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Phainon had never been good at slowing down.
Even on forced vacation, restlessness clung to him like a second skin. The unfamiliar quiet of the seaside inn felt wrong somehow—too still, too quiet, too unlike the constant noise he had grown used to. No ringing timers. No crashing pans. No voices shouting orders over one another in the kitchen. No heat pressing against his face from the stove.
He woke up before dawn out of sheer habit.
For a long moment, he simply stared at the wooden ceiling above him, disoriented by the silence. Pale blue light filtered weakly through the curtains, the world outside still barely waking up. Beside him, Mydei remained buried beneath the blankets, one arm thrown across Phainon’s side of the bed, tightly embracing him.
The warmth of him lingered everywhere. Against Phainon’s back, against his arm, beneath the blankets tangled around their legs. Steady heat, familiar and grounding in a way that made something ache quietly inside his chest. Mydei always ran warm when he slept; Phainon used to complain about it years ago, grumbling whenever he woke up overheated and half-trapped beneath his then boyfriend’s limbs.
Now, though—
Now the feeling almost hurt with how much he had missed it with a burning passion. Not the warmth itself but the thoughtless intimacy of it.
Somewhere along the past few exhausting months, they had stopped sleeping like this. Not intentionally. It had happened slowly enough that Phainon barely noticed at first. Late nights at the restaurant became passing each other on opposite schedules. One collapsing into bed long after midnight while the other woke before sunrise for inventory. Sometimes they were both so exhausted they barely touched each other before falling asleep.
And sometimes, worse than that, they did touch—but distantly. Like the intimacy had became a routine and then wake up the next morning with one person already moving through their day.
Not like this, Mydei unconsciously seeking him out even in sleep, clinging close with the same quiet instinct he always used to.
Phainon swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in his throat. Carefully, so carefully, he let himself sink back against the mattress instead of getting up completely. Mydei stirred faintly behind him at the movement, brows furrowing before he made a low, sleepy sound and shifted closer on the plush warmth. The arm around him tightened. Enough that relief bloomed so suddenly and painfully in Phainon’s chest it nearly stole the breath from his lungs.
They were still here, still reaching for each other even after everything that had tried to pull them apart. Somehow, despite the distance and the exhaustion that had settled into their very bones, they still fit together with an ease that felt natural now.
Phainon closed his eyes briefly, letting himself sink into the slow rise and fall of Mydei’s breathing against his back, grounding himself in the steady warmth of him. Every quiet breath, every shift of muscle beneath his arms, reminded Phainon that Mydei was alive, real, and still here beside him. There was something terrifying about realizing how much he had missed something so simple. How lonely he must have been without fully understanding it.
Or maybe he had understood.
Maybe that was the problem.
His fingers curled lightly against the blankets as another wave of affection washed through him, soft and aching and unbearably tender. He loved Mydei. Gods, he loved him so much it sometimes frightened him. Loved him in all the quiet ways exhaustion had buried lately beneath work schedules and stress and aching feet after twelve-hour shifts.
And beneath all that exhaustion that pushed tem away from each other, Mydei still reached for him in his sleep.
The thought alone made Phainon feel strangely emotional, blinking back tears in his eyes.
Behind him, Mydei exhaled slowly against the back of his shoulder, still half-asleep, and mumbled something incoherent into the blankets. Phainon huffed out the faintest laugh, warm despite himself.
Then, before he could think too hard about it, he reached back and covered Mydei’s hand with his own against his chest. Phainon rubbed a hand over his face and exhaled quietly.
Vacation.
The word still felt strange.
Their friends had practically forced them into it. Aglaea had threatened to lock the restaurant doors herself. Castorice had started listing every time Phainon had nearly fallen asleep standing up during prep work. Hyacine had pointed out that Mydei looked one stressful dinner service away from murdering someone with a soup ladle.
Neither of them had argued very hard in the end. Probably because they were too tired to.
Phainon pushed himself upright from the chair by the window where he had absentmindedly settled. His body ached in the dull, familiar way as it settled into the bones after months of overworking. Even now, his mind kept trying to remember whether they had enough produce deliveries for next week, whether the seafood supplier had confirmed Tuesday’s order, whether the new hire remembered how to clean the grill properly.
He hated how difficult it was to stop thinking about the restaurant. The restaurant had become their entire lives somewhere along the way.
At first, it had been exciting. Building something together always was. Long nights felt romantic when you were young and stubbornly in love, surviving off cheap takeout and shared headaches from long nights. They used to laugh through the stress back then. Used to steal kisses in the storage room while soup simmered unattended on the stove. Used to stumble home at two in the morning and collapse into bed still smelling like sweat, smoke, and food.
Somewhere along the line though, the exhaustion stopped being temporary. The late nights became expected. The kisses became quick things exchanged in passing and sometimes, even when standing shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen, they felt strangely far apart.
Phainon swallowed against the uncomfortable thought.
Behind him, the mattress shifted as a groan sounded from beneath the blankets.
“…Beloved,” Mydei mumbled hoarsely, voice thick with sleep. “Why are you awake.”
Phainon glanced back automatically, softening at the sight before he could help it.
Mydei looked thoroughly miserable and unbearably beautiful.
His blond hair had fallen into complete disarray sometime during the night, soft strands spilling across his face and catching the pale morning light like spun gold. Wrapped stubbornly in the blankets as though he meant to personally defy the dawn itself, he blinked one sleepy golden eye open with all the exhausted annoyance of someone cruelly torn from sleep. And yet, to Phainon, the sight was almost painfully dear. The faint crease in Mydei’s brow, the sleep lines clinging to his cheeks from sleep, the way his voiceless displeasure melted his usually fearsome presence into something soft and terribly lovable—it all made Phainon’s chest ache with helpless love.
Gods, he adored this man to his very soul. He was so very lucky to wake alongside him.
Phainon smiled faintly, chest aching. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“You thinking woke me,” Mydei muttered, voice rough with sleep as he squinted at Phainon through the curtain of blond hair falling into his face. He looked deeply offended by both the time and the concept of waking up itself.
Phainon huffed out a laugh, propping himself up on one elbow. “That sounds a little mean.”
Mydei’s eye narrowed further. “It’s five in the morning.”
“That’s not early.”
There was a long, disbelieving silence. Mydei stared at him as though Phainon had personally confessed to murder. Then he slowly rolled his eyes and let his head thunk back against the pillow with exaggerated despair.
“You’re a deeply unwell person,” his husband declared.
Phainon burst into quiet laughter at that, the sound soft in the pale morning light. “You say that like you won’t love me anyway.”
Mydei grumbled something incomprehensible into the blanket, clearly unwilling to dignify that with an answer, but his body betrayed him almost immediately. Still wrapped stubbornly in the sheets, he shifted closer by slow, incremental inches until his forehead bumped against Phainon’s shoulder, half laying on Phainon's own body.
“There,” Mydei muttered. “Now stop moving, love.”
Phainon smiled helplessly, warmth blooming in his chest so quickly it almost hurt. He reached up to brush the tangled blond strands away from Mydei’s face, fingers lingering against his temple. Mydei made a soft, annoyed sound at the touch that lost all conviction when he leaned into it anyway, eyes slipping shut again.
“You’re clingy in the mornings,” Phainon whispered teasingly.
Mydei cracked one eye open just enough to glare at him. “You say that like you're not enjoying it right now.”
Phainon’s grin widened instantly. “I can’t help it. You’re adorable half-asleep.”
“Hks,” Mydei mumbled, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward despite himself. He shifted even closer after that, one arm sliding heavily across Phainon’s waist as if anchoring him there. “If you wake me this early again,” he added drowsily, “I’m burning all your clothes.”
Phainon laughed softly and pressed a kiss into his messy hair. “Promises, promises.”
Without thinking, Phainon rested his cheek lightly against Mydei’s hair.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Outside, waves crashed softly against the shore somewhere beyond the inn. Seabirds cried faintly in the distance. The world felt slower here, untouched by the frantic pace they had trapped themselves inside back home.
Mydei sighed against Phainon’s shoulder, the sound long and heavy, as though it had been carried all the way from the edge of sleep and dragged back unwillingly into consciousness.
“…I kept thinking about the inventory list,” he admitted quietly, like confessing something far more shameful than knife scars or burned food. “I think something’s wrong with me.”
Phainon let out a tired, breathy laugh. “Hah. And you tease me about overthinking.” He nudged Mydei lightly with his cheek, smiling into the dim morning light.
After a pause, Phainon added in a lower voice, almost conspiratorial, “I was worried about if we stored the produce correctly.”
Mydei made a faint sound of disbelief, half groan, half surrender. “That’s worse. You know you did it correctly, I was there”
“I know.” Sheepish, Phainon just buried further into Mydei, his lover’s hair tickling his nose.
That earned another soft exhale of laughter from Mydei, quieter this time, less resistant. The tension that had clung to him loosened in slow pieces, like something finally letting go of its grip.
Mydei tilted his head slightly to look at him. Even half-awake, there was something unfairly sharp about his gaze. It always made Phainon feel seen in ways that were difficult to hide from.
“That’s not all is it?. You’re thinking too hard again,” Mydei murmured.
Phainon opened his mouth automatically to deny it.
Then closed it.
Because he was. He always was, annoying as it is.
“I just…” He hesitated, fingers curling loosely against the sleeve of his own sweater. “It feels strange being away from everything.”
Mydei watched him quietly, eyes soft with understanding.
Phainon rarely admitted when something bothered him. Even after all these years, his instinct was still to smile first and deal with his feelings later. Mydei knew that, understood he will always be like that. Knew how much Phainon carried without complaint until the weight started crushing him quietly from the inside.
“That’s the point of a vacation,” Mydei said eventually, voice softer now. “We were burning ourselves out.” Phainon looked down like a scolded puppy.
He remembered falling asleep at the prep table last month.
Remembered waking up with a jacket draped over his shoulders and Mydei standing nearby pretending not to watch him.
He remembered the argument two weeks ago too, though they weren’t loud. That made it worse.
Just exhaustion talking through both of them. Sharp words neither of them truly meant. Mydei accusing him of trying to do everything himself again. Phainon snapping back that Mydei never rested either and it was hypocritical of him to admonish Phainon.
They hadn’t properly talked about it afterward. They’d simply returned to work.
Like always.
Mydei reached up suddenly and hooked two fingers beneath Phainon’s chin, gently forcing him to meet his gaze as if pulling him back from wherever his thoughts had drifted. The touch was slow, familiar, intimate in a way neither of them even think about anymore. His thumb lingered just a moment against Phainon’s jaw before he leaned in and pressed a small, almost absent kiss to the corner of his mouth—soft enough to feel like a dream.
“You’re doing it again,” Mydei murmured against his skin.
Phainon blinked, caught off guard more by the kiss than the accusation. “…Doing what?”
“Running around in that empty head of yours.” Mydei gave him a faint, tired look—then, as if unable to help himself, brushed another quick kiss to his cheek, slower this time, warm nibbles bringing goosebumps along Phainon’s skin.
Phainon paused, visibly offended for half a heartbeat—then, because it was him, because it was Mydei, he let the offense melt into something softer and deliberately teasing. “…I was just thinking of you.”
Mydei barked out a startled laugh at that—tired and genuine enough that warmth bloomed unexpectedly in Phainon’s chest, smug at making Mydei laugh easy—and it immediately softened into something fond as he leaned forward again, forehead brushing Phainon’s for a second before he pressed another kiss there too, lingering this time as Mydei breathed his husband's scent in.
Phainon’s chest tightened instantly.
God.
He had missed this. He had missed Mydei. Not just the laughter, but what it meant. The way Mydei used to sound when the world wasn’t pressing down on him, on both of them.
Phainon must have gone into his head for too long again, because Mydei’s expression shifted. The affections softened into something quieter, more searching. His hand slid from Phainon’s chin down to his fingers, hesitating before threading them together beneath the blanket like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Then, quieter, he asked, “When was the last time we actually spent time together?” Phainon froze.
Mydei didn’t push. He just stayed close—close enough that Phainon could feel every small shift in his breathing, every slow rise and fall like a tether keeping them anchored. His thumb rubbed once over Phainon’s knuckle, absent, soothing.
The answer should have been simple. It wasn’t.
Phainon’s gaze dropped slightly as he searched through the blur of days—work, exhaustion, passing touches that never lingered long enough to even become a memory. Nothing solid surfaced. Nothing untouched by fatigue or obligation. Nothing that felt like this, nothing soft like this.
There was something strangely saddening about mornings like this—slow, quiet moments untouched by the chaos of work. He realized, with an uncomfortable pang, that he couldn’t remember the last time they had simply existed together without rushing toward the next responsibility.
He couldn’t find it.
The realization settled heavy and sickening in his chest, unable to believe that he doesn't know.
Mydei looked away first, jaw tightening faintly like he already knew what silence meant. “Yeah,” he said softly, sad and certain of his silence, a crumbling and mocking smile aimed right at himself.
Something in Phainon’s chest twisted.
Without thinking, he reached beneath the blanket and found Mydei’s other hand. Their fingers intertwined instinctively, he brought Mydei’s hand up and pressed a slow kiss to his knuckles. Then another—lighter, almost butterfly-soft to his wrist like he was trying to remember the shape of him through touch alone.
Mydei went still again, surprised in a way that made his lashes lower slightly, like he didn’t know where to put the feeling.
It had gotten that bad, hadn’t it?
Phainon squeezed his hand gently. “…Then let’s spend time together now,” he said quietly.
Mydei finally looked at him again. Really looked at his husband, the sad and adoring look in his eyes, his smile soft and pretty.
For a moment, neither of them moved—just the quiet press of their hands, the warmth between their pressed bodies, the faint rustle of blankets shifting as Mydei unconsciously leaned closer. Then Mydei exhaled, slow and shaky, and tilted forward until their foreheads touched again, a faint flush rose to his cheeks, subtle but unmistakable in the soft morning light.
Phainon smiled a little at that, helpless and soft, and brushed a kiss to Mydei’s temple, Phainon felt his own face warm in response, almost absurdly so, like they were younger again—caught in something new, something terrifying and tender and alive. Mydei answered immediately by turning just enough to catch his lips again—brief, unhurried, like he had nowhere else to be and nothing else mattered enough to interrupt this.
Phainon exhaled shakily as they parted, and Mydei did the same at almost the exact same time, like they were sharing the same breath.
“Hi husband,” Phainon whispered, barely audible.
Mydei huffed a quiet laugh again—so unbearably soft and cute—and leaned in until their noses bumped gently. “Hi love.”
Phainon smiled helplessly, then pressed another light kiss to the corner of Mydei’s mouth, just a nibble and a tease to his lover’s chapped lips. Then needy and wanting more, Mydei leaned in and returned it properly. Phainon started to pull away to tease him.
Mydei caught him.
Not gently this time—there was nothing adoring in the way Mydei moved. His hand slid up fast, fingers firm at the back of Phainon’s neck, anchoring him there as though distance itself had suddenly become unacceptable. The motion stole the air between them, collapsing the teasing banter into silence, leaving only the sharp thrum of anticipation. Mydei pulled him in with a quiet urgency that stripped away every layer of Phainon's tired body, warming him up so fast he felt dizzy by it. The closeness was overwhelming, the heat of his palm searing against Phainon’s skin, the press of his body leaving no space for retreat.
There was no gentleness in the way Mydei kissed him, only the raw insistence of someone who had already claimed him, who had no need for hesitation now that vows had been spoken and promises sealed years ago. Teeth grazed, lips bruised, and the taste of morning lingered between them, but none of it mattered. What mattered was the way Mydei’s grip refused to loosen, the way his body pressed flush against Phainon’s like puzzle pieces. It was a declaration, a reminder, a reaffirmation of everything they had already chosen.
Phainon made a small, startled sound against his mouth—more squeak than voice—but it broke into something softer as he immediately gave in, his fingers clutching at Mydei’s shirt, pulling him closer still, his body had already decided he wasn’t letting his husband go anytime soon. The earlier teasing vanished under the weight of it, replaced by closeness that felt too intense to be anything but overdue.
Mydei exhaled sharply through his nose, still holding him there, thumb pressing lightly at the base of Phainon’s neck tattoo, he tilted his head just enough to test, to feel if Phainon was also breathing through his nose, prolonging the kiss, stretching it into something that seemed endless. The rhythm of their breaths tangled together, each inhale and exhale shared, each second tightening the coil of heat between them lasting longer, deeper, until they were both breathless, until thought itself dissolved into nothing but the press of mouths and the ache of wanting more. When they finally broke apart, it was only barely—foreheads nearly still touching, breath tangled in the space the morning light spilled across their tangled sheets, gilding the edges of their disheveled hair, painting their flushed skin in gold.
Phainon's lips parted slightly as he caught his breath, and even then there was the unmistakable curve of a smile threatening at the corners of his mouth. His eyes were half-lidded, softened by affection and warmth, and for a moment he simply looked at Mydei as though there was nowhere else he would rather be.
Mydei let out a quiet, uneven laugh, the sound vibrating against Phainon’s lips, a low rumble that felt almost like purring from somewhere deep in his chest. It was the kind of laugh that carried heat, the kind that betrayed how much he enjoyed the mess he was making of his husband—how much he reveled in seeing Phainon undone beneath his touch. The laugh faded into something heavier as Mydei leaned in again, slower this time but no less intent, the weight of sleep slipping off him like a discarded cloak. He pulled Phainon into his lap with a steady insistence, the shift of bodies seamless and inevitable, until Phainon was straddling him, precious breath caught, bruised rosy lips parted, eyes hazy with the kind of hunger that left no room for hesitation.
When they pulled apart again, neither of them moved far. Any space they put will just hurt them.
Phainon lingered close, his nose brushing against the plush curve of Mydei’s tattooed cheek before he pressed another kiss there—slower this time, unhurried, letting the heat simmer between them. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a cascade of them, each one deliberate, each one a quiet surrender to the need that pulsed beneath his skin. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop the way his lips kept finding Mydei’s handsome face, tracing devotion across jawline and cheekbone, worshiping in small, unbroken touches. Mydei made a quiet sound in response, something caught between love and surrender, a low rumble that betrayed how deeply he felt it. His hands slid firmly to Phainon’s hips, tugging him closer under the blanket, the gesture both tender and possessive, as if to remind him that this closeness was his to claim, his to keep.
“You’re clingy, pup” Mydei murmured, though his hands didn’t loosen in the slightest. This hypocrite, he resisted the urge to kiss themselves stupid again.
Phainon hummed softly against his husband’s skin, the sound vibrating with warmth, a smile tugging at his lips as if the words themselves tickled him. “I love you, Mydeimos.” The confession slipped out in the quiet morning, unguarded, tender, and it struck with the kind of force that unraveled everything Mydei thought he was holding together.
That did it.
Something in him stilled—then melted all at once, his chest loosening, his heart spilling over in a rush of feeling that left him undone. It was like sunlight breaking through clouds, like a lion basking in the warmth of his chosen sun, every ounce of pride and restraint dissolving into something softer, messier, truer. He pulled Phainon in tighter, arms wrapping around him with a devotion that bordered on desperation, fetching one side of the blanket and throwing it over them until the fabric fell like a curtain, enclosing them in a small, secret world of their own. The morning light barely reached them here, filtered and golden, turning the space between their faces into something blurred and dreamlike, a sanctuary carved out of tangled sheets and whispered promises.
“I love you too,” Mydei answered quietly, his voice trembling with the weight of it, as if saying it too loudly might shatter the fragile perfection of the moment. His hands tightened at Phainon’s hips, not to restrain but to hold, to claim, to remind him that this love was both gentle and fierce. Inside his chest, emotions swirled in a chaotic, gooey mess—adoration, reverence, longing, gratitude—all spilling over at once, leaving him helpless against the tide. He pressed his forehead to Phainon’s, breath mingling in the golden hush, and thought that if the world ended right here, he would die content, wrapped in the warmth of the man he had chosen, the man who had chosen him back.
Then Phainon shifted first, adjusting closer as a small laugh slipping out when Mydei had instinctively tightened his hold again like he refused to let him drift even an inch away. The sound made Mydei exhale something almost like a laugh himself—soft, reluctant, going half-asleep at the warmth and the soft body in his arms.
“You’re squeezing me,” Phainon whispered, though he made no move to escape.
“I’m securing you,” Mydei corrected, voice low and serious in a way that completely failed to hide the fondness underneath it.
Phainon hummed, smile brighter this time, and squirmed himself even closer as if testing how far “secured” he is. Mydei responded immediately, drawing him in until Phainon was pressed fully against him, warm and solid beneath the shared blanket.
It felt ridiculous, almost—how easily they fell into it. Like no time had passed at all. Like they were younger again and their love was new and scary, hiding away from the world to treasure this love they’ve been harboring for each other since they met, pretending for just a few more minutes that nothing existed beyond each other.
Mydei adjusted the blanket slightly around them, tucking it more securely as if building a small fortress out of warmth and skin and shared breath. “Don’t leave,” he added after a moment, quieter than everything else.
Phainon opened his eyes just enough to look at him—loving, fond, unbearably loved.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Their laughter came in soft, broken pieces at nothing at all, fading as quickly as it arrived, replaced by the comfort of breathing in sync and holding on without thinking. Even as their eyes fluttered closed again, neither of them loosened their grip—not even slightly—fingers still laced, bodies atop of each other, as if their soul had decided for them that separation was no longer an option.
And when they finally woke again, it would be the same—skins warm, limbs knotted together under rumpled sheets, hair messy, breath shared in the same small space.
They would groan about it, of course. Laugh about how hot and sweaty they were, how impossible it was to move, how they must have somehow fused overnight. Mydei would grumble something dry and tired about “restless behavior,” and Phainon would absolutely tease him for it while refusing to let go even as he said it.
And beneath the blankets, tangled together like they were one, they stayed that way—laughing quietly at nothing, stealing small kisses that barely counted as movement, like the world had been turned distant and quiet just for this small pocket of time where only the two of them existed.