Chapter Text
“Oh, silly! Stop sulking behind that pillow!” Cyrene laughed, tugging at the cushion covering his head.
“Nooo,” Phainon whined, curling tighter around it, burying his face so deep he almost couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t crying—absolutely not. He was just… mad. Just a little mad. Because Cyrene had gone off to play with the other girls, and he had been left all alone on the swing, waiting.
All day. By himself.
He could feel her hovering over him now, still trying to pry the pillow away. When that didn’t work, she sighed dramatically and plopped down beside him on the small bed.
“You can’t keep hiding there forever, mister.”
Phainon didn’t budge nor look at her. Just pressed his face deeper into the pillow, as if that would make her go away. It didn’t, because a tiny, traitorous sniffle escaped him.
Cyrene noticed—of course she did. But instead of teasing him for it, she shifted closer. A hand smoothed over his hair in gentle, soft strokes, and for a moment, the silence between them was warm.
Finally, muffled into the fabric, Phainon spoke. “...I don’t care that you played with them. I don’t care at all!”
“Mmhm,” Cyrene hummed knowingly, her hand still patting his head.
“I just… I didn’t like it.” His voice was so quiet it nearly disappeared into the pillow. “I didn’t like being alone. I kept thinking… what if something happened to you while I wasn’t there to protect you?”
That got her. The playful smile on her lips softened, and she tilted her head at him. “Oh, Phai…”
She tugged the pillow down just enough to see his red-tipped ears and sulky frown. Then she leaned in and kissed the top of his head, voice steady and warm.
“You don’t have to protect me every second. I’m your big sister, remember?” She tapped his forehead. “It’s my job to look out for you.”
“But I want to,” Phainon muttered stubbornly, eyes finally peeking out at her, all blue and earnest. “I don’t ever want you to go away. I want to keep you safe, always.”
For a moment, Cyrene just looked at him. Then she smiled—that bright, gentle smile that always seemed unshakable. “Then we’ll protect each other. Deal?”
Phainon blinked at her, doubtful, still frowning just a little.
She nudged his arm. “I’ll always be by your side. Always. So you’ll never have to feel alone. Okay?”
Something tight in his chest loosened at her words. He tried to hide it, tried to scowl, but his lips wobbled into the smallest smile anyway.
“…Okay.”
“I’ll always be by your side. Always”
Phainon woke up with a jolt, sweaty and breathing heavy. Heart pounding. He didn’t even try to remember what he’d been dreaming about. Didn’t want to. He just rolled over, blinking at the clock on the wall.
8-something.
And miracle of miracles? He had actually managed to sleep for over two hours. Without Mydei? A world record!
He sat up slowly, still hugging the blue pillow like it was some kind of emotional support animal.
“Just great,” he mumbled to himself, trying to be positive feeling a headache already starting to creep in. “Totally not worth a breakdown.”
There was rustling behind him and he stilled.
Then let out a breath.
Probably Mydei. Somehow not sensing Cyrene nearby, which may sound like insanity, but honestly, a relief.
That was the kind of logic he had to work with everyday.
An Angry boyfriend? Or an Angry ghost sister? Hard to say which was worse.
‘Mydei is always hard to talk to when he starts to sulk’ Phainon thought pouting.
And then there’s Cyrene, was she even mad? He always assumed she was. He did leave her alone that day. All of this started because he couldn’t keep her safe. He was the one supposed to keep her safe, and he had failed. So maybe this whole curse was deserved. The insomnia. The trauma. The hallucinations. The ghost of his sister that doesn’t leave.
Maybe you deserved it all along
He furrows at the sudden thought and shakes off the unwanted voices in his head.
Not now. Nope. Right now, the ghost in the room was Mydei.
And Mydei was mad.
Right. Mydei. His sweet caring and overly protective boyfriend. They had a fight last night. That much was clear. Phainon might’ve miscalculated how far he could push his usual nonsense. Sure, Mydei got annoyed at him before, but yesterday’s reaction? That had been different. And Phainon couldn’t tell if he’d actually messed up big-time or if something else had set Mydei off.
Either way, he needed a conversation.
And his charger.
Preferably he’d pick the second one first.
Just now, Mydei had walked past the couch and straight into the kitchen.
Didn’t even glance his way.
Yeah. Still mad.
Talking might be off the table for now.
Once he was out of sight, Phainon got up and made a beeline for the bedroom. Eyes focused straight ahead—he was not about to accidentally make eye contact with his dead sister first thing in the morning.
He spotted the charger, yanked it, and walked straight back out. Eyes forward, no lingering, no glancing at the mirror. Trying hard not to catch a glimpse of anything… or anyone.
Just get in, get out.
He ‘carefully’ peeked around the hallway.
No Mydeimos in sight.
Good.
He plugged his phone into the charger by the couch and let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding.
Right then, the front door opened. And closed.
Phainon froze.
Footsteps.
Then silence.
‘So he decides to leave,’ Phainon thought.
That’s good.
Good. Because he could finally crumble a little.
His lips started trembling before he even noticed. Eyes stung. Then came the tears—quiet and steady, spilling out without warning. His chest ached, full of something too tight to name. The headache hurt too. Everything felt off. Way too off. The way his hands were shaking. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Not this fragile. Not this cracked open. That familiar feeling of being alone, hurt, and scared.
Pathetic. That’s what he felt like.
Sitting there, by himself in the living room, holding and glaring at his damn phone like it was the culprit of all this mess—yeah. Real pathetic. Just like when he was fifteen, crying in the dark, telling himself over and over that it would get better if he just held on.
He sniffed and wiped at his face with his sleeve.
He shouldn’t think too hard about the way Mydei reacted. In a way, it was so like him.
Phainon knew how Mydei was. Sweet in ways he didn’t know how to handle. The kind of guy who’d go quiet, sit beside him, and pass him a tissue without a word. Hug him. Comfort him the way he always wanted. Even if he struggled with it, he’d never let that stop him from trying.
Because there were times when Phainon broke down over simple things—small, stupid things that just built up. He might be the overdramatic one in the relationship, but all Mydei would do was mumble something like “crybaby” and gently thumb away his tears. Whisper teases, even sweet nothings, until Phainon laughed through wet cheeks and smacked him for being so sappy. Then again he’d do the same for Mydei. Always.
And that’s exactly why Phainon couldn’t let him see this.
He didn’t want to be a burden. Mydei would definitely make himself feel bad, even if it wasn’t his fault. So—not like this. He didn’t deserve that.
Phainon just wanted things to stay like they were. Like everything was normal. Like he was normal. Mydei didn’t need to see how much more of a mess he was—more than he already knew. He didn’t need to know how much Phainon was still holding together with tape and willpower. He wanted Mydei to have something good. Someone that wasn’t a burden. He’d tried his best. All through their almost two years together, he’d tried to be a perfect boyfriend. Not perfectly perfect, but enough.
He’d tried his best for the whole two years.
So he just had to keep it together for the rest.
Right?
As stupid and hopeless as that sounded.
As selfish as it was to think it was okay to keep Mydei in the dark. To betray his trust like that.
But he didn’t want to lose what they had now.
Crying alone felt safer. It was better, for now. Until he figured it all out. Until he got his head straight. Until he could look Mydei in the face and not feel like a walking disaster with a ghost on his back.
Speaking of which—now that Mydei had left the house.
Cyrene.
He didn’t look behind him. Didn’t dare.
Just breathed in, deep. Like Anaxa taught him. In. Out. Clear your mind. Think of nothing. Block it out. She’s not real. She’s not there. She’s not there.
He closed his eyes.
Then finally, his phone lit up.
Two hours till class. Not that he wanted to go. He was a disaster. He didn’t trust himself to smile without bursting into tears in front of someone.
But staying home?
No way.
He wasn’t spending a full day alone with his sister’s ghost, real or not.
With a buzz, the screen lit up fully.
49 missed calls.
200+ unread messages.
“Great,” he muttered.
Thirty-eight of those missed calls from Mydei.
“Shit.”
The rest? His very small circle of friends. Like four people total.
Amazing support network.
He stared at the name that appeared second most on the list.
Hyacine.
“Kephale, bless me,” he muttered, already doubting it.
At least Hyacine wasn’t that mad.
At least, he hoped not.
Phainon blinked at Hyacine’s name a second longer before tapping “Call.”
It rang twice.
Then—
“Oh. So now you remember how to use a phone.”
“Hi to you too—”
“Don’t.”
Her voice was sharp. Too sharp for morning. It had bite and caffeine and a little too much clarity for how wrecked he felt.
“Do you even know what happened last night?”
Phainon sank back onto the couch, sighing through his nose. “No. I was kinda—out of it.”
“Clearly. You stormed out in the middle of a lecture?!”
“Yes—.” He hummed, then frowned. How did she know about that?
“Wait, how did you—”
“Know that you left before the lecture ended?” Hyacine cut him off. “Well, we waited there for you all day! That’s how!”
She was so loud he had to hold the phone away from his ear. He cringed, but also froze, shocked that she’d actually waited for him.
“Wait—you were? Why?”
“Because Cas had something planned,” she snapped. “We had chased after you when you bolted inside to your classroom” He closed his eyes, he might’ve screwed big time.
“And we were waiting. Then you suddenly disappeared. Your classmates said you left. We couldn’t find you anywhere. We had waited at the campus all day, Phai.”
His throat felt dry.
“And do you even know what day yesterday was?” she pressed.
“…No?”
“Two years since Cas had joined us! You know how much it means to her!” And He did. “Cassie had a whole thing planned for all of us. And because you wouldn’t answer your phone, because you suddenly decided to ditch us!—even Mydei had to sit it out.”
Shit. He had missed a party. Phainon felt his chest sinking heavy. The words didn’t hurt. But the guilt still clawed himself to him.
He always made time for his friends always. Never leaving a doubt that he didn’t have time for them. They didn’t deserve that from him.
And he knew how much they cared for him too. They must’ve been worried sick.
He needs to fix it somehow
Or else…
“Oh…” he said, guilt and something he couldn’t quite name pressing sharp against his ribs.
Mydei must’ve been so worried.
The headache throbbed, echoing how many mistakes he’d made yesterday. Too many.
Already feeling himself drowning again in unwanted thoughts, he dug a nail into his thigh to ground himself.
Hyacine’s voice softened slightly. “How’s Mydei?”
“...He’s mad,” Phainon admitted quietly, staring down at his hand clutching hard over his leg.
He was mad—and maybe rightfully so.
All his fault.
Everything.
Always his fault.
For once, he couldn’t joke about it. Couldn’t lighten the mood. Didn’t try to wriggle out of it. Just raw and restless guilt, chewing him up from the inside.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled automatically, distantly. Not just to Hyacine. To Mydei. To all of them.
For being so difficult.
For being such a pain.
A sigh filled the other end of the line, gentler this time. “It’s alright for now, Phai. Just… come by campus. Explain everything to us—to Cas, too. She was really looking forward to it—for you.”
Phainon bit his lip hard. “Yeah,” he said, voice flat, trying to hide everything boiling inside him. “I’ll… I’ll come.”
I’ll try to make it up to all of you
“Good.”
Her voice had softened back into the familiar warmth that reminded him why she was the least hot-headed of their group. She cared. Even when she was scolding him into the ground, she cared.
And somehow, that almost made it worse.
The call ended with a soft click, and silence pressed down heavy.
Phainon sat there, phone slipping loose in his palm, the words still ringing in his head.
He dragged his hands over his face, elbows pressing into his knees—trying to cling onto something, anything, to feel normal. To stop the drowning. But nothing seemed to work.
The thoughts still echoed.
He’d messed up big this time.
What was he gonna say? How was he gonna explain himself? What could make this be forgotten, moved on from?
What is wrong with me?
He didn’t feel anger. Didn’t feel sadness. Not like he was supposed to. Just static—restless claws in his chest he couldn’t name. He didn’t even have proper emotions, did he? Just broken ones.
They do so much for you so why can’t you just—
He could feel himself slipping from normal into that unwanted anxiety again.
A shiver crawled up his spine.
The other presence in the room felt so much clearer now.
But he tried to ignore it.
He couldn’t make more mistakes. He had to pick himself up. Or else they’d leave. They’d find out—and they’d leave.
What is wrong with you?
A voice echoed.
No. No, no, no.
Phainon bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted iron. His throat tightened. He needed to calm down. He needed to get himself together. Digging his nails into his palm, he told himself he couldn’t be breaking over a simple call from a friend. He shouldn’t let himself be this easy to—
A sob broke free.
No, please. He couldn’t lose them too. Not them.
Not Mydei—especially not Mydei.
He didn’t want to be alone again.
He shouldn’t be thinking about this right now.
But his chest ached, because he could see it so easily: them slipping away one by one, exhausted by his mess, his spirals. He’d push too hard, or not enough—and they’d be gone.
His eyes burned hot, vision blurring again. Tears slipped anyway. He covered his face with his hand, as if hiding even from himself.
Pathetic.
“C’mon, Phai,” he muttered, the words cracked and thin. “You’re fine. You’re fine. They’ll forgive you. They always do. You’re just overthinking.”
He kept saying it to himself, over and over, distantly wrapping his arms around his torso—trying to stitch away the coldness crawling up his skin.
Phainon did the only thing he could think of in that moment.
He stumbled into the kitchen and turned on the tap, shoving his head under the stream.
Cold water hit his scalp, his face, soaking through his hair. He closed his eyes, focusing on the rush and sting—the sharp chill grounding him, pulling him away from the noise in his head.
Just like the countless times before, when he’d slipped and needed something—anything to drown it all out.
Mydei wouldn’t say he was furious. Irritated, maybe—a tad bit. But what he did feel for certain was confusion.
He and Phainon had been dating for nearly two years now. They’d known each other long before that. If there was one good thing that came out of his college years, it was them—Phainon, and the odd, chaotic group that came with him.
Honestly, if fate was real, then Mydei supposed he should be grateful to whatever god thought it funny to send a white-haired, overdramatic puppy crashing into his life.
He was. Most of the time.
Mydei came from one of the most respected families in Amphoreus—some even whispered worshipped. The Kremnoen name carried an old weight, the kind that dripped off tongues with reverence or envy. Royals once, or so the archives said.
But in this modern world, they were the closest thing left to royalty.
The Kremnoen family—Kremnos, as the older generations still called them—were an ancient lineage rooted in wealth, discipline, and quiet obsession with reputation. Culture and rules defined them. Rules written by ancestors whose faces no one remembered, enforced by traditions no one dared to question.
And somehow, all of that cracked with his parents.
They’d married for wealth, yes, but Mydei once believed there was love somewhere between the gold and the bloodlines. He remembered the soft moments—the ones that didn’t fit the family’s stiff reputation. His father whispering something into his mother’s ear that made her laugh. Even going out of his way trying to play an instrument he could hardly name. There were days he’d catch them spinning and laughing, dragging him in to dance until he stumbled. He thought that was love.
That was love, wasn’t it?
That’s what it meant to have a normal, happy family.
Or so he thought.
Because all it takes is a lie, a bottle, and one night to ruin everything.
That night.
Mydei still didn’t know his part in it—why, to this day, the family cursed him for it.
All he remembered was the rain. His mother crying, holding a stack of papers—letters? Photos?—he couldn’t recall. His father coming home drunk. The yelling. The kind he’d never heard before. He’d peeked from his room, small hands gripping the doorframe, and saw his mother shouting, his father standing there, pale and speechless. Then a slap. Then the look in his father’s eyes, something unrecognizable, something that flickered like a spark before it all burned out.
The next moment, his mother, Gorgo was dragging him away.
Her nails digging into his arm, her voice trembling as she muttered curses under her breath.
And that was the last time Mydei saw their home.
He never asked for details. Never wanted to.
As he grew older, the pieces came together on their own, like puzzle edges cutting at his hands. He didn’t want to look too closely. Didn’t want to confirm what he already knew. But some clues were obvious.
His father had asked for a chance—not from his mother, but from him.
And his mother had asked if it was okay for them to separate.
Mydei had wanted to say no, but in the end, he fulfilled his mother’s wish and never glanced back at his father, who seemed incapable of speaking in Gorgo’s presence ever again.
Maybe it was the guilt.
That’s what Mydei decided.
That guilt made people hide.
Hide their faces, their voices, their truths.
And he learned something from that, something that stuck.
Hiding meant guilt.
And guilt meant shame.
He’d met many people in his life who hid like that and Mydei found it irritating how easy it was for him to read those signals. How easy it was to pick out those hyenas who hid behind their masks.
He started to hate those people.
And no, he’s not proud of this trait of his.
When Phainon first came into his life, all he saw was a man behind a wall. People seemed to underestimate how much of that cheery smile was fake behind it all. He’d see him smiling at everything and everyone—even the fucking dogs on the street. And Mydei thought that would be enough reason to make sure he’d never, ever encounter this hyena again.
“Hello, nice to meet you! I’m Phainon.”
To his surprise, this hyena had the audacity to stand in front of his dorm room and invade his very guarded personal space. The man was holding a box—apparently a package Mydei had ordered from overseas—that had been lying on his doormat, which this white-haired hyena decided to pick up.
Mydei merely rolled his eyes when the man greeted him cheerfully, yanking the box out of his hands. Not very polite, of course—and Mydei didn’t care. His only reply to that fake cheer was a click of his tongue.
He saw the man’s smile falter; it barely kept him from snorting. Then this white-haired hyena seemed to pull himself back together, tone suddenly teasing.
“What, not the one to talk? Or did the cat get your tongue? Get it? ’cause you’re like a cat, always hiss—”
The man just kept blabbering like they’d known each other in another lifetime, and eventually, Mydei had enough.
“Can you shut up.”
That seemed to shut the man up. He furrowed his brows and tilted his head, looking a bit embarrassed and genuinely confused as he processed the words—and Mydei hated that he found it cute when the man wasn’t faking. Curse his heart for being weak for cute things. He really needed a grip.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
And those simple words fascinated him. Because all his life, these fake hyenas never had the guts to peek out from the walls they built. And it seemed this one’s walls were crumbling with just a few words.
It made him curious.
“And why are you in front of my dorm?” The dorms were compulsory for first-years, and this Phainon, unfortunately, happened to be his neighbor.
“I’m your neighbor! Hello!” the man waved, though his composure was already breaking.
Something in the back of Mydei’s mind pushed him for more. He wanted to see what was behind that mask. And he almost—almost—felt bad for it.
“Hard to guess when you’re just a nobody carrying a package,” he grumbled as he slammed the door shut in the half mortified half offended man’s face.
Eventually, they kept meeting again—fate, probably—and Mydei managed to annoy Phainon to no end. He even gave him a nickname: Deliverer, from their very first fateful encounter, carrying his package. Their banter reached a point where Phainon would actually bite back, completely contrasting how he was with others. Others who walked all over him for his perfect, selfless image.
But Mydei began to see that it wasn’t always a persona. That cheery attitude and those smiles were his, but something made him fake it most of the time. Like some part of him wanted to believe it was real.
And to unwrap Phainon became Mydei’s sole mission. Almost like an obsession.
Along the line, that fascination became affection. He started to spot genuine smiles among the fake ones—smiles that made his chest ache in a way he didn’t want to name. The annoyed glances Phainon threw his way made him oddly proud, because he was the reason Phainon showed real emotions.
And just like those annoying little novels he’d read in his teenage days, time began to slow whenever Phainon was near. He felt stronger, more alive, than he ever had with anyone else.
He didn’t just want to know him—he wanted to understand him.
This man behind the wall.
And maybe, just maybe, protect him from a world too cruel to care
Eventually, one of them kissed.
To this day, neither would admit who.
And from there, a small, sappy relationship began to bloom, awkward and stubborn, but real. Mydei liked to think he was getting close to fully knowing Phainon. They shared pieces of themselves that no one else had seen. They stripped away the walls, bit by bit—until it was just skin and breath and the trembling of something wordless.
They didn’t just touch; they unraveled. Like two pages pressed together until the ink bled between them. Like the universe itself was trying to memorize the shape of their joined silhouettes.
It wasn’t about lust—at least, not only that. It was about knowing. About baring something beyond language, until they were both undone and utterly seen.
And Mydei had thought that was enough.
But then he began to notice a pattern.
Phainon slipping away on certain nights.
Mydei didn’t ask—he told himself it wasn’t important, to trust, that Phainon would tell him when he was ready. If it was something serious, he’d confess. That’s what trust was, right?
But last night...
Last night, Mydei couldn’t read him at all.
It felt like talking to a stranger. Like he was back to square one—back to watching those smiling hyenas hide behind their masks. The same hollowness in their words. The same pause before a lie.
For the first time in years, Mydei saw a different man sitting across from him.
He might’ve overreacted—he knew he did—but the way Phainon refused to talk struck a nerve he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. It clawed at something burried deep inside him. Somthing he started to forget.
He felt as if—
Mydei groaned, turning over in bed, reaching instinctively for Phainon.
Cold sheets met his hand.
He opened his eyes to the dim light of the room.
Slightly blinking out the sleepiness, he sat up—last night flooding back all at once. There was a weight in his chest, that quiet, irritating dread.
He wasn’t really angry at Phainon. Just… confused. And he hated that.
He hated not understanding emotions. Hated how the signals he picked apart led to conclusions he didn’t want to face.
Maybe he was overdramatic with his blow-up, but he’d been overwhelmed and part of him still thought it was necessary.
He sat up and went to get ready for the day. After showering and dressing up, he went to check his phone, making his way toward the living room.
Then he paused.
Only when heard the soft snores, did he made his way toward the couch.
Despite everything, he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty himself.
The couch must’ve been—no. Nope. It was a fairly large couch. Comfortable cushions. He did thought back on that. Even if he’s mad and didn’t want to see the other. The love of his life would not be sleeping on the floor or some miserable excuse of a furniture and waking up with back pain just to whine at him the next morning—
Mydei shook his head sharply, shoving those thoughts back. No. He was supposed to be mad. He had the right to be angry. Angry he shall be. He shouldn’t care about this stuff—
He slowly peeked over the couch anyway.
The white-haired man slept, but he was all sweaty, furrowing, and clutching a pillow while taking odd breaths.
Looking a bit restless.
Wait, was it uncomfortable?
A nightmare?
Mydei squinted, and his hand moved on its own—fingers brushing aside damp strands of hair, easing them away from Phainon’s forehead. He gently ran a hand through it once, soothing the tension without thinking.
But the small motion stirred the slumbering mess of beauty, and Mydei panicked—stumbling back, crouching behind the couch.
Wait. Why was he hiding?
He froze when he heard Phainon mumble something, shifting against the cushions. Not wanting to get caught hovering, Mydei crawled backward until he was a safe distance, then stood quickly and adjusted his posture like nothing had happened.
He took a breath. His eyes caught on the back of Phainon’s messy hair, but he forced himself to look away, walking toward the kitchen. Only once Phainon was out of sight did he finally exhale.
He needed to be more careful. He wouldn’t let his own feelings spill out this easily again. Let him be selfish for once.
All he could do now was wait.
Wait for Phainon to come to him—to explain, to talk.
Until then, Mydei decided, he wouldn’t spare him a glance.
This time, Phainon needed to understand how much hiding hurts.
Not just him—but the people who care.
The people who love him too.