Work Text:
( link to my Cyrene/Phainon playlist on spotify )
A summer afternoon settled over the village in warm sheets of gold, the kind that made the stones along the paths glow softly and filled the air with the scent of wildflowers drying beneath the sun. Nymphs hummed somewhere beyond the hills. A breeze wandered lazily through the olive branches overhead, stirring leaves that caught the light like tiny mirrors.
Cyrene had spent nearly an hour weaving flowers into a crooked little crown.
It wasn't very good.
Some blossoms had already begun to wilt. Others were tucked in backwards because she'd grown impatient halfway through and simply decided they looked fine that way. She held it up anyway, squinting critically, before nodding to herself with all the confidence only a child could possess.
"Perfect."
She climbed onto the broad stone where Phainon sat with his knees drawn up, a stick balanced across them while he carefully carved absent little lines into the bark.
He looked over immediately.
"What is it?"
She placed the flower crown squarely atop his head.
"There."
He blinked.
"...There?"
"You are king now."
He reached up instinctively, fingers brushing petals. "King?"
"Mhm."
"Of what?"
She considered that with enormous seriousness.
"The hill."
He looked around at the empty slope.
"...It's just us."
"Exactly."
He accepted this without another question.
"Then you're queen."
She beamed.
That was simply how Phainon was.
Even then, before either of them had reached double digits, he possessed a strange, unwavering gentleness that made impossible things seem perfectly reasonable. If Cyrene declared the clouds were sheep, he would lie in the grass beside her and point out which ones had the fluffiest wool. If she insisted the stream carried messages from distant worlds, he would help her decipher them from the ripples.
He never laughed at her.
Not once.
Looking back years later, she wondered if that had been the beginning.
Or perhaps there had never been a beginning at all.
Perhaps loving him had happened so gradually that there was no single moment to point toward, only thousands upon thousands of tiny kindnesses layered atop one another until her heart simply belonged to him without her noticing.
They grew together the way two trees might.
Not identical.
Just... always there.
inseparable.
She learned exactly how many freckles dusted the bridge of his nose during summer. He learned she always tucked loose strands of hair behind her left ear whenever she was concentrating.
He became taller first. Then broader. Then, somehow, impossibly, continued growing. By the time they were sixteen, she had to tilt her head back to properly meet his eyes.
She hated it. She adored it.
Both feelings existed simultaneously.
It was unfair.
"You've grown again."
Phainon looked down at himself as though this had come as surprising news.
"I think so."
"You were already too tall."
"I'm sorry..?"
She sighed dramatically.
"You should apologize."
"...I just did."
"I know."
He scratched the back of his neck.
"I don't really know what I'm apologizing for."
"I know."
They stared at one another for a moment.
"You still seem upset."
"I am."
"Can I fix it?"
She looked at him.
Really looked.
The afternoon sun caught pale strands of his hair, softening them into silver. His shoulders had broadened over the years, though nothing about him had become intimidating. Somehow his size only emphasized the care with which he moved, always conscious of those around him, always making himself smaller whenever someone else needed room.
She smiled despite herself.
"No."
"...No?"
"You being enormous is irreversible."
"I don't think enormous is accurate."
She looked up.
"...You are literally blocking the sun."
He laughed.
It was warm. Always warm. The sound lived somewhere dangerously close to her heartbeat.
She realized she loved him on an entirely ordinary afternoon.
Not during some grand adventure. Not after nearly losing him. Not beneath shooting stars.
She was simply watching him help an elderly neighbor carry baskets far heavier than they had any right to be.
He hadn't been asked. He'd simply noticed.
Cyrene stood several paces away while he listened patiently to the old woman's stories for nearly half an hour without once checking the time or looking bored. He smiled through every rambling tangent, laughed at every repeated joke, and walked slowly enough for her tired legs.
When they finished, the woman patted his cheek and called him a good boy despite the fact he was nearly a grown man now.
He smiled exactly the same way he always did.
Bright. Gentle. Completely genuine.
Something inside Cyrene gave up pretending.
Oh...
Oh no..
She's in love with him...
Not a little. Not something fleeting.
Hopelessly. Entirely.
Ridiculously.
She buried her face in her hands.
This was catastrophic.
She decided subtlety would be best.
Subtlety failed almost immediately.
"I wonder," she mused one afternoon while the two of them sat beneath their favorite tree, "what it'd be like if two best friends got married."
Phainon looked thoughtful.
"It would probably make planning easier."
"...Planning?"
"The wedding."
"..."
"They'd already know each other's favorite foods."
"..."
"And families wouldn't have to introduce themselves."
Cyrene stared.
He continued earnestly.
"They'd probably argue less over decorations."
She wanted to scream.
Instead she managed, "That's... that's what you took away from that?"
"What did you mean?"
"...Nothing."
"Oh."
He nodded.
"You're right, though."
"...About what?"
"It would be nice."
She nearly stopped breathing.
"It would?"
"Mhm."
His smile was easy.
"I think marrying your best friend sounds wonderful. They'd already trust each other. They'd already know how to make each other laugh. They'd already care about one another."
He shrugged lightly.
"It sounds ideal."
She looked at him.
He smiled back.
Entirely oblivious.
She nearly threw herself into the river.
Attempt number two.
"I've been wondering..." she began, staring off at nothing, feigning nonchalance.
"What about?"
"What kind of girl do you like?"
He thought for perhaps three full seconds.
"Kind ones."
"...That's it?"
"And patient."
She leaned closer.
"What else?"
He actually considered it.
"I suppose... someone like you."
Time stopped.
Birdsong disappeared.
The entire world held its breath.
"...Me?"
"You always notice when someone's struggling."
His voice was matter-of-fact.
"You remember everyone's birthdays. You help children with their lessons. You make people feel welcome."
He smiled.
"I think you're probably the best person I've ever met."
Her pulse forgot how to function.
"...Phainon."
He looked at her. Completely sincere.
"What?"
"You can't just say things like that."
"...Why not?"
"Because —"
Because I love you.
Because every time you smile at me I forget every coherent thought I've ever had.
Because if you keep looking at me like that I'm going to kiss you.
Instead, she swallowed every word.
"...Because it's.. embarrassing."
"I wasn't trying to embarrass you."
"I know."
"I meant it."
"I know."
"You really are wonderful."
He looked almost worried she hadn't believed him.
Cyrene laughed weakly.
"You're hopeless."
He tilted his head.
"I've been told that before."
"You should start believing it."
Attempt number three involved flowers.
She picked out the prettiest blossom she could find, carefully tucked it behind his ear, and smiled.
"It suits you."
He blinked.
"Oh."
"...Oh?"
He touched the flower delicately.
"Thank you."..."I'll keep it."..."It smells nice."..."You have good taste."
She walked away before she started crying from sheer frustration.
It became a running joke among everyone except the one person who mattered.
"You should just tell him," his mother sighed.
Cyrene argued back.
"I have. repeatedly."
"No, you've implied it."
"I practically proposed."
"You asked what it'd be like if friends got married."
"Exactly."
Phainon's mother sighed again, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Cyrene."
"He said he'd marry someone like me!"
"...Yes. He thinks you're describing a hypothetical."
Cyrene buried her face in the table.
"I can't survive this."
"No," came the merciless reply, "but apparently your feelings can."
The cruelest part was that Phainon loved her.
She knew he did.
Just...
Not in the way she desperately wanted.
Or so she believed.
Because he remembered everything.
He noticed when she skipped meals. He noticed when she was tired before she did. If she frowned, he'd quietly ask if something was wrong. If she laughed, he smiled as though the sound alone had improved his day.
He always walked on the outside of crowded roads. Always slowed his pace to match hers. Always carried the heavier things without being asked. Always looked at her as though she were someone precious.
Just...
In the way someone looked at their dearest friend.
Surely. Probably. Hopefully not.
Unfortunately yes.
She was driving herself insane.
One evening they climbed their little hill again.
The same one from childhood.
The wheat whispered around them as twilight settled across the valley.
Neither spoke for a while.
They never needed to.
Phainon finally broke the silence.
"You're beautiful."
She nearly fell off the rock.
"...What?"
He looked genuinely confused by her reaction.
"I said you're beautiful."
"I heard you."
"I just thought you should know."
"..."
"The sunset makes your eyes shine. And your hair catches the light."
He smiled softly.
"You always look beautiful."
Her face burned so fiercely she wondered if the sun had somehow doubled back into the sky.
"...Why would you say that?"
He frowned.
"Because it's true. You don't always believe people when they compliment you."
His expression softened.
"I wish you would."
The words settled carefully between them.
"I wish you'd believe me."
She looked away because she couldn't bear the earnestness in his eyes.
"You deserve to know how wonderful you are."
He smiled.
Gentle. Steady. Utterly sincere.
"You're the best person I've ever known."
The ache inside her chest became almost unbearable.
Because he meant every word.
Every single one.
Not exaggerated.
Not said carelessly.
He believed them with his whole heart.
And somehow that only made loving him harder.
She wanted him to look at her and see what everyone else apparently saw so clearly. She wanted him to understand why she kept finding excuses to stand close enough that their shoulders brushed, why she always saved him the first bite of whatever she'd baked, why every dream she'd ever had somehow ended with him smiling beside her.
Instead he looked at her with endless affection that stopped just shy of where she wanted it most.
Her big, oblivious idiot.
Kind enough to mend everyone's broken hearts.
Oblivious enough not to notice the one quietly breaking itself over him.
Still, as she sat beside him beneath the fading sky, listening to the evening breeze wander through the trees exactly as it had years ago, she realized she wouldn't trade a single memory.
Not the flower crown.
Not the endless conversations.
Not the impossible hope that bloomed anew every time he smiled at her.
Loving Phainon hurt.
It was embarrassing.
It was exhausting.
It made her want to shake him by the shoulders until understanding finally dawned across his impossibly handsome face.
But it was also the easiest thing she had ever done.
So she leaned against his shoulder, pretending the gesture meant nothing at all.
Phainon smiled without hesitation and rested his head lightly against hers, accepting the closeness as naturally as breathing.
"Comfortable?" he asked.
"Mm."
"I'm glad."
He said it with such simple contentment that she laughed quietly to herself.
One day, she thought.
One day I am either going to marry this man...
...or physically spell it out for him.
Given his track record, she was beginning to suspect
she'd have to do both.