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It's 33 minutes past midnight. Outside the run down dive in bar is muggy as hell, the humidity sticking onto skin despite the rain having passed hours ago. It's disgusting, it's downright beneath him, but Mydeimos parks his motorcycle outside and sighs when he spots fluffy white hair from the bar's window.
After driving around for nearly three hours, he finally caught up to Phainon.
It only took so long because the first hour was spent with Mydeimos checking out the usual spots where Phainon would hide out. Mydeimos checked Phainon’s apartment, the studio, the record label, Aglaea’s office, Cyrene’s apartment. Mydeimos even checked the restaurant the two of them frequent after successful shows, bragging about who pulled in a bigger crowd or how many fans awaited post show just for a glimpse of their idol.
But no, Phainon wasn't at any of those spots. An hour wasted and gone with no leads or options.
By the second hour, Mydeimos had to pull strings he did not want to resort to. Calling someone's manager and informing them that their talent had “gone missing” was not something anyone should have to do, but he's desperate. Yet somehow Aglaea knew the call was coming—almost anticipated it, if her tone were any indication.
“I can't tell you,” was all she said after business pleasantries. Mydeimos’s heart sank at the words; because she knows where Phainon has gone to and being unable to say where implies that Phainon doesn't want him to know. “But I will say that he's not in town. You two really made a mess this time.”
And he knows, by Nikador above does he know. He's frustrated and upset and panicking and he knows. But at least he got a lead.
Thus becomes hour three—12:33 in the morning, outside of Okhema, outside of a shitty bar, outside of nowhere.
The perfect backdrop for a confession, right?
Well, Mydeimos could certainly think of better locations, better circumstances, better reasons… But none of that really matters at the moment now, does it? He has no other choice but to get it done now to prevent any more disasters.
He takes a deep breath, his lungs filling with the awful humidity around him, leaving him with a damp feeling within. He lets out a wet cough to try to get rid of the feeling; it’s not at all helping his already fraying nerves. Goddammit, this is so embarrassing. But it’s fine, everything’s fine. He can fix this.
Instead of another deep breath, Mydeimos clears his throat and steps through the bar’s entrance. He’s greeted by cool air that makes him shiver from the stark contrast of the wet heat from outside, alongside selective dimmed lights and the rush of stale tobacco smoke. Everything about this place is the exact opposite of Mydeimos—and that’s exactly why Phainon must have rushed here instead of anywhere else. Probably thought to himself “Mydeimos wouldn’t be caught dead here” or something stupid like that.
(Except he would be right, of course. Mydeimos would not choose to come to such an establishment, especially not while living. The secondhand smoke alone is torture on his lungs and throat.)
He takes no time at all to approach Phainon, resting his hand on the other man’s shoulder. When Phainon turns and sees Mydeimos however, he nearly falls back on his chair—the Kremoan is faster though, and grabs Phainon’s hand to pull him back up on his seat. Neither of them move, simply staring at each other, their hands still entwined.
Until Phainon pulls his hand back and turns away from Mydeimos.
“What are you doing here?” Phainon says in a huff, desperate to look at anything that isn’t Mydeimos apparently. Mydei can’t help but frown at that.
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” Mydeimos replies as he takes a seat next to Phainon, still staring at him, refusing to look away. Phainon is still trying to look away. “Pretty far from home.”
“Yeah, well, I’m allowed to leave the city, go wherever I want. Especially to places where I won’t get recognized.”
“Mhm,” Mydei hums in agreement, but reaches out and grabs Phainon’s chin. He forces the other man to look at him. “Too bad you got recognized right here.”
“You don’t count,” Phainon warns with a glare but it holds no bite. If anything, Mydeimos can see worry and sorrow brewing under his usually clear eyes. “Besides, I needed a break. Let me go.”
“No.” Mydei tightens his grip. Phainon doesn’t move. “Why are you here?”
“I asked first.”
“You know why I’m here, HKS. Answer my question.”
“You could be here for plenty of reasons,” Phainon says with a roll of his eyes, a puff of his cheeks. “Maybe you also wanted a drink outside of town, yeah? Get away from your dumb boyfriend or whatever.”
“Boyfriend?” Mydei finally lets Phainon go and stares at him in disbelief. “What boyfriend?”
“Don’t act dumb, I saw you two,” Phainon clicks his tongue and waves his hand. He looks upset—well, at least he does to Mydei. Anyone else here wouldn’t be able to tell from Phainon’s microexpressions. The tick of his eyebrows, the quirk of his lips; Mydeimos knows it all. Except for this supposed boyfriend of his. “Hephaestion kissed you after your rehearsal. I came by to surprise you but haha! The real surprise was on me I guess!”
Mydeimos continues to stare at Phainon, not entirely sure what exactly he’s getting at. Yes, Hephaestion kissed Mydeimos after their rehearsal—on the cheek. He was saying goodbye. Is that really so strange? Is that really reason enough to run off out of town?
It would seem so, because Phainon makes a scowl while grabbing whatever drink is in front of him and downs it in one go before Mydeimos could even think to stop him.
“You weren’t supposed to see that set,” is all that comes out of Mydeimos and Phainon laughs—laughs! Laughs and laughs as he smacks Mydeimos’s shoulder and irritation bubbles in his chest. “What?”
“Of course I wasn’t! Why would I need to? It’s not like I’m your best friend or whatever! Fuck me, right?”
“Phainon.”
“So, how long you two been together, huh?”
“Phainon.”
“It’s hopeless for me, I know,” Phainon’s still laughing and it’s making Mydeimos sick to his stomach. Aglaea's right, this is a fucking mess. “I should have known that you were–”
“Can you stop and just listen to me for one second?” Mydeimos says through gritted teeth, trying to level his breathing. They're still in public, in the middle of some unknown bar, the last thing either of them would want is to cause a scene. Thankfully, Phainon did stop rambling and is merely staring at Mydei, waiting for him to continue. He sighs, “I don't have a boyfriend.”
“But I saw–”
“Whatever you saw, you saw wrong.”
“I know what I saw!” Phainon sounds beyond upset now, even if the volume of his voice is low and even. He’s trying to keep his cool, trying to stay rational, but clearly whatever he thought he saw is making him rather… upset. “Stop lying to make me feel better, okay.”
“HKS, stop wallowing in your own pity and listen–”
“Listen to what?” Phainon’s voice grows harsh, a slight growl hidden underneath. It stirs something inside Mydeimos, like a flash bang ready to blind him behind the eyes, catching him off guard. He needs to calm down, he can’t let his frustration take over. If one of them has to stay calm, then it should at least be him. “Listen to you try to explain away every moment we had? Sweep it all under your little rockstar bed and forget it?”
“No, that’s not–”
“Fuck off,” Phainon cuts him off before slamming down some cash onto the bar counter. He gets up from his seat and rushes off, trying to exit as quickly as he can. Mydeimos’s frustration grows as he chases after him, grabbing his arm once they’re both outside. Phainon pulls it back but fails, Mydei’s grip too tight. He glares into amber eyes. “I said fuck off Mydeimos! I don’t want to hear it!”
“I think you’ve had too much to drink, you’re acting irrationally,” Mydeimos tries for calm, desperately trying to stay level headed and sensible. Even if it’s becoming harder by the second. “We have to get you back home.”
“Screw you! I’m perfectly fine! I’ll be even better once you let go of my arm!”
“I’m afraid that’s not happening, Phainon.”
“Of course it isn’t,” he mutters under his breath as he yanks his arm once more but to no avail. Mydei’s grip is still just as tight as it was, if not more so. “You piss me off sometimes.”
“Maybe you should do something about it,” Mydeimos scoffs as he pulls Phainon in closer. Those same giant, clear blue eyes that Mydei always dreams about—sings about—stare right back at him with a storm of confusion, anger, and excitement. “All you ever do is run away.”
“Not always,” Phainon whispers after a swallow. His eyes look down to Mydei’s lips and then back up to his eyes. “Usually I fight.”
“Haven’t seen that yet.”
“Liar.”
“All you’ve done with me is run away, HKS. How am I lying?”
“You want to see me fight?”
“Better than running away every time–”
The first punch thrown feels like whiplash. Mydeimos didn’t expect Phainon to throw it, let alone for it to connect so effortlessly, but Mydeimos is familiar with the smell of copper and the heavy taste of rust on his tongue. The throbbing sting from his lip would have been the other indicator, otherwise. He barks out a laugh–no, it’s closer to a roar, as he collects himself and readies up his own throw. Phainon doesn’t back down.
A swing here, a dodge there. Sometimes a punch connects, sometimes teeth meet and break skin. Fingers dig deep, sure to leave bruises, marks, telltale signs of a scuffle. None of that matters though–what matters is that Mydeimos feels alive and giddy and oh so wonderful. His blood is pumping and drumming in his ears like he’s on stage with the boys, it’s the closest thing to performing he’s had in ages.
And when Phainon lands another hit against his jaw, Mydeimos swears he sees every star drawn in the sky above.
He sways a few times before tumbling towards his opponent, his rival on stage, his obsession–leans against him without shame. He’s laughing as if they didn’t just beat the ever loving shit out of each other outside of the worst bar Phainon has ever found in the middle of nowhere over the stupidest misunderstanding known to man. What-fucking-ever. Mydeimos grabs Phainon’s collar, glares into confused seaglass eyes, and kisses him without sparing another thought.
Phainon doesn’t kiss back at first, not until Mydeimos presses himself harder against their mutually split, broken lips. Titans, there’s so much blood, so much split skin, it makes Mydeimos delirious. Lyrics are practically writing themselves in his head, choirs being sung and belted and he wishes he could memorize it all so he could write it down instead of being so laser focused on the man in front of him.
It surprises them both when Phainon is the first to break away for air, gasping frantically to refill his lungs. Mydeimos isn’t satisfied, he tries to dive right back in for more, but Phainon blocks him off with another punch to the jaw. Mydeimos scoffs and lunges for Phainon, bringing them both to the ground. They roll around for a bit, pulling at hair and throwing punches that hardly land or pack any real heat.
At some point, Mydeimos’s back hits the wet pavement. When he collects himself, he finds Phainon staring down at him, clearly exhausted and trying to catch his breath. He has a hand splayed out on Mydei’s chest, pinning him down. His heart is pounding in his ears.
“Why did you kiss me? What about your boyfriend?!”
“I told you already, I don’t have one.”
“Heph kissed you!” Mydeimos raised a brow at this, confused by the accusation. Phainon studies Mydei’s face, but only finds more confusion. “T-That’s something partners do, Mydeimos.”
“Hephaestion kissed my cheek after our rehearsal set. He was saying goodbye. Is that something that partners do?”
“He kissed your cheek.”
“Yes.”
“Not your lips.”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Only your cheek.”
“Is there a problem?”
“I…” Phainon sighs as he lets up from his hold and rests his forehead on Mydeimos’s shoulder. “I’m an idiot… From the angle I walked in on, it looked like you two were… so I thought you were…”
“You thought Hephaestion was my boyfriend?”
“Well what else am I supposed to think if I saw two men kissing!?”
“We weren’t kissing,” Mydeimos corrects—has to. It’s unbelievable that Phainon really thought… “In Castrum Kremnos, we exchange greetings and farewells with cheek kisses or a handshake.”
Phainon lets out a puff of air and then winces; probably from the air passing through the cut on his lips. He pushes past it. “What? Heph couldn’t shake your hand goodbye then?”
“We’ve known each other since we were kids, what does it matter?”
“I guess it doesn’t.”
They lay there in silence for some time, letting the humidity stick onto them. Mydeimos has gotten used to the feeling by now, along with the growing puddle on the back of his shirt from soaking up the pavement, and the throbbing sting on his upper lip. He still feels disgusting and he aches terribly from the impromptu brawl—but at least he’s not confused anymore. At least the spiraling gut wrenching feeling he’s had all day has died down and simmered to a gentle buzzing in his ear, asking over and over “Can you be honest now? Now? Now?”
Can he be?
Mydeimos turns to Phainon and his eyes widen in shock. Phainon had already been turned, staring directly at him.
“How long were you–”
“The whole time.”
“HKS,” Mydeimos mutters, but it’s harmless, fond even. Phainon smiles wide at it before wincing again and Mydeimos finds himself a fool for his stomach doing flips at the mere action. Yet he can’t bear to look away, not even for a second. “Do I have something on my face?”
“Yes, actually. I got you pretty good all over, Cipher might just kill me when she sees you.”
“Good, it’s your fault anyway,” Mydeimos laughs as he sits up, ignoring his own lip pain and holds out a hand towards Phainon. The other man takes it and pulls Mydei right back down towards him, and in the confusion, grabs Mydei’s face and kisses him properly. Mydei doesn’t resist and kisses back happily.
They finally break apart after a few moments. This time, when Mydeimos gets up and offers his hand again, Phainon allows himself to be pulled up from the ground. When he’s back up, their faces are dangerously close, and Phainon offers a wink. Mydeimos laughs and shoves him away, trying not to fall into temptation once more.
He needs to be honest and clear the air.
“Phainon,” Mydeimos begins, making his tone serious. Phainon notices immediately, his smile dropping a bit. Mydeimos shakes his head. “No, listen. I was serious when I said I don’t have a boyfriend, that you didn’t see what you thought you had. If it really bothered you, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for being yourselves, jeez,” Phainon sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks bashful, his cheeks glowing red from obvious embarrassment. Good. “I should be the one apologizing for getting jealous.”
“So you admit it,” Mydeimos smirks, crossing his arms. Phainon rolls his eyes and waves his hand.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Of course I was jealous, Mydei. I’m crazy about you.” At those words, Mydeimos freezes, yet his heart continues to beat; much faster than before, too. Without thinking, he licks his lips and swallows—and his heart beats even more when he tastes Phainon still in his mouth. Strife, save him. “Did you… really not know?”
“I, uh,” Mydeimos is at a loss for words. What can he even say to such a declaration? Here he is, supposed to be the honest one here and confess his feelings, but Phainon always manages to turn his whole world upside down, without fail. He shouldn’t be holding back his tongue right now, he needs to say something. “... Perhaps.”
“Perhaps he says,” Phainon chuckles and truly, it is one of Mydei’s favorite sounds. Not even the sound of a packed stadium cheering him on can ever compare to the way Phainon’s laughter makes him feel. Strife, save him right now. “Was I not obvious enough?”
“I would say you were… plenty obvious. With your affection,” Mydeimos coughs, trying to hide the embarrassment in his own voice. He does a terrible job of it though, as Phainon has definitely caught it and is smiling wide now. Mydeimos shoves him again and begins heading towards his parked motorcycle. Phainon follows after him.
“But not obvious enough that you couldn’t tell I was jealous?”
“Why would I ever think you’d be jealous of Hephaestion of all people?”
“Isn’t he your closest friend?”
“But he is not the ‘Sun that is Destined to Rise’,” Mydeimos turns around and faces Phainon as he says that; stares deeply into his eyes when he continues. “He is not the ‘Promised Dawn of Okhema’. He is not the fabled Deliverer that rivals my own band and pushes us to write better music.”
“All this sudden flattery Mydeimos, why are you…”
“HKS, I’m trying to say–” Once they’re close to his bike, Mydeimos pins Phainon against it, caging him in. “Hephaestion isn’t you. You are the only one.”
“Oh.”
“There is no one for you to be jealous of unless it is yourself.”
“O-Oh.”
“Oh he says,” Mydeimos echoes Phainon’s earlier taunt, shaking his head before grabbing a helmet from behind Phainon. He passes it along to the other man before grabbing another for himself, putting it on. “Was I not obvious enough either?”
And to that, Phainon laughs once more and shakes his own head. “Of course not, you brute! I wouldn’t have gotten jealous otherwise!”
“I suppose so,” Mydeimos laughs himself, actually finding something comical about all this. Maybe he’s able to laugh about it now because it seems like the tension has died down, that they have come to an understanding finally. He hopes so, at least. “How about we head back home? Ms. Goldweaver wasn’t very happy when I called her earlier.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Phainon groans as he puts his helmet on. “She’s going to have my head come tomorrow.”
“I think you still need that for work though, even if you don’t really use it for much else,” Mydeimos can’t help the snicker that comes out at his attempt at a joke. It causes Phainon to laugh too, even if he gives a playful smack to the shoulder in retaliation. The whole thing makes Mydeimos’s heart warm, really. “What? I’m sure if Aglaea could hire headless talent, you’d be out of a career.”
“Wouldn’t you be, too? I thought I pushed you to write better music, hmm?~” Phainon smirks and if Mydeimos’s heart weren’t beating at 33 million miles an hour, he’d bark right back with another quip.
Instead, he smiles and says, “You do. I meant it when I said that.” Phainon is silent for a moment after the repeat declaration, but Mydeimos feels arms wrap around his waist, squeezing tight. His heart races even faster than before, possibly faster than his own motorcycle engine as he turns the bike on. He coughs into his helmet to help calm his frantic heart and revs up his bike as a forewarning.
“Ready to go home and usher in the new dawn, Deliverer?”
“Pfft, ha ha! Yeah Mydei, I am.”
Mydeimos smiles to himself as he throws back the bike’s kick stand and begins their long ride back home, with his Deliverer in tow.