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Chapter Text

Phainon had experienced panic before, but this particular brand came in a neatly –yet harshly– graded half-yearly paper. “AGLAEA! Can you believe this?” Phainon yelled into the phone, “Professor Anaxa failed me!”

“Well, Phainon, was it not somewhat expected?” Aglaea calmly inquired. “NO! It was in fact not expected, I tried my hardest on that test!” “Phainon,” Aglaea started calmly, “First of all, if you wanted to be babied, you should've called Castorice. Second of all, you walked into that test twenty minutes late and concerningly dressed.” Vanquished by Aglaea’s all but inaccurate statements, Phainon began raking his fingers through his silver hair, catching on small mats and haphazardly tearing them out. “Well then, Aglaea, what now?” Phainon grovelled rather frantically. “You go to professor Anaxagoras and request a redo or extra credit.”

“NO! absolutely not!”

“You must.” 

“If you want to save that grade, at least.”

With this, Aglaea disengaged from the conversation, hanging up. Most likely relishing in her victory. Alone again, Phainon stared into space, ever so gradually coming to the realisation that Aglaea was right. He had to face his professor.

A cold voice came from inside the office after two rather tentative knocks.

“Come in, Phainon.” A hint of venom creeping in at the mention of his name.

“Professor Anaxa, could I please request extra cre–.” 

“That is Professor Anaxagoras to you, Phainon.”

“Right.” Phainon began. “Could I request extra credit for my half-yearly exam?”

“And why, exactly, would I allow this when you disrupted my class during an important test? Furthermore, I am well aware you are beyond competent in this topic. Why should I allow you to retake this when all I see is a child failing to apply himself.”

Phainon gritted his teeth, smiling through the barrage of academically disguised insults, “If I am so excellent at this subject, surely it wouldn’t hurt to let me off once. You know I won't disappoint you Professor."

Anaxagoras sighed, not defeated but achingly tired of Phainon’s antics. “Very well. You have three weeks to have a paper on the Greek myth of Achilles on my desk or you will be failing this semester.”

Unwilling to push his luck further, Phainon nodded rapidly and all too many times before striding out of the room.

Phainon returned to his dorm in triumph, a smile plastered on his now, considerably less panicked, face. After reveling in his victory for a long while, The silver-haired man began throwing stationery into his backpack: loose sheets of paper, pens with missing caps, some borrowed textbooks that were long since overdue and finally, a battered laptop. He had decided that he would get to work on his assignment, in order to really ‘wow’ the moody professor.

The cold wind nipped at his pale skin as he walked rhythmically along the pavement, his backpack swinging freely from one of his shoulders. The library was a grandiose building, built some decades ago. The intricate carvings on the sandstone seemingly gazed back at Phainon as he walked up the stairs, pushing open a set of heavy wooden doors and entering the library. 

The first thing he noticed was the silence. It wasn't harsh, but pondering, grounding, even. It was polarizing compared to the constant buzz of his brain. Following that, he realised the shelves, stacked high with every width and colour of books imaginable, ladders gently leaning against the highest ones. And most surprising of all, he noticed a man. Tall, broadly built with shoulder length golden hair tipped in crimson, a singular lock tied neatly into a braid. The blonde looked up, briefly locking bespectacled eyes with Phainon’s blue ones, this being more than enough to make Phainon initiate an advance, presumably to lay down some foundations for flirtation. Unfortunately, the other man got there first.

“Returning or borrowing?”

“Come again?” Phianon said, eyes focusing on the shorter yet broader frame of the man.

“Are you returning or borrowing a book?” The man said, in a somewhat cold voice, his gaze not only landing on Phainon, but sifting through him, as if looking for answers.

Upon realization, Phainon jumped a little, rushing to get back to the conversation.

“Ah! Returning books.” “Please,” he added as an afterthought.

“Understood, please follow me to the front desk.”

Wanting to respond, but being unable to form words, Phainon gave a pathetic thumbs up and began to follow the mysterious librarian. Phainon felt quite foolish now, in his ill fitting shirt and less than coordinated trousers, especially compared to this immaculate man. Lost in his train of thought, Phainon was oblivious to the words exiting the librarian's mouth.

“Sir.”

“Sir.”

“You wanted to return these books?”

“Yes!” Phainon said, all too quickly, snapping out of his stupor.

The man nodded curtly and began to scan the first textbook, gently checking through the pages for any damage as he went. Phainon, taking this reprise in conversation,  to observe the other more closely, sharp, golden eyes and a name tag pinned to his shirt that read a singular name: ‘Mydeimos’.

His thought was again interrupted by the stern voice.

“These books are overdue by three weeks, do you have an explanation?”

A flush of embarrassment rose on Phainons face, he desperately searched for an excuse. He swiftly smiled, and began to explain: “You see, it all began when I lent these textbooks to my friend, Castorice, but then–”

“Enough, I've heard enough stories from university students already, there's no need to lie.”

Phainon blinked once and stared down at the floor.

“How will you be paying the fine?”

“Sorry, what?”

“The fine, for your overdue books.” The blonde reiterated 

“Oh! Of course! Uh, in cash please.”

“And how much money would that be?” Phainon said, gritting his teeth in preparation.

“$6.85 for the first offence.”

“Right. Yep. I can pay that.”

Mydeimos raised his eyebrows, unblinking.

Phainon took this time to reach into his wallet and retrieve numerous crumpled bills, compiling all the required money into his hand before passing it over to the blonde.

After rifling through the forlorn bills and depositing them in a register, Mydeimos continued his speech. “Thank you, is there anything else I can do for you today?”

The silver-haired man, still in slight shock, rushed to exit the situation with what little grace he had remaining. “Nope! Thanks for your help!” he quipped before promptly turning on his heel and speed-walking out of the expansive building.

Only after Phainon exited the library did he realize his fatal mistake, he hadn’t started, let alone researched his paper. “What was his name again? Ah– uh… Achilles!” Phainon almost exclaimed out loud. He resolved to visit the library the next day, and really, truly start on his paper. Speaking of names, another quickly resurfaced. “Mydeimos, huh?” Phainon thought to himself. An interesting name to a more than interesting face. His face was certainly ill-fitting of a librarian, honestly more at home as that of a warrior. “His face could definitely send armies to war, even more likely lead them.” Phainon ruminated, paying no attention to the darkening sky. His mind reluctantly drifted again, combing through lecture times and poorly planned meetings with his friends.

He didn't get far before his inner monologue was interrupted as a cool wind ruffled his hair.

“Shit.”

The darkening sky. 

Phainon was still meant to be studying, but had instead found himself outside a mangled complex of alleys, bright, neon lights and the allure of cheap sex and alcohol enticing passers by. This was by no means a place to study. Phainon whipped his head around, searching like a lost puppy for some sign, some arrow pointing him back to his university. In a stroke of genius, Phainion reached for his phone, groping through his bags pockets, dislodging sheets of paper in his crazed search. He found no phone, but he did come into contact with the  warped metal of the edge of his laptop. Hastily pulling it from his bag, Phainon tucked himself into the alcove of an alley before opening it up and searching for directions. 

No signal. 

“Shit.”

Phainon slumped against the wall, slowly letting his lower half come into contact with the poorly paved floor, laptop still sitting open in his lap.

"Ya need help betting?” A voice came from above.

“Huh?”

“For the fight. Everyone’s betting on the same guy tonight.”

“Ya can’t get signal here. Ya gotta be inside for online bets.”

“Sorry, I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“The fight.” The man said, disbelieving Phainons surprise. 

“You know what, come with me, I’ll show ya.” The man said again, now clearly readying himself to leave. 

Deciding that a mysterious invite and the promise of internet connection was better than sleeping on the street, Phainon pulled himself up and slung his backpack back over his shoulder, readying himself to follow the man. 

They took a couple of turns, avoiding trash cans and stacks of cardboard as they walked deeper into the complex, the man passing wordless looks to check that the other was still pursuing. Before long, the man made his way to a grated metal door; pushing it open in a seeming show of strength. It only took seconds for the smell to invade Phainons nostrils. Sweat and cheap beer, smoke and the metallic tinge of coins. Next was the sound. Everyone was yelling over the backdrop of shuffling feet and pounding music.

“PLACE YOUR BETS HERE!”came a sly, feminine voice.

“BET ON BRUTUS! HE'S PRACTICALLY UNBEATABLE!!” A guttural voice interjected.

“DON'T FORGET OUR DRINKS, KYROS!” Two voices called out simultaneously.

“Isn't that weird anonymous fighting again?” Uttered a nasal voice.

“WHO CARES? BRUTUS WILL WIN AWAY!” retorted a booming voice.

“HEY WHERE THE HELL DID MY WALLET GO?” cut in a brutish, and clearly raging voice.

Phainon had stayed still too long, and was now being pushed mercilessly to the beat of the music. He pawed at the walls of people, frantically seeking a vacant spot or a safe haven where he could organize himself. Conveniently spotting one about fifteen meters ahead of him. He started tackling his way through the boisterous party-goers before breathlessly coming face to face with a woman behind the flimsy barrier of the haven. She flashed a feline smile before starting her speech.

 “Greetings, dearest patron, call me Cipher~ how may I help you this wonderful evening?”

Unphased by the man's silence, she started again. “Shall I help you place a bet? Tell you about some of our excellent fighters, perhaps! Really help you decide how to spend that  hard earned money.”

“Uhh..” Phainon stuttered.

“An excellent choice, dear~”

“We really are running out of time, and time is money so I’ll name our most lucrative competitors! Brutus is the most consistent, strong but a bit of a dolt, if you ask me, that is.” Cipher snickered.

“Daros: A bit of a newbie, but a real joy to watch! Fast, but slim, a strategist, really.”

“Ahh~ and then we have Heglesa, the only female fighter- that can win, of course! She draws in crowds, really. Although, there are separate matches for females, you don’t strike me as the type coming to see them.”

“And finally,” Cipher said with a flourish. “Another newbie, mysterious, blunt and undefeated so far. You know, he's barely even been scratched in any of his matches, everyone claims he's immortal! He's been selling us out weekly!”

Bells dinged aggressively, and Cipher sighed “It seems like we're out of time for betting… but the fights should be just enough to keep me entertained in the meanwhile! It's Brutus versus Avilius first, and he never wins. But.. I'm willing to bet that it'll heat up after this round! You'd best get a seat, patron~.”

The blue eyed man was a little rattled from the interaction, but did as she said, half shoving his way through the crowd until he found a sizable plot of sticky flooring to plant his feet.

“OUR FIRST MATCH TONIGHT WILL BE THE VETERAN BRUTUS VERSUS AVILUS!!!” The crowd erupted in pre-drunken cheers, threats and laughs clawing their ways up from beneath the uproar. 

As the two men stepped into the ring, Phainon was admittedly less than interested. He wasn't a person who loved violence, and didn’t take an exorbitant amount of joy in gambling. But still, he watched on, observing the two fighters, attempting to keep an open mind. 

Brutus leaped forward immediately, the blunt force of his fist only just missing his opponent. Avilius looked smug, as if he had just executed some superhuman feat. What he didn't realise was Brutus bringing his own arm back, clipping Avilus hard on the side of the head, retrieving a sudden groan from his opponent. Taking advantage of his delirium, Brutus acted quickly, thrusting himself forward, attacking ruthlessly with his fists. Avilius tried to block, tried to gain purchase, but it was futile. He was soon knocked to the ground, panting heavily on the floor of the ring.

“YET ANOTHER VICTORY TO BRUTUS! IF YOU HAVE PLACED A BET FOR THIS ROUND, PLEASE MAKE YOU WAY OVER TO CIPHER TO CLAIM YOUR REWARD! YOU HAVE THREE MINUTES BEFORE THE MATCHES RESUME!”

Before Phainon knew it, the matches were beginning again. The crowd now lulled into a somewhat drunken stupor, the floor beneath his feet somehow growing stickier by the minute.

“NOW, WE HAVE OUR VERY OWN DAROS AGAINST ALBUS!”

“BEGIN!”

As Cipher had said, the man that stepped into the ring was lean, hopping from left to right like a rabbit, circling the ring with attentive wit, following the movements of his opponent. Daros struck first, accuracy clearly honed with time, a balled fist hitting his opponent directly in the stomach. The breath was knocked out of Albus, as he staggered back- staying still could clearly not beat this opponent- He decided to attempt outlasting the brunette, but for every hit he blocked, another two seemed to materialize, connecting with his body before he could even comprehend movement from the other. He lasted longer than Avillius but was eventually defeated, Daros exiting the ring without any injuries.

Phainon was more intrigued by this man, although somewhat annoyed at his arrogant attitude. He would have retrieved his laptop and tried to exit but he had somehow been blocked into his meagre spot by canoodling couples and just as passionate crowds.

“NOW, WE HAVE MARCUS VERSUS OUR CURRENTLY UNDEFEATED ‘IMMORTAL’ ROOKIE!”

This sentence seemed to sober the crowd slightly, voices hushing slightly and all eyes turning to the ring. Phainon could definitely understand why. The man who stepped onto the ring was magnetic. He commanded a cold ferocity which seemed to silence the room around man. Crimson rivulets of ink were embedded in his perfectly tanned skin, toned arms barely constrained by golden bands, accentuated by a golden earring, dangling alongside a neat red-tipped braid which rested gently upon the man's clavicle. 

“Wait a minute…”

The sudden bolt of realisation that struck Phainon was hastily shoved away with a loud thud; Mydeimos had Brutus practically pinned against the ropes, throwing punch after punch, the thick leather of the glove barely nullifying his blows. He struck strategically, over and over, the blonde leaving no room to counterattack. Phainon watched on, admiration growing as he watched the man gracefully dodge before striking with immense speed, never growing tired and not receiving a single injury. Brutus began to reclaim ground, ever so slightly, wiping spit from his mouth before raising his arms. Mydeimos stayed perfectly still, watching his opponent as he unsteadily crept forward. Even whilst stationary, Mydeimos was motion held back,  deliberate and dangerous. Brutus leaped forward again, attempting a final triumph. Yet, he was met not with victory, but a fist. The bustling venue was quiet compared to it, the sheer force commanding the attention of all those in the room to the tan man standing above his defeated foe.

Phainon was rooted to the spot, whether it was due to awe or the unknown substance beneath he didn't know. For all he knew, he was watching an angel– a tall, handsome, disproportionately muscular one– but an angel nonetheless. He wanted to stay there forever, stuck in that spot, stuck in the very moment where Mydeimos raised his arm in victory, stuck in the sliver of his smile that he caught, convinced no-one else saw and stuck in the moment where he could tell that he had foolishly fallen in love.

And then there were sirens, further, then closer, but still ever nearing. The music faltered but the crowd didn't, still cheering and reveling in their earnt money. The sirens’ wailing grew closer and closer until the drunkards and gamblers stopped their merriments and began fleeing the vicinity in swarms, dashing for the stairs and fire exits. Not after turning back in an attempt to steal a glance of Mydeimos, Phainon quickly followed suit, dashing after a large herd to a bottleneck in the smoke laden alley. 

People were panting, still holding half full plastic cups that were salvaged from their escape, drinking the remnants before ever so gradually dispersing, folding betting slips into wallets, checking  their friends for injuries before sauntering back into the night. Some were in groups, some in pairs and some were alone, just like Phainon. He was right back to where he started: alone in an alley and hopelessly lost without internet.

That was, until he saw a growingly familiar back walking away, hands gently combing through wine-tipped hair as he travelled.

“WAIT!”

The man pivoted, face excruciatingly composed. “What?”

Phainon truly didn't think he'd get this far, faltering before attempting conversation. “Mydeimos, right?”

The man stared at him, eyebrows ever so slightly raised. “Mydei.” he corrected, still slightly surprised. “Do you need something?”

Phainon was shocked at the bluntness of the response, grappling to find words. “Yes, actually! I happen to be slightly lost with no way to get home and I’d be very grateful if you could point me in the right direction…” Phainon trailed off, his final words lacking much of the bravado he began with.

“Where to?”

“Okhema University.”

“Walk forward and take two lefts, continue on that path until you reach the library, then turn right again and you should be able to find your way from there.”

“Thank you!” Phainon said, a little too gladly, staring down at Mydei’s now mercifully clad (albeit minimally) torso before waving over his shoulder, taking his leave. 

Once Phainon had presumably covered a lengthy distance, Mydei also began to depart., turning before muttering with a small chuckle. “Still forgetful.”

Phainons walk back was transformative, even if most of it was thinking about Mydei and how to orchestrate more interactions with him. Efficient as ever, he came up with a plan: he would return to the library under the guise of researching his paper (hopefully completing at least some of it) whilst still being on the lookout for a certain somebody to see him working diligently, by which he would be so impressed that he would forget their previously embarrassing (for Phainon, at least) encounters.

Phainon stumbled into his dorm, wholly satisfied. He pulled off his shoes before tossing them to the side, not bothering to change before slipping into bed, instantaneously falling asleep.

Chapter Text

The sun was forcing itself through the blinds when Phainon finally awoke, rubbing at his eyes and swinging himself into a sitting position, the last night's events slowly caught up to him. Lost. Noise. Fighting. Sirens. Mydei. Better yet, a conversation with him. It wouldn't have felt real if it weren't for the very prominent scent of beer and lingering sweat. Exhaling deeply, Phainon pushed himself to get up and organise himself, motivated by his previously cultivated plan. He stood up, somewhat aimlessly drifting his way to the bathroom. He fumbled with the door handle before pulling off his soiled clothes and dumping them on the floor. 

He got his blood moving first, allowing the hot water to run down his body, drenching his hair before ebbing further and further down. It passed the sun tattoo on his neck, pooling in his clavicles before running down his torso, clinging to his legs and finally ending its journey on the tiled floor, slithering its way down the drain. Following a few cycles of this, Phainon reluctantly reached for the soap and water-diluted shampoo, scrubbing himself until he smelt like ‘linen and irises’ or so the soap claimed. He let the shower run until the water turned cold before turning it off, still standing under the shower head, letting the last few droplets slide off his still dripping hair.

After standing for a while, not particularly deep in thought, he reached for a (mostly) dry towel, unfolding it before rubbing at his hair with it, removing the majority of the moisture before moving onto the rest of his body, quickly patting himself down before tying the towel around his waist, stepping out of the bathroom and toward his closet, picking out his best –and only– white button down and pairing it with a black pair of slacks, something Aglaea made him wear for a rather important event. Although it wasn’t suited to his exact obscure tastes, he decided it was adequate, if not painstakingly boring. After staring at himself in the mirror, he concluded that his outfit wasn't enough. Phainon reached back into the closet, hands grasping a black leather choker, triumphantly holding it in his palms before deftly fastening it around his neck.

He more gently handled his stationery today, clipping spare paper together before putting it into his bag, putting pens into their own allocated pockets before fully zipping it up. By now, it was evident that he had ulterior motives; Phainon was clearly not being driven by his love of academics. He slid his phone into his pocket before practically gallivanting out the door.

The walk to the library this time around was more purposeful, The bright-eyed man taking lengthy strides along the path, passing meandering strangers and runners alike, all the way to the library. The building hadn’t changed since he last visited (unsurprisingly), it still held all its noble grandeur, with its walls of books and scholarly visitors. The only difference was Phainon, his neat shirt and his newfound drive.

Phainon meticulously examined the vacant seats in the library, carefully avoiding the front desk before promptly settling on a small table tucked between two towering shelves. He took out his pen and paper, laying it neatly on the table before opening his laptop, preparing to commence his work.

Phainon did in fact start on his paper, writing in lines and altering punctuation as he went. 

Achilles was the strongest fighter in the Greek army during the Trojan War. He was the son of Peleus, king of the Myrmidons, and Thetis, a sea nymph. Phainon wrote, proud of his diligence. It is said Thetis dipped Achilles as a child in the waters of the River Styx, by which means he became invulnerable, except for the part of his heel by which she held him- creating the proverbial ‘Achilles’ heel. This drabble continued for a while, Phainon very regularly looking up, searching for a certain blonde librarian. His work continued, short bursts of writing before intently observing his surroundings, over and over. Fellow students yawned, and the tapping of keys was constant, the scent of old paper and fresh ink overwhelming. 

That was, until he spotted him.

Mydei was as beautiful as he remembered, dignified lines and cool eyes, staring attentively at the books he was shelving, gently aligning them before standing back with a satisfied exhale, adjusting his glasses before continuing on to the next shelf. Mydei rhythmically fulfilled his duties, oblivious to the silver-haired onlookers' admiration.

Phainon had initially planned to simply observe, but at the sight of Mydei, all his resolve melted away. He began brainstorming ways to initiate, in a way which came off as charming instead of creepy. He pondered for a while, pen tapping idly on his paper, leaving a smattering of uneven dots along the margin. Unfortunately, the passage of time had no sympathy for Phainon, leading Mydei away and back to the front desk where he sat down, typing diligently and conversing with the fellow library-goers.

Conversing a little too much, if Phainon was being truthful. He caught the tail ends of a conversation.

“Would that be all, Miss?” Came the deeper voice.

“Of course! Thank you, as always, Mydeimos! Will you be working again tomorrow?”

“I’ll have a morning shift, but will be gone by noon.”

“I see! I might come and pick up those books we were speaking about, then!”

“Very well, I’ll have them waiting at the counter.”

Mydei retained his formal tone, but it seemed like nothing of the sort to Phainon. With nowhere to vent his jealousy, he took it out on his paper, handwriting becoming viciously jagged and uneven. Mind still clouded by anger, Phainon stared down at his half finished page, messy handwriting running into the margins and crammed lines with half cohesive sentences trailing off. “There has to be a better way to do this.” he thought, it simply wasn't in his nature to sit around angry all day, especially over someone he barely knew doing his job. Perhaps a break was in order. Phainon hastily packed his things back into his bag, sliding his chair back under the table with his foot before walking back across the carpeted floor and out of the door, not bothering to avoid the pigeons gathering on the front steps. He decided to make an appearance at a cafe that he knew Castorice took shifts at, determining to pay her a visit.

“Hey Cas!”

“Oh! Hello Phainon, I didn't expect you to be out today!”

“I have important business to attend to, you know.” Phainon said mock-seriously.

“I'm sure, Phai, you look nice! No purple pants today?” 

“Very funny Cas, now, aren't you meant to be taking my order?”

“Of course, and what might I get for you today?”

“Mocha please, extra cocoa powder.”

“You can just order a sweet drink if you want Phai.”

“Shh! I’m being as scholarly as possible today!”

 Castorice laughed a little “Anything else?”

“Apricot danish please Madam!” He joked.

“Right, your total will be 13.50. Will that be cash or card?”

“Cash.” Phainon said, grinning.

“Alright, let me ring you up.”

Pocketing his change, Phainon searched for a seat. He settled on a table near the window, a vase of ornately arranged flowers neatly crowning the warm toned wood, undoubtedly coordinated by Castorice. He admired her work, lilacs bound in small bushels whilst miniature daisies peeked out from beneath the purple clusters, tiny suns emerging from the rivers of purple. He was glad to see that his close friend was doing what she enjoyed, easily picturing her typing up her lengthy hair and slipping on gardening gloves hours before her shift.

“Phainon, your mocha and danish.”

“Aww, thanks Cas, the flowers are beautiful, by the way.”

Castorice was a little flustered at the praise, but gave him a soft smile.“Thank you… I’d love to talk more, but I should get back to work. Thank you for coming to see me!”

“Bye Castorice!”

Phainon now focused his attention on his food, smiling at the liberal dusting of cocoa powder on the coffee, praying that it would neutralise the black liquid's foul taste. He took a sizable bite of the danish, the scent of ink on his cuffs still lingering. Sugar-glazed crumbs fell onto the plate and his shirt, Phainon too busy to notice with the sweet pastry in his mouth. He glanced at the time on his phone, feigning disinterest upon the realisation that he was spending time away from the library. But, to Phainons satisfaction, an epiphany followed the sudden intake of sugar. With the purpose of his break fulfilled, Phainon wolfed down the rest of his meal, trying not to taste as he drank down the remnants of his coffee.

“Could I borrow these?” Phainon said, gesturing to the thick books in his arms.

“Of course, do you have a library card?”

This was a foreign concept to Phainon, previously having no experiences with libraries. 

“No, sorry…”

“Would you like to register one?”

“Yes!”

“Alright. Name?”

“Phainon.”

“Phone number?”

“What about yours?” Phainon said, only registering the words as they left his mouth, flushing deeply.

“For the card, that is.” Mydei said with a dry cough, perhaps a disguised laugh.

“YES! I knew that, of course!” Phainon replied urgently.

“Right, give it a minute to register in the system.”

Following the silence that seemed much longer than necessary, Mydei began to write on a slip of paper, placing it below the now complete card and handing it to Phainon. “The cards on top, my phone number is on the note.”

“Would I be able to borrow those books now?” Phainon smiled, recovered from the previous incident and resisting the urge to scream thanks to the heavens.

“Yes, you may.” The librarian  replied, scanning the books before handing them to Phainon, who momentarily shifted beneath the weight before placing them in his still partially unzipped bag.

“Do remember to return them on time, Phainon.” Mydei said, looking up at him through black rims.

Phainon ran back to the University, ecstatic, clutching the note with more force than was necessary. He was cheering on the inside, thanking himself for his impulse.This exchange of numbers was more than Phainon would've ever dreamed of, a blessing in the form of a pink post-it note. Perhaps the studious life paid off.

He placed the note delicately on his desk before rushing down the campus stairs, adrenaline still coursing through him, entering the room just as the lecture was beginning. The green ponytailed man had just begun rambling on about the significance of constellations throughout history, picking out unsuspecting students to answer questions and traipsing around the room in moments of inspiration. He was an excellent teacher, but just as eccentric as he was intelligent. He whipped around upon Phainons entry, voice piercing the room “Phainon! Now, what is one point of significance of constellations in ancient Greece?”

“Constellations were named after heroes, gods, and mythical creatures, many having a corresponding story or myth associated with them.” Phainon replied, not missing a beat.

“I see you have been studying, as you are expected to. Now! All of you will be receiving a test notification by the second week of the next semester, if you have any questions, please talk to me preferably after class time, otherwise–” The professor then seemed to come across a spark of muse, pacing around before hurriedly walking out of the room, surely having come up with some genius concept.

This happened all too often, so the students were well prepared, they pulled out laptops and pens, beginning independent study. Alternatively, Phainon reached for his phone.

Phainon: You two want to meet for lunch after lectures?

Aglaea: Alright, dining hall? 

Castorice: Of course! I’ll have to leave a little early for botany though…

Phainon: No problem! See you there!

Aglaea: Aren't you meant to be in lecture right now?

Phainon: Professor Anaxa walked out again, you can see him pacing in the gardens if you look out the window…

Aglaea: I see…

Sensing the  imminent return of Anaxagoras, Phainon slid his phone back into his pocket, and, as predicted,The scholar walked back in, muttering under his breath before returning to the front of the class. “Now, I trust you’ve all started working and you may continue whilst I speak.” Phainon began to doze off a little, fingers lazily tapping the table as he took half-legible notes on his notebook. The minutes bled slowly into his writing, the letters growing sloppier as the clock ticked ambiently in the background. “What a pain…” he thought, “If only I were in the library right now,  I’d definitely be able to focus…” more time passed, the clock continuing as the Professor quoted some niche philosopher. All but too late, the sound of his peers awoke him from his daydream, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum flooring of the hall and the beginnings of conversation accompanying the straightening of paper and zipping of bags. 

Phainon was the first to get to the dining hall, saving a table by strategically placing his bag on one of the seats before lining up for lunch. Thankfully, the line was short and the food plentiful, sandwiches stacked high and jugs of all multitudes of drinks lining the counters. Phainon grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water before reinstating his presence at the table. Castorice had arrived, sipping an intricately decorated drink before speaking.

“Hey Phai! I didn't think I'd get to see you again today!”

Before Phainon could reply, a more distant voice came “I'm surprised you're this early, Phainon, I knew Castorice had told me you’d changed, but I didn't expect this.”

“Nice to see you too, Aglaea” 

“So, Phainon, what's happened?” The blonde woman questioned.

“What do you mean?”

“You've seemed really happy these past two days, excluding the incident with your test of course.” Castorice continued.

“We were wondering if you’d met someone, in short.” Aglaea finished.

“Well, It's complicated…” Phainon said, unwilling to fight Aglaeas instinct.

“So you have met someone, Phai?” Castorice smiled.

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you the story…” Phainon said, eyes wandering away from the duo.

“By all means go ahead, Phainon. I truly wish to know what motivated this much appreciated change in style.” Aglaea said, raising her eyebrows at him.

Fortunately, Phainons narrative skills were adept, especially when it came to Mydei. He wove a quite beautiful story of their encounters, the unrequited glances at the library, the stern voice, the exchange of numbers, and finally his own sugar-fueled genius. As admittedly unrequited as it remained, Phainon still preached with hope, his explanation vivid and  face full of emotion, sandwich sitting abandoned on the table.

“Wow.” Castorice responded first, eyes a little starstruck.

“I did tell you, Castorice, my knack for knowing is rarely incorrect..” Aglaea interrupted.

“AGLAEA! How insensitive…” Phainon said, trying his best not to laugh.

Castorice, holding back a chuckle from Aglaea's remark “Ah! I should go now, I wouldn't want to be late! Best of luck, Phai.” Castorice said, grabbing her bag and finishing her drink before waving to Aglaea, who waved politely before turning to Phainon.

“So, Phainon, this is why you've been acting like a lovestruck teen?”

Phainon couldn't get away fast enough from Aglea’s merciless questions, excusing himself under the guise of asking Anaxagoras for assistance.

He walked backed up to the male dormitories, passing a glance at the notice board before stepping into his room. He hastily unbuttoned the suffocating shirt, leaning back in his chair, it creaking under the sudden use. He was staring at the post-it note, pondering the best possible way to begin a text. He typed Mydeis’ number in, hesitating before messaging.

Phainon: Hey, when can I see you again?

He then set his phone face down on the table, before pulling the borrowed books out of his abandoned bag. He delicately turned the pages, searching the index for the information he was looking for. Many people think Achilles is a Greek god. But he was actually a soldier in the battle of Troy. He was known as one of the most brave and famous soldiers. Earlier in his life, he was given a choice by the gods. Either to be a famous soldier, one that everyone would remember, and be talked about for all eternity or turn away and live a peaceful life, unbeknownst to others, yet happy, surrounded by family. The book read, tiny font stuffing lines upon lines of information into the pages.

He turned the page over, fingers ever so slightly catching on the slightly coarse paper before revealing a beautifully painted image. A gold clad man stood triumphantly, feathered helmet adorning boyishly messy hair. A great red cape enveloped his shoulders, eyes looking onwards into battle. His stance was full of pride, commanding the lines of onlooking soldiers. The next page held a more saddening image; the very same man falling, an arrow sticking out of his ankle as many others tore at his now mortal flesh. His face wasn't visible, turned away, leaving only crimson splattered hair and a broken body. Of course his thoughts turned to another blonde-dyed-red “Could Mydei ever be like that? What could his weakness possibly be?” Phainon pondered, “What would be like to see him so vulnerable?” he fantasised, now rocking back and forth in his chair, half-worn shirt draped artistically around him. Dread followed the thought, unwilling to think Mydei injured or hurt. A ping from his phone followed the silence, Phainon lunging for the device,  holding it in two hands before unlocking it.

Castorice: Hey Phainon, sorry to bother you, but would you be able to help me out with some flowers tomorrow? They’re  just a handful to repot and I promise I’ll  make it up to you!

Unwilling to admit that he was slightly saddened at the lack of reply from Mydei, he texted back.

Phainon: Sure! When do you need me?

Castorice: Eleven tomorrow would be good!

Phainon: See you there Cas!!!

He slipped his phone into his pocket, now utterly unable to work. He decided to walk back around campus, passing some time. He rebuttoned his shirt, not bothering to properly redo the collar before stepping back out.

The halls were oddly quiet, devoid of the typical thumps of music and rowdy laughter, perhaps he was missing something. He peered at the notice board, eyes sifting through flyers and announcements, eventually landing on a bright yellow flyer. 

PARTY ON 4/2, (ABANDONED LOTT) BRING YOUR OWN DRINKS! 5PM ONWARDS.

The visually abrasive letters leaped out at Phainon. He hesitated, considering his options. “I’m sure I'll be on time for Cas tomorrow... And I don't have anything better to do…” Phainon was easily swayed by his own reassurance, combing his hands through his hair before dashing down the stairs.

The venue was unfamiliar, even with its proximity to the University; metal beams were scattered here and there, transformed into makeshift benches where people bantered and drunk. Crushed cans stood littered around, the occasional crunch sounding before another was tossed into a growing pile. Phainon enjoyed the atmosphere, accepting a drink from a passer by, chugging it down before rolling the can around in his hands, fiddling with the tab, then  placing it next to him. People kept coming, offering drinks and their arms. He accepted the beers but rejected the offers to dance, sitting almost motionless, foot tapping gently and the pile of cans slowly growing. He thought he could handle alcohol well, but it became apparent that when consumed in excess alongside a very small amount (none) of food, it was much easier to become wasted.

The alcohol coursed through his system, the thrum accompanying a newfound bravado. He stood up, stretching before rolling his sleeves up. He walked toward the makeshift dance floor, which was really just the least jagged square of ground available. He moved alongside the people, energy undeniably overpowering. He swayed to the dramatic music, holding the hands of others, spinning and stepping with men and women alike then bowing before moving onto his next partner. As naturally as his charm came, it felt off, wrong somehow. No matter how many people he danced with, he didn't feel satisfied. He wrote it off as the alcohol and receded from the dance floor, clumsily perching himself upon a cold steel beam. He unbuttoned more of his shirt, allowing the cooling air to hit his chest, praying that it would help him unwind a little. But still, the feeling of unease was unshakeable. He yielded, pulling out his phone. A notification greeted him.

Mydei: If you’re referring to me fighting, it starts at 11:30pm in two days, although, I have no idea as to when I’m on.

Phainon looked down in disbelief, hazy mind desperately attempting to piece together the simple message.

Phainon: so soon?? I must be lcuky..

Mydei: Due to the disruption last time, an make-up has been organized.

Phainon: great ill see yu rhere!! He wrote, fingers slipping across his phone.

Mydei: Are you alright?

Phainon: yes! im jusd drunk

Mydei: Are you serious? Do you not need to study tomorrow?

Phainon: did you want me to visit youagain?

The reply took longer to arrive this time, blue eyes staring at the screen in drunken anticipation. 

Mydei: Go back to your dorm and drink some water, I’ll see you in two days.

Mydei's digitized words sobered Phainon up ever so slightly, a stream of consciousness forming in the nature of urgency, the man quickling rising to his feet, surroundings blacking out a little. 

Phainon’s feeble attempt to walk back to the university was catastrophic. Phainon bumped into poles before apologising profusely, staggering at some points and practically sprinting at others, his terrible sense of direction leading him in endless cycles. The scenery grew recognisable before completely changing, stars now well into the sky. Even though the building was large and very close to the venue, Phainon had still found himself stumbling around in the night. It wasn't long before he found himself slamming into another pole, or maybe even a wall, considering its size. He had stopped apologizing at this point, muddled head gradually adapting. He attempted to remove himself from the obstruction and push past, that was, until the wall spoke.

“I do remember telling you to go home.” came a familiar voice “So what could you possibly be doing at the bottom of the library's steps? Loitering is against the law, you know.”

Phainon was startled, yelping before muttering a response, half believing he was imagining the blonde peering down at him.

“I was going home, I just got lost.” He replied, hastily removing himself from the other's chest.

“And you are here because?”

“I needed a break– keep running into things.” 

“I'm unsurprised.” The man said, response lacking the typical cold accompaniment. “Get up.”

“Huh? Why?” Phainon attempted to retort, even as his legs forced himself to a standing position.

“Because I can’t have you being the first thing I see when I clock in tomorrow morning.”

“Am I that distracting?” The white haired man replied, a goofish smile crossing his tipsy face.

Mydei didn't give a response, roughly slinging the Phainon’s arm around his shoulder before practically carrying him down the stairs. 

“You really are strong…” 

“Or so I’ve heard. Walk.”

“I think I prefer it this way, Mydei.”

“And I'd prefer it if you stopped forcing me to carry you.”

“So cruel… I spent the whole day trying to catch your attention, you know.” Phainon simpered, alcohol clearly still in control.

Another pause followed, a lot more profound than the response to come.

“Very funny, we’re almost there.” 

“Are you really walking me all the way home?”

“I’m not going out of my way to, my place is close by.”

“But you're doing it for my sake, right?” Phainon said, head lolling a little.

“I’m doing it for the sake of pedestrians and poles, apparently.” 

“Sure you are, Mydeimos.” He teased back.

“Indeed.” Mydei continued walking, adjusting himself slightly. “ We’re here, or did you need me to carry you back to your dorm?” He said, removing Phainon’s arm from his shoulder.

Phainon managed to cling on, bleary eyes staring up at the blonde. “Are you offering?”

“No. Go to bed, Phainon.” Mydei muttered in response, prying Phainon off of him.

Phainon staggered a bit, before giving an uncoordinated wave. “Thank you, Mydei.”

Chapter Text

Phainons return to consciousness was not nearly as sweet as his dream, a migraine throbbing from beneath his temples, body spread eagled on the floor next to his bed. That however, was not his most pressing issue. He hastily pulled himself into the bathroom, brushing his teeth whilst somehow pulling a pair of trousers on, rinsing out his mouth before tugging a shirt over his head, not bothering to look at its most likely garish colour.

He heard a distant buzz from his phone, which he rushed out to check, seeing a couple of missed messages.

Castorice: Phai! Could you meet me at greenhouse 2 for today? I’ll bring drinks!

Phainon: Thank you Cas, I'm so hungover… I’ll see you in fifteen!

The greenhouses were one of the more picturesque locations in the university, tucked gently behind the main building, glass always perfectly transparent and plants always thriving. The trip could be difficult in the mornings, dew dappling the grass and dampening pedestrians' shoes; fortunately, the water had long since evaporated by the time Phainon had stumbled his way down, taking long strides through the meticulously maintained grass. He scanned the area for purple hair, seeking out his friend. Before long, he spotted her, dashing up and tapping her on the shoulder. 

“Hey Cas!” He said, mustering a smile.

“Phainon! I got us drinks from my morning shift!” Castorice handed him an elaborately decorated drink, an abundance of chocolate visible through the clear cup. “I assumed you wouldn't want a coffee.” 

“Cas you're the best… I need this so much!” Phainon replied, perking up at the promise of sugar.

His companion smiled up from her own drink, an iced tea sprinkled with flower petals.

“So! Should we get started?”

“Sure, we’ll be repotting orchids, they're pretty delicate so I thought I could use some help.”

The purple haired woman led the way, gently opening the door and beckoning Phainon in before swiftly closing it behind her. She loosely tied up her lengthy hair before reaching for a pair of gloves on a nearby bench, sliding them onto her rather thin hands tugging at their fabric before giving a satisfied look. Phainon imitated her, choosing his own pair and pulling the coarse fabric over his fingers.

“Orchids are pretty sensitive to light, so they're on the bottom shelf. There are quite a few, but hopefully I won't keep you too long…” Castorice said.

“No problem Cas! How should we start?” 

“Ok,” She said, leading him over to the shelves. “You’ll need to loosen the soil around them first.” She instructed, hands gently squeezing the sides of the flimsy plastic container. Phainon mirrored her, taking a pot and loosening the soil.

“Then, you’ll have to remove the pot. Don’t force it, though, they have really delicate roots!” She said, slightly urgent.

“Right!” Phainon replied, easing the indigo flower from the loose soil. 

“Then, just shake them gently, to make sure there's no excess dirt.” She said, preoccupied with her own specimen.

Phainon shook at his plant and dirt went flying a little further than anticipated, leaving small opaque grains on the tiled floor.

Castorice giggled a little, amused at Phainons bewilderment. “Not that roughly, Phai, you only need to remove a little.”

“You could’ve said that sooner.” Phainon joked back, front dirtied with a smattering of dirt.

“Right, right.” She continued “For now, just lay them on that tray once you're finished.”

Phainon did as she said, gently placing the delicate flower on the metal sheet, quickly grabbing another pot from the shelf.

They accompanied each other in silence for a while, the occasional spray of dirt interrupting their steady rhythm of work. Unexpectedly, Castorice initiated the conversation.

“So, Phai, the mysterious library guy huh?”

“Ughh… Cas… don't pounce on me like that…” He groaned, running his gloved hands through his hair and consequently depositing a small pile of dirt. “Did Aglaea put you up to this?”

“No, she didn’t.” Castorice noticeably inhaled, “I just haven’t seen you so happy in ages, Phai, and I’m so glad that you’ve been able to find someone who actually helps you.” She breathed again, tension building in the glass room. “You’ve been taking care of yourself more and have actually been working! I’ve seen you throughout everything and this is just different.” Her words were rushed, but undeniably profound.

Phainon was surprised at the sudden onslaught of words from his friend, flushing a little before responding.

“Thank you, Cas, really. I appreciate you so much.” 

It was Castorice's turn to flush; she squeaked a little, which was quickly cut off by her reply. “Anytime Phai, I’ll give you a hand with anything as long as you can stick with this mystery guy. Speaking of which… are you two meeting up again soon? I have an idea for you!” She followed, perking up.

“What is it, Cas?” Phainon said, tugging at a particularly stubborn flower.

“Well, I was thinking, you could take some flowers! I can help you organize them–of course, and I’ll make sure they’re perfect for the occasion!” She said, a little embarrassed.

“CAS!!! That would be awesome! Thank you!” He exclaimed, hesitating before replying again. “Unfortunately, I don't think our next outing will quite fit… I’ll definitely take up your offer soon though!” 

“Sure, Phai, let me know whenever!” Castorice smiled, glad she was met with excitement.

The day drifted on, marking its presence through the transparent windows, casting shadows upon the various plants in the room. The tray of flowers was almost filled, roots entangling at the edges and purple petals gently folding themselves into buds.

“Good job, Phainon, Now we just need to replant and water them. Fill the ceramic pots with dirt and then just use the watering can, after that, we should be done!”

“Great!” Phainon said, stretching out his arms before reaching for the shelves.

Time meandered by again, idle conversation dancing between the pair as they toiled.

The pleasant time he had spent with Castorice was quickly erased by his sudden, yet hazy recollection of the past nights events. He yanked his phone out of his pocket, failing the password two times before he was shown the homescreen. His apps were scattered, eyes darting rapidly from square to square, homing in on his messages.

He peered at an unread text:

Mydei: Did you manage to make it 50 meters without bumping into something?

Phainons memory began to sharpen, formless blobs of consciousness taking a more substantial shape.

Phainon: And yes, according to the bruises all over me, you should’ve carried me up.

Mydei: It seems you really are no different drunk…

Phainon: WAIT WHAT DO YOU MEAN DID I SAY SOMETHING!?

Mydei: I’m on shift right now, so I suppose you don’t get to know.

Phainon: HEY! That's clearly unfair…

Mydei’s response was declared in the form of an unread text. 

The next day passed sluggishly, filled with lengthy lectures and crudely taken notes, Phainon's head filled with the prospects of the night to come.

Patience had never been one of Phainons more prominent virtues, and this particular day was no exception; he paced around his room absent-mindedly rocking on furniture  and pulling at his hair. He attempted to formulate a plan for that night, leaving his wardrobe dishevelled alongside colourful clothes strewn around the room. He decided on an insultingly colourful shirt and a pair of jeans which exposed a little too much of his ankles. They weren't stylish in any sense (not that Phainon was aware) but they were much cleaner than the marinating pile of clothes next to the bathroom door.

Phainon stepped out into the street with much more confidence than the typical person wearing an abomination of an outfit. However ridiculous he looked, a positive mindset often leads to a positive outcome, and for Phainon, this worked out perfectly well. 

His mind was racing with too much excitement to focus on studying, or doing anything useful, for that matter. He lingered around the block for a while, buying an overpriced drink at some novel cafe, taking a few sips from the excessively detailed straw as he paced. He returned to the library, as always, sitting on the steps and scrolling on his phone, the sunset slowly descending upon the landscape.

 “Have you resorted to alternative means of garnering my attention?” Mydei’s voice came,  the attached gesturing to his shirt. 

“Is it working?”

“Not in the way you would typically hope.”

“I seriously don’t understand what everyone has against my outfits.” Phainon replied, offended.

“No comment.” The blonde said “And why are you here again?”

“I remembered that I didn’t have the address for the venue tonight.” Phainon answered with a grin, clearly prepared.

“And you didn't think to message me?”

“I did, but unfortunately, you were on shift.” The white haired man answered, smiling at his own wit.

“Give me some paper, I’ll write it down for you.” Mydeimos replied, a little irritated.

“I don’t have any, maybe we could go together.” Phainon said, a shred of hope behind his blatant tease.

“Nice try, but no.” Mydei retorted, “Give me your arm.”

Phainon held out his appendage, Mydei deftly grasping it before pulling a pen out of his pocket. Making no attempt at being gentle, the blonde wrote on Phainon’s forearm, immaculate handwriting marking his pale skin.

“A pink pen? Really?” Phainon joked, trying to distract himself from the focus riddled on Mydei's face as he gently clasped his forearm.

“Says the one with the shirt” 

“I pull it off better” he said, blush rising upon his face.

“I’m doubtful, and all done.” Mydei said, capping the pen and slipping it into his pocket.

Phainon was unable to retract his arm fast enough and yet, he still craved the touch, the lightly calloused hands and tanned skin dwelling upon him, clinging even. Mydei’s hand had been so close to his only moments ago, his confident clasp still lingering. “I’m never going to wash this arm again.” Phainon thought, mind racing at the unexpected touch.

A voice cut through the rush of his brain; “So, I’ll see you tonight, I guess.”

“Yep! Of course– I’ll be there!”

Like his first visit, the makeshift stadium was thriving, the crowd buzzing with activity. Instinctively, Phainon kept his bag close to his chest, zippers pressing uncomfortably into his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. He searched for familiar faces, meeting none but a certain cat-eyed woman.

“Cipher!” He called, ploughing his way through the crowd.

“Wow~ Didn’t think I’d see you again.” Her mischievous voice came. “I suppose that guy really did captivate you!”

Phainon was clearly still adapting to Ciphers all-seeing eyes. “Yep– speaking of which, do you know anything else about him?” He managed.

“I might, for a price of course!” She said gleefully, basking in Phainons embarrassment.

He held up his wallet, preparing to empty it. “Okay, tell me anything.”

“Well, the fights are starting soon, but I suppose I’ll spare some time for you.”

“Hmm~ It seems he moved recently, only started coming here a few weeks ago– you were probably one of the first to see him.” She said, fingers twirling at her silver hair. “Ah! Something really odd– he never takes his prize money, just leaves without a word after his match.” 

“Is that all?” Phainon said, grateful but desperate.”

“Of course not patron! But I’ll need a payment to continue.”

The man handed over some creased bills, Cipher pocketing them before flashing a wide smile. “Now, for some of the better stuff. Well, from what I’ve heard, he’s absolutely single– never sticks around long enough to have proper relations, you know~”

Cipher was interrupted by the ringing of the first announcement, quickly glancing up at the matchup before proceeding. “Also, I heard his weak spots’ some place on his back– not that any of his opponents actually manage to get to it. You could probably make something of it, though.” She giggled mischievously, raising her eyebrows and winking at Phainon.

A telltale thud rang throughout the hall, another match had ended. The bells dinged again, a new pair entering the ring.

“A word of advice, Phainon,” she said, “Do be careful with your wallet here.” She laughed, balancing his library card on the tips of her fingers, artfully spinning it before returning it to him alongside his wallet.

“Hey! How did you–”

“Let's not argue over petty change~” Cipher said slyly. “Now, want to know about anything else? I find you awfully fun so I can organise a discount! If not, I’m pretty sure I can get you to the front row to watch your friend”

Phainon looked at her dubiously, weighing the importance of morality in the question of proximity to Mydeimos. He gave in, nodding to the woman.

“Excellent! Don't worry about the payment, I’m sure I’ll acquire a generous tip after this~”

Cipher led him through the ground, moving uncharacteristically clumsily, lightly bumping into people before apologising a little too genuinely. She made her way to the announcer, whispering to the brunette before gesturing to his microphone.

“Get ready, Phainon~”

She tapped the microphone gently before speaking. “Everybody! I urge you to check your wallets immediately, there's been a sudden surge in pickpocketing as of late! If you find yours has been lost, please come see me and I’ll see if some virtuous soul has handed it in.”

Phainon wasted no time, climbing over the sudden crush of people stalking towards Cipher, her ever-beaming face holding stacks of wallets. 

The front of the venue was heated, lights blazing down upon the slightly elevated ring and front few rows. People were the most sober there, surprisingly, focusing on their betting slips and the now exhausted fighters. The announcer had reclaimed the microphone from Cipher, declaring the next match up.

“AND LONG AWAITED, WE HAVE OUR ‘IMMORTAL’ ANONYMOUS VERSUS DAROS.” His voice boomed.

Phainons heart jumped as he stared forward, Mydei in all his glory coming into view. he knew something had changed; Mydei was more beautiful than ever, no matter how stern his expression or heavy his punches. He could’ve been doing something as simple as laundry and Phainon would’ve been utterly captivated; blue eyes unwilling to blink at the sight of the tattooed man. 

As Cipher had said, Daros was quick, hopping from foot to foot, just like a bird. Swinging precisely yet all too lightly. Mydei stood unflinching, pushing blonde hair out of his face with his elbow, his eyes not leaving his opponent. He searched for weakness, and locked in on it quickly–the slight drag of Daro’s left arm and the flinch after he missed an attack.

Mydei was fast, much more so than Daros; He leaped forward with the ferocity of a lion descending upon its prey, taking jabs at the man's left side whilst evading counterattacks. The other man was wiry, face full of strenuous concentration, seeking an escape from the trap Mydei had set. He made every effort to land a punch, the ones he did practically bouncing off Mydei. In last ditch effort he bolted to the side, chasing at Mydei’s back; attempting to hook his arm around to deal a strike, only to be intercepted by the blonde, gold-clad arm restraining him before the other dealt a decisive blow to his now exposed front, Daros falling to the floor with a muted thump. Mydeimos looked down in disdain, scrutinizing the other man’s less than honourable tactic.

“Never show your back to your opponent.” He muttered, exiting the ring into a half-concealed room.

Phainon was quick to follow, impulsively trailing after the red-tipped hair “I wonder if he saw me?” He thought, wishful thoughts carrying him through the crowd grabbing the door before it clicked shut.

“Mydei!” 

Instead of directly quoting his rather desperate thoughts, Phainon blurted out an advance; “Would you want to go for a drink? I’ll pay! Please.”

Mydei was still pulling his shirt over his head when he heard Phainon. “Do you have any concept of time and place?” He said, stunned yet defensive.

“I do–Of course! I just wanted to catch you before you left.”

“Are you sure this isn’t a scheme because you're lost again?”

“I’ve learnt not to ask you for advice on such matters.” Phainon replied.

“Let me get changed, then I’ll meet you out front.” 

“You sure I can’t stay?” 

“Phainon.”

“Just kidding! See you!” 

The night brought forth many new experiences for Phainon; the puffs of cool air, the whispers of the crowd and most noticeable, the stars– Although they were tainted by the smoke of the city, they still bathed the area in a gentler tone than the fluorescent signage. It rivaled the beauty of the day itself, all twinkling lights and velvet sky.

“Ready to go?” Mydei’s voice came.

“Of course!” 

Phainon turned to meet his companions eyes, trying his best not to react irrationally to the sight he saw. Mydei was wearing considerably more clothing, but was undeniably attractive nonetheless; a navy button down was half-tucked into dark jeans, paired with a leather jacket which was slung over his shoulder, sleeves trailing behind him.

“Well?”

“Yep– yep! Coming!” He said, eyes mapping out the blonde's body.

Even though Phainon had originally offered the meeting, Mydei guided them. They walked shoulder to shoulder through the alleys, fingers just close enough together to pull off the illusion of entanglement. Phainons fingers instinctively reached for closeness, the warmth he knew Mydei would have, seeking shelter from the cool air. He stopped himself, as difficult as it was, clenching his fist before taking a half step sideways. The vivid street signs didn’t seem to entice Mydei, his confident stride never faltering as he navigated through the street, oblivious to Phainon’s struggle.

“Here.” Mydei said. Turning to a rather nondescript entryway.

They entered the bar, Mydei taking the lead, approaching the bartender. He seemed well worn, scrawny frame emphasised by his flowing hair. “Mydeimos! I didn’t expect you to have company tonight.”

“He’s paying for my drink.” Mydei stated.

“Is he now? It’s still unexpected!” He remarked “The usual?”

“Yes please, Hephaestion.”

“Anything for him?” He said, motioning to Phainon with a slim hand.

“Lemonade, please.” Phainon said, smiling at the man.

“Learnt from your last time with alcohol I see.” Mydei muttered.

“I thought you’d insult me less if I paid…” 

The brunette coughed gently, pulling them from their banter. “Will that be all for now?” He said, shooting a knowing smile in Mydei’s direction.

“Yes, thank you.” Mydei said, slightly flustered.

They walked to the table nearest to the entry, two seats facing each other over a repurposed barrel. 

“Your fight,” Phainon started.

“Went poorly, my opponent was a coward.” Mydei cut him off.

“Why?”

“You don’t face your back towards your opponent, it’s a show of cowardice–I dislike fighting people who are unwilling to face me as an equal.” He explained, fingers tracing over the ridges of the makeshift table. “Strategy is strategy, but within strategy lies honor– Daros lacked that.”

His response dazed Phainon, an unexpected depth to his reasoning. 

“Your drinks, sirs.” Came Hephaestion's voice. He placed down a glass of something pink in front of Mydei whilst holding back a chuckle, handing Phainon his beverage in a more dignified manner.

“Enjoy, you two.”

Once Hephaestion was out of earshot, Phainon resumed the conversation. “A pink drink? What’s even in it? He questioned.

“Pomegranate juice and milk– I don’t need another person teasing me for it so try it before you judge.” he added, sliding the glass over the table whilst glancing towards the bar.

Phainon grabbed the cup, sniffing it before taking a tentative sip. He was met with a tart yet sweet flavour, gently blended with the mildness of the milk. “Wow, I guess you really were onto something.”

“It astonishes me that you still doubt my taste.” Mydei responded, reaching for Phainons glass. He took a sip, maintaining eye contact, “And it seems I win, mine is better.” He said, smirking.

“I'm sure that's an opinion.” Phainon shot back, confidence fueled by the promise of a challenge.

The night continued onwards, the pair ordering more and more drinks, growing increasingly more extravagant as Hephaestion tirelessly worked behind the bar, accommodating their requests with a wry amusement. 

“And that would be my victory, Mydei.” Phainon said queasily, swigging at a fruit-filled glass.

“No, my pick was clearly better.” Mydei retaliated, wearily sipping his own drink, a stout glass with a sprig of mint floating upon the amber coloured liquid.

“You've been here before, you clearly have an advantage.”

“A pathetic excuse for your loss, Phainon.” He laughed.

They continued for an exhaustingly long time, bickering and bantering never faltering. Hephaestion's weary eyes watching the colour filling out Mydei’s face.

“That's enough, you two, you’re going to bankrupt me.” He said, eyeing the numerous cups stacked upon the table.

“You won't be bankrupt after this pest pays the bill.” Mydei said, flashing a grin at Phainon.

Hephaestion looked down at Phainon sympathetically, holding up a tab.

“You really didn’t have to pay all of it, Mydei.” Phainon said sheepishly.

“I started the challenge, and I won it. As the loser, you can pay next time.”  Mydei said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked.

“There’ll be a next time?”

“Assuming our predicament there will be.” The blonde said, face turned from Phainon. “It’s late, we should start heading back.” 

“By all means, lead the way.”

“I knew you were lost again.”

“I was trying to be kind.” Phainon choked out from behind a laugh.

“No need, just walk beside me.”

Kissing wasn’t difficult, and for someone as handsome as Phainon, it was an easy feat to achieve. So surely an indirect one (or multiple) wouldn’t drive him into such a frenzied state. He lay in his bed, clutching his pillow viciously, rolling around before throwing it at the wall. “My lips touched the exact same thing Mydei drunk from.” he thought, pressing his palms into his eyes as he was plagued with thoughts of much more direct kisses. 

He wouldn't pull his away for a moment; fingers tracing over the red tattoo under Mydei’s eye, shifting his glasses to the side before closing the distance, letting their eyes meet alongside their lips, arms locked in a tight embrace as they continued, hands exploring blonde hair as he whispered sweet praise into the man's neck.

Phainon’s fate was sealed with this fantasy, the story ebbing throughout his whole body, dappling his skin in sparks of warmth.

There was no way he’d be able to sleep now.

And he didn’t. 

The fabric of his trousers was already strained, the fabric dampening as he let his mind run wild. He eased his hand beyond the waistband, gripping his cock and pumping it up and down; gently at first, taking tentative strokes at the length. He allowed his mind to continue weaving the elaborate scenario.

Mydei sprawled beneath him, arching into him as he fucked him, one arm looped around his neck holding on for dear life as Phainon pistoned in and out. His grip on his member tightened, pumping harder as his body egged him on.

Oh how he’d absolutely worship Mydei, teary eyed and breathless, until his throat ran raw and until his lips were red and swollen, time and time again.

Phainon could feel his orgasm building up within him, his hand slick with precum and his arm moving faster than ever.

Mydei, talking to him without a care, unawares of Phainon’s need.

Mydei, walking beside him, their shoulders brushing.

Mydei, Glistening with sweat.

Mydei, fucked out and resting in his arms.

“Mydei-” Phainon slurred, voice cracking and breaking off as he came. His chest collapsed, sweat clinging to his skin and his breath heaving. He withdrew his hand from his pants, trembling as his cock continued to leak onto his bedsheets, soiling them thoroughly. 

Something he could take care of tomorrow.