw that his mom had called. He called her back.

“Phai?” His mom´s voice crackled warmly on the line.

“Hi mom! I officially survived day one!” He said, sinking back in his chair.

“So dramatic,” she snorted. “Met anyone new?”

“Uhm..” he thought of Dan Heng trying not to physically restrain Caelus like it was his full-time job and said man openly committing war crimes against social norms. “Yes. Two, I think??”

“Why are you even questioning it? That´s amazing! That´s two more than you made in your first semester at medical school.”

“Hey,” he protested, pointing at the air like she could actually see his outrage. She laughed like she could, anyway. He laughed a little as well. She asked about his classes, he told her about Dr. Ratio´s chalk-based assault system which doesn’t even made sense because he doesn’t use chalk for anything else except throwing. She told him to buy vegetable and maybe also see if “someone nice and kind catches his fancy” (“mommmm”), and after ten minutes of lovingly embarrassing parenting, it was Cyrene´s turn so he could call her instead.

“Love you mom.” He said.

“Love you too, Phai. Eat something green for once.”

He hung up and sighed. He´d buy a cucumber of something tomorrow. Look at him, prime age and his mother still worries this much. He can´t say anything though, his mother has always been that way, especially after Cyrene and him moved out. Besides, he has always been somewhat of a clingy child.

After dishes, he looked at job openings again. A campus café, a stationary store, a student library desk job that required “calm demeanour”, which was hilarious, and a part-time receptionist in a gym close by, maybe he should buy a membership card there instead of working there.

He finally found a job he might have fun at, and was close by. It was an antique store nearby by some man named Theodorous. He didn’t know anything about antiques, but it seemed fun, and the locations and shift times worked out well, so there. He could learn.

He crawled into bed, staring at the ceiling. He thought about a lot of things. He thought about job interviews, train sketches, golden eyes, golden hair fading into red, red scarves, cheek tattoos in red, Caelus introducing all of the trashcans on campus with an elaborate backstory.

He didn’t fall asleep smiling. That would be insane.

Morning again. Two alarms, one snooze, one attempt at pretending he didn’t exist for five minutes. Same routine as yesterday:

Shower, breakfast (plain toast with butter), packing his bag, sketchbook packing, emergency protein bar. Out the door.

He checked his reflection in a dark window, hair sort of tidy, shirt okay, face fine enough for public consumption. He wore a baggy light blue sweatshirt along with dark jeans, t-shirt under.

And then the train platform.

He was going to play it stupidly cool this time. Like, emotionally detached cool. Like Dan Heng.

He got on his usual station. Same seat. Closed his eyes and breathed. He took out his pencils and book, and started sketching.

Two stops later, the doors hissed open, and fate showed up like it was clocking in for a shift.

There he was.

Golden Beauty™ himself.

Same soft-looking hair, same gold eyes, same effortless “I look like someone sculpted me for a temple” energy. He stepped inside in a fitted black autumn jacket, same bright red scarf. He scanned the carriage and Phainon forgot every word in every single language he knew (two, he knew two.)

The train wasn’t crowded. There were plenty of seats. Gold eyes walked down the aisle and sat in front of him. He gave a nod, took out his earbuds, sketchbook and colour pencils, and promptly started sketching.

Phainon´s entire internal system rebooted. Could there be a more ethereal being?

Okay, just say hi. Say hi. People say hi all the time. Phainon can say hi. Hi is a normal word used by the species of Homo Sapiens. He inhaled.

He could do it. He opened his mouth, and said very gracefully.

“Hhhhhe-hi!”

Oh. He stuttered. Titans he is just going to dive in one Caelus´s trashcans.

The guy turned up, just enough for golden eyes to flicker in his direction politely. He took out one of his earbuds and tilted his head to indicate that he should repeat that. Unstutteringly. His eyes bore into him, and Phainon wanted to melt at the intensity. Does the Beauty look at everyone like that? Phainon wanted to jump out the window. It was currently speeding through the outskirts still, since there was like 40 minutes left till Okhema. But, since the man asked, he would try to repeat that hi.

“…hi.”

HE SAID IT. HE SAID IT HE SAID IT. It was quiet though, like the sound his kettle makes when it started to consider boiling.

The man blinked once. And then, the corners of his mouth tilted up.  He looked like a deity when smiling so softly. A divine being, cursed to share his light to mortals like Phainon.

“Hi,” he replied, voice low and warm.

OH???HIS VOICE???

Phainon´s heart did a triple flip, landed badly, and had to be taken out on a stretcher.

The man was still looking at him. He needed to say something else. Anything else. Ask about the weather. Ask about his scarf. Introduce yourself. Speak, you idiot-

“Nice… train?” he said.

…

NICE TRAIN???

NICE TRAIN??? HE´S GOING TO FIND THE MOST REVOLTING TRACHCAN IN CAMPUS AND DIVE RIGHT IT, DAN HENG BE DAMNED-

Gold eyes blinked at him, then unbelievably, he gave a tiny huff of laughter. “Yeah,” he said. “It´s… a train.”

Was he laughing at him? With him? Both? Also why is his laugh so deep, and gorgeous, and perfect?

Golden beauty put on his earbud again, and went back to sketching.

Phainon took the hint, relieved that he didn’t embarrass himself further, and picked up his sketchbook again. Discreetly, he laid the basis for sketching the deity. He didn’t start the actual sketch, he doubted that he could do any justice to him at all. He simply drew the basic anatomical boxes and shapes and started with a light outline.

Before he could start sketching his head, the train slowed. The mechanical voice told him that this was the station he was supposed to get out of. He quickly gathered his things, shoving them in his bag so that he can escape the seat asap, leaving him the rest of the day to cringe over himself. Phainon made sure that his eyes never went up enough for him to see what the beauty was doing. He would die if the man was silently laughing at him or something.

They both stood up.

Exiting together?? Oh titans he might just combust. The man gets off at the same station as him!

And like 90 % of the other people in the train, this was the busiest station, but like?? The very same station as PHAINON?? He might be studying in the same uni!! Or work nearby, as Phainon had no way to judge his age. He didn’t look older than Phainon, but he might just be working instead of studying. Anyway, they walked together, like a couple (his poor heart) onto the platform.

“See you around,” Golden beauty said casually as he turned to walk another way.

Phainon opened his mouth, brain betraying him once more: “Yeh- yep! I.. yes. See you.”

He nodded like a bobblehead, then immediately speed-walked out of there. He didn’t look back.  (he DID look back. Twice, but like he lost sight of him the second time so it doesn’t count).

In the hallway outside lecture, Caelus was waiting like a gremlin lying in ambush. “Partner!” he yelled, loud enough to make people turn and look. “You´re late buddy, and why you smiling like that?”

Phainon was indeed late, he took a detour to walk of the aftermath of his sudden social incompetencies. Well, Professor Anaxagoras was rumoured to be late often, so it probably didn’t matter. To Caelus, he just shook his head and refused to answer.

They had settled into a pattern.

Two weeks passed, the way quiet things do: By repetition and tiny changed no one notices until they look up. Phainon works out in the evenings now and works weekends and a few weekday shifts in the antique store, both as cashier and apprentice to Theodorous, who was apparently a famous appraiser. He liked it, the shop was small and cozy despite the fame its owner has apparently.

Every morning he uses the same station, same train, same seat. And without fail, every morning, two stops later: The golden beauty would sit in front of him. Same red scarf, different outfits. At first, it was an olive coat. Then a navy sweater with sleeves pushed up to elegant inked forearms (Phainon had a cardiovascular explosion when he saw his arms). Then once a dark turtleneck that authenticated his physique perfectly. Titans, he didn’t just look like divinity, he was built like it too.

Phainon no longer pretended he liked that seat for symmetry or whatever he said to gaslight himself. He now woke up early in case someone else might get it before him.

And they had a routine now. Something so small it barely counted as social interaction, but to Phainon it felt like a holy ritual. Golden beauty would step onto the train, nod as if greeting an old friend and then sit in front of him. That´s it. No words, no nothing, just recognition and a small, yet warm smile. They would both take out their books and start sketching in mutual company.

It was sickly sweet, and soft enough to want Phainon to be melting every time he thought about it. And when they got off together, they would smile and say goodbye for the day. The beauty didn’t ask questions or initiate conversation, so Phainon didn’t either. They just got off together, smiled and walk in opposite directions. And Phainon would spend the rest of the day trying to fix his sketch and wonder what is wrong with him to resketch the same person over and over again.

He didn’t mean to draw him. He really didn’t. There was no conscious decision like “time to draw the gorgeous stranger again, because I´m so normal about him.”

He would just stare at a blank page and then lines appeared by his hand. Sharp jaw. Fabric around the neck. The fold of his sleeve, the way sunlight het is cheekbone like a touch by Mnestia.

One morning he tried to sketch something else, literally anything. A puppy, a hand, a Dan Heng ready for battle with statistics. He looked down ten minutes later and realized that Dan Heng now had pretty, cat-like eyes and a scarf.

He didn’t tell anyone at first. Too embarrassing. Too unreal. Too… obsessed. Is he in love? Can he be in love?

Love without knowing a name? Love built on morning light through train windows and silence shared between two strangers?

He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

Campus became, somehow, home. Dan Heng, ever consistent, remained a quiet presence. Caelus remained chaotic, powered entirely on gossip and the warmth of Dan Heng. The two of them introduced him to new people one by one like he wes collecting character cards.

“This is March,” Caelus said one Tuesday, shoving a pink-haired girl into Phainon´s personal space. “she studies digital media, but really she just makes cute stickers.”

“I also do color theory,” March said proudly. “And relationship advice.”

Phainon immediately became one of her besties somehow. In the same way, he met Polyxia (Castorice´s sister), Hyacine, Cerydra, Caelus´s twin sister Stelle, a suspicious guy named Sampo and his boyfriend Gepard (who was cousins with Bronya, Cyrene´s bestie in Belobog, small world). Then one day Caelus introduced him to another guy, but warned him to steer clear of him.

“This is Ren,” He had said, tone suspiciously innocent. Dan Heng had stiffened. Ren had blackish long hair and a lazy slouched posture that screamed “former gifted kid”. He nodded at Phainon and then turned to stare at Dan Heng like a forlorn lover.

“Dan Heng´s ex,” Caelus stage-whispered directly into Phainon´s ear. “We don’t really like him, so I just thought you should meet him. I´m chill with him though. And despite me being with Dan Heng now, we still hangout when Ren feels like it.”

Dan Heng did not glare precisely, but the temperature dropped in a three-meter radius.

“Ancient history,” Ren had said, like history had tried to stab someone.

“What?” Phainon had asked, a bit scared.

“What I study. Ancient History.” Ren then proceeded to keep staring at Dan Heng until they left.

Gossip culture around professors didn’t fade, if anything, Phainon learned too much. Which professors had secretly a failed thesis behind them (the librarian had some huge drama, but he had zoned out when March had told him, guess who he was thinking about?)

One lunch in the cafeteria, March was scrolling through the uni page when she gasped loudly.

“Listen,” she had squealed, making Hyacine drop everything and sit like in military training. “Dr. Ratio was spotted talking to Professor Jade´s little brother, you know, the Aventurine guy who works who knows where on campus? Anyway, they had been chatting for forty minutes. Outside faculty café. Our Ratio, who speaks like five words outside lectures. Forty whole minutes!”

Caelus gasped like someone had proposed marriage. “Forty minutes? Babe, that´s basically engaged!”

“Wait wait, that´s the super pretty one, right?? Aventurine? He works with something something campus economy. Chooses where to invest money and stuff. I heard Prof Anaxa talk about it. Oh Titans, It would be like an office Au plot!” Hyacine added.

“Forbidden love slash having to fight the sibling of the bottom!” Stelle nodded solemnly.

Dan Heng buried his face in his hands. Phainon stole some fries in the gap.

One Thursday evening, he met up with Castorice and Cipher (because they were apparently besties since childhood, no one just bothered to tell him).

Castorice, absolute icon, studying engineering while being the best fanfic author ever (Phainon read one of her fics about the university librarian and some architecture professor and refused to read more after chapter 3 since they were already stuck in a closet together.), was also one of his closest friends that he could confide in. She was the only one he had talked about Golden Beauty, and naturally, now Cipher knows too. It turned out that they were great listeners whenever he went on a tangent about how perfect this man is. Now, they had regular study sessions where they sat and studied together but couldn’t compare notes or anything since they were all in three different programs. They didn’t mind.

“Sooo, anything new about your new god, snowboy?” Ahh yes, even Cipher is invested. They had only been friends since Phainon once helped Aglaea, Cipher´s guardian, when one of her models couldn’t come, and she had conveniently seen him in the Janusopolis campus. And then he met Cipher, a close friend who has helped him when moving here.

“Nah, we don’t really say anything, I don’t even know his name! Every time I try to ask, it´s like the courage drains out of me.” Phainon whined, adding a little pout. It didn’t work on Cipher, but Castorice fell for the pout immediately.

“Aww you poor thing. Maybe you just need an opportunity? Why don’t you describe him again?” Phainon opened his mouth to do so-

“Snowboy, she meant personality, not his perfect eyes or gorgeous shawl or whatever” He closed his mouth.

“I mean… I think he read poetry? Or something, I saw a book once. Or maybe he just poetically exists? I don’t know anything about him, other then that he smiles pretty and is like divinity level beautiful.”

“But you´re in love,” Cas said, nodding like a wise monk.

“No,” Phainon tried, then stopped. “Maybe. I think.” His voice dropped. “Is that normal? To love someone without knowing anything and like after two weeks?”

“Absolutely,” Cas nodded. “It´s a classic.”

“Literally every romance novel ever, and Princess Homebody would know.” Cipher added. “You´re fine.”

Phainon stared at his bag, where his sketchbook lay, more than a dozen pages filled with angles of the same face. He hadn´t even noticed until now how many. How often he found himself drawing that man over and over again, every day.

“I don’t even know his name,” he murmured.

Castorice´s eyes sparkled. She scribbled something down on her notebook. “Perfect. Delicious. Peak tension, slow burn excellence. Will he ask? Will he not ask? Train romance. Titans, you are living in a trope!!”

Cipher nudged him gently. “Just.. ask him man. How hard can it be?”

Phainon nodded. He had excuses ready, but he suspected that she wasn´t interested. The train is too loud, or too quiet. Golden beauty looked like he wouldn´t like it, what was going on right now was perfect. Or just that he is a coward.

“Tomorrow,” he said “Tomorrow I will ask.” The two girls cheered for him in their own ways, Cas squealing while Cipher pumping a fist at him. Tomorrow is the day.

He didn´t ask and just ended up drawing him with his hair in a bun.

His mother called again on Sunday.

“Phai!” She said. “Are you eating vegetables instead of that horrible microwave stuff you like?”

“I just added a tomato and some basil on my pasta,” he answered proudly.

“Wow,” she deadpanned. “Memchelin star”

He told her about classes, friends, Caelus´s gossip, his professor who is obsessed with a niche cartoon about a dinosaur called mr.dromas. She listened, humming contently.

Then out of nowhere she said, “You sound happy.”

He stilled.

“I… think I might be,” he admitted.

“Good,” she said. “I´m happy that you are.”

He bit his lip, staring at the little graphite smudges on his fingers, thinking of golden eyes and quiet mornings and red scarves.

He almost said it, I think I´m falling for someone I´ve never talked to, but stopped.

“Love you mom,” he said instead.

“Love you too.

Monday came .

The air colder now, breath visible in clouds. The red scarf still shining brightly in his mind.

Phainon sat in his seat, sketchbook open, no thought except anticipation. Today was the day.

Two stops later, the doors opened.

There he was.

Same walk towards him. Same nod with a small, polite and warm smile.

He doesn´t say anything. Golden beauty sat down. Phainon was going to wait until they get off to ask. While they are standing there, saying bye to each other, he will ask his name in a suave way, looking super cool. Titans, he just wanted to know right now… Should he just ask? Or wait? What was the plan again?

His brain malfunctioned last second.

He blurted, way louder than planned, “What´s your name?”

The stranger looked over, surprised but not offended. Actually, his mouth curved more into this small, soft smile like he´d been waiting for that question the entire time.

“My name? Mydei” He said, voice low and warm. “Short for Mydeimos.”

Phainon stared.

Internally screaming.

Externally just blinking.

“Mydeimos,” he echoed, but his brain turned it into some kind of ancient epic. Mydeimos, the undying king. Mydeimos, Golden haired titan of trains. “That’s.. wow. That´s a… that’s a beautiful name.”

Okay, maybe he needed to stop talking. But now he was smiling like an actual puppy. He could physically feel how his face looked like he just reached heaven.

Mydei, Titans he could address him by something other than Golden Beauty now, let out a tiny laugh through his nose, eyes sparkling just a little. “Thanks. Yours?”

“Oh. Uhh. Phainon” He said it too fast and then cleared his throat like he was introducing himself to someone´s grandmother. “Phainon. Like… I don’t know. It doesn’t really mean anything I think.

“Actually,” Mydei said, tilting his head thoughtfully. “In Era Chrysea, it meant something like `bright´. Or `shining´. I read that somewhere.”

Phainon´s entire soul left his body.

He didn’t know what he expected. A polite “Nice to meet you” or maybe a nod. He had tried to make a conversation out of his name but forgot what he was going to say. He expected anything but this. Not Mydei knowing his name´s background like some casual academic sorcerer on a commuter train.

“Oh,” Phainon said, very unintelligently. “Yea. Totally. Obviously. Sure.” Oh titans he was messing this up. First time talking and he was floundering. He needed to change the subject quickly.

“Umm, can I borrow a red colour pencil?” Great now it sounded like the entire reason he asked his name was because he wanted the colour pencil. Mydei´s face looked confused, then like a little, annoyed? Oh titans, Phainon hopes there´s still hope out for him if he messed up that bad.

“There´re not regular colour pencils. There´re water colour pencils, so the usage is different.”

Oh! Was he just annoyed that Phainon mistook them? That´s salvageable, he did in fact know how to use those.

“Ah, I´m really sorry, I didn´t know! Can I borrow one anyway? I know how to use them, you need to add water with a brush later right? Do you usually do that at home?”

Mydei´s face lifted once more. Crisis averted.

“Yeah, I usually finish my art when I go home. You can absolutely borrow. May I see your sketch?”

Absolutely not. There is no way that he is showing Mydei the sketches of him. He would look like a lunatic. He can already feel the heat on his face from the potential embarrassment that would be.

“Uh. Maybe. Not today. I have to… ummm… fix them. They´re messy. How about you show me yours?”

Mydei´s face burst into flames, turning into this gorgeous red that was just a shade lighter than his bright red scarf.

“You know what? I… also have to fix them. Very messy, yes. How about another day?”

Oh Titans save him, he looked so cute when he was flustered. Phainon didn’t know why he was flustered, but he wasn’t complaining. Mydei just looked good in red, his tattoos, his scarf and now his blush. So pretty.

“Another day sounds good.” He said softly, turning back to his book when he saw Mydei doing the same. Mydei offered the pencil, and he accepted without fanfare. Phainon turned to an older sketch and started filling in the scarf and cheek marking with the red pencil. The silence between them returning, both immersed in their own little bubble.

When the train slowed, Phainon gave Mydei his pencil back, and they stepped out together. When they looked at each other to say bye, like they always do, Mydei hesitates. Then he seems to steel himself and ask anyway.

“Hey, um Phainon. Would you be interested in getting some coffee or something with me?”

Was this happening? It was happening. Someone pinch Phainon now. Or punch him. He didn’t mind. The golden beauty was inviting him, Phainon, to get coffee? He would ´ve willingly take one of Dr. Ratio´s chalks on his forehead for this.

“Yes!” He cried out, cringing at himself, then clearing his throat. “I mean… Of course, I would love to. Do you have someplace in mind? I can tomorrow, if you can.”

Mydei looked pleased at his answer. “Good. How about the Garden of Life? It´s a café near campus, unless you don’t study there?”

“No worries! I do study there, and I know which one you´re talking about. How about 4 o´clock?”

“4 sounds nice… I´ll see you there then.”

And then he left. Leaving Phainon like a love-struck fool on the middle of the platform.

Phainon did not remember how he got home.

He vaguely recalled walking. Attending his lectures in a daze. Dan Heng looking genuinely concerned for his “dreamy ass eyes” and “Victorian poet in love kinda sighs” (Caelus’ words, not his). He took the train home and kept staring at the seat in front of him. His phone buzzed at least three times in his pocket, probably Caelus texting his insane ideas or Castorice sensing emotional turbulence like a bloodhound, but he ignored all of it.

Coffee.

He was getting coffee.

With Mydeimos.

He sat on his bed for ten minutes, staring at the wall, then whispered “Okay,” like someone preparing for war.

The Garden of Life café smelled like cinnamon and wet leaves and something floral that Phainon couldn´t identify but decided was romantic. He had come here once before, with Caelus and Dan Heng, but now it seemed even more romantic. There were too many plants for a place that also served espresso. Vines crawled along the walls, fairy lights hung like stars, and every table looked like it belonged in an indie film about people who journaled seriously.

Phainon arrived at 3.43, bag of textbooks and sketching materials still slung over his shoulder. He hadn´t seen Mydei this morning, so he was very excited to do that now.

He sat. Stood. Sat again, took off his jacket. Put it back on. Checked his face in his phone camera and immediately regretted it.

At exactly 4.00, the bell over the door chimed.

Mydei walked in.

Phainon´s brain became white-noise static.

He wore a cream sweater today, sleeved rolled just enough to show ink along his forearms, elegant, red lines, not loud, more like something you´d notice if you were looking. The red scarf was there too, because of course it was. It was apparently part of his soul or something. Phainon wasn´t complaining.

Mydei spotted him almost instantly and smiled.

Not train-smile.

Coffee-smile.

Brighter, softer and more real.

“Hi,” Mydei said, stopping in front of the table.

“Hi,” Phainon replied, standing so fast his chair screeched.

Mydei chuckled in that heavenly way of his.

They ordered drinks, Phainon got black coffee and regretted not sounding cooler, Mydei ordered the whipped cream pomegranate syrup milkshake with rainbow sprinkles without blinking. Large. With an added pump of pomegranate syrup and extra sprinkles. Phainon thought his heart might explode from cuteness aggression.

The settled into the chairs by the window, and for a second, there was only silence.

Not the awkward kind, just a minute where they figure out what to say to each other.

“So,” Mydei said first, tapping the side of his cup. “What do you study?”

Phainon blinked, then hastily added, “Business analytics masters. First year. How about you? I haven´t really seen you at campus.” Or maybe he didn’t go here? If he did, then they would be walking in the same direction, wouldn’t they?

“I go Architecture bachelors, so that´s probably why you haven´t seen me. We have all our lectures on the other side of campus from where you probably have yours.”

Architecture sounds great for him actually. Phainon could totally see him sketching pretty buildings, going to museums just to look at some archway and note it down, stand in front of a pretty building all proud of his work.

“That really suits you.” He said quietly.

Mydei tilted his head at him. “How so?”

Yeaaaa he didn´t really have an understandable explanation. “I don´t know, you look like you would like building things and make them pretty. Like you would enjoy studying structures.

Mydei stared for a second, and then laughed. Titans know his laugh was beautiful. It was all honeyed and sweet, yet the gruffness of his voice shone through, making it more natural. His hand came up to cover his mouth, which was a shame, but the way his eyes crinkled made up for it.

“So what, I measure and build things?”

“Yes. Wait, no. I mean… you have a very uhhh structural vibe. Yeahh, that.”

“That might just be the strangest compliment I´ve ever received.”

He walked straight into that one, didn’t he? Phainon looked at his boring coffee.

“Sorry… I panicked. Won´t do it again, scouts honor!” Titans, what is he even saying anymore?

Mydei just smiled warmly at him. His eyes were knowing.

“But I like it,” He added softly.

What?

“You´re honest when you panic,” Mydei continued, shrugging slightly. “It´s really cute.”

Phainon´s head exploded.

The rest of the time seemed like it was from a movie. They talked, laughed and drank their drinks. Phainon got to know that Mydei´s mother made the scarf for him last year, and that he liked reading. Phainon himself told a funny story about how Snowy once stole and buried Phainon´s schoolbag. It didn’t feel forced, didn’t have those interview-style questions like favourite colours and number of siblings. It hardly felt like it was their first time chatting. They just clicked. Laughed at the same jokes, complained about the same things, even liked the same kind of music. When it was time to go, Phainon hardly wanted to leave.

They stood outside the café, not wanting to say bye yet. Phainon wished that they could take the train back, but Mydei had a shift at a local bookstore to work. Now though, the blond just shuffled awkwardly in front of him, ears bright red. Ugh. Adorable.

Mydei opened and closed his mouth several times, seemingly thinking through several options to say before settling on one.

“Hey, so I don’t always take the same train.”

Alright, that was surprising. Where was he going with this?? Also, he has literally taken the same train every morning since the semester started?

“Okayy??” He settled on.

Mydei frowned, his brows furrowing. “So, we might not see each other every day.”

Is he subtly telling Phainon that he didn’t want to see him every day? But then why would he invite him out for coffee? To tell him that? Mydei sighed, and his cheeks started turning pinker.

“Well, we should be able to coordinate the days that I can´t come, so that you don’t expect me unnecessarily.”

Yeaaaa, he lost Phainon there.

“I don’t get it Mydei.”

Mydei sighed once more.

“How are we going to coordinate that if you don’t have my number?” He asked, looking away from Phainon.

Phainon stared at him, not quite understanding. Then it clicked.

“OOH right! Can I please have your number, Mydei?” He asked in a hurry. Luckily for him, Mydei finally smiled at him and gave him his phone.

That evening, when Phainon came home, he squealed loudly, holding his phone up like a cat. He has gotten the ultimate treasure. The very numbers that gives him access to the texts of a certain Golden Beauty. The Golden Beauty. The very one. The one that granted him his time and attention today, asked him for a coffee date (titans his heart jumped so hard when he thought the word date) and gave him his very own number!! Phainon has no idea how he managed not to mess that up. That night, he had the best sleep of his life.

The next morning, Mydei took the seat in front of him scowling. Phainon, terrified that he had, in fact, messed up the coffee meeting yesterday, asked him about it.

“I believed that someone would text me last night.” His gorgeous gold eyes rolled. “But as it turns out, they didn’t.”

From the very next minute, Phainon gave him an hourly report of his day, with pictures included. Mydei commented on Every. Single. One. Even sent a photo of his architecture professor, who was apparently the one who had drama with the librarian. A failed final project, Mydei said. The sheer number of times someone mentions that particular drama should be studied. Apparently, they now live together secretly, though almost everyone knew through the online page. Is that even called “in secret” anymore?

His friends notice. Cipher laughs in his face about him being down bad. Caelus was ten times worse. He got some form of support from March and Castorice, but they still appreciated the time where he didn’t talk their ears off about Mydei. Hyacine was still happy for him though!

They texted everyday now. At first, Phainon had simply sent things like his report, food and other things since Mydei wanted him to text. But over time the texts had gone from simple reports to genuine conversations, where Mydei started to contribute just a bit more. Phainon learnt that he loved baking, which set an entire slew of images in head of Mydei in an apron and baking something for him specifically.

Mydei´s parents were from Castrum Kremnos, but they shifted here soon after having a child. He seemed very fond of his mother, talking about her often and never losing an opportunity to wear the scarf she made. He told Phainon about his day, his friends, his opinions on people and more. Phainon told him about himself, how his father had passed away from health issues when he was young, his love for sketching and the family dog.

Above all, they now draw together every morning. It was always the same routine. Mydei entered the train and took the specific seat across from him (sometimes, when it started to get crowded in the train, Phainon would put his bag on that seat to save it for Mydei. He would give up his good citizen title for Mydei, that’s how down bad he was.). Then, silently, they sketched together. Phainon often borrowed water colour pencils from Mydei now, adding colour to the various iterations of Mydei available in his book. Nothing made him happier than sketching Mydei. The way light shone in through the window made his hair glow golden, eyes like amber. His smile, the furrow in his brow while he concentrated, his hands, his posture. Everything about Mydei practically forced Phainon to sketch him. If he were a writer, the poems he would write about him would never end. He was just that perfect, larger than life itself.

He never ends up showing Mydei these sketches, and neither does he get the chance to observe Mydei´s art, but it´s enough. The way their hands brush while getting a different pencil, how they smile at each other, the small conversations in between, these were always the highlight of his day.

One day, Mydei suggests that they go to a bookstore together, but obviously he masks it by saying that Phainon should accompany him while he gets a book for his friend, nothing more. Phainon agrees immediately. He knows that Mydei often struggles to say what he wants directly, and loves him through it. While Phainon wears his heart on his sleeve, Mydei has walls for him to break down. He´s always polite to everyone, and didn’t mind talking with Phainon, but it took a while for him to talk about his feelings. It took Phainon a while to work through that stage, but once he did, Mydei seemed closer to him. They now bantered, teased and occasionally gave a friendly punch to each other. Phainon from a before wouldn’t have dreamed of being this close to the Golden Beauty. The Phainon from now once challenged Mydei to an arm-wrestling competition that ended in a draw. This transition took almost a month of talking and texting everyday.

During that time, they had gone to several cafés, parks, museums and even went for a city walk. One morning, as Phainon was trying to get Mydei´s hands just right, the beauty himself looked up from his book and asked if he wanted to meet his friends. Who was he to say no?

“Of course,” Phainon said, trying very hard to sound like a normal human being and not someone who had just been personally invited into Mydei´s life. “I´m very…friend-meeting capable.” What is he even saying? He sounds like Caelus, titans.

Mydei, in his patience and glory, snorted. “I´ll warn you, they´re… a lot.”

“Have you met my friends?” Phainon asked incredulously. Wait, he hadn’t. “Anyway, if I can survive Caelus and Cipher every day, I can handle anything you throw at me.”

It turns out that Mydei had, in fact been severely downplaying things. His friends weren’t crazy like his own, but they did scrutinize him like he was a rare specimen. They had met in the campus library, and one of them had already been shushed by the librarian three times before they even sat down. Once more and Mr. Alhaitham would throw all of them out. That one, Leonnius, was the only one who didn’t look like he was judging Phainon.

“So,” One of them said, leaning forward with interest. Hephaestion, he believed from the brief introduction before. “This is the… handsome train guy, huh? I gotta admit, he does look like puppy like you said, Dei.”

Phainon turned slowly to look at Mydei.

Mydei, traitor, slowly turned to look out the window.

“Behave,” Mydei muttered under his breath, though the faint red creeping up his ears betrayed him. Phainon felt his heart give out.

The meeting went surprisingly well. There was teasing, easy conversation, complaints about professors, food recommendations. At some point, Ptolemy casually asked, “So how long have you two been dating again?”

They both choked.

“We´re not-”

“We´re just-”

They stopped. Looked at each other.

“…friends,” Mydei finished, quieter this time.

Phainon nodded quickly. “Yes. Friends.”

Nobody looked convinced.

Naturally, this meant retaliation.

“You have to meet my friends now,” Phainon told him next morning on the train, pointing a pencil at him like he was issuing a challenge.

Mydei raised one perfect eyebrow. “That sounds like a threat.”

“It is.”

Introducing Mydei to his friend group was nothing short of chaos.

Caelus knocked over his chair, March squealed and grabbed Phainon´s arm like she was about to witness history unfold in real time. Cipher took one look at Mydei, then at Phainon, and he was not able to find his wallet later that day. Castorice was already scribbling something down, eyes sparkling with what could only be described as narrative greed. Dan Heng simply observed, though the dip of his head later felt suspiciously like approval.

Mydei fit right in. He was calm, polite but not too uptight, even when Caelus leaned in too close and asked invasive questions and gave him a trivia on campus trashcans. He swore that there was something called the lord trash king or whatever, and Mydei didn’t even bat an eye.

After a while, things slowlyshifted.

Their messages turned more personal, they even started video calling every now and then. His mother noticed and demanded to meet the “Boy who makes my little baby so happy” one day.

Mydei once sent a picture of a burnt cake with the caption: we don’t talk about this.

He also sent a selfie of him in an apron.

Phainon saved both pictures.

Late-night conversations started and stretched longer than intended, drifting into soft silences punctuated by you should sleep and you first, neither of them willing to be the one to end the call.

Mornings on the train became routine in a way that felt almost sacred. Mydei would arrive, take the seat across from, sometimes already saved for him by Phainon´s strategically placed bag, and without a word, they would begin sketching.

They never showed each other.

Not once.

He didn’t know why, but there was an unspoken rule to it, something delicate and fragile and neither wanted to disturb.

Once, Phainon leaned just slightly too far.

Mydei immediately tilted his sketchbook away. “Cheater!”

“I swear I saw nothing!”

“Liar. Want to keep the names going? What’s next, Nosy?”

“… Okay, I saw like three lines. Not that deep.”

“Hmph. That’s three too many.”

After that, he was more careful.

Not that it stopped Phainon from filling page after page with Mydei. He was his only muse now.

The way light hit his hair, his expression, the elegant line of his throat.

Everything.

It got worse (better) when they started meeting outside the train to sketch. Since it was winter now, they met often at the Garden of life to sketch over hot chocolate instead of a park or similar.

They were always across from each other.

Always angled just enough to not see what the other was drawing.

They talked while they sketched, about families, small habits, about things that felt too insignificant to matter and yet somehow did.

One afternoon, almost casually, Phainon asked, “Do you want to come over to sketch?”

He immediately regretted how calm he sounded for taking such a big step forward.

Mydei hesitated for half a second.

Then, “Alright.”

Phainon usually kept his apartment clean, it was much too small for a mess. It still didn’t feel like enough for Mydei apparently, because he found himself apologizing the moment Mydei stepped inside.

“There´s a mess,” He said.

Mydei looked around. “There isn´t”

“There are nerves and exam breakdowns here. You just can’t see it.”

Mydei chuckled.

They tried sketching in their respective books. Or at least, they pretended to. At some point, Mydei had gotten up to get a snack, saw his empty snack drawer, and proceeded to just start baking apple crumble. Phainon was designated grocery runner. It was so domestic, he had to force himself to not cry.

Later, they sat on the floor, empty plates in front of them and their backs against the couch (it was too small for them), shoulders almost touching.

Almost.

And when it did, neither moved away.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, it hit him.

Not dramatically, but slowly, gently, like he had always known this. Small realisations from everyday things.

The way Mydei told him everything about himself.

The way he remembered everything Phainon told him, even things he didn’t remember telling him.

The way that even silence felt good between them, never empty.

Phainon started thinking things he probably shouldn’t even be thinking yet,

This is it.

He is the one.

I want this forever.

Naturally, he told no one.

(He told his mother, his sister, Castorice and Dan Heng just in case.)

The day it happened was painfully ordinary.

The train slowed. People shuffled about.

Phainon turned towards Mydei, because Mydei said something, or smiled or simply existed- and his sketchbook slipped from his hands.

It hit the floor. Opened. Right at Mydei´s boots.

It felt like time had stopped.

“Wait-” Phainon reached, but it was too late.

Mydei bent down, picked it up.

A pause as he took in the sketch it landed on. An extremely detailed one of Mydei drinking his favourite milkshake.

He turned the page.

One of Mydei smiling at him, drawn fully from memory, hair golden and shiny.

Another page turned.

Mydei, this time sketching on the train, hands done with excruciating detail. Even one of his chipped nails was visible.

Another page. And another.

Phainon just stared in horror.

Suddenly, Mydei´s face, which was concentrating on the book, looked up, and panicked.

“Come on, the doors are about to close!” He grabbed Phainon´s arm and dragged him out just as the doors closed. Then he silently stared at his face until the crowd thinned from the station.

Phainon was speechless, unable to explain anything.

The silence stretched, thin and unbearable for the first time.

“Phainon,” Mydei said quietly. That struck him out of his silence.

“I can explain! I didn’t mean to be creepy, I swear-,” Phainon said immediately, staring somewhere over his shoulder, because even looking directly at him felt impossible.

“You… drew all of these?”

“No,” Phainon said instinctually. “I hired someone to follow you around and draw pictures.”

A pause.

“What?”

“I´m sorry. I´ll stop if you feel uncomfortable, I swear!”

“… Why did you sketch me?”

Phainon blinked, then frowned slightly. “Because it´s you,” He said, like that should be enough. “You´re… too good. And easy to draw.”

The last part was a lie.

Mydei was anything but easy to draw.

But he was the only thing Phainon ever wanted to draw.

Another long silence, before Mydei´s ears slowly turned red.

“You´re so unfair.” He huffed, averting his eyes.

Phainon finally looked at his face. “What?”

Instead of answering, Mydei ruffled through his bag and took out his own sketchbook. He gave it to Phainon.

Phainon stared at it for a second before taking it.

Opening it.

And-

Oh.

He fluttered through the pages, skimming through the entire book and then rechecking from the beginning.

On every single page.

Him.

Different angles, different moments. Phainon laughing, his white hair tousled. His thinking, the crease between his eyebrows drawn with precision. Him looking at the viewer, Mydei, with the softest looking eyes ever. Around the sketches, there were annotations. He looks adorable when confused. He likes black coffee, but also likes sweet treats. Phainon – ask for his birthday. Make carrot cake for Phainon.

Phainon´s brain short-circuited.

“You-”

“You started it,” Mydei said quickly, cheeks turning red as well.

“I did not-”

“You were staring first.”
“I was not- okay, maybe I was, but-”

They stopped. Looked at each other.

Then somehow, they both laughed.

Soft. A little breathless. A little disbelieving.

“I think,” Phainon said slowly, holding both sketchbooks between them, “This might mean that we like each other. Like, more than friends.”

“Yeah,” Mydei murmured. “I think so too.”

A pause settled between them, but it wasn’t heavy.

Just… full. There was lot to be said.

“So,” Phainon said, even softer now. “What happens now?”

Mydei hesitated, then met his eyes.

“Can we just… keep going?” He asked. “Like this. Just… closer.”

Phainon smiled, something warm and certain settling deep in his chest.

“Yeah,” he said. “I´d like that.”