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Phainon prides himself in caring for your houseplants. It’s become a daily ritual in the time since you two moved in together: he’ll come home at the end of the day, call out for you while he’s sliding off his shoes, give Snowy a quick pat when the dog comes running up to him, and will then refuse to do anything else until the small collection of plants in your apartment have been sufficiently watered.
It’s methodical, the way he measures out exact amounts for each one. He uses the filtered water that you keep in the fridge, always adding in some of that nutrient enhancer he had picked up some time back. Never once does he deviate, claiming that anything less would be blasphemy of the highest order.
His dedication is almost concerning, you think. There isn’t a day in recent memory that he hasn’t performed this little ritual of his. On good days, and bad, when the fate of the world proves to be a heavy burden on his aching shoulders, and when he’s so ecstatic you think his skin might burst to reveal the sun itself- caring for the plants in your shared living space is a part of every one of these days.
Maybe it’s the consistency- that is your strongest hypothesis. For a man like Phainon, who has always given his all to serve, who knows nothing other than what it means to live and act at the behest of others, there must be something rewarding about choosing to care for something so small.
It must provide him with some relief, you imagine, to know that when he returns home, all that his green companions will ask of him is the easiest form of devotion- one that does not require the sacrifice of his person, body, or mind, and still they will thrive.
It is for this reason that you find yourself unable to admit to him that these plants, the ones he has been watering for months, the ones you have often found him cooing at, are fake.
The first time they come up at all, you think he's joking.
“Sorry Phai, what plants?” It’s the only thing you can think to ask when he mentions that he’d watered the ones in your home.
You had kept some, yes, but that was ages ago- long before Snowy had come into your lives. The pup, as much as you adored him, had a tendency to bite and nip at everything he could reach in his earlier days. For the dignity of your figs and succulents, and for the sake of your overly curious pup’s safety, you’d chosen to gift them to friends and family- replacing some of the emptier spaces in your home with faux greenery instead.
Phainon, for his part, had only looked stumped by your query. They were yours, after all, how could you forget?
He offered to care for them then. “I’d like to try my hand at it, if you’d let me.”
In your confusion, you had simply agreed, offering him a half-hearted nod as you racked your brain in search of these plants that you had supposedly forgotten.
Only when you were heading to bed that night did you notice the lingering wetness of the soil that kept one of your larger mock spider plants upright.
Oh. Oh.
It’s such a silly misunderstanding, really. One that no doubt could very easily be corrected. It doesn’t take you long to check the few others, and sure enough, they too are filled to the brim with water. You can't help the laugh that leaves you, because you can imagine so clearly how pleased Phainon must have been at the thought of being helpful. He'd always been that way, so eager to ease your burdens even when there were none to be had.
The next fifteen minutes are spent collecting and draining each pot in the kitchen sink.
You’ve every intention of teasing him when you do finally make it to bed. It’s obvious from the grin on your face, you’re sure, or maybe even from the lilt in the pattern of your footsteps.
But Phainon is already somewhere in the realm between sleep and consciousness when you find him, and you could never wake him for something so small when he looks so peaceful.
There’s a slow groan on his end when he makes space for you, like his body finds it terribly burdensome to move. “What kept you?”
“Nothing,” the mattress dips under your weight, “go back to sleep.”
You think you’ll tell him in the morning.
You don’t remember to.
It happens the following day, and the day after, and the next one too, until you find yourself stuck in a loop of draining the pots that Phainon had taken to so diligently watering every evening. It was a matter of forgetting at first- simply not finding the right time to bring it up. But days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and you could no longer deny that you were keeping it from him on purpose.
About a week into taking up responsibility for these plants, he starts to tell you about them individually- all eight of them, for he has named every one. They come up in the mornings during breakfast, on the rare days when you both are free to lounge about, and even through your teleslate, when he finds time to message you throughout the day.
When one of the grannies in the market had mentioned to him that words of affirmation have been known to help with plant health, he couldn't let go of the idea.
“Do you think it’s too much pressure, Sunshine?” The heavy set of his brows tells you that this matter truly does trouble him- “If I tell them that I’d like them to grow strong?”
It takes you a beat longer than it should to respond- the pup in your lap nips at your pinky when your hand does not immediately resume its patting.
“I think Planet-Dominator III will be just fine, Phai.”
“You’re certain?”
“Mhm”
You know exactly where he’s headed when he scurries off just moments later- Snowy, not so much, for the dog takes all of two seconds before jumping up after him.
It was never meant to go this far. A very small part of you cannot help the guilty tug you feel when you see how dedicated Phainon is to helping them grow- a thing that will simply never happen- but you know it would feel much worse to take the illusion away from him now.
At one point you’d considered simply replacing them all with real look-a-likes. Snowy had become much calmer in recent months, and much less inclined to tear apart anything within his reach. In this regard, they'd be safe. Phainon, however, you're unsure- with just how much water you find him dousing your decorative flora in, you think the real thing might drown in his love.
You are not in the habit of lying to Phainon, nor is he in the habit of lying to you; honesty is fundamental to building trust in any relationship. Still, when it comes to Phainon at least, you've come to believe that this one thing is best kept secret. If it means one more smile, one more laugh, one more moment of peace for a man who has lost so much and stands to lose much more still, then you can allow him this small joy.