Work Text:
Phainon has a secret list.
Not a crime plan, nor a study guide, nor anything even remotely useful for the average person. It was, in fact, a list so embarrassing that if anyone ever discovered it, he was fairly certain he would immediately perish from humiliation. Unfortunately, that exact scenario had happened when his sister found it tucked between the pages of one of his notebooks. He still remembered the horror of looking up and seeing her holding it open, eyes sparkling with the sort of malicious delight only siblings seemed capable of possessing.
"One: Mydei likes pink things. Two: Mydei likes sweets. Three: Mydei likes—ahaha!" she read aloud, already giggling. Her grin widened with every line she skimmed. "Phainon, is this a list about your crush?"
Phainon had never wanted to disappear more in his life. His ears were burning, his neck was hot, and he was very certain that if he looked in a mirror right now, he would simply cease to exist out of sheer embarrassment. "He's not my crush."
His sister only smiled wider, the smile that meant she was absolutely not going to let this go. She nudged him lightly with her elbow, leaning in just enough to be annoying. "Then why do you have an entire notebook dedicated to things he likes?"
"It's not dedicated to him." Phainon lied quickly, shifting his gaze away as if staring at the wall might somehow cool his face down. It did not work.
She hummed thoughtfully, flipping the notebook open again with exaggerated care, as if she were reading sacred text. "The title literally says ‘Things Mydei Likes.’"
Phainon made a strangled sound and immediately regretted every life choice that led him to this moment. He could feel the heat crawling up his neck, his face refusing to cooperate no matter how hard he willed it to stay neutral. He straightened his posture as if that would somehow restore dignity.
"It's… just notes." he tried again, voice flatter than usual, as though pretending nonchalance might save him. His sister gave him a slow, knowing look, then nudged him again—this time a little harder, just enough to make him stumble half a step.
"Notes about Mydei." Cyrene repeated, sing-song, clearly enjoying herself.
"About a friend." Phainon corrected immediately, too fast again.
That earned him another grin—wider this time, the annoying older sister one. She leaned her shoulder lightly against his. "A very thoroughly studied friend huh."
Phainon pressed his lips into a thin line, willing his face to cool down, to reset, to do anything other than betray him so completely. Like everything in his life, his efforts failed spectacularly.
Cyrene teased him mercilessly for weeks afterward, and Phainon could never quite look her in the eye whenever she brought it up. Yet despite the embarrassment, he never threw the notebook away. Every entry represented a memory. Every page had been carefully gathered over years of friendship, tucked away because he liked seeing Mydei happy. Whether his sister believed him or not, that was all it was. At least, that's what he told himself.
The first item on the list had been written when they were children.
1. Mydei likes pink
For a while, Phainon had become convinced that Mydei's favorite color was pink. It wasn't an unreasonable conclusion. Whenever they were given candy, Mydei always chose the pink wrappers first. When fruit was offered, somehow the pink ones ended up in his hands. If there were pastries decorated in different colors, he always reached for the pink icing. To young Phainon, the evidence seemed overwhelming. Naturally, he responded by giving Mydei every pink thing he could find.
Whenever he received pink candy, he handed it over. Whenever he found pink flowers growing by the roadside, he picked them and presented them proudly. Once, after spotting a particularly pretty pink blossom during a walk home, he had offered it to Mydei without a second thought.
The reaction had been immediate and bewildering. Mydei's face turned scarlet, his ears burning as he stared at the flower like it had personally offended him. "Why are you giving me this?" he demanded.
"Because you like pink."
The look Mydei gave him was one of profound suffering only a 7 year old was capable of. "I don't like pink that much!"
"You always choose pink things."
"Because they're sweet!"
Phainon blinked, tilting his big head like a puppy. "What?"
"The pink candies are always the sweetest!" By the time Mydei buried his face in his hands, Phainon was already mentally revising his conclusions. That night, he crossed out the first note and added a correction beneath it.
2. Mydei likes sweets.
Once Phainon learned that fact, he dedicated himself to it with the sort of enthusiasm that should probably have been regulated. Every sweet thing that crossed his path somehow found its way into Mydei's possession. Candies, cookies, pastries, homemade baked goods, fruit—if it contained sugar, Phainon was handing it over with a smile. At first, Mydei seemed delighted by the arrangement. Then he seemed overwhelmed. Then vaguely sick. Phainon, unfortunately, failed to recognize any of these warning signs.
The inevitable consequence arrived in the form of a truly spectacular painful toothache.
When Mydei vanished for several days after a dental appointment, Phainon spent every waking moment consumed by guilt. He replayed every candy and cookie he'd ever given him, each memory feeling heavier than the last. By the time Mydei finally returned, Phainon had already decided he should probably stop bothering him altogether. If his attempts at kindness only caused problems, perhaps it would be better to keep his distance.
The plan lasted approximately one day.
Mydei marched into the room looking furious, a wad of cotton still stuffed into one side of his mouth from the dental work. Before Phainon could even greet him, Mydei pointed accusingly in his direction and strode forward with determined steps, closing the distance far too quickly for someone who was supposed to be resting.
"You."
"Me?"
"You're avoiding me."
"I'm not—"
"You are."
The protest died instantly as Mydei reached him. Without hesitation, he grabbed Phainon's sleeve like it was the most natural thing in the world, tugging him closer as if afraid he might slip away if he loosened his grip even a little. Phainon barely had time to process it before Mydei was right in front of him, still scowling, still flushed from the pain of his tooth, still glaring with all the intensity he could manage through cotton-stuffed determination in his 10 year old body.
Mydei folded his arms—well, tried to, but ended up keeping one hand firmly hooked onto Phainon instead. "You're not allowed to leave."
"What?"
"Ever."
"Mydei—"
"Ever."
The word came out slightly slurred thanks to the cotton in his cheek, which somehow only made him sound more serious, and more ridiculous.
Then, as if the verbal warning wasn’t enough, Mydei reached up and pinched Phainon’s cheeks with both hands, squishing his face as though physically emphasizing his point. His expression remained stern, but there was something almost childish in the way he held on, like he was making absolutely sure Phainon understood the severity of the rule.
"You stay," he said again, quieter this time, still holding his face.
Phainon blinked at him, eyes slightly squished from the pinching, before a laugh escaped him despite everything. That seemed to break whatever tension Mydei had been holding onto.
A moment later, Mydei let go of his cheeks only to pull him into a tight hug instead—arms wrapping around him with surprising force, clinging like he was afraid Phainon might vanish if he didn’t hold on properly. His grip was firm, almost painful, like a belonging he wasn’t willing to let go of.
Despite himself, Phainon laughed again, softer this time. And just like that, the distance between them disappeared completely, as if it had never existed at all.
Years later, another entry found its way onto the list.
3. Mydei likes cooking
Phainon discovered Mydei liked cooking entirely by accident when a lunch container was suddenly shoved into his hands one afternoon. Mydei looked unusually tense, hovering nearby while pretending not to care.
"Try it."
"What is it?"
"Just eat it."
Obediently, Phainon took a bite. The immaculate taste was immediate. The food was incredible. Every flavor blended perfectly together, rich and comforting and somehow better than meals he'd had at actual restaurants. He stared at the container in stunned silence before taking another bite, then another.
"Mydei," he finally said.
"What?"
"This tastes like heaven." Mydei immediately looked like he wanted to throw himself into traffic, though Phainon didn't notice distracted he was by the delicious food.
"What?"
"It's amazing."
"I made it."
Unfortunately for Mydei and his heart, that only encouraged Phainon further. Compliments poured out one after another, each one more earnest and detailed than the last, until Mydei's entire face had turned bright red. By the end of lunch, he looked moments away from combusting.
After that, something shifted.
Mydei started bringing him food more often at school lunches. At first it was occasional—something simple, something he claimed he “just made extra of.” Then it became routinely their lunch and snacks. Eventually, Phainon simply expected it, as if it had always been part of their day. And without fail, Mydei’s cooking always ended up in front of him, carefully packed and still warm enough to carry the faintest trace of home.
And Phainon—unfortunately for Mydei’s composure and fragile heart—never just said “it’s good.”
"Did you add the sauce from miss Gorgo?" he would ask, tilting his head slightly as he studied the dish like it was something to be savored, not just eaten. "It tastes different from last time… sharper, but in a good way."
Or, "You sautéed this, didn’t you? The texture’s different from steaming it. It holds the flavor better like this."
Sometimes even quieter things, spoken almost absentmindedly as he ate, like he was piecing it together in real time: "You adjusted the seasoning… you balanced it better this time, you're amazing Mydei."
It wasn’t just the praise—though that was certainly a large portion of it—it was the attention. Careful, precise focus, the kind that Mydei sometimes wished would go to him instead of the food he cooked. He grew irrationally jealous of his own cooking, because Phainon wasn’t simply eating; he was noticing every choice, every experiment. He was understanding it. Appreciating it. Treating each dish like a reflection of Mydei himself, and that quiet, focused attention left Mydei both flustered and fiercely possessive, as though the meals were stealing the affection meant for him.
And that did something unfair to Mydei’s chest. Every single time, it left him frozen for a fraction too long, ears burning hotter and hotter until his face looked like it had been dipped in sunlight. His hands would tighten around whatever he was holding, his gaze suddenly fixed anywhere but Phainon, like looking at him directly might be too much to survive.
By the end of lunch, Mydei always looked utterly wrecked—flushed deep red, almost pomegranate-bright, as if he’d taken more damage from compliments than any exam or PE ever could.
A five months and a half later, Phainon arrived late to the cafeteria carrying a massive weathered book beneath one arm. While their friends ate and chatted, he walked straight up to Mydei and set it directly in front of him before Mydei could even begin complaining about him being late—or more importantly, before Mydei could properly express how aggressively hungry he already was.
"What's this?" Mydei asked, eyeing the book with immediate suspicion.
"My family's cookbook."
"Your what?"
"It's been passed down for generations so it was hard deviphering some ingredients in it."
"What?"
"I asked my mama to give it to me."
Mydei stared at him.
A long silence stretched.
And somewhere in that silence, Mydei felt something in his chest short-circuit so violently it was almost offensive.
Phainon. Gave him. His FAMILY GENERATION Cookbook.
For him.
For Mydei.
It felt like his heart had briefly stopped, restarted, and then decided it was done cooperating for the day. "....Why are you giving me this?" he managed, though his voice came out a little thinner than intended.
Phainon blinked at him, genuinely confused by the question, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Because you like cooking."
That did it. Mydei stared at him like he was seconds away from either collapsing or committing a crime. His hands flexed slightly on the edge of the table, the urge to reach out suddenly overwhelming—grab Phainon by that stupidly colored shirt, pull him closer, and do something, anything, that would properly express the fact that this man had been slowly ruining him for years with absolute insanity.
Because of course Phainon thought this was normal.
Of course he thought giving away something this important was just… friendly.
Mydei’s gaze dropped for half a second, catching the way Phainon’s face was still completely calm, completely unaware, completely unfairly handsome.
He wanted to bite him.
Not in a serious way.
Probably.
Just a little. On the cheek. The one that had noticeably gotten a bit rounder lately from all the food Mydei had been feeding him—something Mydei absolutely noticed, and absolutely felt smug about.
And then maybe kiss him.
Everywhere.
Just to see if Phainon would finally understand anything at all. While Mydei was carefully caressing the leather-bound cookbook, he couldn’t quite keep the expression off his face. It softened instinctively as his fingers traced over the worn edges, almost reverent, like he was handling something far more precious than he deserved. And yet, at the same time, there was a smugness creeping in that he didn’t even bother to hide.
Because across the cafeteria, he could feel it—the stares.
The fanboys and fangirls of his man.
Phainon, completely oblivious as always, was sitting nearby like he hadn’t just casually altered Mydei’s entire emotional stability by handing over a generational family cookbook, explaining how it felt like he had dust allegry cleaning it. Meanwhile, the others were staring a little too long, whispering a little too much, clearly not understanding the situation they were witnessing.
Mydei slowly lifted his gaze from the book, then glanced toward the others across the cafeteria. A smile tugged at his lips something sharper, smugger, definitely deliberately provoking. It curled into a small, knowing smirk, the kind that carried smug confidence and an unspoken certainty, like a challenge already decided in his favor. Because no matter how many eyes lingered on Phainon, Mydei knew without a doubt and without competition that he was the one who would always, always have Phainon's attention.
Hah.
Phainon gave him his family’s cookbook. That’s basically almost married.
Take that simps.
The thought landed in his chest with way too much satisfaction. Mydei adjusted his grip on the cookbook slightly, thumb brushing over the spine again as if to remind everyone—including himself—that it was real. That this wasn’t some misunderstanding. That Phainon had chosen him for something this personal, this intimate, this stupidly meaningful.
As if anyone else in the room could ever compare to Mydeimos. His smirk deepened just a fraction as he leaned back in his seat, gaze flicking toward the crowd of admirers again. Yeah. Let them stare. Let them misunderstand. Because no matter how many people looked at Phainon with admiration and envy, none of them were the one he trusted enough to give something like this to. And Mydei? He was absolutely going to enjoy every second of that misunderstanding, wearing it like a quiet victory only he could claim.
He was absolutely going to enjoy every second of this.
Some discoveries were simpler.
For example, 4. Mydei likes cute animals.
This became apparent when Phainon witnessed him crouching in the middle of a sidewalk to spend ten minutes talking to a stray kitten. Afterward, it became impossible not to notice. Mydei's face softened whenever he saw animals. He stopped to pet dogs. He carried treats for chimeras. He made embarrassing baby voices when speaking to anything fluffy. Once, Phainon watched him nearly cry over a particularly round baby droma.
He briefly considered getting Mydei a pet before immediately dismissing the idea as irresponsible. Pets required preparation, commitment, and proper care. Gifts should never be living creatures. Fortunately, animal cafés became popular around that same time.
The outings that followed were absolutely not dates, regardless of what Cyrene insisted. Yet they carried the unmistakable weight of something more. Afternoons spent surrounded by cats, dogs, chimeras, or dromas became their quiet rituals—sharing food, conversation, and the kind of companionship that felt effortless.
Every visit ended the same way: with Mydei smiling. Not the sharp grin he wore when teasing, nor the smug smirk that accompanied his victories, but a rare, unguarded smile so bright it seemed capable of lighting entire rooms. It was the kind of smile that softened him, stripped away his usual stoicism and revealed something tender beneath. Phainon found himself memorizing it each time, storing it away like treasure. The curve of his lips, the way his eyes warmed, the faint flush that colored his cheeks—it all felt impossibly precious.
Sometimes, when Mydei wasn’t looking, Phainon would capture a quick picture of that softened face, unable to resist the urge to preserve it. Later, at home, he would blush furiously as he admired the photo in secret, heart pounding at the thought that such a smile—so rare, so luminous—was something Mydei had given him.
Those smiles alone were enough to make every coin spent worth it. Because they were rare, fleeting, and all the more beautiful for it. And Phainon knew, with a certainty that left his chest aching, that he would spend any amount of time or money just to see Mydei smile like that again.
The most recent entry before everything changed came during college.
5. Mydei likes jewelry
One day, Mydei arrived wearing additional ear piercings, and Phainon nearly walked into a wall. The sight caught him so completely off guard that his steps faltered, his breath hitched, and for a moment he forgot how to function altogether. The glint of gold and blue against Mydei’s dark hair was unfairly striking, drawing Phainon’s gaze like sunlight catching on water. It wasn’t just the jewelry—it was the way it suited him, the way it seemed to highlight the sharp lines of his face and the quiet confidence in his posture. Phainon’s heart stuttered, his thoughts scattered, and he found himself staring far longer than was socially acceptable, overwhelmed by the realization that even the smallest change in Mydei’s appearance could undo him so easily.
After that, jewelry became impossible not to notice. Gold earrings glinted beneath blonde hair. Layered necklaces rested against his collarbone. Rings decorated nearly every finger. Bracelets clicked softly whenever he moved. There were always multiple pieces visible, changing from day to day yet somehow always fitting him perfectly. The gold suited him unfairly well, giving him the appearance of some noble prince wandering through campus disguised as a student.
There were always at least five visible pieces at any given moment.
The blue accents decorating all of Mydei’s jewelry were something Phainon refused to think too deeply about. The first time the thought had crossed his mind, he nearly forgot how to breathe. He would have loved to overanalyze it, to linger on the possibility that those colors meant something deliberate, but his pilot and aerospace scholarship already kept him stressed enough without adding romantic speculation to the list. And speaking of that scholarship, he would have loved to buy Mydei jewelry befitting his standards—pieces as fine as the ones he wore so effortlessly—but money was tight, and his course was expensive. So instead, he teased, offering him ring pops with a grin, pretending it was all a joke while secretly wishing he could give him something more lasting. College flew by in a blur of stress and exhaustion, and Phainon mostly forgot about it—or at least told himself he had. In truth, the thought never left him.
Years earlier, shortly after seeing those first extra piercings, Phainon had purchased a ring.
He hadn't really known why. It had simply reminded him of Mydei. Since then, the ring had remained tucked away among his belongings, carried from place to place for years without purpose. Every time he considered giving it to Mydei, he lost his nerve.
Eventually, however, Hyacine and Castorice grew tired of watching him suffer.
It had been two years.
Two years since he graduated college.
Two years since he first saw Mydei’s pierced ears and walked out of the store with something he didn’t even fully understand the meaning of, only to hide it away like a secret he was too afraid to name. And now, he was lying in bed, half-buried in his blankets, staring at the ceiling like it had personally betrayed him, very deliberately ignoring the existence of the small box sitting somewhere in his room.
Hyacine stood by the doorway, arms crossed. Castorice, leaning slightly against the frame, looked far too calm for someone about to commit emotional violence.
"You're still sulking," Hyacine said flatly.
"I'm not sulking." He said, sulking like a child.
"You haven't moved in an hour," Castorice added.
"I'm thinking it over."
"You're avoiding your possible future love life like a coward." Phainon pulled the blanket higher over his face, unable to hide away the scathing feeling from Castorice's words. From his cocoon of misery, his voice came out muffled. "It’s been two years."
"Yes," Hyacine said.
"Two years," he repeated, as if the number itself might excuse themselves and go away.
Castorice tilted her head slightly. "And in that time, you have done what exactly?"
Silence.
Hyacine stepped closer. "You bought the ring."
"I know."
"You still have it."
"I know."
"You’ve looked at it an unhealthy amount."
"I—"
"A lot," Castorice finished for her.
Phainon groaned into his pillow.
There was a pause before Hyacine sighed, clearly done with his entire existence. "Give him the ring."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
He hesitated, voice smaller now. "What if it's weird?"
"Was it weird having a ring that's been sitting in your drawer for two years?" Castorice countered immediately.
"I don’t know how to—"
"You don’t need to write a thesis," Hyacine interrupted.
Another pause.
Then, quieter: "What if he says no?"
That one landed differently.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Because beneath the hesitation, Phainon’s fear ran deeper than rejection. He was terrified of ruining the bond between them—the bond that had been there since they were little boys. They were childhood friends who had chased each other through schools, survived every argument, every shenanigan, every milestone. Both of them had held tightly to each other for so long that it had become strange for their friends to see one without the other. As Hyacine, now a professional doctor, had once said with clinical certainty, they were practically codependent.
Then Castorice stepped forward just slightly, laying a gentle hand on his shaking shoulder. "And what if he doesn't?"
Phainon didn’t answer.
Hyacine folded her arms again, but her voice softened just a fraction. "You’ve already been acting like he matters more than anyone else in your life. At this point, you're just refusing to admit it out loud."
From under the blanket, Phainon made a sound that was halfway between a protest and a surrender.
Castorice patted the hidden lump on the bed in encouragement "You’ve had it for years."
Hyacine nodded. "Now you give it to him, we promise it will turn out alright."
Cornered and relentlessly bullied by his friends, Phainon finally gathered enough courage—or perhaps enough desperation—to try.
When he handed the small box to Mydei, the latter looked immediately suspicious. The Garbaniphoro Grand Library—Mydei’s family library, passed down through generations—was quiet around them, its towering shelves heavy with centuries of knowledge, the air carrying the faint scent of aged parchment and polished wood. Sunlight filtered through tall arched windows, scattering golden patterns across the marble floor, but Phainon barely noticed. His stomach churned so violently he thought he might throw up, his hands trembling as though the weight of the tiny box was far greater than it should have been, considering it was a gift between friends.
He didn’t say a word. Couldn’t. His throat was too tight, his nerves too sharp. Instead, he simply thrust the box into Mydei’s hands, trusting the gesture to speak for him when his voice refused to cooperate. Mydei’s brows furrowed immediately, suspicion flashing across his face as he opened the lid.
Inside sat the gold ring.
Unlike the chunky rings Mydei usually wore, this one was elegant in its simplicity. The band was thinner, forged from warm gold that gleamed softly beneath the library's lights. At its center rested a deep red gemstone, rich and vivid like a captured sunset, while smaller blue stones curved around it in delicate patterns, resembling leaves surrounding a flower in bloom. It wasn't flashy, nor was it the sort of jewelry meant to draw attention from across a room. Instead, it felt carefully chosen. Personal. Like someone had spent far too much time searching for something that reminded them of one specific person.
For a long moment, Mydei simply stared at it before carefully lifting it from the box. The metal was warm beneath his fingertips from where the sunlight had been touching it. Turning it slowly between his fingers, he caught sight of something engraved along the inside of the band. His heart skipped. Tilting the ring toward the sunlight pouring through the open windows, he watched as the gemstones came alive. Red and blue sparks danced across his hands and the table, scattering little fragments of color everywhere. For a brief second, he found himself distracted by how beautiful it was. Then he remembered the engraving.
His breath caught.
Slowly, he focused on the tiny letters.
My Other Half.
The world seemed to go very quiet.
Mydei stared at the words. Then he read them again. Then a third time, just to make sure they hadn't magically changed while he wasn't looking.
But Mydei was overwhelmed. A storm of emotions surged through him so suddenly it felt like his chest might burst. His throat tightened, his eyes burned, and he wondered if he was about to cry. Because wasn’t this what he had been waiting for? Wasn’t this the moment he had dreamed of, the one impossible wish he had carried for years? The thought that their friendship—so precious, so enduring—might finally bloom into something more. Into love. Into the reality he had been aching for.
And now, the possibility sat right there in his palm, heavy and undeniable. The ring whispered of promises, of futures, of something far deeper than friendship. Mydei’s heart trembled with the terrifying, beautiful thought that maybe, just maybe, the dream he had guarded so carefully was finally becoming real.
Across the table, Phainon immediately realized exactly what he was looking at. Which was unfortunate. Because Phainon panicked. "That doesn't mean much, by the way."
Mydei slowly lifted his gaze.
Phainon was already spiraling.
"I mean—not that it doesn't mean anything. Obviously it means something. Just not... like that." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking increasingly distressed with every word. "You know how it's been. We've known each other forever. We grew up together. We do everything together. We're always together."
Mydei remained perfectly silent. Unfortunately, Phainon interpreted this as encouragement to continue.
"So I thought it fit. Because we're kind of..." He gestured vaguely between them. "Two halves, right? Like, we've always been together. That's normal. Not normal, normal. Just—" He stopped.
Then immediately started again. "I mean, maybe it is normal. I don't know. I just thought it suited us. Not in a weird way. Unless it is weird. Maybe it is weird."
Mydei could practically hear his mother screaming somewhere in the distance.
Phainon looked ready to bury himself alive. "I didn't mean it romantically," he added weakly.
That was what finally broke Mydei. A laugh escaped him before he could stop it, soft and warm and impossibly fond, but trembling at the edges with something sharper. It bubbled up from somewhere deep in his chest, carrying all the affection, exasperation, and tenderness he had been holding onto for years—yet it was tinged with ache, because what was happening wasn’t what he thought it was. The sound wasn’t loud, nor was it mocking. Instead, it was the sort of laugh reserved for something unbearably precious, something that both shattered and healed him in the same breath.
Phainon had given him a ring, a gesture that made Mydei’s heart soar with the hope that his dream was right there in his palm. And yet, in the next moment, Phainon had said he didn’t mean it romantically. Mydei’s laugh trembled because his world had broken and mended all at once: the ring was proof of devotion, but the denial was a knife. His heart was too full, spilling out in the gentlest way possible, even as it cracked under the weight of longing.
To anyone else, it might have sounded like a simple laugh. To Phainon, however, it was beautiful—bright enough to draw his attention completely, warm enough to make him forget every panicked explanation he’d been trying to give. Yet beneath the brightness, he caught it: the faint tremor, the sadness laced into the sound. It was the laugh of someone cherishing him beyond reason, but also breaking under the weight of what could never be.
Immediately, Phainon stopped talking. Even his fidgeting stilled.
Slowly, Mydei looked up.
Phainon froze, heart trembling in his chest.
Because Mydei was smiling. The sunlight spilling through the open windows caught in Mydei's golden hair, turning the strands into threads of molten gold. His eyes seemed brighter too, warm and radiant amber, reflecting the light until they looked almost like gems themselves. Looking at him felt dangerously similar to staring directly at the sun—beautiful enough to leave you mesmerized, bright enough to leave you burning. Phainon couldn't look away even if he wanted to. It carried none of his usual confidence and all of his affection, laid bare in a way that made Phainon's breath catch painfully in his chest. It transformed him. Made him look younger somehow, and infinitely more beautiful.
And perhaps the cruelest part was that Mydei had no idea what he looked like in moments like these.
No idea that every soft curve of that smile made something tender inside Phainon ache. No idea that every year of affection Phainon had carefully tucked away, every fond memory, every act of devotion disguised as friendship, every quiet moment spent watching Mydei laugh or smile or simply exist, suddenly felt too large to keep contained. It pressed against his ribs, bright and warm and overwhelming, threatening to burst free from him like sunrays breaking through clouds after a storm.
Then Phainon's gaze sharpened slightly and his smile faltered.
Because Mydei’s eyes were shining.
Not enough for tears to fall but just enough for the moisture gathering at the corners to catch the light, turning his gaze into something luminous.
Enough to make Phainon’s heart stutter, because somehow, impossibly, Mydei was looking at him as though he were something precious. As though every flaw, every nervous spiral, every unspoken word was still worthy of being held with reverence.
And that realization was far more terrifying than any ring could ever be—because it made Phainon’s chest tighten painfully, and beautifully, with the knowledge that he was loved in a way he had never dared to believe possible..
"You," Mydei said quietly.
Phainon swallowed.
"What?"
Another laugh escaped him. Small and breathless.
"What an idiot."
Phainon blinked.
"...What?"
"You absolute fool, you impossible hks."
The words should have sounded insulting. Instead, they just sounded impossibly tender. Mydei shook his head, smiling all the while as if he genuinely didn't know what to do with this man anymore.
Because really.
Who gave someone a family cookbook passed down through generations? Who remembered every tiny preference for years? Who bought a ring, kept it hidden for two whole years according to Castorice, engraved My Other Half inside it, and still somehow convinced himself none of it was romantic?
Only Phainon. Only this beautiful, hopelessly oblivious fool sitting across from him.
Instead of slipping the ring on himself, Mydei carefully held it out toward Phainon.
The reaction was immediate.
It was small—so small most people would have missed it entirely—but Mydei had spent years memorizing Phainon's expressions. He saw the way his shoulders stiffened. The way the light in his eyes dimmed for a fraction of a second. The way his smile faltered. For one brief, terrible moment, Phainon thought Mydei was giving the ring back.
The realization crossed his face with such naked honesty that it made something ache deep inside Mydei's chest.
Gods.
Even now.
Even after everything.
Phainon still looked as though there was a possibility that Mydei could leave him, as if Mydei ever gave any indication of breaking his heart.
The thought flooded Mydei with so much affection that he almost laughed again. Instead, he tightened his grip on the ring and looked at him for another long moment, drinking in the sight of him. The nervousness. The hope. The vulnerability Phainon wore so rarely and yet always seemed to reveal whenever it involved him.
Then, before Phainon could retreat any further into his own worries, Mydei spoke. "Put it on me."
Silence.
The world seemed to stop. Phainon stared, mind blank.
"What?" The word came out soft and breathless, as if his mind had completely failed to catch up with reality.
Mydei simply smiled. The same warm, impossibly tender smile that had already stolen whatever remained of Phainon's ability to think.
Slowly, he extended his hand between them, palm relaxed, fingers slightly curled in invitation. It was such a simple gesture, yet it felt intimate enough to make his own heart race.
"You bought it for me, didn't you?"
Phainon nodded immediately.
"You want to see me wear it, don't you?"
Another nod.
The smile on Mydei's face grew softer still, touched by something helplessly fond.
"And you're giving it to me?"
"...Yes." The answer came out almost as a whisper.
As though saying it any louder might shatter the moment. For a second, neither of them moved.
Then Mydei tilted his head slightly, eyes bright with affection. "Then put it on me."
Phainon stared at him.
At the ring.
At Mydei's outstretched hand.
Then at Mydei again.
And for a moment he looked completely overwhelmed by the reality of what was happening.
As though every feeling he'd spent years quietly carrying had suddenly become too large for his chest. As though he couldn't decide whether to laugh, cry, or simply collapse on the spot.
Mydei thought he looked beautiful like this.
Looking at him with the same expression he'd worn all those years ago when he'd handed over pink flowers and sweets and treasured family cookbooks without ever asking for anything in return.
The expression of someone whose heart had always been open, even when he didn't realize it.
"Gonna make me wait forever?" Mydei asked softly, teasing only a little.
That finally seemed to snap Phainon back to reality.
Slowly, almost reverently, he reached for the ring. His fingers brushed against Mydei's as he took it. The touch lasted only a second. Yet both of them felt it. Mydei's breath caught as Phainon's hands trembled.
Phainon looked down at the ring one last time before carefully taking Mydei's hand. His touch was gentle. Tender.
As though Mydei was something precious. The kind of precious thing that could never be replaced. And perhaps that was what finally undid Mydei. Because all those years he had thought he was the only one carrying these feelings, even with all the evidence suggesting otherwise.
All those years he'd watched Phainon love him in a hundred different ways without realizing what it was as he waited patiently for Phainon to catch up.
Yet here he was.
Holding his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Looking at him as though the sun itself had chosen to sit across from him. Smiling with so much quiet adoration that Mydei felt his chest grow painfully warm.
Mydei couldn't help laughing. Gods, he loved him. "Gonna make me wait another two years?" he asked softly.
That finally did it.
With trembling fingers, Phainon picked up the ring. The movement was careful, almost reverent, as though he were handling something fragile and priceless. His breath caught, chest tightening with the enormity of what it meant. Because maybe he was. Maybe in that instant, the ring wasn’t just metal and stone—it was a promise, a confession, a piece of his heart laid bare
Mydei watched him approach, watched the concentration settle across his face, watched the way his hands shook ever so slightly. Then, slowly, gently, Phainon slid the ring onto his finger. It fit perfectly. Of course it did. For a moment neither of them spoke.
The ring gleamed beneath the sunlight. The red gemstone caught the light first, followed by the tiny blue stones surrounding it like flower petals and leaves. It looked beautiful. But not nearly as beautiful as the look on Phainon's face. The moment he realized the ring was staying. The moment he realized Mydei wanted it.
Wanted him.
Before Phainon could pull away, Mydei closed his hand around his. Holding him there. Keeping him close. His thumb brushed lightly over Phainon's knuckles as he looked down at the ring one more time. Then back up. His eyes still shone with unshed tears. His smile remained soft. Certain. Happy in a way that felt almost overwhelming. "There."
His fingers squeezed gently but firmly against Phainon's own. "Much better."
And as Phainon stared at him with all the wonder of a man who still hadn’t fully processed what was happening, Mydei found himself thinking that perhaps he’d finally won.
Phainon thought his heart might actually stop.
Mydei, meanwhile, squeezed his hand once more and smiled as though he’d just been handed the entire world. And judging by the look on his face, perhaps he had. Because after years of waiting, years of gifts, years of courtship disguised as friendship, Phainon had finally put a ring on his finger.
And somehow, impossibly, he still looked like he had no idea what he’d just done.
What Phainon didn’t know was that Mydei had discovered the list years ago. Not all of it, but enough. Enough to know that every gift, every outing, every remembered detail had been carefully collected and preserved. Enough to realize that Phainon paid attention to him in ways nobody else ever had. Enough to understand that every line on those pages was proof of affection far deeper than friendship.
For years, Mydei had watched Phainon carefully catalog every favorite thing he had while remaining completely blind to the most obvious fact of all. The final and most important entry. The one Phainon had somehow never written down.
6. Mydei loves Phainon.
And if Phainon remained oblivious for another two decades, then Mydei supposed he would simply have to keep by his side until the message finally got through his handsome face.