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Chapter Text

In a field of lush lilacs and wild bulrushes, the rustling sound of their bows against footsteps is the only noise amidst total silence. The wind is still, the plants do not sway, and the sun stays ever shining as a memento of respect.

Those who accompany him are a group larger than he’d prefer, each of them holding a gift prepared for the occasion. It is a quiet and listless trek towards the mountaintop overlooking the pathetic weeps of the sea. Even the three children are too melancholy to speak a word.  

Tribbios carries with them an old music box she invented back at Janusopolis, Castorice has a bouquet of purple and white flowers, Aglaea has spools of thread begrudgingly dyed an atrocious color combination of mustard yellow and dark violet, Hyacine brought an old yearbook with a certain blue-eyed student’s picture she had found at the Grove, Anaxa holds his favorite dromas plushie, and Cipher brings an ancient coin she had scalped around Okhema’s outskirts.

As for Mydei… he carries on his back a scabbard. It’s light and sturdy, yet it holds a phantom weight of a blade now destroyed and unsalvageable.

They reach the top, and as if they aren’t the once dubbed Chrysos Heirs, no one could breach the final few steps to the edge of the cliff. It is as if there is a barrier between it and them. It is stronger than Titans, the Black Tide, or even the Aeons those trailblazers mentioned. The sight is palpably depressing, like a ghost that carries a new kind of curse that haunts each and every single one of them.

Their prophesied flaws are no more. Tribios are merely carefree children now (Children that have seen far too much to ever be free), the rushing return of emotions within Aglaea floods her with grief (She’s the first to break into tears), Anaxa’s destroyed body has grown skin, organs and bone once more (He doesn’t wear an eye-patch anymore, not after he became human again), and Castorice’s touch can now make flowers bloom (Her grip turned from caresses to clenches, crushing the petals that no longer wilt).

Mydei is no longer resisting the flow of death, for Thanatos has simply stopped haunting him. It is because of their victory he logically knows, yet in his heart he feels as if the Titan stopped out of a sense of pity. Death, who he has become intimately familiar with, no longer stalks him, yet a hollow phantom of apathy took his place.

By the cliff side, two stone plaques are embraced by a group of white, blue, and pink poppies. The stone unassuming monuments are unspectacular, the symbol of Kephale their sole marks. A hilt lies on the side of one, its leather burnt and the metal of the broadsword it once was is  blackened rust barely longer than a toothpick.

It was his wish, Mydei told everybody. He erected the other grave out of respect.

Head hung low, Mydei took the first step closer. As if holding the most precious of faces, he clings to the grave where the hilt is.

-

“Mydei, have I ever told you about Cyrene?”

He shook his head at his companion. It was dawn's hour, and he had stumbled upon the Deliverer looking at the horizon beyond Kephale’s sun. It was by chance, but Phainon knew this was his favorite spot when he wanted to be alone.

In hindsight, Phainon never intended for that meeting on the rooftops of Marmoreal Palace to be a coincidence. 

The streets were silent as people still sleep despite the unchanging morning. No one else would’ve heard the question, and no one would’ve heard what he tells Mydei next.

“She was my closest friend back in Aedes Elysiae, like an older sister even. She was killed by a sword stab as our village was reduced to ashes. Every single death I’ve seen, of my family and friends, was like getting a stab through the heart, yet her death was a twist of the knife.”

The prince stayed silent, for fear anything he says will raise the walls of this beautiful man’s vulnerabilities so high that he couldn’t climb. The look of sorrow doesn’t suit his youthful features, most especially his pained smile and tear-ladened irises. He stares softly, a hand gently caressing the other’s trembling fingers, the other hand a steady presence of the Hero's heaving back.

“She used to tell me of the Deliverer and all other fairy tales and stories of olden times. I fear she might be the instigator for my love of such things. I loved her so, so much… She used to make fun of me for being a crybaby when we played with wooden swords, and now she’s a distant and fleeting memory. I feel that if she could take beyond Thanatos’ domain, she’d think I was still a crybaby…”

Tears flow freely out of the warrior’s eyes, and Mydei berates his heart for wanting to selfishly strip Phainon of this pain. He’s familiar with the liberation of drowning in blues, and he will not steal the privilege of it from his lover.

Silence is their witness, the sobs wreaking havoc on Phainon. Mydei comforted, a respite from the repress of countless unshedded tears. He tucks away those bangs of white hair and kisses his lover’s forehead,  leaning his head so he’d cry on his chest instead. His bare chest could feel the salty streams dripping out from eyes onto his beloved’s chin, yet he only hugs the Deliverer tighter.

It took many, many minutes, yet neither paid attention to Oronyx’s influence. The soft embrace of lovers paint a heartwarming scene by the market’s rooftop parapets. Phainon’s grip on Mydei’s triceps gradually loosened, as blasts of tears became deep inhales and shaky exhales. Finally, he moves his face up to stare back at loving amber irises, whose owner has not stopped gently drawing circles around Phainon’s wrist. His free hand wiped his eyes, and he spoke again to open ears,

“You’re probably wondering where all of this came from. To tell the truth, I have no idea. It simply felt… right to tell you before we embark on this final flamechase. My revenge is near, and her legacy should be spread along with the name of Aedes Elysiae.”

Yours alone will bear the name and honor of them all, he wanted to tell the Deliverer. Comfort him in any way, yet his mere attention is enough for Phainon.

“You’ve returned from Kremnos for sometime, we’ve retrieved all the coreflames, we have the aid of the trailblazers, and we even have the Flame Reaver on our side. The monster that we call The Black Tide will be disappearing from Amphoreus soon…”

Mydei knew that, and he frowned. He asks his lover why he brought any of this up.

“Heh, it’s just crazy. The prophecy told us of our fates, yet none have seemed to come true. Now I wonder if my destiny will be fulfilled, will I end this flamechase utterly alone?”

“Stop talking nonsense, Deliverer. I’m here, and everyone else is too. You’ve heard the Flame Reaver tell you you’re different from any other of those loops he has experienced, so take faith not in the gods, but us. That, this time, we will make it through tomorrow… together.”

Phainon looks at him incredulously, yet he bores his softest smile. Mydei found himself enthralled, even though he knew the likelihood of his love saying something stupid is increasing exponentially.

“I never knew you could be such a poet, my crowned prince. I’m the sappy one of us, and it seems I’m getting some competition,” Mydei groans, bothered that he was absolutely right. How could he when the smile he got to now and cherish has returned to him once more.

“Then, promise me this…” Phainon intertwines their palms and kisses the back of Mydei’s hand. He stares at Mydei with unbridled warmth that rivals that of Mydei’s searing blood red crystals.

“When we finish this all together, we erect a grave for Cyrene and all the legacy of Aedes Elysiae with her. Then we throw the biggest funeral with the biggest party, because she and everyone else deserves the utmost respect a grand celebration in their memory could give.”

Mydei only responds with a small smile, yet it says enough (He’d do that. He’d do everything and more if it meant those blue eyes never had to shed sad tears ever again).

-

It’s a lovely day for a picnic, which is what the former Heirs have always intended. Anaxa lays the blankets, Mydei brings out the food he made, Aglaea and Castorice lights candles for both graves alongside their plethora of other gifts, and Cipher plays charades with the triplets.

(She wanted to play hide and seek but Tribbios knew from the get-go she would cheat and turn invisible to win.)

It is domestic, something he thought he’d never ever share with any of his fellow Heirs besides Phainon. They’re co-workers or fated acquaintances, at best a few are friends, but at worst a few even hated each other.  

Ever since Phainon’s dea- Err, sacrifice… Such feelings of animosity between any of them had mellowed out. Besides the prophecy that interwove their faiths, the blue-eyed swordsman is the glue from which some semblance of social propriety is maintained. He was everyone’s friend, and that meant they needed to be cordial even if it’s just for his sake. 

“Mydei, hand me the cooler. I’m going to mix our drinks now,” Anaxa points at the piece of blue plastic besides the Kremnoan. He wordlessly hands it over as Anaxa gives him a brief thank and nod. The professor has grown used to death and souls, but even his madness didn’t shield him from this deep hurt.

He has the most eccentric solution, he picked up mixing drinks as a new hobby. Besides his continued work as a scholar at the Grove, Mydei always notices him aloofly handing Aglaea one of his concoctions, and he can always tell if they were purposefully good or bad based on how mischievous he looked. Aglaea, whose taste buds are still recovering from total numbness, would always drink it with a smile and comment nothing more besides ‘it’s refreshing’.

He wonders when did those two get so close, yet he prides himself In not being a gossip, so he will wait to learn it someday by a happenstance conversation. Returning to his own agenda, the food he cooked is still warm. He places containers of seared fish stuffed with mixed veggies, honey-glazed pancakes, smoked sausages, roasted chicken, beef shanks and bone marrow soup, and plastic-wrapped egg mayo sandwiches on their striped blue blanket. He has prepared rice, as requested by Castorice, and puts the container at the center of the potluck.

“Food is ready!” He calls as he takes out a stack of plastic plates and a pack of plastic utensils.

The girls gather around them, each taking a spot to sit on the blanket. The bulrushes start swaying as the wind picks up, and the buzz of insects also begin humming their tune. 

Mydei hands each of them a plate and spoon, letting them take food from the potluck themselves. Cipher is drooling at the fish, and Anaxa had to slap her wrist multiple times to stop her from taking off with the entire thing. Aglaea enjoys her chicken and sausages with rice, occasionally feeding Anaxa a bite while he’s busy finishing their drinks. Tribbios’ share a stack of pancakes, encouraging Mydei to take a bite as well. Castorice pours the marrow soup onto her plate of rice and beef shanks, with an extra sandwich on the side for later. Hyacine gets her own sandwich, paired alongside a chicken leg.

“Mydei, I know you’ve always cooked for us. But dear Mnestia, this garlic-infused rice is worth killing for!” Aglaea compliments, and it swells Mydei with pride, something he formerly had so much more of.

“Of course, you’d say not a sentence if it doesn’t involve killing of any sorts,” Anaxa replies, though his tone is absent of any former disdain. It is a dry comment really, even teasing.

“I can and will destroy your clothes if I hear another word, Anaxa.” Aglaea bites back, though her threat fell on deaf ears. After the war, she became a full-time tailor after retiring from her role as Okhema’s official representative. Her services are expensive but coveted, for her suits and dresses are the pinnacle of Amphoreus’ luxury. She always gets commissions from engaged couples, and her recovering emotions eagerly awaits the gossip of such everyday, mundane love.

“Go ahead, I’ll look forward to it,” 

Mydei feels there more beyond the surface, if Anaxa’s shit-eating grin and Aglaea’s blooming blush masked by anger have anything to say. The rest of the Chrysos Heirs merely watch as they finally start bickering, not so different from back then, just without that impending sense of doom looming above. 

“It’s ok, professor Anaxa. At least she didn’t threaten your dromas plushies!”

Hyacine mentions so naively. Aglaea does the most evil of grins, and Anaxa's face pales ghostly white. Castorice and Mydei awkwardly huff at the destruction unknowingly wrought by the priestess.

“And Mydei, teach me how to cook please! I have been starving for your food since forever now!” The pink-haired woman adds, her point emphasized with an enthusiastic bite of her sandwich.

“I do admit, you’ve improved so much these past few months. I’ve been enjoying it so much during our lunchtimes at Castrum Kremnos,” Castorice tells him too. She and her draconic sister Pollux have been a massive aid during the slow reconstruction of the former seaside kingdom. As Mydei ushers in a new era for his people, one of alliance and kinship rather than bloodshed and conquest, Castorice has been appointed his right-hand and her words hold as much authority as his.

She helps carry supplies on the back of her dragon, and she has aided in relief efforts to ease the hardships of Kremnoans during this transitional period.

“That’s what happens when you are free to cook. I hone it for leisure, not for necessity,” Mydei responds. His words echo true to all of their newly-changed lives. In reality, many of them never expected to live and see Era Nova.

It’s been peaceful, a miracle born out of the shining hands of a swordsman embodying the sun. The transition is rougher than any would have expected- after all, how would former demigods live after the duties they bear are no longer needed, after a samaritan benevolently stripped them of their doomed fates? 

They all know the time they now have, free from endless strife and hardships, is precious. Yet like wild animals trapped in captivity, they find themselves lost now that they are unshackled completely.

“That’s cool and all, but I bet we could make a fortune if you are down with making a restaurant at Marmoreal Market. Finally willing to let me be your investor, Mydei?” Cipher, of course, loves money. She adjusted the quickest out of all of them becoming a ‘humble’ merchant, who occasionally scams people out of their money (She has begun making less shady businesses in Okhema after her reputation made her store at the Grove unprofitable). 

“We can even go interplanetary! I’ve been bugging that gray-haired trailblazer to hook me up with an interview with those IPC fellows.”

“Shut up, Cipher. I have no intentions of going corporate,” Mydei refutes for the umpteenth time.

Cipher shrugs off the rejection like it was your everyday business transaction, “Eh, your loss.”

Mydei takes a bite of his pancake, watching as the Heirs converse among themselves. They don’t meet as often anymore, their tradition of eating together fading away with the olden era. He lets nostalgia take him to previous memories of warmth, thanking Phainon for allowing these simple moments be the respite of their new, incredibly confusing, but also exhilarating lives.

(He no longer prays to the Titans, and he suspects most of his companions don’t either. He prays to his Deliverer every day, wishing he grant Mydei one last miracle.)

Such thoughts of conflicting emotions are interrupted by the laughter of children by his side. Tribios, all three triplets, look at him with hopeful eyes.

“De! We finished our pancakes, can we play with you? Cipher was a cheating jerk when we played with her!” Trianne tells him, pouting as she childishly points towards the cat lady.

“Hey, you only said I couldn’t turn invisible. I followed your rules otherwise,” Said cat lady in question defends herself, her plate now a pile of fishbones and pieces of veggies and rice. Mydei swears the woman is more immature than the three literal toddlers, who at least ate the veggies Hyacine and Anaxa gave them. 

“You climbed a tree and we could reach you even if we stacked up!”

“Couldn’t you have used one of those rocket inventions you have to reach me then?”

“We’re not playing with rockets! It could ruin Snowy’s resting place!” Trianne yells without thought. Near immediately, the atmosphere around them grew thick. The most rambunctious of the trio holds her mouth.

It isn’t an agreement said out loud when they planned to have this trip. If no one acknowledged the elephant in the room, it would be as if Phainon is simply there with them enjoying the picnic too. Sure, he would be too silent, and his cold body temperature wouldn’t complement Mydei’s fire, but he would be there.

Eyes awkwardly shift towards the crown prince. Anaxa, ever socially inept, even hands him a drink of pomegranate juice with milk to cheer him up. He takes a sip, even as his face and eyes remain low. No one else tries anything to make him forget the claustrophobic openness of the space beside him. A place where someone should be.

“I- I'm sorry, De… I know his… sacrifice is heavier on you than any of us,” Trianne apologizes, her siblings by her side looking just as every bit as sorry as she is.

“I miss him too, De. He would already be playing with us if he was here. Then he’d push Aglaea to join, and get Castorice out of her shell to play too. Then, he’d probably bribe Anaxa to somehow agree, and Hyacine would follow quickly after,” Tribbie doesn’t mention Mydei, for all of them know he would be the first to get invited. They all know the two would play their own game, keeping track of their score. They know Mydei would let Phainon win.

With a heavy sigh, Mydei doesn’t have the strength to acknowledge any of those eyes. Instead, his cowardly irises stare off to distant trees, whose glory persevere against the decay of the Black Tide. 

He hears the shift of the adults returning to their own activities, the lightness gone as they all dare not cut the tension with a knife. As they return to eating and drinking, the triplets never once look away from him, each of their soft, large eyes ladened with tears.

He fights a sniffle, legs now hugged close as he turns away fully from even the periphery of those two graves. In the distant wood, he sees it. The blank stare of jaded blue eyes, the flow of a large black cape, and the unmasked cruel imitation of his lover’s face, an emotionless husk where boundless expression should be.

The Flame Reaver, whose sight is not at any of them, but at the tombstone of his dead self. 

Ignoring the confusing implications of Amphoreus’ time loop under the Gaze of Aeon Fuli, Mydei is desperate. He forces his most fake smile, so foreign to him as he never saw the need for such fakeness.

“It’s fine, Lady Tribios. I forgive you, but we should play later, okay? Your stomachs might get upset if you play so soon after eating.”

Ever wise for their age, none of the trio buy it. Yet, they also know better than to deny the wishes of a hurt man. They apologize again before presumably going to Anaxa for their drinks, who then probably attempts to comfort the children despite his lack of practice, something he mentioned to Mydei he’s working on as he found its value missing sorely ever since Phainon’s motivational speeches have went and gone.

“I need some time alone,” He excuses himself.

“Take all the time you need, Mydei,” Aglaea is the one to acknowledge him, even as he already started walking away from them.

He needed to talk to the Flame Reaver.

-

The final threat to Amphoreus, a manifestation of the Black Tide. An ugly, ugly creature, made from black and amorphous sludge that barely formed an unsettling mimicry of a human’s skeleton.

It was in some distant field of grass that their final battle takes place, with the trailblazer blessed by Oronyx creating an enclosed time loop in their arena. Far away from any of the kingdom, the literal middle of nowhere and no when in Amphoreus.

No one knew how long they have been fighting, not when Pollux lays heavy on a field of flowers, Castorice with a gash on her waist laying on her claws, whose trembling hands unconsciously wilts the flowers watching the fight.

Time never shifts, a permanent fixture of morning shining upon them. The Black Tide threatens to swallow even this whole. Dan Heng and March 7th enact a form of duo attack, yet even blessed by titans, their hit does nothing as it retaliates with a wave of dark liquid.

It threatens to drown them like sinking quicksand, if not for the efforts of Caelus and Mem to pull them out.

Aglaea’s lightning fast strikes move seamlessly across the field of flowers. Her primary objective is to fend off the violent monsters and Titan Kin this corruption summons to fight. Even her precise pinpoint hits leave a weak spot, her weakening strength leaving her golden string open. An archer Titan Kin shoots an arrow that could match her speed. She screams in pain as it pierces her Palm's skin, her golden blood flowing incessantly down her biceps. Her golden threads snap and her connection with her summons fade, leaving her to fight hordes utterly alone.

Anaxa’s domain of reason can only do so much. His piercing beams of blue lights and deadly storm of ricocheting bullets cleaving pieces away from the large monster, its uncanny ribs snapping like twigs. However, these bursts of power do too little, the horrible abomination regenerates these broken parts like a cancerous tumor. Anaxa resists the deepening cracks his powers are causing his already fractured soul.

Cipher and Hyacine provide support in the rear, a sneak attack there and a burst of rejuvenation there. But they tire at the constant need of their help, Hyacine’s pony memosprite which pierces the heavens only uselessly getting stuck in the black sludge. Cipher ran ragged, her stamina waning as the Black Tide threatened to consume her whole.

Tribbios' gadgets are of great aid, yet their Century Gates could only bring in so much firepower before all three demigods fainted from its excessive use. Rockets, bombs, grenades, weapons of mass destruction all hurled at the enemy, exploding, causing huge damage, yet the creature still persists.

Even their unlikely ally, the Flame Reaver, struggles against the source of its power. Its clones, its mastery of time dilation, and its powerful blade of shattered suns and staff of boundless moons coalesce into the same move it used against the Chrysos Heirs once. A strike aimed precise at infinity, all its loops and clones attacking at the exact same time to do an attack that could shatter time.

Even this does nothing, as tendrils of darkness surge at him and slap the floating figure all around the sky like a ragdoll.

The undying Mydeimos channels strife, Nikador as his judge and vessel, his crystals of fiery wrath growing wild all over the battlefield. He had already died twice, and his bloodlust had become worse over the course of it. The constant punches and violent stabs from his spear are that of raw strengh, tactical and rational thought loss and his backside always at risk of danger.

They’re losing. No matter how the prophecy prepared them for this, no matter how the coreflames turned them to demigods, no matter how the fate of Amphoreus relies on this decisive battle. If nothing drastic changes, they’ll all be killed, and no matter how close they are, it'll all be for nothing. Amphoreus will become the plaything of time again, as its people, its heroes, and its gods are repeatedly tormented in a loop of meaningless suffering.

Phainon, bearer of Kephale’s coreflame, the Titan of Okhema’s eternal sun. He burns with light, a combination of solar golds and lunar whites. His powers burn the Black Tide approaching him, yet he knew it was a matter of time before it dims the shine he’s emitting and stabs him with a thousand spikes. He turns to the Flame Reaver, whose mask is now broken, and whose face resembles that of his.

He’s different, his jaded self had told him. He took it to mean he’s something special, and yet he thinks he understands the burden of such a difference now. He’s the weight bearer, the one to witness a miracle as he stands alone, carrying the weight of the world on his back, as Amphoreus is supposed to recover from near total annihilation.

It is a burden he could not take, he will not take, for his back snaps at how heavy the guilt of his sins weigh. He shall witness the beginning of a new era, and yet selfishness clouded him. It was his selfishness that made his countless former selves become the Flame Reaver. He couldn’t let go, and he couldn’t let the ending be so bleak, so he played his part as the pawn of fate and instigator of its cruelty, playing along in hopes someday the cards are in his favor.

Bloodshed, murder, and all those atrocities his former selves committed, all so that the prophecy might change.

Yet, he realized that this Jaded black-robed never meant he was not as selfish as any other of his incarnations. It meant he was more selfish than any of them could’ve ever been. So selfish that he doesn’t care about the prophecy and ushering in a new era. The mission for the coreflame continues because of his choice. He doesn’t sacrifice his happiness for the greater good, so he claws every single Heir out of the clutches of death every time. He has done anything and everything to ensure that this time, nothing deemed necessary by the mistress of Fate would happen.

They were here because he forced this loop to his knees, and his compassion for this land and his home are the things that have kept them alive still.

So fuck the prophecy’s new era, he’ll forge a different one on his own.

The decision was a mutual understanding between the two swordsmen. In that moment, the Flame Reaver willingly gives the coreflames of all his previous incarnations to him. With a finality to his step, Phainon silently calls for all the Titans. With the prayers of not just himself, but every single Phainon to have ever existed

Let me usher in a new age for Amphoreus, one where gods such as you can rest as humanity forges its own destiny, he tells them. Of course, that means myself as well.

And so quick to heed his wishes, coreflames zip all throughout the battlefield, stripping their previous wielder of any and all of their Titan-given grace. 

Confusion and panic settled within the Heirs, all of whom had lost their statuses as demigods.

Their deaths should be imminent now, yet a repellent is seemingly making the Black Tide and its monsters back away from them. 

A glow of holy power shimmers around Phainon, who now holds all the Titan’s powers. Yet no overpowering showcase of strength comes out of this newly-ascended god.

They all look at him with awe, except a Kremnoan prince. He, who loves this man with all his heart, screams at him for his stupidity.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Phainon merely chuckles as he approaches the Black Tide as if giving it a gentle hug. He turns back to all of them with a wry smile, one unbefitting of his new power. He stares a long while at Mydei specifically, his eyes still so fond and warm despite the white light that engulfs the entirety of his corneas.

The Black Tide stops attacking, now returning the embrace Phainon gave it. The Flame Reaver fell to the ground, watching the sight with as much bated breath as everyone else.

“The Black Tide will never disappear if the Titans don’t go along with it, and yet these coreflames that you all bear, I’m sorry for selfishly taking. If the prophecy comes true as intended, you all die and then the Black Tide recedes as every single fire is extinguished. But now, this burden is for one to bear, and for the aftermath for the rest to share. The new era isn’t mine to witness, but now it is mine to start.”

“HKS, you never learn, huh?” Mydei screams at him, his anger laced with an avalanche of tears falling from the weight of Phainon’s words. “Stop bearing the world’s problems as if it is only yours! You have me, please have me, Deliverer.”

“Mydei… Thank you... But I do bear the weight of Amphoreus and it’s so, so heavy… so let me selfishly take its sins and forgive it. So that all the blame is on me, and that its eternal damnation is no more.”

Mydei couldn’t even refute, he only takes one glance at the pathetic sight of the Flame Reaver to know what Phainon meant.

“I love you, Mydeimos. That’s the last thing I wish of mine to be remembered.”

The Black Tide’s embrace tightens, and the coreflames emit the brightest of lights. As if reuniting a pair of lovers, the two engulf each other with a sole Deliverer as their collateral, a man who disappears alongside the two entities that have defined Amphoreus for a millennia.

-

The Era of Man.

That is what Phainon left them. 

Mydei steels his mind, for the fearsome foe he once hated is now nothing more than an average swordsman with rudimentary solar and lunar magic.

“Flame Reaver.”

“Crowned prince of Castrum Kremnos,” The man’s voice is hoarse, for it has been several months since he has spoken a word. Mydei knows the face of this man, and yet it all feels foreign. There was none of the warmth, none of that boyishness, and none of that compassion that made up his dead lover.

It was just cold, cold, and more cold. He thinks if the Chrysos Heirs found it tough to mine different roles in this new world, then Flame Reaver would have to dig a hole to the center of the planet. Millennia of loops, countless repeats of the same deaths over and over, and the cynical realization he was always meant to go down this path. After all those other meaningless timelines, one has finally met its happy conclusion, and yet the shadow remains alive even though its light has long since burned out. How does the monster, so used to its suffering in the darkness, ever recover and see any value from seeing itself again?

Mydei has thought a lot about Phainon (Obviously). Yet, he finds himself also pondering Flame Reaver’s fate. The two are inextricably linked after all. His Phainon has done his sacrifice not just as a selfless act, but because he selfishly wanted to not become this lifeless bundle of flesh and bones.

He understands Phainon, even as he eternally rests. He knows that man would feel much empathy for Flame Reaver if it was anyone else, but because it is him, he looked at it with pity and contempt, the implications of which Mydei never got to ask him.

“I am not the one you seek, crowned prince.” 

His words are brief and cold. Despite his agreement to help them, it was more out of volition for the trailblazer and his current loop self. After the war ended, he had disappeared almost entirely, and Mydei had speculated the Flame Reaver to have ended it all somewhere where no one can witness.

Seems not all his musings are right. “I merely wanted to ask you questions, Flame Reaver.”

He looks at the impartial face, neither friendly nor rude. He cannot help but imagine this face to be the one that gives him the widest smiles and the corniest pouts.

“Go ahead, crowned prince,” A mere shell of what should be a man, too tired to be anything but compliant.

“Did all the Phainon’s of old loops turn out like you?”

Flame Reaver only hesitates for a second before flatly replying, “No, some had ended themselves upon witnessing Amphoreus’ death, and those ones are lost forever to time.”

“I trust the Trailblazer and Phainon’s judgment, but why did you help us?”

“The Trailblazers are an anomaly to the loops, I believe they are a vital role that was missing in the flamechase journey.”

Mydei urges more, “And Phainon?”

“He stands with a conviction that I once had, yet it was different. I killed everybody in Aedes Elysiae except him, as you know. He looked not with scorn and hatred upon seeing the carnage, but a deep profound sadness and desire to make it all better. Such empathy made all the difference, for he had brought all of you closer with a mere lending of an ear.”

“I’ll never forgive you for all the pain you’ve brought to his childhood,” Mydei scowls at the admission of guilt. He knew it was the truth and yet every time, it still boils his blood to hear.

“Every Phainon wants me dead and hanged, that is the reality of these loops. I think your Phainon would be the only one that lent a helping hand to such a monster.”

It is difficult to say anything more. If he did, he’d be bearing his heart out to an all too familiar face, yet be faced with an indifference that would break him. He need not say more.

Frustratingly, Flame Reaver tilts his head like a confused dog, the mannerism so similar to his Deliverer. “Is that all your questions, crowned prince?” It asks.

And perhaps, like a fool, he had one more. He indulges in asking, the romanticism of it all echoing his lover’s love for fairy tales,

“Did we perhaps meet in my library in the next life, Flame Reaver? Is Mydei of any loop always fated to be with his Phainon?”

“No.”

Mydei heaves. His fantasy is of some invisible string, one even Aglaea couldn’t see, that connects them through timelines. It’s too good to be true, and the looming presence beside him is a mockery of his foolishness.

“I harbor no feelings for my Mydei. I was too absorbed by the prophecy and desire for revenge. By the time I could’ve, I was too numb for any thoughts to flee and indulge the concept of kissing and… more.”

Amusingly, the Flame Reaver’s face is lined with the faintest of blushes. For all his familiarity of death and suffering, sex and perversion are completely out of his ballpark.

It sees Mydei’s silence and speaks again, “Don’t be upset, crowned prince. I have grown weary of the concept of a next life. Maybe I’m too exhausted of such indulgent things. But for all its worth, wouldn’t that make your love more special?”

Mydei perks up at the absurd idea. He doesn’t know if he should take it seriously or not.

“Despite a prophecy against you, a bond still blossomed under harsh seasons. Maybe I, and many other Phainon, won’t meet you in the next life. But yours will probably do everything in his power to do so. He’d defy fate to be with his Mydei.”

He blinks, shocked. It morphs slowly to the fondest of smiles at Flame Reaver, but clearly intended for someone else.

“Yeah… Sounds just like him. And I’d be damned if I lose against HKS. I’ll be defying fate alongside him.”

For a monster, its roundabout manner of comforting him could be seen as a semblance of humanity laid dormant. It is still a Phainon, after all, and Phainon is not Phainon if he can’t cheer up the people around him.

“Mydei, we’re leaving!” The sultry voice of a woman calls. It is Cipher approaching them.

“Hmmph.”

“Yeah, we figured you’d like to be alone with him for a little bit, so we got out of your hair! Don’t worry, we cleaned up,” She stretches with a comically arched back, eyes looking at the Flame Reaver.

Mydei doesn’t like that look on her eyes.

“Yo, Flame Reaver! Never really got to see how big you really are,” She says with a suave grin and half-lidded eyes. “I’ve always kind of found you hot, so why don't we test it out big guy?”

“No thank-”

“Cipher.” 

Mydei’s gaze could kill, and it makes her jump away like a cat seeing a cucumber. She clutches the tree branch she hopped onto very tightly.

“It was just a joke, Mydeimos! Just because it has his face doesn’t mean I think Phainon is super handsome and attractive!”

Mydei only growls at her. She jumps away even farther from fear; she didn’t even notice that a coin bag fell out of her pocket.

“Ok, I’m not hitting on your boyfriend! Oh, and Aglaea also got a message that the Astral Express is going to visit. Bye!” 

She flees and Mydei’s spiking blood pressure is stable again. He looks at Flame Reaver who observed their exchange with a flat look. A modicum of red are on his cheeks, but he has no reaction besides that.

“I will be going as well then,” Flame Reaver said. He has nowhere to go, but he enjoys travelling the Amphoreus of Man, a recovering world much like his own.

Mydei looks at him briefly before looking back at the cliff side.

“Thank you, Flame Reaver.”

-

Phainon kisses him languidly. Their bed is a mess of tangled sheets and naked bodies. Phainon’s clothes are haphazardly all over the floor, as Mydei's are folded neatly on a chair.

Mydei’s hands grip tightly on his waist, definitely leaving bruises upon waking at dawn. His Deliverer giggles amidst lazy kisses, though he winces because his lower body is all sore. Mydei groans, taking his head with one head and forcing Phainon to continue making out.

His Deliverer wasn’t complaining, a tongue soon fighting with his own. They mingle, twist, and feel each other all over. It ends with Mydei exploring the cavern of Phainon’s mouth.

Arms wrap tightly around his neck, pulling Mydei closer. He opens his eyes and takes in the breathtaking sight of his lover. His eyes are closed and his white hair is a sweaty mess. His face shine with an afterglow, the high of their love still in his system.

Mydei couldn’t get enough as he grips his beloved’s neck. A firm press on his Adam’s apple gets the Deliverer sinfully moaning inside his mouth. Half-lidded eyes greet his as he devours the entire of these thin pink lips.

Entirely enraptured, Mydei could feel their members eagerly kiss just as they did. They were both hard again.

Phainon takes the initiative, twisting their bodies so he could sit on top. He straddles Mydei’s waist with his legs, his ass teasing the excited dick with the barest of contact.

His hands are besides Mydei’s face, his body lying on top the other’s hunky torso. He wears the slyest grin as he dry humps Mydei’s abs. He torments Mydei, with every lean his still loose pucker touching the Kremnoan’s brown tip.

“Seems someone excited from kissing too roughly,” Phainon utters with blissful pants in between. He doesn’t stop gently massaging his dick on the planes of those soft muscles.

Mydei groans, in sync with Phainon’s bated gasps. His Deliverer plays and pokes with the beast, Mydei’s calloused hands grip on that waist tight. It would be so easy to take the reigns, let his grip speed up their languid lovemaking, and for his cock to finally feel the heat of Phainon’s insides again. Yet he’s an indulgent fool who silently loves spoiling this man rotten, so he puts up with the growing arousal.

“You’re the one humping like a bitch in heat here, Deliverer.”

Phainon laughs softly. He stops his pace and sits on Mydei’s groin, the space between his ass cheeks now hugging the incredibly red member. He swears to Nikador, Phainon will not be able to walk a week if he continues prodding at him like this.

“Hmm, don’t phrase it like that, Mydei. I’m merely enjoying this body of yours,” The Deliverer glistens with the sweat of earlier and now, body alight a gentle orange glow from the one oil lamp they left burning. He smells of sex and the cedarwood incense they had burned earlier, and Mydei is tempted to know how their intermingled fluid tastes on Phainon’s collarbone.

God, Mydei wants, needs this man so badly.

“Let me return the favor then,” His hands pull the Deliverer back on top of him. His intrusive thoughts win with each long lick of his tongue on that pale neckline. Phainon moans, pleads for more as his lips reverently kiss strawberry blonde locks.

Big hands move to grip on Phainon’s upper thighs. The man loses all his balance, dick now fully sandwiched in between their bodies. Mydei doesn’t stop his assault on his neck, his teeth now biting marks in between the licks intended to eat him whole.

Phainon couldn’t stop his sounds, especially now with those burly hands gently caressing up and down his ass and thighs. A sudden slap on the supple flesh makes his knees buckle and his cock leak pre-cum on the duvet of their abs.

“No fair, Mydei!” He says out loud in between pleasured gasps. “I haven’t even ridden you and I’m close.”

Mydei stops just a while to look at the trembling arms and pleasured tears of his lover. He looks so fucking sexy like this, his dick weeping at just the sight. He could wait though, he needed payback for Phainon’s behavior.

“You always cum twice as much as me when we make love, Deliverer.”

“That’s because you always overdo it with the foreplay!”

“It is not my fault that your thighs and neckline are very sensitive,” Mydei knows that is a lie. He’s obsessed with these areas of the hero. He played with them so much he had inadvertently trained Phainon to react like he’s in heat if he so much as pokes them.

He cruelly starts assaulting Phainon’s body once more. Phainon couldn’t say a word without a lovely moan interrupting him.

“How- would you- ah! Like it if- Hmm- ah… touch your chest- Mydei hnngh- just as shamelessly?” 

The moans are music to Mydei, even amidst the silly question. He doesn’t stop sucking and licking Phainon’s neck, nor do his hands give reprieve circling around those plush thighs.

“You do that plenty when it is you who claims me during lovemaking, Deliverer,” He says to the flesh in between Phainon’s collarbone, gracing it with a fervent kiss. “Even if I’m under you, you still cum more.”

Phainon’s cock weeps and blows all over their abdomen’s, proving Mydei’s point. Mydei admires the mess that he made of the warrior. He glares at him, though it doesn’t look intimidating in the slightest. His cheeks are a deep shade of red amongst the paleness of his skin. His lips can’t stop the heavy exhales, each one accompanied by the twitch of his body. His eyes are clouded with lust and tears.

He’s breathtaking, Mydei thinks. He concludes in another life, he would go to war to have even one night like this with Phainon.

“I’m going to be riding you, and whoever blows a load first loses, you got that?” Phainon exclaims. Without any response, he plunges the entirety of Mydei’s dick into his hole in one thrust. A groan is pushed out of both of them, Mydei’s hands quickly finding their place on the Deliverer’s waist as he recovers his balance.

A confident smirk mixes with those blue dilated eyes. “Whoever wins gets to do whatever they want with the other next time.”

That gets Mydei’s blood pumping hot.

“Be prepared to get utterly wrecked, Deliverer!”

“You should be more worried about yourself, Mydei!”

And thus, just like anything else between them, sex turns into a competition. Phainon rides his cock like his life depended on it, angling his thrusts so that the big piece of meat hits his prostate every time. Hands grip on his ass, Mydei pistons his hips into him, chasing his pleasure from the hot and tight insides hugging his dick. Phainon’s face is blissed out stupid, with hearts forming in his irises. His guard lowered and his brain mushed from the high of their passionate lovemaking.

Mydei groans, drinking in the sight of his Deliverer, unraveled and reduced to his basest instincts of chasing pleasure. So fucking pretty. Their thrusts don’t stop, they keep getting faster. Mydei feels that he’s gonna cum soon.

Desperate and seeing the opportunity of a bouncing dick in front of him, he takes the member and strokes it in time with their thrusts. He sits up, adjusting their position. He then kisses Phainon, tongues mingling again. They make out intensely as their peaks near.

Phainon breaks the kiss with a loud moan and screams, 

“Mydei!”

His spent spills onto Mydei’s hand.

“I win,” The prince pants, only doing a few more thrusts before he spills as well. His semen fills Phainon’s insides, claiming his Deliverer with white, like how Phainon painted their chest.

“You cheated, jerk! I would’ve won if you didn’t jack me off,” Phainon weakly slaps his chest. His body is exhausted, and he leans on Mydei for support. His chin on Mydei’s hair, he resists the temptation of slumber for just a smaller while.

“Rest, Phainon. I’ll clean us up.” 

The words of his lover tempts his eyes to close fully, yet an instinct within him says that he won’t have the courage to bring this up if he doesn't now.

“Mydei…” He starts, an echo of the Flame Reaver’s words echoing in his mind.

Mydei princess carries his limp form. He walks towards their personal bathroom. Amber eyes are gently locked with the tired yet happy face.

“Yes, my love?”

“In our next life, if we do meet at the library, do you think we’d fall in love again?”

A conversation with the Flame Reaver gnawed at him. He told him fate wasn’t as perfect as it seemed, and it hinted towards Mydei. He thought the monster meant the prophecy, yet it implied that it talked about their love. He knew his fears were irrational, yet his fears still remained in his heart.

Mydei pauses as he draws the warm bath and readies their shampoo.

He looks at Phainon as if he’d grown a second head. He’d have answered with another question, but he refrains from doing so. This is a moment of bliss and indulgence between them, so he indulges in this question too.

“Nonsense, I said I’d bring you to my library, not fall in love with you there. I will love you even if neither of us ever come close to a library.  Fate be damned if I don’t fall in love with you again.”

It’s idealistic, it’s sappy, it’s too damn sweet. But it is the earnest and honest answer, and it is the answer Mydei is most satisfied with.

The gentle smile on that serene face tells him he made the correct answer. He picks Phainon up again and places him gently onto the bath. He lathers his hands with shampoo before gently washing the head of white hair he’d come to cherish so much.

“Isn’t that romantic? To be fated to love each other in every life, no matter the circumstances.”

His stupid Deliverer has the most beautiful of smiles. He sighs in content, eyes closing as the warmth of everything around is lulling him to sleep. 

“Sleep, Phainon. I’ll take care of you,” He tells him, a hand gripping his chin and gently turning Phainon’s face towards him.

“I love you, my prince.”

His sleepy lover tells him, and that is enough. He prepares the soap and starts tenderly washing the man’s body too.

Before Phainon’s mind is fully taken by dreams, he hears the devoted words uttered like a prayer.

“Hmmph, I love you too.”

-

“So we weren’t fated to always love each other, Deliverer.”

 And a part of me suspects you already knew that, he doesn’t say out loud.

“It is cruel of you to leave me.”

Because if we weren’t always meant to be together, why leave me in the one timeline where we can be?

Mydei weeps silently, head hung low on the grave of his dead love. Cyrene is their witness, and her heart aches seeing the end of Amphoreus’ hero.

Forever a legendary hero of myth. The things that matter to him the most, that which made him human, will be forgotten in the ‘Black Tide’ and ‘Titans’ of it all.

“This world has been far crueler to you,”

He glances back at the trees, yet no one is there to catch his eye anymore.

“In reality, we were never supposed to survive. You were the sole witness,”

The scabbard, left alongside every other present, weighs heavy on the prince.

“So, if I were to die, I would be gone. I am no longer that unkillable demigod, you took that away from me,”

Just like most of the Heirs’ powers, whose Titan-given gifts faded away with the forthcoming of The Era of Man.

“But that would be unfair to you, my love. He who has defied the prophecy, not with schemes or tactics, but love and compassion.”

He kneels down by the grave, his devotion far stronger to this piece of stone than it ever was to Nikador or any other Titan. For this man is his lover, who is the one that gave all of them a chance for a new life.

“You wanted me, as did I. That is why we worked, and it would be an insult to say any mistress played a part in our love,”

Fate is a subject they are too familiar with. Mydei is sickened to think he was fed a mere lie.

“So I tell you this, Deliverer. Listen well. I don’t fucking care about any fate or any timeline or any fucking library. I will find you… I will find you out there somewhere with nothing but my sheer devotion guiding me,”

He promises that he’d make this love, just as Phainon did for this timeline.

“We aren’t fated to love each other every time. But this body, now of malleable flesh, will defy fate. Defy prophecy. Defy anything and everything that keeps it away from you. I will always… Always find a way to love you, and hope you do the same,”

From this moment on, their relationship will be forged by these hands of blood red crystals and golden blood. No Aeon or Titan will be powerful enough, Mydei will bend fate itself to ensure they always meet again.

“And, Phainon… I love you. I miss hearing you say that, so once we meet again… Please tell me, my love.”

Whether or not their glances meet in the Castrum Kremnos Royal Library in the next life, Mydei realizes it matters not.

Chapter Text

There existed a legend of Aedes Elysiae, now the biggest metropolitan city in all of Amphoreus. It’s told to every young Amphorean, for it is one of the most popular fairy tales that popped up after the beginning of Era Nova, The Age of Man.

He would be all too familiar. After all, kids of all ages would visit the bookstore to look for a copy. He had several of it in stock, one with the big font sizes and pretty drawings meant to be told to kids as their bedtime story. 

It goes something like this…

“In the Era of Chrysea, there was once a legendary group of heroes. They were the Chrysos Heirs, who were destined to fight the evil Black Tide and bring justice for the Titans that once ruled this world!”

A few jaws drop, and plenty of big cute eyes are wide open. One of the little humans, barely taller than half his calves, is crawling closer to him to hear the story better. He couldn’t help but giggle, all the while gently brushing this toddler’s small spoof of blonde hair. Parents, either circling the store or resting on one of the lobby sofas, often congregate here when they’re too exhausted to deal with their energetic children. Every Wednesday and Saturday, a white-haired male employee would be reading a story for the children.

“Look, everybody! This is the Garment Maker! The most beautiful of them all,” He’s using a pop-up book, so the kids could easily marvel at the paper illustration of a poised blond woman wearing an elegant white dress. She’s dancing with a mannequin, whose silicone body is also draped in the most elegant and poofy fabric of a white and golden gown. 

“She is their leader! You see these strings? Well, they’re magic! They connected the people of Amphoreus and protected them against… The Black Tide,” He laughs somewhat menacingly. It startles the kids, who all backed away slightly. Their tense little bodies didn’t stop listening however, not as the man flipped onto the next page and showed a drawing of a slimy black ooze monster.

(In all honesty, the drawing was goofy and not scary whatsoever.)

“This is the bad guy! It was making the Titans into bad guys too! That’s why the Chrysos Heirs needed to become worthy of the Titan’s powers and stop it!”

He flips the page again, this time to an illustration of all the Chrysos Heirs. They stand side-by-side, and the hero at the center of white hair, blue eyes, and pale skin appears larger in front of them, raising a sword up towards the sky.

“Cool!” Came the excited cry of a brown-skinned 4-year old boy. “Pretty!” Is uttered by a young fair girl no more the age of 6. 

He laughs at their enthusiasm, though he felt a soft spot for that blond toddler earlier. She is staring at the picture in awe, clumsily clapping her chubby and small hands together.

“This is the Deliverer! He’s the big deal and super strong! He is the one destined to usher in Era Nova, which we live in today!” He points at the man who’s clearly the focus of the drawing despite being a showcase of the entire group. “He is everyone’s friend, and he protects every one of his friends when they’re in danger! It is said that a prophecy once fated Old Amphoreus to be destroyed, but the Deliverer cared for his friends so much that he defied their ends and brought them all to the final battle!”

He introduces the rest of the Chrysos Heirs to the children, each with that extra bit of emotive and exaggerated flair. He stares in awe just as much as the kids; he gasps with them at the movement of some illustrations. He tells them with excited and bated breath about the Death Sorceress and her dragon sister, the Wise Scholar with vast knowledge, the Cat Trickster’s cunningness and pranks, the Sky Priestess and her boundless compassion, the Maiden of Janusopolis and her amazing inventions.

“And this is the coolest of them all! The Crowned Prince of Castrum Kremnos. He is the strongest warrior, and he fights by punching red crystals against the enemies!” 

He couldn’t explain it, but he had always found the Crowned Prince to be his favorite character. Maybe it’s because he likes that he’s the coolest of the Chrysos Heirs, but it feels like there’s something deeper. He feels like someone with boundless care and someone who would've done anything to help the people he loves, something that you wouldn’t expect from the brutish warriors of the Heirs.

He doesn’t know how such deep and warm thoughts came to be; the Prince is just a fairy tale character! 

Before he can dwell on his musings, he still has to entertain a crowd of kids. During the time it took him to get to this point of the story book, about a dozen more parents have dropped off their kids to be distracted by him. It’s a lot more kids than he's used to reading with, but that is the reality of a Saturday during Amphoreus’ Elysian Week. Lots and lots of families spending time at the mall where he works.

“He is the Deliverer’s fated partner, and they always protect each other’s back! They were the strongest warriors and the most passionate of lovers in all of Amphoreus!” 

He continues with the story, noticing particularly that the young kids are more interested in this aspect of the fairy tale. The hooked children got nearer to him, and he tried to gently let them touch the pop-up drawings.

“Careful, everybody! If you touch the drawings too strongly, they might break! It would make mom and dad so sad because they wouldn’t be able to see the pictures too, hmm?” He tells as a disclaimer, which impressively most of the kids at the front takes to heart. They touch the pop-up curiously and cheer when they make the adjustable illustrations hold hands.

A few tried to grab the cutouts and pull them out, but the man interceded those hands that carelessly destroy. He guides them to gently tap the pop-up of two warriors standing side-by-side, hoping it’s enough to satisfy the kids with their lack of propriety in indulging curiosity.

“Okay kids, let’s move on! Is that fine?” He got nods and hums of approval. He quickly moves on while some of the children are close to clinging onto his legs. He laughs and lets them do it. The blonde toddler is one of those that seem fascinated with him, the blue-eyed joyful storyteller, and not just the story book.

“The Deliverer and the Chrysos Heirs get ready to fight the Black Tide, and they are almost defeated!” The next page he flips onto has the characters struggling against the black ooze monster. The kids gasp and wait with bated breath for the next part; Phainon chuckles under his breath because he finds the little creatures too adorable.

“But then, the Deliverer had an idea! He took all the power of the Chrysos Heirs and the Titans. He took all his love for humanity and became powerful enough to fight the Black Tide on his own! He took the monster and left the planet with it, purging evil from the world!”

He flailed his arms in grand sweeping motions; some of the parents watching him tell the story get invested too. He chuckles as the babies, toddlers, and young kids laugh among themselves. However, he turns the page and tells them with a large frown. The change of his demeanor made all the children pay attention once more.

“He could never come back after this. The Chrysos Heirs were devastated by the loss of their comrade, so they celebrated him and his noble sacrifice with a week of dedication!”

He is still less enthused than before, but he points to today’s date on his teleslate and shows it to the kids. They giggle upon not seeing only the date, but the picture of a Samoyed dog as the man’s home screen.

“It is said that the Deliverer was from Aedes Elysiae, but it was badly destroyed during the war with the Black Tide. So the Crowned Prince, who yearns to meet his lover once more, rebuilt the city. The legend goes that he waits for his Deliverer to come back, and once he does on this week every year, the Prince would give the rebuilt home as a gift so that they can be eternally together again.”

He flips to the final page of the book, depicting the reunion of the separated couple. It has drawings of the other Heirs too, for the Deliverer’s return is a momentous occasion for all.

“The end,” He says with a smile on his face and a brief snap to close the book. The children still stare at him dumbly as if there is a continuation to be expected.

Recognition quickly comes through luckily, for they started cheering and clinging onto the white-haired employee again.

“More!” The blonde toddler from before tells him, hugging his leg tightly. He smiles but tells the children in a singsong voce, “I’m sorry, kids! But big bro will be busy now, we have to close early! You can get books if you want more stories! You can read them with mom and dad!”

The parents of most of the children come back just in time before he has to distract them with other things. The last thing he’d wanna do is make them throw tantrums or cry. He loves acting as a big brother, but he cannot handle bratty children!

A few of them asked to buy a children’s book, which their parents either have to reject or indulge. His co-worker, a nice girl named Hyacine, serves them politely at the cash register. No surprise, most of them chose to get a copy of the Fairy Tale of the Chrysos Heirs. One other child also made his parents buy an extra story book which are small fictions about the Crowned Prince while rebuilding Aedes Elysiae.

He gives Hyacine a thumbs up, which she returns with a silly wink. He’s fortunate to have such a friendly coworker he could easily get along with. The pink-haired woman points below him with a curious glance, which makes him laugh sheepishly.

The last one standing is the toddler still clinging onto his leg. It’s been a few minutes, and her parents are still not picking her up. He worries for the little girl, “What’s your name? Do you know where mom and dad are?”

“Ali!”

“Hello, Ali! Aren’t you so cute?” He removes himself from the chair where he told the story, then kneels down to be near the girl’s height. He pats her head gently again as she still clings onto his leg. “Do you know where mom and dad are, Ali?”

“Dad is getting me a gift!”

“Well, what’s his-”

“Ali! I’m sorry I’m late!”

A man, shorter than the storyteller, rushes through the store entrance. His heavy pants are enough indication he bolted towards the place. He has light mint green hair and wears a dark blue sweater turtleneck. It has a graphic of a confused dromas on the front. Ali leaves his side to immediately hug the new adult in the room.

“Daddy!”

“I’m sorry, Ali. I got so distracted finding your gift I didn’t notice that the time for their storytime was almost over.”

He thinks the dad meant that they scheduled his story time for 10:00 AM - 10:30 AM and that it’s now 10:29 AM.

“It’s ok, daddy! Big handsome bro is very nice!” 

Phainon added, petting the little girl's hair once more. She giggles and starts playing with the employee’s hand, “Ali here listened to every single word, Sir. I think she’d love a book, won’t you?”

Ali gasps, excited looking at her father, “Definitely! I want to know if the Prince meets the Deliverer again!”

“Well, should I pack the books, sir-”

The shorter man tells his name, and stares suspiciously at the two employees, “Anaxagoras, Anaxa should be fine though. Also, I can tell you’re trying to make me buy something using my daughter’s eagerness,”

Hyacine, despite being a few feet away at the counter, barges into the conversation, “Well, you gotta make a living somehow! Besides, Ms. Ali over here clearly loves big bro’s story.”

“Yes, daddy! Please!” A father’s heart is only so resistant to the pleading eyes of his child. 

“Yes, Ali. I’ll buy you the book,” He tells her.

“Yay!” Ali cheers as Anaxa carries her with his arms. The male employee has already gone into the backroom to wrap a stock of the two fairy tale books. He makes sure to get ones that don't have any damages whatsoever and are extra shiny.

Hyacine makes light small talk while they wait by the counter, “If you don’t mind me asking, what made you almost late picking Ali up, Sir Anaxa?”

“I needed to call her mom first.”

“Oh? Family trip?”

Anaxa nods. The woman could tell he feels dejected and a bit sad. “We were all supposed to go out today… But she was suddenly called to a meeting by her magazine editorial job,” He sighs, eyes closed and face trying to hide how upset he is.

Ali, used to getting her mom’s attention at home, isn’t sad like her father. She proudly adds, “Mom is very busy! She’s the head manager! Daddy’s a professor!”

The other worker gets out of the stockroom just in time to hear the gossip. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Anaxa,” he says as he lets Hyacine scan the price of the books before putting them in a paper bag. 

“No-no, if that woman prefers spending time at her job rather than Ali and I over here, then she can do so,” He proclaims, voice feigning irritation that still borders on dejection.

“Well if you’re willing to take my advice, I’d suggest you tell your wife that you're upset and want to spend more time with her,” The male employee tells him earnestly. Hyacine kicks his shin, hidden below the counter. She gestures for him to stop giving unsolicited advice to a customer. He takes the pain like a strong big boy; he bites his tongue to keep a yelp in his throat .

Anaxa stares incredulously, almost offended. He asks with a hint of sass, “What makes you think I’d wanna spend more time with her if she’s the one prioritizing work?”

“Well.. You are the one sulking here,” The man says without a filter. Hyacine stills beside him, utterly baffled by his stupid mouth. Anaxa looks the most appalled he has since his lecture yesterday.

To add insult to injury, “They have a point, daddy!” Ali exclaims.

“I sweat to the Titans, I was considering going here more often but if this is the service then nevermind,” He tells them with understated irritation. Hyacine covers his coworker’s mouth before he could make the situation any more awkward.

“We’re sorry for that sir! Please reconsider, we can sign you up for our membership that nets you a discount!” She pleads, almost begs him.

“Please, daddy! I want to hear more stories from big bro,” Ali points at the largest person in thee room. He is also most likely the one with the least brain cells as of this moment.

“...” Anaxa needs to become a stricter father. He relents, “Fine… May I get your names if I am to visit here with Ali more often?”

“Of course, I’m Hyacine!” The female employee says happily while giving the bag of books to their green-haired customer.

The male employee lays a hand on the counter, and points to himself confidently as he introduces himself, “And I’m Ali’s big bro, Phainon!”

-

“Only a half day, really?” Phainon’s best friend, Cyrene, asks the now off-shift samoyed-like human.

He called as soon as his shift ended and he said farewells to Hyacine. He asked if she wanted to hangout and get lunch and coffee. The newly unemployed woman has nothing better to do during the holiday, so she quickly agreed after cleaning up their shared apartment (Phainon has now idea how she will pay her half of the rent at the moment).

“Yeah, I’m surprised too! The boss even promised to give us full paychecks today as a gift,” He responds while wrapping an arm around Cyrene’s own. They’ve been friends since childhood, and such affectionate touches are a Hallmark of their close platonic relationship.

They are not going to any of their usual places for lunch today, since they had so much free time during the holiday week they could afford to explore more of the suburbs around Aedes Elysiae.

“Hmm, you’d think she would want to cash in on all the foot traffic during Elysian Week.”

As the holiday is about the Prince’s dedication to the Deliverer, Aedes Elysiae becomes a tourist hotspot for families and couples. It’s a love holiday, though there is significant cultural bearing for it to also be a week where Amphorean people thank the Deliverer and the Heirs for their sacrifice.

“There were so many families that bought books in the morning! We could’ve sold out the children’s section if we stayed open,” He jokes, though Cyrene is a tough crowd. She pokes her laughing friend’s cheek and shoves the straw of her ice tea drink right at his jugular 

He gags at the intrusion in his throat but speedily recovers and steals the drink from Cyrene. She doesn’t care though, she got her roaring laughter from torturing the younger man.

“The heck was that for?!” He exclaims upset while finishing the sweet beverage. Cyrene giggles a few more times, wiping a tear that got into her eye. She haughtily replies, “Oh come on, Phai! I’m sure you’ve taken worse down your throat.” She cackles evilly as her best friend turns from snow white to red tomato. Much to his horror, a few of the bystanders nearby are looking on with either disgust or impressed looks.

Phainon’s… oral hygiene is personal information, thank you very much!

“Cyrene! Not in public!” He whisper-screams at her, but she doesn’t stop her enjoyment of his suffering.  

“This is what you get for forcing me to date you during the holiday, dumbass!” She wittily replies, holding her aching stomach due to all the laughing. Phainon gawks at her, “It is absolutely not my fault you tried dating two women at once, girl!”

Long story short, Cyrene was being friendly to a girl named Mei which made her girlfriend Eden jealous and led to a breakup several months ago. Phainon witnessed it all go down, equipped with several tissue boxes and a boatload of strawberry ice cream.

It has been long enough to just be an inside joke instead of a sting to the girl’s hopeless heart. In the same timeframe all of that happened, Phainon has dated exactly zero men.

“Not my fault I can easily find a date~! Meanwhile you had to ask me out, hehe… For someone so handsome and pretty, you sure are bad at getting laid!”

Phainon is sure to avoid all the interested gazes his loudmouth friend attracted towards him. He swears to the Titans that he’s usually the annoying one with anyone he’s with, yet somehow Cyrene beats him in the yapping and no-filter department.

“Why did you agree to go out with a loser then, huh? That would mean you’re a loser who didn’t manage to score anyone today!” He bickers back. He notices they needed to turn so he forcefully twists the direction of their intertwined bodies to where the restaurant they agreed upon is. If he didn’t, Cyrene would have gotten them lost with how much she doesn’t pay attention to where they walk. 

“Oh my, obviously not?!”

“Defensive much? At least I don’t have a date because I don’t ask anyone out, Ms. Got-Rejected-Today.”

Cyrene fumes at him, and merely huffs out in the other direction. He laughs because he rarely get to win teasing fights with her. She always, always embarrasses Phainon more by a huge margin. It only takes a short while for Cyrene to relent. She laughs with him like the good sport she is. She knows Phainon; he wouldn’t hurt her even if it meant he’d get a billion credits. She prides herself that she would be the same.

“Come on, let’s walk faster! I’m hungry already,” Phainon whines, which makes Cyrene snort.

“Why the hell did you choose a place we had to walk 15 minutes for then?” 

“I thought their food looked good! And the drinks look amazing too,” Leave it to Phainon to answer a rhetorical question with an honest answer. His best friend could only fondly roll her eyes before they indeed started speed walking towards the restaurant that is slightly higher-end despite their surprisingly fair prices.

(Phainon pointed at the prices affordable for university students when he first saw an ad about the place; It was only a matter of time before they finally went to try it out.)

“We’re here,” He exclaims at the intricate entrance and nice furnished tables and seats situated outside the restaurant. They enter more orderly than they really are; first impressions matter, after all.

It looks like what you’d expect from a slightly high-end cafe. A large mahogany countertop where you’d take your order. Behind are the visible coffee machines and a window to the kitchen, letting customers watch their meals get prepared. A glass display case is on front, showing off their lunch options on the top shelf and desserts at the bottom.

It smells rustic, as if someone dusted the place with wood chips and dried cocoa powder. There are a few other patrons sitting mostly by the corners. Friends hanging out like them, a couple going on a date over there, and some loners with their laptops and a cup of coffee rushing to finish their deadlines 

Phainon points to a table near the counter, just up a small staircase leading to a slightly-elevated dining area. Phainon quickly slings his bag onto the chair next to where he sits. He leans on the polished wooden guard railings in front of their seats. 

He is trying to see the menu on top of the cashier when Cyrene disturbs him, “Just get closer if you need to squint to see it, dumbass.” 

Rude, but he couldn’t deny her sound logic. He excuses himself as Cyrene prepares her laptop (She swears she’s going to get a successful job application soon). She reminds him to get the free Wi-Fi password after ordering.

No one is manning the register yet, so he busies himself listing down their orders first. Cyrene told him to just get her a chicken salad and espresso, but he adds a slice of lemon chiffon cake to treat her. Looking at his options, he curses his indecisive ass for not being able to pick.

A waitress who was lounging by the kitchen notices him, or more like she got yelled at by one of the chefs to do her job. She sprints out the back door and greets him with short breaths and a sly smile, “Oh, customer! Hi~ Welcome to Kremnos Sun! I’m Cipher, may I take your order?”

The catwoman’s eyes stare at him intensely, going up and down his body. He feels a bit weirded out but he persisted. 

“Oh yes, I do! But I haven't finished picking out an order yet,” He sheepishly responds.  

Her cat ears twitch, a playful smirk appearing on her face, “Well, I can recommend the supreme cheese pizza! It has four different cheeses and you can add toppings of your choice, and it goes best with a lavender ice tea with popping boba!”

“A whole pizza? That sounds a bit out of my budget actually…” He laughs, internally counting the bills he has on his wallet. That cake means he can’t buy much more if he wants to pay for utilities in three days.

Cipher seems to be in thought, though Phainon can still feel her interest in him. He opts to simply not stare at the woman wearing the usual barista uniform. She giggles as she takes a napkin and hands it to him.

“Well, I can help give you a discount and even pay, cutie. I just need you to write your number down here first~”

Phainon turns red-faced and panicky shakes his hands at her, “I’m sorry to disappoint you, miss! I don’t like-”

“Cipher, stop harassing our customer,” A deep commanding voice comes from the back. In a matter of seconds, a specimen of a man exits the door and makes himself visible to Phainon.

What the fuck?! He’s so hot?! Why the hell is a chef so buff, Titans those arms are so big… And does he have red tattoos? They’re so sexy, hello? Please, please, please choke me-

“I’m sorry, sir. May I take your actual order?” That deep and very guttural voice says, a hint of a growl remaining from when he yelled at Cipher.

Phainon’s brain supplies very unhelpful images of the man who is very, very attractive. It did not help his deprecating thoughts chiding him as a hypocrite for being just as inappropriate as that female barista was to him mere moments ago.

It’s just… He has had a thing for muscles ever since he had a crush on his gym instructor back in the countryside, so he has always imagined a brute to be his ideal boyfriend. He also had a phase with alternative bands during adolescence, so he has gotten a thing for tattooed men too. Of the few men he has tried dating, they always had one or the other. 

(Cyrene told him he had a type for red flags too once.)

Don’t get him wrong, he works out and is a hunky guy too! But this man is just next level muscles that he looks bigger than Phainon despite the white-haired man actually being about half an inch taller.

Not to mention the handsome face and piercing amber eyes. His hair, frazzled from oven heat yet somehow put-together, is in a bun and covered by a hairnet. Phainon internally freaks out over the sexy man’s face and Titans he looks hot when his brows are burrowing-

“Sir? I’m sorry if you’re still shell-shocked from Cipher’s… mannerisms.” A brief look at the woman give the sight of her cumbersome loitering as she admires her nails by a countertop. Mydei levels her a glare; her suave persona instantly collapses from a full-body shiver. She frantically apologizes and goes back into the kitchen. “There, she’s gone. If you’d like to order, feel free to do so.”

Ah, so that just happened. Phainon doesn’t know if to be grateful or paranoid.

“Oh, it’s fine! I’m sure she’s a nice woman, I just wasn’t interested.”

“It isn’t her job to hit on guys by the counter, so I apologize for the bad service.”

“Well, I’m Phainon! She was just telling me about a menu item that I think I can’t afford, so I guess it’s still sort-of my fault.”

The cashier sighs, which sends Phainon into ruin. Why are his social skills equivalent to a prepubescent kid talking to their older crush? He’s a social butterfly, why is one guy making him act like a total mess?!

Mydei, unaware of his nightmares, is just surprised at how forgiving the pretty boy. A bit stupid and naive yes, but still very forgiving. “Well, how about to make up for our misconduct, we give you that discount she was talking about?”

“Wait, you can do that? Wouldn't your boss get mad at you?”

The chef rolls his eyes. He couldn’t believe a man could be so empathetic to the plight of baristas from a place he just went. “I’m the owner here, bub. So take your order. You’ll get a 50% discount on me.”

Phainon gawks at that. He would’ve appreciated only a 10% discount, but this is absurd! Though being a twenty something adult that has to think about making ends, the Samaritan in him accepts the shame of ordering his and Cyrene’s food at what is most definitely a lost for the store. His irises stare at a potted plant on the counter, his mouth is zipped tight before he says anything that can make him look dumb in front of the hot chef.

Phainon, with order slip and receipt in hand, almost manages to bolt back to his table before any more mishaps. The owner grabs his wrist just in time before he could start sulking next to a Cyrene enjoying his suffering.

“Phainon, right?”

“Mhmm,” He stares at that handsome face one more time, for politeness’ sake of course.

He grows a slight blush as the chef smiles at him and says, “I’m Mydei. Make sure to remember it, I’ll be serving your food.”

His heart skips a beat. Several of them.

He nods and turns around before he could make a disaster out of himself. He finds himself regretting that as a Cyrene who should be focusing on her job applications, is currently judging him harshly after watching everything that went down.

“What the hell was that?”

“I have no idea,” He says before proceeding to quietly tell Cyrene the details. Her job listing is as forgotten as Phainon’s burned wardrobe of atrocious clothes. She softly slams her joined hands onto the table, “I think he likes you.”

“What!” He shouts at her claim, which gets the attention of not just the other customers in the shop, but also the staff in the kitchen. Mydei is included in that list, and he looks at his red face with a smirk. Phainon quickly recovers and sits down again, then pathetically covers his face on the table with his arms.

“You saw that right? He obviously likes seeing you react like this, Phai-”

“Can you stop making me even more embarrassed, please?” He was desperate and still very much a tomato face.

Mercifully, she does stop. Her only acknowledgement is a few giggles as she finally starts scrolling through her emails. Phainon distracts himself by scrolling on his teleslate for cute big dogs and funny cat videos. He is thankful not to see any hot people thirst trapping on his for-you-page, but even the power of the adorable pets isn’t lowering his heart rate. A few minutes of this later, and Cyrene notices he is still very much tense and bothered. 

She taps him with a chuckle. She says as soon as she got his attention, “Oh come on, Phai. Loosen up a little, this is like the most flustered I’ve seen you been over a guy.”

“Oh please, Cyrene! I can’t help it! I can’t believe a man could be that handsome!”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.”

Phainon yelps, looking over the guard railings to see the aforementioned man holding two trays of food and drinks. In the heat of the moment, Phainon takes his tray of pizza and popping boba tea as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

He doesn’t say a word out of sheer embarrassment, but unfortunately for him, he has a best friend that can yap essays per minute.

“Don’t mind him, he’s really not used to this. If you don’t plan on asking him out though, then I suggest you leave before I kick you in the balls.”

A mortified Phainon is tempted to bang his head onto the cheese pizza, “That’s not helpful, Cyrene!”

“God forbid your big sister be protective, dumbass!”

Mydei sighs, though he figures he’s the weirdo for thinking their bickering is sweet. Like… A normal person wouldn’t find that cute at all. The chef doesn’t know why, but he feels strangely drawn to the taller white-haired pretty boy as soon as he sees those blue eyes, as if his heart just naturally beats twice as fast as soon as he’s here.

Phainon feels that way too, though he thinks it’s just an intense and minutely sexually-charged crush. He is already destroying his chances with the hottie by making a fool of himself fighting with Cyrene, after all. He does not need to be delusional and think that Mydei can become his boyfriend.

“No need to do that, miss,” Mydei tells them as he quickly places down Cyrene’s food as well. The two roommates look at him curiously while he takes a piece of tissue paper from their tray. He scribbles something down while giving Phainon a small smile.

That did unnerving amounts of damage to Phainon’s already high blood pressure.

“My number, Phainon,” He hands  the napkin with a very life-changing set of numbers. Phainon’s cold clammy hands take it with a sheepish thanks before quickly registering it on his contact list. “Mind giving me yours?” The strawberry blonde asks.

Phainon just hands the barista his teleslate to tinker with. Mydei spent a little too much time staring at the screen, and he is panicking that the hot dude is judging his wallpaper that is just little chimeras and puppies. A minute later and he gets his phone back while his mind is still racing.

Before he could retract his hand after getting his phone though, Mydei takes it and says confidently, “I’m free tomorrow, how about you?”

Tomorrow?! A date so soon?! Phainon laughs awkwardly and just squeaks out a yes. He finds it unfair that Mydei is so much more composed. The man says a goodbye and nonchalantly calls him ‘my love’ (He’s going to fucking melt; a voice in his head is telling him it feels soothingly familiar) before going away.

Mydei will send the details of their date tomorrow through text. Phainon is a staring creep as that wide back and those broad shoulders return to the kitchen. He wishes he wasn’t in public; he wants to squeal and flail his legs around on his bed like a teenage schoolgirl.

Cyrene takes a bite of her cake. Then, she gives him a pointed look, “Imagine getting asked out twice in less than an hour by being a total loser.”

He groans inside his clasped hands; Cyrene giggles at his suffering while taking a slice of his pizza and putting it on her plate. She’s done teasing, but her mind just supplied her with a thought that appalled her. An accusatory finger is given to her sulking best friend who has still not touched any of their food.

“How the hell did an idiot like you get a date during Elysian Week before me?”

-

Blue eyes open to see a field of bulrushes and lilacs. He looks down and clasps his hands. An unsettling ache lies between his senses and his thoughts. As if there’s a disconnect between him and this body he should be oh-so familiar with. He loosens his grips, still unsatisfied with the lack of cognizant in controlling them. There’s a lag in his motor functions despite his mind and body both being perfectly functioning otherwise.

The man fully looks around, his periphery no longer the black of heavy eyelids. It’s not a place he had ever seen, not even in the countryside. Yet it somehow feels familiar, and he notices too late that where he resides is the edge of a cliff side. He falls but the laws of this world fail, as some force he cannot perceive is keeping him at eye-level with the cliff top. He should be freaking out that he’s floating, but there is a subconscious within stating otherwise.

A presence is besides him. He couldn’t sense it with any part of him, not even his soul. Yet despite that, he could tell. Someone is keeping him afloat, and he knows this to be true with no other reasoning but because he thinks it is correct. No evidence can dissuade such a gut feeling, so elementary that it may have been conditioned to his mind like it’s doublespeak.

Promise me this…

He starts looks around frantic, the jagged rocks give him no clue. The mute sea and its dead waters are of no help either. The cloudless sky and its blue, so sickeningly pale it looks sick, does nothing but make him anxious. It doesn’t help that his body is still acting as if weighed down by earth the size of the Okheman Plate.

Tell me again… my love…

His eyes drift listlessly for those word’s culprit, but the disturbing picturesque motions of vibrant yet lifeless nature is all it says. A phantom of a hug is felt on his weightless waist. There is no warmth, just a firm hold that is neither comforting nor unsettling. Where does it come from? He has no idea. Suddenly the weight of gifts are by his body, a bouquet, some fabric, a plushie, and so much more.

I love you…

He woke up as soon as velocity started picking up, and his astral projection started plummeting into a fatal fall.

On that night, he said good night to Cyrene, entered his room and began to sleep. It was a dream so unlike any of his senseless nighttime adventures he feels the need to write it down on a journal.

The most he could write down was remembering a field of flowers and the desperate embrace of an unrecognizable and irreparable resident of Styx.

-

They are to meet at the city’s national park, so naturally like a nervous wreck, Phainon arrives half an hour early in order to let his mind stop overthinking.

The dream is kept in the back of his mind like a backdrop to his shower before the morning date. That lingering sense of himself, something that calls him beyond just his soul, insists he needs to. It must be a prophetic dream of some kind.

Under the caress of the mighty apple trees' shadows, he holds two breakfast waffle wraps with wrip cream and chocolate sauce. He knows they’re not exactly nutritious, but he thinks maybe Mydei would like a cheat day. He has no idea why he’s assuming, and he’s plagued by a possibility that the cute chef might not appreciate sweets at 9:30 AM.

He can’t mess anything up about this. The bench is the only witness of his trembling thigh, being forcibly told to stop shaking. He even made Cyrene dress him up! The sting of wayward comments against his personal fashion choices aside, Mydei only saw him with his work uniform yesterday. He has to make an impression, and that means waking up a lazy woman to help him pick clothes.

She was thankfully a merciful deity today. She did not hold a vendetta to make him wear something even he would find appalling. “You did interrupt a beautiful girl’s beauty rest, but a lovely person like me simply must help a poor hapless friend like you,” He remembers her saying whilst holding a groggy yawn and hugging her pillow.

“Hey.”

As if on cue, the wind picks up and blows his hair away from his forehead. The leaves rustle amidst startled greetings and a hand offering sugary confections. Unlike the bun from yesterday, Mydei’s hair is let out in all its shoulder-length glory. Only a sole braid on the right side looks like an attempt to tame the seemingly unkempt hair. For all its messiness, Phainon likens it to a glorious lion’s mane rather than thinking his date forgot about the hairbrush.

He wore a beige peacoat with a white undershirt, which makes sense because the gusts and approaching autumn have claimed the weather for today. Phainon is much less formal; Cyrene told him to amplify his boyish charm. That meant she dressed him up in an unbuttoned light-blue button-up and a black tee with a sun graphic and the logo of Phainon’s favorite local apparel brand. He wears baggy jeans and a dark blue scarf alongside a matching velvet fisherman’s cap. He hopes Mydei what his budget could afford, compared to his amazing looks in such sophisticated garments.

“I didn’t know if you’d eaten breakfast before this or if you even like sweets, but I bought one for you too!” 

He exclaims, trying his best to keep his usual can-do attitude. Though that same astral plane of himself calls again, the phantom feeling that he should have more bite in his word or a lilt of amusement in his tone. Mydei stares a little too long too, for the whipped cream in his waffle threatens to fly off with the increasingly excited breeze. An agape mouth and distraught eyes searching for something, like Phainon should be more than just someone he has a date with by chance. As if he is looking for the mannerisms of a ghost in a stranger.

Branches sway as wind roars, the whipped cream dos fly off and break them out of their respective trances. Mydei perks up, taking the waffle with one hand and grabbing Phainon’s outstretched fist with the other.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think the breeze would be so strong,” He leads Phainon on a dirt path, one that blue eyes are familiar with. He would drag Cyrene often to just lounge by the lake on the sound of Aedes Elysiae, parts of which are located in the park. He picks up the pace and matches Mydei's stride, the commonality of one thing eases his heart just enough to do so. 

“Thank you for the food. I didn’t get to eat after finishing my morning jog and going here to meet you,” Mydei adds before taking a bite of pastry with whatever filling isn’t swept up by the Sky Titan. “I like sweets, by the way. So, you did perfectly.”

Phainon chuckles softly, beaming a soft smile to his date. It is only the beginning, yet he already feels more comfortable than he ever could’ve expected. No nagging paranoia of potential mistakes or terrible what-ifs; he can just enjoy himself.

“That’s great to hear,” His voice is so saccharine it can rot teeth. He questions if his infatuation is moving a bit too fast over holding hands strolling through a scenery of trimmed shrubs, lush grass, and tenderly-grown great trunks and their canopies shedding more and more each day. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I prepared a picnic for us when we reach Elysian Lake. Do you think you can stave off hunger for a bit more with just sugar and carbs?” 

Phainon stares at the crumpled plastic wrapped around his free hand. He’s used to having such little portions from time-to-time due to financial pains. “A 30-minute walk is no problem! I love going to the lake on my own too!”

His boast is met with a sigh and a squeeze of their intertwined palms. Feeling a lot more tuned with himself, the sillier of the two makes an effort to make arms swing like pendulums with each step. A raise of an eyebrow is answered by a short giggle and nothing more.

In all honesty, this isn’t as bad as Phainon thought it would go. In fact, he’s doing really well, he thinks! Giving away just a little bit of his mischief to incite some curiosity but keeping his cards close.

“Careful, your arm may cramp,” Mydei comments. He casualty stops the swinging and Phainon’s fun alongside it.

“I flail my arms plenty. What makes you think that?”

“Sideline as a fitness coach, your arm is twisted too much.”

“Well a little bit wouldn’t hurt, right?” 

“We just met,” Mydei thinks about his next few lines before delivering it with all the grace of newborn fawn. “I don’t think you’d want people to think this isn’t our first date.”

“Huh? Isn’t the hand-holding enough to make them think that though? Unless you’re looking for an excuse to let go…” Those cold fingers try to slip out from other’s warm one, but Mydei’s grip is renewed with fiery fervor.

“I don’t mind! It’s just… uh, I want you to be relaxed around me,” He’d be brushing his hair sheepishly right about now if his other hand isn’t carrying a picnic basket.

“I already am!” Phainon exclaims, which made Mydei look away in shame. A part of the taller man realized Mydei is just as nervous as he is if he’s acting like this. That is… strangely sweet, he finds. “I swear to the Deliverer you suck at this! Where was that cool smooth guy that took my order yesterday?”

“Shut up,” Mydei grumbles, before quickly course correcting. Phainon stares at him as Mydei tries to keep minimal eye contact. “I mean… You can talk, but about something else. Like I want to get to know you, you know?”

Phainon tilts his head like a confused puppy. Amidst his sporadic blinking, he can see that Mydei’s ears are glowing a bright red as he stared at his dumbfounded face. He couldn’t help the big grin and joy pouring out of him upon the discovery.

“Well then, if you’re fine destroying my mysterious cool dude persona, what would you like to know about me?”

Mydei lets a hint of his own amusement show in a breath a mix between a laugh and a sigh. “You were a pathetic mess when I first saw you, a bit too late to appear cool. Cute is a better word, I'm sure,” He bites back. For the first time today, a big and soft smile is gotten out of him, “Though, I’d like to know more about your life here at the city. I presumed you weren’t city folk based on your conversation with kick-my-balls girl.”

Phainon lets out his heartiest laugh. “Well, that girl happens to be my best friend and roommate, but an accurate assessment of her character honestly.”

“She literally threatened me with that.”

Small talk persists throughout the rest of the walk, undisturbed even by the growling of Phainon’s stomach which becomes their next talking point right after. Despite the easiness of their conversation, he notices Mydei staring at him weirdly. It’s polite to maintain eye contact but there was a longing in those deep amber orbs. Paying attention to him, yet unknowingly looking for more within his own orbs of blues. Looking for a dynamic seemingly lost from the time of Titans and demigods

He thinks he’s overthinking things again

-

It’s back at the countryside where Phainon stands up from a horrible sitting position. He massages his back, but finds no soreness. He’s familiar with the sights greeting him. Wagons and carts getting hauled by dromas and farmers, the dingy and whizzing sound of construction nearby, and the lush rice fields reaching beyond the horizon located past the main town.

It’s similar to where he and Cyrene used to live, though somehow still more primitive. Beyond telestates, there were no concrete roads nor cars around. His head turns towards the construction site, which leads to the sight of no scaffolding or power tools, only wooden beams, workers with only slight protective gear, hammer, nails, and some cement. They seem to be building something big, based on the large reach of those support beams.

Befuddled and a bit fearful, he checks the rest of his surroundings. A distant mirror by a saloon he has never heard of reflects his face back to him, a perfect resemblance except for the clothes of old Amphorean descent. The white toga that barely reached below his upper thighs, the snug fit of the top, and notably the large cleave in between sheets of fabric which leaves no room to the imagination as he ogles the entirety of his torso aside from his nipples. He feels indecent, especially with short boxers as his only undergarments. 

Red face and still unsure of everything, he gets assaulted by arms around his waist. He gasps as those arms, strong and burly, wrap tightly enough to possibly crush his stomach. He panics, body flinching at the touch.

He turns around to see the sight of a man that cannot fully be visualized by his eyes. An older man, around 60-ish he thinks, with strawberry blond interspersed with white strands of hair. A healthy old man, whose body is still fit and bulky despite his age. He could only tell because of the seasoned wrinkles on his face. A short scruffy beard around his chin, and amber eyes so full of shock and relief.

He looks a lot like Mydei, he thinks. The arms tattooed with red markings affirm his assessment. He wears a robe similar to his, though instead only one side of his chest is shown. He turns around the confused Phainon, whose age should be around 20, and promptly kisses him deeply.

The shock is evident from the young adult, especially with the tickle of short hairs along the planes of his jawline and the tongue that begs to be let into his mouth. Some of the people around stare at them with shock, and Phainon has to take the initiative and push the old man away.

Deliverer… You’ve come back.. My love…

He sees the man’s mouth moving though the only thing he hears is discombobulated from anything around him, like his ears are selectively deaf to anything besides a phantom’s whispers. The man continues to speak and he cannot even mouth out what he’s saying.

All he knows is that he sees a man going crazy. He tries to get out of the grip, but he couldn’t fight the vice grip superhuman for a man that age.

You’ve returned so soon…

He feels the tickle of that beard by his neck, and he is paralyzed. He feels entirely useless, like this body is not at all his to control. The man kisses him again, more gently this time. He cannot understand, he doesn’t know who this is, who he is, where he is, he doesn’t understand.

As if gaining super strength, these arms get the power to push that man off. Mydei’s older lookalike stars at him stunned, as if he thought he would’ve never done that of his own volition. The people around him, who he finally realized looked at them with happy and relieved smiles of their own, gawk in shock at the turning of events.

He does not know why such harassment was encouraged. Did the people think he truly belonged with this man around triple his age? Is he somehow arranged or fated to love this man somehow? He has no idea, but those heartbroken ambers leave him with a guilt that seemingly answers for him.

The Deliverer… Does he not recognize the prince?

The murmurs aren’t just one voice, but a cacophony that informs him this is the gossip of the townspeople. He sees the simple cottage houses and calming life, and that’s when he sees a poster on the community bulletin board that looks well-cared for. ‘Welcome to Aedes Elysiae!’, it says and he looks around in shock. 

Is he dreaming? Perhaps his mind is supplying him with the humble beginnings of the metropolitan city. 

The construction and the moving carriages of people start to make sense, but not the old man. He still looks at him with begging eyes, trembling arms waiting for Phainon to walk into again. He hesitates, the will to conform strong yet defiance is the instinct of his blood.

He turns away with arms wrapped around himself in self-defence. That crumbles the man’s spirit as he falls onto his knees. He wants to comfort him and take away those tears nearly spilling onto the dirt, but his body flees farther away as Mydei’s look-alike stares helplessly like a rejected fool.

His arms wrap around that of another man, closer to his age, yet nothing of him matters besides the fact he kisses Phainon and he kisses back unconsciously. This is his lover, he thinks. The man looks at them pained and the rest of the townsfolk look at him with pity.

He doesn’t know why, but his soul aches with yearning. Yet, the mind and heart of this man he’s possessing belongs to another.

I promise… In every life… I’ll love you… I’ll wait for the one where you’ll love me too…

-

“Up so soon, sleepyhead?”

He wakes with a slight ache on his temples and vision reflecting the light off an ethereal beauty staring at him with a small smile. His body is heavy still, and the plush pant-covered thigh is warm on his head compared to the chill everywhere else.

He has the urge to sleep again, but the headache beats his heavy eyelids for dominance. Those pretty brows burrow as he has still not said a word.

“You okay?”

“Headache,” His date is on the job. He has conveniently brought a painkiller which he holds alongside a bottle of water. Phainon yawns then sits up whilst asking, “I feel asleep?”

“Yeah, here you go.”

He thanks his date before ingesting the medicine. His groggy mind can’t comprehend panicking over the hot man at the moment. 

“Oh Titans, I’m sorry! Must’ve been how late I fell asleep by being excited. I hope I wasn’t out too long, Mydei!”

“It’s fine, I read a book while you were sleeping. It was only 30 minutes,” And Mydei is afraid to admit a good chunk of that time had his eyes staring at a soft dreamy face instead of words on a page. “I’m happy you were thinking about me, though.”

Phainon turns red but brushes it off otherwise, “How about we actually start that picnic?”

A curt nod is followed by the setting of multiple food items prepared by Mydei. Frankly, Phainon didn’t even notice he was holding a picnic basket until they reach the lake. They proceeded to lay the blanket and dilly-dally since he somehow fell asleep on an empty stomach. They picked a beautiful spot by a very small hilltop, high enough they can overlook the floras all over the stunning waters that sparkle. Phainon can even see fish swimming near the clear surface, which he excitedly points out to a happy Mydei.

“Oh my, you really want to impress me! These all look so good!” He compliments, staring in delight at the sandwiches, seasoned rice, salad, and curry now on their striped area.

“These are leftovers,” Mydei states matter-of-fact.

“Eh? If I were you I would’ve kept my mouth shut to let my date feel more special,” He jests, though the admission did slightly sting.

“On the contrary, I had to re-cook all these to ensure they’ll all be delicious when they reach your mouth!”

“I’ll be the judge of that! Of course, you’ll have to eat too,” Phainon gets a spoon and scoops some rice with curry before gesturing it towards Mydei. His smirk doesn’t go away because his teasing clearly affects the chef.

“Idiot, feed yourself first,” He tells him with a huff.

“It’s your cooking, and so I have to feed you to return the favor!”

Needless to say, he almost got punched in the head that day. Otherwise, he’d say Mydei prepared the perfect date. He thinks Mydei enjoyed it too, considering he had a pretty smile as Phainon thanked him for the date before they parted.

The dream did linger in his thoughts, but he didn’t let it ruin his perfectly good date.

-

“So you’re telling me it’s been two days and already you asked him out for two more dates on Elysian week,” Cyrene stares at him in disbelief.

“Hey, he said he was free! And he agreed so what’s the big deal?”

“Nah, I’m just trying to figure out who is more down bad between the two of you.”

“Probably me,” Phainon shamelessly points at himself.

“You got some big competition on that, Snowy!” The childhood nickname only makes a comeback when Cyrene wants to relentlessly bother him about something, and he leaves the apartment before he has to deal with any more of her bullshit.

The dreams has been recurring since then, so he isn’t sure how he’d approach Mydei with it. Varying versions of the chef is a constant character, and he needs Mydei’s opinion on that. Of course, it’s also an excuse to spend more time with the chef during Elysian Week!

Luckily, he gave two days off for his employees. That includes himself. So naturally, Phainon asks if Mydei wanted to accompany him grocery shopping during their night texts. Thankfully, the man indulges him.

Now, during his short commute to his go-to grocery store, he thinks of a way to bring such a weird topic up without putting Mydei in a hot seat.

He arrives there still with no idea how he’s gonna do this. It’s about a five minute wait before Mydei arrives too.

“By the way, Cyrene is going to be at our apartment the whole day, so we can do something else first if you wanna hang out,” It’s not that he doesn’t want Cyrene and Mydei to meet again, but more like he does not want Mydei to see how absolute slobs they both can be too early into their potential relationship.

“No need, we can go to my place first then I can drive you back with your groceries,” Mydei tells him nonchalantly, a foot already by the automatic glass doors.

Phainon perks up, “You have a car? Why did you commute then?” Mydei told him through text he doesn’t mind the 45-minute commute. Phainon felt bad because it was one 5-minute ride for him to get here, but Mydei insisted he doesn’t go far. 

“I like commuting, and traffic means driving can take longer,” Comes the usual short quips out of the handsome blonde.

“Well then, I have a list here! And you can potentially teach me something to cook while were there?” 

For being only their second date, Phainon feels very committed to this man already. Committed for more than one lifetime, he cheesily thinks. He just wants to spend more time with him, and his presence leads to the dream becoming a backburner until they finish the trip.

It should be your usual trip with two adults grocery shopping, calm and mostly bonding through constant presence and the occasional funny conversation about some funny product. However, Mydei is surprisingly the one to cause ruckus. He proposed they split the list, and whoever finishes shopping first will have to make the loser carry all the grocery bags back to his house. If he were any normal person, he wouldn’t agree.

But he’s Phainon, and Phainon is a child at heart. He finds it reassuring that someone like Mydei matches that energy. He noticed Mydei was nervous suggesting it, as if testing the waters of what Phainon would find endearing.

They both take separate shopping carts, with Mydei’s list predominantly hygiene (which embarrassingly includes Cyrene’s feminine products, though Phainon is relieved he didn’t have to explain those to the chef) and Phainon’s foods with long shelf lives (and some added meat. vegetables, and tomato paste for whatever Mydei plans to cook).

It is unexpectedly exhilarating, especially the moments they meet eyes and can see how complete each other’s cart are. He had an advantage of knowing where most products already are, and he takes advantage of it by taunting Mydei every time they meet.

It feels comforting and familiar weirdly, as if silly competitions are a staple in their partnership. It’s certainly fun seeing Mydei riled up at least, especially at the produce section when Phainon is already placing his priced bell peppers, garlics, onions, carrots, and potatoes onto his cart.

In the end, he clearly won with a complete list. 

By the time Mydei approaches him with a cardboard box of his share, Phainon cockily hands over his own. 

“Next time, don’t challenge someone on their home turf!” He flaunts his completely free hands.

“Well next time, let’s see how you’ll fare in our next competition!”

Phainon relishes in the simplicity of it, he agrees that he will wait for Mydei’s next acclaimed contest. He jokes he can even beat him at cooking, and he laughs at his own audacity. The warmth in his chest swells, a domesticity lulling him to security as they sit side-by-side on a bus going towards Mydei’s house. The chef even lets Phainon rest on his shoulder despite him being taller, though the difference is so small it doesn’t force Phainon to angle his neck awkwardly. He does notice Mydei’s subconscious staring at his choker and neck tattoo. Maybe he thinks it’s hot? Phainon hopes so.

The boxes are then placed next by his garage door, so they could quickly put the groceries there later. The wrap is cut so they can get the produce and start dinner. Mydei told him he could watch first to get the basics, but Phainon insists he can at least help with the preparation. 

That’s how Phainon finds himself sitting on a stool with a knife in hand peeling and slicing potatoes into cubes. He slides his finished work off the cutting board into bowls that separate each veggie.

He had already asked what they were making, and Mydei told him it’s a braised beef in tomato sauce stew. Phainon isn’t familiar, but the aroma of garlic and onion already has his nose declaring his hunger.

Mydei is nice enough to give the instructions every so often, and Phainon is a fast learner. He insists on this dish because he sees it as a simple one his date could learn pretty easily. And for all it’s worth, it is mostly timing the pour of ingredients into a pot he notices.

Mydei asks him to take over halfway. Startled yet willing to try, he takes his spot next to the stove and cooking pot. He lets the beef cook and the tomato soup simmer before adding any of the other veggies. Mydei just observes him do all of it with a soft stare. As steam rises, it makes Phainon tie his hair which Mydei helps him with. Mydei’s finger linger a bit longer on the soft strands, and the storyteller thinks he smelled his shampoo. 

After a bit more time and the stew is less pasty, he tries tasting it. He doesn’t have a point of reference for its taste, so he asks Mydei to do it as well. Mydei compliments it, which gets a big grin out of him. 

“Maybe a bit too much fish sauce, but it is a great start,” Are Mydei’s final comments.

And so, as they plate off the stew along with some warm rice, Phainon plays with the spoon anxiously. It was a busy day, and somehow despite all that domestic fun, he didn’t find out how he could word out his dream.

“Phainon, you look out of it. Are you okay?” The man next to him asks. Seems his fidgeting got obvious. He places the spoon next to the plate and stares into the furniture as a warm-up.

He had expected somewhat of a statement house when Mydei described his home. He lives alone in a two-floor house, with a living room, kitchen, three bedroom, and backyard that you’d expect from a typical upper-middle class Elysian family. Phainon knows it makes sense since the chef has told him of his wealthy yet distant father. Even if it wasn’t for his nepotism, Mydei also owns a business and has a sideline, it makes sense for a single man with all that to have such a house.

It’s pretty enough, he thinks. The open rooms for the living room and dining area are a bit barren of items that aren’t the template decorations of most houses real estate agents will sell you. There’s some, of course, rock posters by the television screen, some chimera and dromas figurines on a few of the counters. And most notably, he notices a vase full of fresh blue poppies that Mydei most likely replaces every month or so.

The kitchen is such more lived in to look at, but that’s par for the course from a chef. If Phainon had to use only one word to describe the house… He’d choose lonely. Picture frames had stock photos instead of photos with friends or family, and Mydei hasn’t told him any detail of his social life besides his interest in him.

He doesn’t know how such sad thoughts about his potential partner gets the question out of his mouth, but it did.

“Do you think we’ve met before?”

“Huh?”

“Like, not literally because I’m sure I’d remember such a fine face like yours,” Phainon’s getting off track. “But like… I’ve been getting weird dreams and it’s like- they’re us but in old lives? I always meet these guys and they all look like you.”

A phantom dormant in Mydei’s subconscious hides itself. The man in the present shakes head, “I'd like to think we did, but I haven’t gotten dreams like that at all.”

Mydei watches him take out a diary book from his bag while he takes a bite of beef. The man hands it to him while his teeth are still tenderizing the well-cooked and seasoned beef (He had to internally praise his date for a very successful first cooking lesson.)

“I’ve written down what I can remember,” He flips through pages he’d rather not Mydei read to the ones about the dreams, He points out the thing that keeps his toes tipping, “A voice always calls me ‘my love’, and I’ve been speculating it could be you from a past life.”

“That’s ridiculous, Phainon.”

“But you called me that too back at your shop! It surely isn’t a coincidence! Maybe your previous incarnations have engrained it to you to somehow call me that,” He exclaims. Then his belly grumbles, finally making him eat his meal. Good timing too becausee looks about ready to scold him about it. He takes in the flavor of the dish he helped make. It is tangy, warm, filling, and very tasty. He hums gallantly while being thoroughly impressed with himself. 

Besides all his dream speculating, he looks forward to whatever is up next that he can cook with the other.

Mydei scoffs, though he indeed cannot deny that he called his date that. Phainon enjoys the searing red of his ears and tucks away a few strands of hair behind it. Mydei doesn’t react, but his lips let a smile show through,  “Idiot, I called you that to fluster you. I swear this could all be some elaborate plan you’ve made just to make our dating more romantic.”

Honestly, Phainon can see himself doing that. 

“Wait! But one last thing… I’ve heard the Deliverer and the Prince being talked about in my dreams too. They may be important- You know about the story right?” He points to a crude doodle he made of the two men as stick figures. On his defense, he drew that while sleep-deprived from movie binging with Cyrene.

“Who doesn’t? But what does that have to do with me being in your dreams?”

“Maybe we’re connected to them, somehow? I’m not sure how though. Would you have any leads?” Phainon gets lost in thought, taking this way too seriously in Mydei’s opinion.

“Firstly,” The chef, already halfway through his meal, stops to look at the focused white-haired man. “Why exactly are you so gungho about figuring this out?”

“Because the dreams feel too real! And they’ve also been giving me slight insomnia, ” The dreams aren’t nightmares, but they are unsettling enough to take the pleasure out of sleeping. Not to mention, they’ve been keeping Phainon deep in thought for the past few days without any assistance. Cyrene knows about it but she can’t really do much to help but give him ineffective sleeping pills. “I just think it’s all trying to tell me something about us? Don’t you wanna find out too?” 

A part of his soul feels that fate is trying to tell them something. He’s been getting out-of-body experiences often in those dreams, and yet they always felt like they were himself but slightly so different. That sense of himself from another time calls him to solve this mystery, and his heart told him he could trust Mydei with this.

Said man stares at him for a few more seconds, his own eyes surveying the entirety of his form. It sounds foolish to the rational part of his brain, and yet he finds himself enamored with Phainon’s fixation. If it truly involves them always being fated, then Mydei finds comfort with the way he had never felt this content with any other partner. So he finally tells him, “Fine, you’re lucky I’m trying to date you,”

“Aww, if that keeps up I’m going to start assuming you already love me!”

“Don’t push it,” Mydei cannot deny he’s already starting to feel that way. How this fool blundered his way into his heart in a mere two dates stumps him. “Anyways, I have a friend who just so happens to be making a BL comic and her leads are going to be based on that fairy tale. If anyone extensively researched the story, it would be her.”

Phainon perks up, “That is such convenient timing, no?”

“She’ll be attending a con to sell copies, we can meet her there.”

“Seems like the next date is already planned!”

“I swear to the Titans, you better be telling the truth!”

A shared laugh between them later, and they continue eating in leisure. Though, the storyteller knew it wasn’t so cut-and-dry, unfortunately. Phainon omitted the part where they never end up together in those dreams.

-

Phainon is thankful for the air conditioner, and Mydei just laughs at his overheating state. After Mydei told him it was a superhero and anime convention, he had urged the man to help him out with a cosplay. 

Mydei raised a brow while he was driving back to Phainon’s place, “How the fuck are we supposed to do that when it starts in two days?” Phainon didn’t comment on the fact Mydei didn’t deny him of his stupid idea.

“Well rich kid, there’s a thing called a flea market! We’ll be taking a trip there tomorrow!”

So three dates in a week became four, and to Phainon’s credit, Mydei enjoyed looking for his own set of clothes. He thinks he even saw the man smile multiple times when Phainon comes out with ridiculous costumes, most of which barely fits his large build.

Like a gentleman, Mydei offered to pay. In fact, besides commuting, Phainon hasn’t payed a single time even if he tried to (He lowkey feels bad mooching off his date; Mydei just wanted to treat him anyways).

Back to the present, he had already worn the cosplay before they went to the mall where the con is hosted. It was a long commute, but luckily Mydei just offered to pick him up instead. The air conditioning helped with the three layers he had to wear for this outfit. 

They got a bad parking spot however, and Phainon had to face the searing su for a five minute walk before they got inside.

“I love the Galactic Baseballer, but they wear too much!” He exclaims to a still chuckling Mydei. His black undershirt is soaked with sweat now cooling into a disgusting sticky feeling on his skin. His sweat risks staining the front of the loose white muscle shirt too. They were lucky enough to score both at the flea market in such short notice, and Phainon already had the coat from some merch he had bought months ago. He lacks a baseball bat, so instead he brought Cyrene’s raccoon plushie (She won’t notice it being missing for a few hours hopefully).

“What a baby, if you’re gonna complain about heat all the time, don’t cosplay,” Mydei teases, though he also hands the gasping man a bottle of water. “Just stay hydrated, can’t do much about the sweat already there though.”

Phainon chugs all of the water. He is also tempted to pour some of it on his face, but this is an inside venue so he can’t. Instead, he wipes his forehead with a handkerchief Mydei hands him, hidden under a badly-cut gray wig he haphazardly prepared after they bought it. Frankly, Mydei thinks it’s a good cosplay aside from the botched hair.

“Oh come on, De! Just because we're here to ask your friend doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves! Come on, what’s your favorite show? I’ll buy you a souvenir later.”

“I can buy it on my-”

“Shush! You’ve been very generous with me this entire week, let me get at least one gift for you to show it’s reciprocated! Okay?”

“Idiot…”

And thus starts the shopping spree. Contrary to what Mydei expected, Phainon is as much of a shopping freak as his best friend. He’s a little bit more financially responsible, but there’s a reason they struggle to make ends meet at times despite Phainon’s good salary.

Before the con starts in about an hour, the chef lets himself get dragged into several crafts and furniture shop. Phainon has a knack for random knick-knacks and interior decorating, he discovers. His choices are very avant-garde however, and Mydei has to judge him for wanting to buy a medium-sized wooden chicken statue with an engraving on its bottom that says in big bold letters ‘BREAKFAST’ for his apartment’s kitchen.

“Why would your kitchen need that?”

“It adds personality! Cyrene and I grew up in a chicken farm after all!” Phainon is so earnest with it Mydei just lets him buy it. The shop owner even let him get a discount after he told her about his childhood.

“So you manage your lifestyle by charming hapless sellers to make you pay less,” Mydei says once they got out of the novelty shop, along with the chicken statue in a plastic bag. “I expected my date to be more noble than that,” His tone is more teasing bark than bite.

“I didn’t ask for a discount in your or that store~” Phainon says singsong. “And hey, at least the old lady was just being nice! You did it so that I owe you a date, loser!” He teases and at a distance pretends to nuzzle his nose neck to Mydei’s cheek. 

Mydei is flustered, though he finds the cosplay makes him less embarrassed. He can pretend it’s not Phainon, after all. “Where was that cute doofus back then? Why did you become a bastard gremlin?”

Phainon giggles, a slight blush on him, “Still very much cute and having a date with you! Though… I like being called cute by you, so maybe I should be all shy again.”

Mydei sighs, exasperated. As they walk ever nearer to the start of the convention, he fixes the wig so it’s a bit more flattering despite the wonky length. He fondly says, “No need, I like this annoying you too. He’s cute too, I guess.”

That shuts Phainon up very effectively. If they had a competition on who can make the other blush more, this would be the moment Mydei took the upper hand and he loses. He hugs the plastic bag and raccoon plush close to his chest as they enter the entrance of the humble venue full of stalls and merch. They start holding hands by the time they got into the large crowd of entering people.

There is a stage setup at the center, and Phainon lights up at the upcoming performances. He had looked up the convention on his teleslate yesterday and was shocked to see one of his favorite local indie bands playing. The main singer is his favorite member, Tribbios, who often loves talking about her three younger sisters in interviews. Cyrene was the one who introduced him to the group and their songs, and he had been just as hooked ever since.

Mydei fondly stares at his aura, shining brightly much like a dog looking forward to a walk. Phainon had gushed to him about this a lot yesterday, and he loves seeing such unfiltered glee on that pale face.

“They’re the last set, right?” Mydei nods at his question. “Perfect! We can talk with your friend first before watching the show!”

Mydei, used to it at this point, gets drag onto the stall where a familiar set of purple hair resides. She’s been his friend since first year of university, and he has dropped out to pursue his business while she continues her degree in medicine. She does merch selling on cons like this as a hobby, she had told him when they hung out.

“Castorice, it’s been a while,” They haven’t seen each other for about 2 months. Cas turns around from sorting the hanging keychains in pleasant surprise.

“Mydeimos! It indeed has been,” The woman quickly sidesteps her booth to give a brief hug to her friend. Phainon observes quietly by the side, which Cas notices. 

“Who’s this? Is he with you, Mydei?” She asks.

“Yes, he’s my date,” The matter in which he casually says that makes Phainon look away with a blush. “We were supposed to just go here, but he wanted to cosplay. What do you think?”

Why is Mydei showing him off like this to his friend? Phainon is beyond embarrassed. He regrets even bringing this plush, it makes him look so childish!

“Galactic Baseballer! I love that series too, you even bought the official coat, sir-”

“I’m Phainon, no need for formalities, Castorice.”

“Alright then, I just… Can I take a picture with your cosplay. With that raccoon plush too!” She’s eager. Despite her calm demeanor, Phainon could tell she is internally fangirling. 

“Go ahead! I’m glad someone appreciates the costume,” He teases Mydei, who Castorice has asked to take a photo of them.

“I said the hair looked bad, the outfit itself is fine, idiot,” Despite the harsh words, Mydei takes much care to make the photos look good. The occasional instruction guarantees the quality of his shots. Castorice looks beautiful with her excited smile, and his Phainon looks great smiling beside her. They both look adorable hugging the raccoon plushie together, though he still has no idea where Phainon got it from

After the short photo session, Phainon exclaims. “It’s perfectly intentional, y’know! The Galactic Baseballer hair is always a mess, have you seen all the memes where people throw random hairstyles at them?” Mydei deadpans at Phainon’s insistence.

Castorice laughs, much to Phainon’s relief, “I’ve seen those, Phainon! I can totally tell where you got your reference!”

“See!”

“I still do agree it looks somewhat hideous, but accurate!”

Mydei smirks as Phainon sulks. The chef wins this argument and he makes sure to milk it in front of the other.

“Should’ve just gone with their normal hair, you cocky ass.”

“Shut up!” Phainon pouts and Mydei relishes in it. “Anyways, Castorice, we actually have a request for you.”

“Oh, sure! What is it?” Castorice is eager to help for she senses some urgency from her two companions.

“Your boy's love manga is based off of the Deliverer and the Crowned Prince, right?” Mydei wants to re-affirm what she told him a few months ago. A lot can change during production, after all.

“Yeah! Here’s a copy for free if you guys want one,” Castorice eagerly goes back to her table to fish out a copy of her manga. It’s displayed on a shelf alongside a large poster showing off her impressive art.

“I'll buy one, Cas! But we’re actually here for a different reason,” Phainon didn’t want to get  a copy from her for free. She’s just a person rather than a corporation, after all! And he did sort of actually want to read it too.

“Oh?” She tilts her head and grabs her chin. The copy is still being offered to Phainon though, who happily takes it whilst fishing out exact change.

Mydei points at his date who’s already skimming through the pages just for the art first. It isn’t an r-18 rated work so he feels fully comfortable looking through the drawings of attractive men. Mydei explains,  “This idiot has been having dreams about that fairy tale. Since you’ve written this all on your own, we wanted to ask you first if you know more about it besides the bedtime story.”

“Oh, well I did find a lot of versions of the story, maybe one of them could be helpful?”

“Well, my dreams always have some voices saying the Deliverer doesn’t recognize the prince or something along those lines,” Phainon hopes the extra information could help parse out exact details from their lead. He focuses on the mission now, hands free of Castorice’s comic. He’s satisfied putting his paid manga with his chicken statue, so he can read and decorate back home!

“Oh! That sounds like the folk tale version from Aidonia!” 

“Aidonia? You mean the Northern Kingdom?” Mydei knew of Aidonia from old history. The northern settlements have long abandoned that name for multiple territories and have since agreed to join under a uniting nation. What was once Aidonia and its sister tribes is now all under the banner of the Northern Kingdom. 

Castorice happened to be a foreigner that hails from there that went abroad for her education.“Yeah! It’s an old manuscript I somehow got my hands on when I was visiting my mother on my sembreak and asking her about the story. She said that the common version is very sanitized compared to the folk version,” She explains, fishing out the very damaged and vintage book she had bought back at her city. “Here! The National Museum made a big deal about selling copies of the original copies of the story about a year ago, it’s a popular version there even though it’s way darker.”

“Really?” Phainon borrows the book from Castorice to start sifting through the text. It’s a faithful copy of the manuscript, which meant despite being printed on new paper it had photocopied all the creases and browning of the original. Unlike many of the commercial story books, it’s just 13 pages telling the fairy tale. The versions Phainon are familiar with back at work are padded with illustrations, but they only reach about 3 pages in actual text length.

Mydei scoots to be just beside him with eyes just as focused on the text in front of them.

Castorice is kind enough to narrate a summary while they read,“It is said that the story came from the Prince himself told to the Death Sorceress. The Death Sorceress' compassion for painting and storytelling are what lived on to become the tale.” 

“Really? What happened to the Prince then?” Phainon’s head gets a soft slap from Mydei, who finds the questions unnecessary when they’re already reading.

“Legend goes he died after rebuilding both Castrum Kremnos and the Village of Aedes Elysiae as you know,” Castorice continues, much more accepting of the questions. She spoils the end abruptly, even though the two men were only one page into the story, “But besides honor and waiting for the Deliverer’s return, the story ends with the old Crowned Prince heart broken.”

“Huh? Did he love someone else?” Phainon is shocked, intensely curious to just skip to the end and see the twist. Mydei’s adorably focused expression makes him unable to flip to the last piece of paper. He will not deprive himself of such a cute face that he could stare at after he finished reading a page way faster.

“No, and I was so shocked reading that too. The Deliverer’s next life came soon after his sacrifice. It was so soon that all the Heirs were still alive when he was newly born from a family of Old Okhema.”

Phainon points towards the paragraph he just read, which mentioned the Heirs in contrast to the baby Deliverer, “So he was like a baby when the newly mortal Chrysos Heirs naturally aged to 40-ish!” He tells this story to children often enough that he grew curious of the Heirs’ mortal lives during Era Nova. The story is starting to grip him when it tells of the baby boy having superhuman traits, who has brown hair and hazel eyes. Those aren’t the features of the Deliverer told to everyone. 

“Well, the Maidens of Janusopolis were technically 20, but yes.”

“So, the Prince rebuilt Aedes Elysiae only for the Deliverer to not be of its descent?” Mydei frowns, finding his sympathy towards the Prince, who has been played with by Mnestia, growing. How cruel is it to make his fated love be born somewhere else? 

“Yes, and the Deliverer unbeknownst to all lived a simple life as a common citizen. His hair only grew white when he turned the age of 20 and his eyes of striking blue only became so when he left Okhema to become a travelling merchant,” Phainon has started reading that part on page 5, while Mydei is still stuck on the middle of the fourth page. Even the chef has to admit, he’s getting invested with this story.

“The Prince was busy rebuilding his beloved's home village the entire time the Deliverer was travelling,” Castorice continues to narrate. Mydei has seemingly tune her out to read it on his own, while Phainon manages to juggle her words alongside the manuscript’s.  

“While the Prince was gone, the merchant went to Castrum Kremnos to sell some antique vases and jewelry. A lot of people would stare at the youthful handsome man, thinking the Prince’s Deliverer had returned. However, one day while he was selling his wares, another man swooped up and began claiming his heart while the Prince was away.”

That gets Mydei riled up, going from barely paying attention to devastated in mere seconds. A part of his soul is lashed and bleeding upon that revelation. “What? Why didn’t his people tell him?” His voice is slightly raised, though Castorice is unfazed. Phainon, however, is a bit surprised to see the usually composed man get so temperamental.

“The man’s courtship is stealthy, avoiding the sharp eyes of past Kremnoan warriors. The citizens would ask the Deliverer, and he always said he looked forward to meeting the Crowned-Prince-turned-King despite not knowing him. It was common hearsay at the time that Kremnoans would go along with it and when the Prince returned, he would make the Deliverer fall in love again by showing off the archives of Aedes Elysiae, which would now be Castrum Kremnos’ royal library.”

“That promise to meet at the royal library, huh?” Mydei comments. That promise has osmosized so heavily in Amphoreus’ pop culture that it is a fixture for a variant of those words to be in every romance novel or show that is published. Phainon can attest to that, having read or watched a lot from said genre because of Cyrene.

However, his stomach twists as he recalls the events from his dreams. They never end up together before he wakes up. He doesn’t think he’ll like the ending so much anymore. “I… Think I know where this is going…” 

“So the lovers tire of the rumors around the merchant belonging to the Prince. At the dead of night, they fled without anyone from the kingdom ever knowing about their relationship,” Castorice flips through her manga, showing them both a page of a man, who is a similarly large figure like the Deliverer, that has very short black hair and purple eyes. The visual assists in  painting a picture of the Deliverer being with someone else, even if it feels wrong. “They travelled a lot throughout Amphoreus, before they finally stumbled upon an Aedes Elysiae still being built. Briefly separated, the merchant wanders the town under construction when the older Prince sees him. He approached him, kissed him, and did all the things you’d think reunited lovers would do.”

“There’s a but, isn’t it?” Phainon jokes, noticing he’s at that point of the story on page 9.

“Yup! But when the Prince invites the rebirthed Deliverer to share bed and love once more, the merchant flees from his hold and looks at him scared. The Prince and even the people were confused, and the dejected and hurt Prince almost forced the merchant back to his bed quarters so he could remind them of their love.”

“Ok, I can see why this isn’t told to children,” Mydei develops mixed feelings of pity and scorn for the Prince after that truth bomb. Phainon’s mouth is wide open at the reveal, clearly disturbed. The chef couldn’t help but feel some of his newly-grown hate for the Prince needs to be directed at himself.

“He only stopped when the merchant’s current lover saved him and kissed him in front of all the townsfolk. The couple quickly left and was never seen again, and the Prince had been heartbroken and disgusted with himself ever since,” Castorice, who is used to reading such sad stories, still feels her heart ache when she recalls the fairy tale’s truth. “He told of his shame to the Death Sorceress, who he confided to with heavy tears. Once Aedes Elysiae and Castrum Kremnos were returned to their former glory, he killed himself along with his resentment, guilt, and love of the Deliverer.”

“So the promise was never true?” Mydei asks, unsure if he is referring to the man in the story or to himself somehow. 

“It seems like it. The Deliverer’s reincarnation would’ve never known about the promise,” Castorice responds.

“That’s… Very depressing,” Is all Phainon could say because honestly… He could not process having a story he knew like the back of his hand get so uprooted and tainted just like that. He attempts to joke, though his voice sounds more concerned when he tells Castorice, “Are you sure about using that to make your comic?”

“Don’t worry! It's a slow burn, a bit toxic, but also a happy ending!”

Both men are a bit unsettled at the toxic part. Mydei manages to voice out, “I do hope everything is consensual in it, Miss Castorice.”

“For the most part!” Castorice says as if she isn’t condoning red flags with such willful ignorance. 

“Uhm,” Phainon cannot lie though, he finds that a bit attractive. And he’s also curious how toxic they are to each other! So he ashamedly hides such thoughts from Mydei who will definitely find it problematic. “I’ll still read my copy, Castorice! That being said, these characters weirdly look a bit similar to you and I, Mydei.”

“I- I guess,” Mydei has to take a closer look, and he does agree it’s a bit unsettling, especially since Castorice hasn’t met Phainon before (And he is also enamored by how handsome she has drawn the Deliverer, ignoring the Prince who looks like he is crafted by the Titans).

(He’s tempted to buy a photo card she’s selling of the Phainon look-alike.)

“Wait… Sir Phainon, these designs are mostly inspired by the Northern Kingdom’s national murals of the Heirs,” Castorice is unsure how this cosplayer of the Galactic Baseballer could be similar to the Deliverer’s murals of snowy white hair and glowing blue orbs. It’s a very distinct combination, and even people who have tried replicating the looks of the Deliverer have not gotten close to a total resemblance

“Are you sure you didn’t use me as a basis for the design of one of these dudes, Cas?” Mydei has stared long enough to notice the auburn-haired dude who he thinks is a rockstar In Castorice’s manga is so much like him it could be a self-portrait of his alternate universe version.

“Depends, I need you to sign a waiver that legally says you can’t sue me first,” Castorice jokes, though she does have those papers prepared just in case. Despite the tense atmosphere, it gets a hearty laugh out of Phainon, which Mydei is thankful for.

“RIght…” Mydei responds unsatisfied.

His laughing date takes off the wig and contacts. He brushes his hair a bit and lets Castorice see his true visuals. He says in between exacerbated breaths, “See, Castorice! I look like the other lead too!”

“Oh… I do see the resemblance,” It shocks Castorice to see, because it is so spot on she could believe he is the Deliverer himself. “It’s quite uncanny,” is all she could comment. 

The moment dies down and a heavy tension rears its head. Suddenly, there's a lot to talk about between the two men, and it scares Phainon that it’s just their fourth date. He suddenly regrets this entire endeavor, especially if it leads to Mydei wanting to stop this if it does end up that badly for the Prince. That would mean that he has rejected Mydei unknowingly in multiple lives, and he couldn’t imagine doing that to this perfect and handsome man that he is not afraid to say he has fallen for in less than a week.

“So… Mydei…” He dreads acknowledging it.

Mydei ignores the knives that threaten to cut the string of its precarious fibers. He refers to Castorice first, “Thanks for your help, Castorice. I think we both need alone time to tall about… that version.” 

“I understand, I hope to see you both later,” Castorice can’t say more, for she already feels a bit responsible for a searing blaze that persisted against the Mall's cooling system. For what it’s worth, she hopes they figure it out,  “Sorry if I made anything between the two of you awkward, I’ve known Mydei for a long time and I could tell he likes you very much.”

Mydei doesn’t acknowledge her words beyond a simple nod, though Phainon lets the comfort linger and soothe his spirit even just the tiniest bit. They'll be ripping the band-aid very quickly, so any breather is sorely appreciated.

 “Let’s go, Phainon.” 

-

As the men weave out of the crowded venue, the goddess Oronyx relishes in making the clock's ticking hands take twice as it is usual. A Saturday spent on one of the most popular spots of Aedes Elysie coupled with the hype for the con meant it takes excruciatingly long to find any place to be alone. No interior is left without a person, and a Phainon- clammy and unsure suggested they just go to the car and turn on the AC.

Mydei could hardly oppose, his face stoic in a way that Phainon couldn’t read. The bile from his stomach rises ever higher because even the man’s poker face he could usually discern a hint of emotion. Such a blank slate feels worse than even fury or sadness, aaaat least with those he could sense the care poured into expressing such emotions.

Is apathy really how Mydei will end their short tenure? What is a week has felt like a lifetime already, and Mydei has been their the entire time. It’d be almost like Cyrene getting severed from his life, a relationship that is akin to a limb rather than an accessory.

It took 5 minutes again, and he can’t even complain about how hot his cosplay is this time around. There’s no levity for such sidetracks, the conversation they'll be having is clear.

Phainon cannot imagine not being next to Mydei ever again, and his sentiment is that he’ll screw the Deliverer who has continuously left his Prince heartbroken. If he’ll be the one chasing this time around, he’d do it like a pathetic loser if Mydei allows it.

The car they return too is like the inside of an oven, and the sweat is starting to make their undershirts stick like a disgusting second skin. Phainon has to remove his wig once more and throw it at the backseat, letting the car fans relieve some of his labored breaths for oxygen.    

The AC buzzes and he could honestly kill for a sip of water at the moment, yet thirst is hardly his first concern at the moment. Mydei doesn’t speak to the point it feels like a game. Who’s going to tear the sky down? He could at least conclude neither wants to do so.

“So…” He utters to get a feel for things. It’s ineffective padding, and the AC is making it cold enough for heat to not be the excuse for their silence.

“It certainly was easy to find our answers, huh? I-I’m sorry,” That was the first stutter he had done in front of his date since they first met. It’s still shocking how attached he grew in such a short time span. “For bothering you… about it. Honestly, I could’ve figured out the tragedy just from the dreams alone.”

His eyes dart around to the steering wheel, the dashboard, even his wig at the back. It was better than seeing whatever emotion

“I’m not sure what that would mean for the both of us, if you were the Prince and I was the Deliverer. I didn’t expect it to go so south, I just thought maybe it was telling me a sign about us. So I’d understand if it makes you want to sto-”

“Can you tell me more about the dreams?” 

“Hmm?” Phainon’s closed face- scared and guarded- opens up to see the curious glance of the blonde. Unlike what he expected, it’s not fear or uncertainty plaguing that handsome face, it’s hope. It’s perseverance, and he’s a weak, weak man to someone who knows what he wants.

“Well, there was one where I was a scholar at the Twilight Courtyard? Hopefully free tuition!” Mydei scoffs but smiles nonetheless. “You were a varsity player I met during foundation day.”

“And what happened to them?”

“Well, you asked me out, but I had a girlfriend in that life,”

“Ouch, lucky you weren’t taken about a week ago,” Phainon couldn’t help chuckling at the other’s response.

So he tells the rest of the sequences he could recall. Seeing as it only started occurring for about a week, he only astral projected to 6 of their shared lives.

“Modern Amphoreus isn’t that far away from the beginning of Era Nova though, I think at most 10 lifetimes of us could’ve existed from then to now. Assuming we instantly reincarnate after we die,” Mydei argues soundly, and Phainon couldn’t combat such logic. The Amphoreus of now is only 800 years into the new era.

“You’re right on something for once!” The once dreary atmosphere has relaxed to their usual once more. It has started gradually to be Phainon annoying the shit out of Mydei, and Mydei- who’s very easy to annoy- letting him do so. This sentence is one of those moments; the most Phainon receives is a light slap on the wrist.  

“Why did you ask about the dreams, Mydei? I’m not sure it’s entertaining hearing about all the times I dreamt about me rejecting you.”

There was that life with Phainon as a barkeep and Mydei as a frequent patron. Another one had a runaway heir Mydei to the family business who got offered a home by construction worker Phainon. Heck, in one of them, they were friends in school, but Phainon had a crush on his teammate in the baseball team instead of his Mydei.

“Idiot, so what if the Deliverer and Prince’s story ends badly? They’re not us right now!” He points at himself and then Phainon. With a conviction that Phainon finds unfairly attractive, he declares, “It’s clear you like me, and it’s clear I like you too.”

Phainon couldn’t help but chortle. He doesn’t deny it, but he won’t make it easy for Mydei either. “Is this your way of asking if we could skip the situationship stage and officially be boyfriends?”

“If that’s how you interpret it, then yes,” The blunt honest response shocks Phainon enough for his cheeks to erupt red. Mydei keeps up his confessions, “I happen to find great companionship in you… I think this week has been some of the best days in my life…”

“Me too!” Phainon is left wondering whether the moment is missing something. Protected from the murderous sun rays, admitting their love for the first time in the cramped space of cushion seats and the smell of a lemon car freshener. It could never compete with the fairy tale’s promised reunion, and Phainon feels the need to bring it up,“Wouldn’t it be romantic if we make it official at a library? So we can still fulfill the promise between the Deliverer and the Prince!”

“Are you being serious right now, dimwit?” Mydei says frustrated. He has already scooched nearer from his driver seat onto the other man. His hand is on that soft, plump cheek, and he wantonly stares at pink thin lips. The hell does Phainon mean they postpone their intimacy just to go to some arbitrary setting?

“Boo, how lame of you, maybe I should ask someone el-” He never gets to finish the sentence as Mydei pounces on him as best as he could onto the passenger seat. The blonde’s knees support his weight on the driver’s seat, while the rest of his body leans forward to claim those lips that may as well be his birthright. A rough hand grabbing Phainon’s chin, angling the kiss to make it even rougher and more saliva-fueled than it already is.

Phainon is getting lightheaded. He expected a soft kiss first before anything more intense (Mydei does so as punishment for attempt at even trying to make the chef jealous). Phainon’s arms find themselves by the dip on his back, close to grabbing his ass. Mydei fights back such shamelessness with his free hand finding its way inside his date’s black undershirt. He didn’t care if the white-haired man is doing cosplay; he caresses those abs and finds his fingers pinching around a sturdy nipple. 

Mydei thanks whoever gave him the idea to tint his car windows, because he unabashedly invades the cavern of Phainon’s mouth next. Their tongue fight without abandon, their hands don’t fare any better as they roam each other’s bodies. At some point, Mydei’s awkward position on the driver’s seat regrettably makes them stop. He sits back down, though the tattooed man hasn't released his iron group on the other’s chin.

“Ok, nevermind. I’m perfectly fine if we become boyfriends here,” Phainon says accompanied by flushed cheeks and heavy breaths. He’s clearly inexperienced, Mydei thinks. If this were a competition, the chef would've swept the victoy ten times over. He easily leaves his love breathless with just the sensual touches and tongue kisses. Moans from a rich tenor voice are music to his ears.

Speaking of music thought, he finds himself in the mood for bullying.

“Aren’t we supposed to be watching Tribios’ show, Phainon?”

Phainon stills, before going fully red. He sputters like a small child, much to Mydei’s amusement. “That’s in like an hour, dude!”

“Don’t dude me, we just made out,” Mydei will not admit he longs to hear a nickname, and he will swoon at any endearment this man will call him.

He smirks at the sight of Phainon who clearly wants to continue what they started. Phainon squeaks out, “Then let’s enjoy the free time, my prince!” Titans, it’s so simple yet it reaches to the deepest part of him where spirit meets the psyche.

He will never tire of being Phainon’s prince. He needs to hear those words more often.

“Whatever…” He says with a fond smile. He leads his date’s face closer to his own by the chin. He could admire the white hair and blue-eyed more properly the closer he gets to look.

A nickname so natural it may very well be his nature to tell this to every Phainon of every timeline,

“My love.”

-

Cyrene

[The Cutest Girl Ever <3]

So you’re telling me you guys are official after a week?

You don’t ever get to go off at me about my love life ever again, Snowy

Also, tell Mydei I’ll kick his balls if he hurts you <3

Oh, believe me when I say he’s dedicated multiple lifetimes for me

He deserves to have my love after centuries of waiting! <3

Don’t kick my balls, I love your brother very much - Mydei

That is so fucking sappy

Ew

Happy for you though, Phainon! 

Wear protection or whatever, don’t really care

Just don’t do it here when I’m around in the future

The fuck you mean? 

We’re at a convention

And?

No shot nothing happened

I know you, Phainon

We just made out - Mydei

I’m so embarrassed now fucking hell 

Hate my boyfriend for being so blunt 

You idiots better not start flirting in my DMs please

And Phai, I'm beating your ass later for stealing my plushie <3