Chapter Text
Phainon slouches on the sofa, his legs stretched out over the coffee table, attention flickering between the sappy romance film playing on the screen and the almost empty bowl of popcorn on his lap. He knew he should’ve made more before they started - Mydei always says he won’t touch it because it’s ‘too sweet’, but within minutes of their film starting he’s already rifling around the bowl for a handful. Phainon’s gotten used to it by now, secretly microwaving two packets of popcorn instead of one. However, this time he’d only had a single bag left in the cupboard. He should’ve gone ahead and bit the bullet and run down to the corner shop to pick up some more to avoid this predicament. Alas, he assumed that tonight might go differently in regards to the popcorn theft.
He glances at Mydei out of the corner of his eye, watching as he munches away on the stolen popcorn, wholly focused on the screen where the couple are practically devouring each other, literal explosions of fireworks going off and spinning camera zoom-ins surrounding them. Phainon snorts at how dramatic it is, scooping up the last few kernels to chew on to give himself something to do. It doesn’t help the sneer on his face, but at least he got the final bits of popcorn and not Mydei.
“They’re acting like they’re drunk off it,” Phainon mutters, gesturing to the television where they’re still kissing. It must’ve been at least 5 minutes by now. “Kissing can’t be that good.”
Mydei looks at him then, eyes narrowing slightly. The soft light from the screen flickers over his face, casting dark shadows across his features that only make them more prominent: his sharp eyebrows, the slope of his nose, and the way his bottom lip is thicker than the top one all standout, catching Phainon’s attention more than the film ever did. Mydei reaches out for the popcorn bowl, scowling when he finds it empty. Phainon snickers, leaning forward to place it on the coffee table.
“Have you never kissed anyone before?” Mydei asks, his voice deep but casual, although there’s a hint of curiosity to it that makes Phainon feel a bit weird.
Phainon’s shoulders hunch inwards at the question, the warmth of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He’s not sure why it feels like a challenge, but it does.
He and Mydei are friends - best friends, actually, something Phainon has proudly declared to anyone who will listen. But this? Talking about kissing? That’s never come up before. Their conversations usually stick to familiar ground: household chores, their classes, and sports, mostly. For Mydei, it’s rugby. He’s on the university’s team, always parading around in their uniform which consists of a skin-tight t-shirt and a tiny pair of shorts. For Phainon, his passion is football, the sport that gets him excited in a way nothing else can. Well, maybe except when Mydei offers to bake sweet treats for a change. That’s pretty exciting because he loves Mydei’s baking as well as his cooking.
They clash over their favourite sports all the time, each one firmly convinced that theirs is superior. The debates are long and loud, often ending in teasing jabs and a mutual agreement to disagree. It’s never about winning, not anymore, especially considering there’s no real way to prove one sport is better than the other when each one has its own set of rules and charm. It’s simply a part of their friendship, the banter keeping things easy and comfortable between them.
If they’re not debating sports, their conversations turn to other random things like life in general. Nothing too deep, but enough to pass the time and keep the space between them alive with chatter. They’ve been roommates now for almost a year, having decided to share a flat to save on rent. The arrangement was meant to be nothing but practical at first, yet it somehow worked out better than either of them expected. They split everything 50/50: the bills, the chores, and the shopping. It’s a simple yet fair system that’s kept them both content and avoids any arguing over who does what.
They’ve fallen into a rhythm over time, their lives weaving around each other in a way that feels practically effortless. There’s an unspoken understanding between them - who’s better at cooking, who’s more likely to leave clothes on the floor, and who remembers to take out the rubbish. It’s the little things, the small routines, that make it easy. Mydei’s always the one who remembers to pick up more eggs right before they run out, and Phainon’s the one who makes sure the lights are all turned off and the front door is locked at night.
In many ways, it’s comforting. There’s a quiet sort of security in knowing the person you’re living with is someone who gets you - someone who’s seen you in the pits of heavy workloads and deadlines and still sticks around. Phainon’s never had a roommate before, always bunking on his own in student accommodation until he had no choice but to leave, and having Mydei hovering around in his stratosphere feels undeniably… right. There’s no pretence, no pressure to be anyone but himself. He doesn’t have to explain things or hold up a façade, Mydei always seems to know.
This is why he can’t help but answer Mydei’s question truthfully, sticking his nose in the air and sniffing haughtily. “No, I haven’t.” He pauses, a thought rolling into his brain like a tumbleweed. “Wait, have you kissed anyone before?”
Mydei stares at him blankly before turning back to the television. Phainon whines petulantly at the dismissal, digging his elbow into Mydei’s side to get his attention back, “C’mon, spill the beans! Who have you kissed?!”
“Stop it!” Mydei exclaims, smacking Phainon’s arm. It doesn’t stop him, he only elbows him more, leaning over into Mydei’s space to shove him up against the far end of the sofa.
“Tell me!” Phainon rakes his fingernails across Mydei’s abdomen over his thin tank top, tickling him mercilessly. He watches with glee as Mydei’s legs kick out, his whole body jerking at the touch. Phainon’s laughter rings out evilly, delighted by the way Mydei wriggles beneath him.
“You are -” Mydei cuts off, his voice strained as he tries to squirm away, futilely shoving him off and sticking his hand in Phainon’s face to get him to stop. That only makes him laugh harder, the sound drowning out the film still playing on the television. “- So fucking annoying!” Mydei twists his body away from Phainon, swivelling around on the cushion, leaning back against the arm of the sofa and bringing both legs up to his chest to defend himself. “I’ve only kissed one person before. There, happy?” He finishes by clicking his tongue in annoyance.
Phainon’s laughter halts abruptly, the sound catching in his throat. The atmosphere between them thickens, the words that had seemed so casual falling into silence without Phainon to catch them. Phainon blinks, his thoughts grinding to a sudden stop. His chest tightens, stomach flipping uncontrollably, as the meaning of Mydei’s words begin to sink in.
For a second, it feels like the room tilts slightly with the weight of this new knowledge. The rush of emotions is instant, although unexpected and heavy. His pulse quickens, a sharp pang hitting him somewhere deep inside. It’s not that he’s jealous, right? No, no, it’s not jealousy. It’s something else - something that catches him off guard. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that Mydei had kissed anyone before, and now that it’s out there, looming over him like a dark cloud, the thought is truly unsettling.
Phainon’s throat tightens as he searches Mydei’s face, looking for some sort of clue, something beyond the offhand comment. But Mydei’s expression is nothing more than an arched eyebrow at his sudden silence. It’s true then, a fact: Mydei has kissed someone. Phainon’s mind races, his thoughts scattering. He wants to ask more. He wants to know who it was, how it happened, and what it was like. He wants to know everything about it. However, the words won’t come out, building and building yet somehow not threatening to spill over.
Instead, thorns form over his heart, ugly and prickly. “Seriously?” Phainon says flatly before he can stop himself. “Who was it?”
Mydei glares at him sceptically, clearly still on guard. “Someone from the arts department. I don’t know, I didn’t get his name.”
“His?” Phainon repeats.
Mydei looks at him like he’s stupid. Maybe he is because he feels like it. “...Please don’t tell me you’ve not known I’ve been gay this whole time.”
“No, no!” Phainon waves his hands in the air, “I mean, I didn’t know exactly, but I guessed. I’m bi, so, like,” He points his index finger at himself before directing it at Mydei, “I get you.”
“You really are stupid,” Mydei confirms Phainon’s thoughts under his breath, finally relaxing his posture to sit upright on the sofa again. “Who have you kissed?”
“I told you, no one,” Phainon replies.
“I thought you were lying,” Mydei says, looking at him like he’s a strange specimen underneath a telescope.
Phainon scrunches his face up in confusion, “Why would I lie about that?”
Mydei shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest, “You seem the type to be… proficient in that area.”
Phainon gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Are you calling me a playboy, Mydeimos?”
A cushion is thrown at his face, bouncing off and landing on the floor. “Be quiet and watch the film.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Phainon salutes and turns around to watch the screen.
He has no idea what’s going on anymore. They seem to be at a rave, bodies packed into a small space as they all jump up and down in lieu of dancing. It’s a mess; loud, booming EDM music coming through their cheap speakers as the two main characters are lost within the crowd, completely consumed in each other as they sway side to side with their arms wrapped around the other.
Phainon tries to concentrate, he really does, but it proves futile when every second that passes he can’t help but look at Mydei as subtly as he can.
“I can feel you staring,” Mydei declares curtly.
“Sorry,” Phainon immediately replies. “I just…”
Mydei sighs and grabs the remote control off the coffee table, hitting pause. He chucks it back onto the surface and turns to face Phainon, one leg tucked up underneath him. “Just what?”
Having Mydei’s full attention on him while he’s still floundering for something to ground himself with feels far too much. Mydei’s amber gaze is unwavering, patient as he watches him, almost like he’s waiting for Phainon to catch up. Those eyes, always so brazen, so steady, make Phainon feel both exposed and safe. Mydei’s always been like that - quick to irritate at first, always ready with a snappy remark, but beneath that sharpness, there’s an endless pool of calm and tolerance. Phainon feels it now, like a lulling current beneath the surface of the room. It’s unsettling, this quiet patience he isn’t sure he deserves considering how twisted up he feels over Mydei having kissed someone (someone that isn’t him, his brain unhelpfully supplies).
Even worse, Mydei doesn’t scoff at his silence. He doesn’t throw out a cutting comment and walk away, leaving Phainon to stew in his confusion. Instead, he waits. No judgement. No rush. Just that solid presence, the quiet expectation that Phainon will eventually find his way through in his own time. And for the first time, Phainon’s not sure whether to be grateful for that or be completely terrified by it.
Phainon shrugs, “Was it good?”
“The kiss?” Mydei asks, humming when Phainon nods. “It was… fine.”
“Fine? That’s it?” Phainon scoffs, offended on Mydei’s behalf that his first kiss could only qualify as a measly fine. “I bet I could do better than him.”
“Do better… at kissing me?” Mydei questions, speaking each word very slowly.
Phainon bristles, speaking before he can fully process the weight and meaning of his words: “Of course, I can!”
“Phainon, do you realise what you’re suggesting here?” Mydei sighs audibly, looking as though he’s dealing with a small child.
The frail beginnings of an impending roaring fire begin to burn in his chest, each word a spark, each breath coming a little quicker as his mind spirals into chaos. Phainon feels the heat spread from his chest down to his fingertips, his hands suddenly clammy, slick with the sweat of how his words came out. He could say no. He could back out right now. He knows Mydei wouldn’t push him, wouldn’t make him go through anything he didn’t want to. If anything, considering how absurd this whole thing is - the topic of kissing suddenly morphing into them kissing - it’d be easy to laugh it off, change the subject and move on. Phainon hasn’t made a complete fool out of himself quite yet.
But then the thought of some faceless man - someone who’s kissed Mydei, held him, touched him - bursts into his mind uninvited, and the sense of control evaporates in an instant. A hot wave of jealousy (because that’s what this is, pure, unadulterated jealousy) crashes through him, swift and blinding. The idea of anyone else having that privilege of being so close to Mydei in a way that Phainon’s never experienced but so desperately wants drives something primal deep within him wild. His chest tightens with each inhale, his throat constricting as the thought eats at him, bitter and sour.
Everything so simple a moment ago, the casual challenge and banter, suddenly feels like a thousand-tonne weight on his shoulders. All the words he thought he could say, all the reasons to step back, vanish into thin air. He can’t stop picturing it - Mydei, crowded into some dark corner of a dingy house party, lips on someone else, that someone else touching him the way Phainon has never even allowed himself to think about in fear of crashing and burning like he is right now.
There’s no turning back now. No more playing it cool and shrugging it off. His body tenses, aware of how little space there is between them. Mydei’s knee is pressed into his thigh, the heat of his body radiating enough that it fractures the ice surrounding Phainon’s muscles. He breathes out as much tension as he can, allowing his body to relax, his hands flexing with how stiff he’d been holding them until he feels nice and loose, able to move again without locking up.
He’s not only jealous - he’s furious. Furious at the thought of someone else being in Mydei’s orbit like that and only leaving it classified as fine. That means it was forgettable and replaceable. The mere idea makes his blood boil. Mydei deserves more than that. He deserves someone who sees him - someone who truly wants him and makes it known, someone who will do better than ‘fine’.
Someone like him, someone like Phainon.
Phainon finally nods, quick and confident. “Yeah. To kiss you.” He scoffs, adding: “And to do it better than that idiot did.”
Mydei’s eyes narrow even further, turning into slits that barely show the bright colour of his eyes. Phainon can’t read him, and he can’t tell if he’s pissed off, amused or something else along those lines.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
Phainon meets his gaze head-on, refusing to look away and back down. If he does, then he might be letting his only chance slip away right through his fingers.
“I’m serious. I could do better. I know I could.”
The air between them turns electric, crackling with an unfamiliar tension.
Mydei tilts his head to the side slightly, studying Phainon with a mix of curiosity and wariness. “And why exactly do you think you could do better? You’ve not even kissed anyone before.”
Phainon opens his mouth to reply, but the words get trapped in his throat. Can he do better? He doesn’t have a choice anymore, too deeply entrenched in this back and forth, with his pride and word on the line.
He swallows hard, his throat clicking audibly in the silence. “I dunno… I just do.”
For a moment, Mydei doesn’t speak. The silence stretches thick and taut like they’re standing on the precipice of something neither of them is quite ready for. Phainon thinks he’s well and truly fucked everything up, and he’s ready to make a break for it, run into his bedroom and slam the door shut. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Mydei shuffles closer, resting his arm on the back of the sofa as he leans forward.
“Alright, Phainon,” Mydei begins, his voice low and steady, paired with a smirk laced with something dangerous. “Prove it. Kiss me.”
Phainon’s breath hitches, his entire body freezing. Mydei’s words settle over him like a dare he’s desperate to accept without thinking of the consequences. As the distance between them narrows, Phainon realises that whatever happens next, things are about to change - whether he’s ready for it or not. His bravado is still there - somewhere buried deep down - but it wavers, flickering like a candle threatened by a sudden gust of wind. Mydei is watching him too closely now, too knowing, eyes gleaming in the dim lighting of their living room.
He won’t back down, he won’t. Phainon readjusts himself, straightening his spine as he tries to remember how to breathe.
“Fine,” Phainon says, voice a little rougher than usual.
He’s already stumbling at the first step. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Should he place them on Mydei’s shoulders? Cup his face? Or would that be too much too quickly - too familiar, too intimate? Maybe he should keep them to himself, after all, let them rest limply in his lap or clench them into fists. But then in turn, would that be too little, too hesitant? This is about proving something - proving himself. It should be easy. It’s only a simple little kiss, right?
But it’s a kiss that has to be better. One that erases everything that Mydei’s first kiss had left behind. Phainon has an invisible person to catch up to and kick him out of the top spot, all so he can sit on that throne himself. Phainon’s not a child, and he’s certainly not naïve. He’s seen people kiss and make out before plenty of times, it’s just the fact that he hasn’t done it himself that’s the issue. The basics should be simple enough: put their lips together, move them in sync, and then pull back. That’s all it takes. Yet, it feels so much bigger than those three steps.
“Chickening out?” Mydei’s voice spears through his internal thoughts, shaking Phainon out of them.
“Nope, just thinking,” Phainon replies honestly.
Myde sighs through his nostrils, “If you take much longer, I’m going to leave.”
“No, wait! Hang on,” Phainon moves so he’s mirroring Mydei’s position - one leg tucked underneath him, and an arm slung over the back of the sofa for balance. Their kneecaps bump against each other, almost a little uncomfortably, but he won’t let that stop him now.
He’s ready.
Mydei doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as blink. He’s waiting; letting Phainon be the one to close the distance, to commit to whatever this is. It makes Phainon’s skin prickle with awareness, his stomach coiling tight as he realises he’s going to have to brace himself and dive straight into the deep end. Phainon breathes out sharply, his body thrumming with tension. Before he can think much more about it, he leans in.
The first brush of his lips against Mydei’s is barely there, tentative and gentle as if testing the weight of something fragile. Mydei doesn’t pull away, nor does he recoil in disgust. He just waits, holding his head still as his warm breath fans against Phainon’s face. It sparks something reckless inside of him, that gaping maw of desire he’s kept locked up since they first met is alive, starving and hungry for more. Phainon pushes in further, angling his head slightly, slotting their noses and fitting their mouths together properly this time.
Mydei’s lips are soft, warmer than he expected, and the space behind Phainon’s navel twists and pulls sharply at how easily he sinks into the sensation. He realises his eyes are still open - staring blankly at Mydei’s closed eyelids and blonde lashes, so with a slow exhale, Phainon allows his eyes to flutter shut, swept away in the oceanic waves calling him in. He’s supposed to be proving a point, pulling out all the stops as fast as he can to one-up that art department guy, yet all he can think about is how much he still wants. He wants to press their chests together, to feel the heat from Mydei’s body melt into his, to cup his cheeks and haul him in closer. Phainon doesn’t know how to do that, though, doesn’t know how to ask and how to do, so instead he loosens one of his fists on his lap and places it over Mydei’s knee. It sets something off, a chain reaction: Mydei jumps, a tiny, minute action, and it’s enough to make Phainon panic.
He goes to pull away - truly, he does. However, the thought of doing so when they’ve only barely begun makes him panic even more. His hands move by themselves, shooting out to frame Mydei’s cheeks, the tips of his fingers burying in the roots of his hair, the gesture locking them in place as Phainon moves his lips against Mydei’s. He has no idea what he’s doing, if he’s being too harsh or too hesitant, or if this even feels good when it’s this chaste. Phainon’s too scared to deepen it, and the mere idea of tasting inside Mydei’s mouth makes him groan. It feels good for him, unbelievably so. Mydei’s cheeks are blazing hot and full under his palms, and the wisps of hair he can feel are silky soft. It’s made so much better because he’s been wanting to kiss Mydei since they met in their first year of university when they were wide-eyed and still finding their footing in unknown territory, and now he finally is. The reasoning may be a bit skewed - Phainon had always hoped he’d kiss Mydei after a grand declaration of mutually assured love, and not due to a stupid bet they’ve unofficially made.
To his delight, Mydei begins kissing him back, a delicate exchange of their lips moving against each other, ebbing and flowing softly. There’s no burning fire igniting their pace, as in its place is something small, an ember that’s only barely beginning to glow brightly in the night, fanned by their intermingling breaths. Phainon’s stomach swoops, a weightless feeling making it as though he’s drifting in midair rather than sitting down on their worn-out sofa.
Phainon loses himself in it, unsure of how much time has passed until he remembers that he needs to breathe to keep going, pulling back just enough to detach their lips in favour of putting their foreheads together, panting hotly against each other’s mouths. Phainon opens his eyes, his sight slightly blurred as the dark turns into light, and the first thing he sees is the honeyed gaze of Mydei already looking at him. That - that look - is enough to make his fingers curl, fuelling the desire to go all in and thread them through Mydei’s hair and rake his nails against his scalp to see how he reacts.
Before his thoughts can derail anymore, Mydei pulls back completely and becomes out of reach, leaving his hands holding onto nothing but air. Phainon immediately drops them, and he feels strangely bereft, empty from the inside out. His lips are still warm, tingling with activity, his heart thudding steadily against his ribcage. Mydei’s eyes aren’t on him anymore, cast to the side to look at the coffee table. Even in the low light coming from the television and lamps, Phainon can see how red Mydei’s face is. His cheeks are flushed, even down to his neck and the sliver of collarbones he can see are lit up.
“How was that?” Phainon murmurs breathlessly.
Mydei glances at him out of the corner of his eye before quickly looking away again, “Satisfactory.”
“Sa- satisfactory?!” Phainon stutters, “Is that it? Does that rank higher than fine or lower?”
Mydei clears his throat, rolling his eyes and standing up from the sofa. Phainon lets out a garbled noise, sitting up properly as he flings his arms out to grab at Mydei’s wrist so he can’t move any further. He tugs at him, urging him closer until Mydei is standing right in front of him, legs wedged in between Phainon’s open thighs. Phainon rests his chin on Mydei’s stomach, looking up at him with what he hopes are big, imploring puppy dog eyes.
“Don’t run away from me,” Phainon pouts. “Was it really that bad? I’m sorry.”
Mydei bristles, flicking Phainon right between his eyebrows. He scowls but doesn’t let go of Mydei to rub at the sore spot.
“It… wasn’t bad,” Mydei replies gruffly.
“But it wasn’t good either?” Phainon fills in helplessly.
The sinking feeling in his chest is undeniable, heavy and aching as it bogs him down. The way he still wants to kiss Mydei breathless all over again - that’s painfully real too, settling in his gut like a cruel reminder. But what lingers and what hurts the most is the shame. The bitter sting of not living up to his own bravado, of falling short when it really mattered. That’s what cuts deepest; jagged and merciless, dragging violently through him as the realisation settles in: he wasted it. Phainon’s one chance to show Mydei something more, and now it’s gone. Not in flames, nor in a major disaster, but reduced down to satisfactory. He doesn’t know what’s worse - that he failed, or that his failure will probably be classed just as forgettable as Mydei’s first kiss, an unmentionable thing.
“Hey,” Mydei says gently, raking his fingers through Phainon’s hair until they’re settled at the base of his neck, encouraging him to look back up.
Phainon doesn’t really want to. His eyes burn as he chews the inside of his cheek to stop anything else from coming out that could humiliate him anymore.
“Don’t sulk,” Mydei chides, tugging at Phainon’s hair gently, “I need to go meal prep for tomorrow. Let go -”
A thought. A plan. A suggestion.
Phainon stares up at Mydei with a newfound determination, “Teach me,” He cuts in.
“Teach you?” Mydei echoes, his brow creasing.
“Yeah,” Phainon lets go of Mydei, standing up so they’re face-to-face, entirely too close. Mydei blinks in shock, taking a step back. That doesn’t deter Phainon, he can’t allow it - not that now he’s got a plan. “Teach me how to kiss.”
Mydei’s jaw drops.
Phainon pats Mydei’s shoulders, nodding sagely as he speaks: “It’s a great idea! Since I suck at kissing, you can give me pointers. Then, when I get a partner, I’ll be prepared and won’t make a fool out of myself like now.”
Mydei’s jaw slams shut with an audible clack of his teeth.
“See, win-win, right? You get to… I dunno, yell at me when I mess something up - which, let’s be honest, you love doing - don’t even try to deny it,” Mydei sneers but stays silent, which Phainon takes as a victory. “And as a cheeky bonus,” He continues, throwing in a wink as he puffs up his chest and puts his hands on his hips. “You get to make out with one of the top three most handsome guys on campus… me!”
Mydei stares at him, wearing an expression so twisted Phainon could’ve mistaken it as him finding out he’d stepped in a pile of shit.
“You’re forgetting something,” Mydei begins, shoving Phainon hard enough to knock him back onto the sofa and take his peacocking away with it. “You’d be making out with the number one most handsome guy on campus.” He smirks down at him, triumphant. “Me.”
With that, Mydei turns on his heels and makes his way over to their kitchen. Phainon bounces up off the sofa, running after him to launch himself onto his back. Mydei instantly catches him, hooking his arms under his knees while Phainon wraps his arms around his neck to stay glued to him.
“Please, Mydeimos! It’s a great idea and you know it!” Phainon yells directly into Mydei’s ear, causing him to flinch and almost drop him.
“Stop yelling!” Mydei shouts, carrying a wriggling Phainon with him to the kitchen. “Why would I even want to kiss you again, huh?”
“Don’t be like that,” Phainon whines, burying his face into the nape of Mydei’s neck, and rubbing his forehead back and forth there. He completely wraps his legs around Mydei’s waist, securing himself like a limpet on his back. No amount of pushing or shoving or attempts to drop him will work now, much to his own delight. “Give me one more chance!”
“No,” Mydei says, dropping his grip underneath Phainon’s knees to gradually waddle over to the fridge. “Now get off.”
“I’ll make a list, and I’ll have so many reasons on there that you’d be stupid to deny them,” Phainon replies excitedly, letting go of Mydei once the new idea springs to mind. Mydei glances at him over his shoulder, staring unimpressed at the finger now pointing at him. “Wait for me!”
It was all well and good telling Mydei to ‘wait for him’, but when confronted with a blank notebook situated on his desk days after their first kiss, reality sets in. He taps the tip of his pen rhythmically against the edge of the page as if that’ll magically make words appear on the paper and save him the trouble of battling against his heart and his brain.
His brain tells him to throw in the towel and let things lie. It’s no use coercing Mydei into this when it was made rather clear how little interest he had in continuing it. Since they kissed, neither of them had brought it back up, carrying on as usual. Normally, Mydei makes them protein shakes and bowls of porridge for breakfast, meal-preps their lunch and tosses something quick and easy together for dinner, which is exactly the routine he’d still been following since the incident. And, continuing with the normality, Phainon has been doing the dishes, putting everything away afterwards and wiping down the countertops to make sure they’re sparkling clean for when either of them wants to use the kitchen again. Their conversations have been laid back and general, going from chattering about the impending warmer weather the closer it gets to exam season, to how much they have to try to organise a get-together with the rest of their friendship group while simultaneously not doing anything to sort that out.
On the other hand, his heart is telling him a whole different story. Mydei hasn’t pushed him away or avoided him, hasn’t alluded to how much he might’ve hated their kiss, nor outright told him not to bother trying to convince him otherwise. It makes something small and fragile buried deep within him want to bud into something that flourishes and blooms under the right conditions - like sunlight through a half-drawn curtain, slow and gentle but persistent enough to warm everything it touches - which is just like how Mydei treats him.
Phainon clings to that hope, as delicate as it is. He doesn’t have a concrete plan, no grand gesture up his sleeve, but maybe - just maybe - this list is a start. A way to say the things he’s too much of a coward to voice aloud. A way to bridge the terrifying distance between wanting and asking.
He stares at the page again, then finally puts his pen to paper with more certainty than before. It doesn’t need to be perfect, it only needs to be honest.
Phainon starts with a title: Reasons We Should Practise Kissing. He underlines it twice, once in blue ink and the second in red ink. He thinks it adds a nice touch and dramatic flair, if nothing else. The moment he reads it back though, he wants to tear the whole thing out and burn it. It looks like something a teenager would scribble in secret at the back of their maths book, not something a twenty-three-year-old man writes for his best friend - especially the best friend he’s been pining over for the past two years - and who coincidentally shares a flat with. A best friend who’s seen him at his lowest, at his best and his worst, who knows exactly how he likes his tea, and yet has somehow never realised that Phainon is quietly and irrevocably in love with him.
Phainon presses the pen to the page again, then scrawls the line: We’ve already started, so we might as well keep going. We’re not the type to quit. Is that too casual sounding though? He supposes it’s best to remain like that, detached and holding this situation at arm’s length, but the thought of even potentially treating this as a situation where he comes across as not caring about Mydei doesn’t sit well with him. With a few scribbles, he’s blacked the entire thing out.
Underneath, he writes: You looked like you enjoyed it. That one doesn’t even last two seconds before he’s furiously crossing it out again, heart pounding with second-hand embarrassment and the memories of their kiss flooding back in. Mydei did look like he enjoyed it, despite his less-than-raving review on the whole situation. Phainon nibbles at his bottom lip, gripping his pen tightly as he remembers how flushed and pretty Mydei looked when they pulled away, how much he seemed to lose himself in their kiss too, all the small sounds he made - not quite moans, not enough to be whines either - but tiny, inaudible breathy noises that he felt more than he heard. He also smelled incredible. Sweet and slightly musky; it’s a scent Phainon’s more than accustomed to after knowing Mydei hasn’t changed the cologne he wears since they met. It’s not the full-blown masculine profile like people would expect knowing Mydei at face value, but Phainon thinks the sweet undertones suit him best.
He physically shakes himself out of it, clearing his throat and focusing back on his notebook. The pen hovers uselessly over the paper while his thoughts spiral. Phainon still can’t believe that his first kiss had been with Mydei, a fact that has completely unmoored him. It’s been days and he still feels it like a phantom echo across his mouth and in his chest, catching himself thinking about it and tracing the pad of his finger across his lips as if that’ll imitate the sensation once more at the worst times like when he’s meant to be studying or waiting for the kettle to boil.
Letting the pen drop onto his desk, he leans back in the chair with a heavy sigh. Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous. Maybe it’s already too far gone to salvage. But he also can’t stand the idea of leaving things like that - of letting that kiss be the start and end of whatever this could be between them. Phainon knows it’d tear him up, starting small at first like it’s doing now, not enough to truly impact him past a few idle thoughts. Then, however, it’d get worse: it’d weigh him down, be the only thing he can think about until he’s obsessing over it, picking it apart until there’s nothing left. He doesn’t want that at all. As much as he wants to kiss Mydei, he doesn’t want to ruin what they already have. Yet the only way to fix this seems to continue - or at least get more closure than before about this whole idea.
If he can just get the words right and put them down on paper, maybe Mydei will kiss him again. Or maybe he’ll well and truly cut Phainon’s dream short. No matter which option, he wants to know.
With a deep breath, Phainon picks up his pen again and stares down the page like it’s an opponent on the pitch. He’s not been nicknamed Deliverer for no reason - it’s all about the fact he can deliver the football to wherever it needs to be; whether it’s to a teammate or scoring a goal. He’ll ‘deliver’ this too, a plethora of ideas sprawled out across the paper, enough that Mydei will accept them all. His fingers twitch with uncertainty, but he forces them to move to form words and not anxiety. Overthinking is going to get him nowhere, only getting him stuck in a rut he can’t get out of.
He writes slowly and as precisely as he can, forgoing his usual cursive to make the letters bold and individual.
Reason #1: Help me get better at kissing. Do you really want me to embarrass myself in front of future partners?
He pauses, chewing on the inside of his cheek. It’s light, almost jokey, but there’s a layer of honesty underneath that he hopes Mydei will take pity on him for. He doesn’t think their kiss was bad at all, far from it, but he’s definitely open to improving his technique until it’s something that Mydei will approve of. The mention of other partners makes him snort. He hasn’t looked twice at anyone else since meeting Mydei, no one even remotely catching his eye or tempting him. It feels impossible to consider anyone else: back then, now, or in the future, it’s always Mydei - but he has to keep at least a few cards of his deck close to his heart.
Reason #2: It didn’t feel weird. And since it didn’t feel weird (at least for me) then maybe that means we can keep going.
This reason feels riskier. He hesitates for a moment but chooses not to cross it out. Sometimes the only reason to keep doing something is because it feels good. That ideology leads to things - dangerous, harmful things that end in dire ways, and maybe this is Phainon’s version of that. However, it’s the truth, and if he’s going to actually offer this mess of a piece of paper over to Mydei, he has to commit to saying things that matter. He taps his pen again, eyes flicking across the lines. Something is grounding about it now, like each sentence helps him breathe a little steadier, the truths he’s been keeping hidden finally spawning into reality. For the first time in days, his thoughts start to organise themselves into something tangible.
Reason #3: I really want to kiss you again. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you it.
The final full stop feels like a dare. Perhaps this reason is putting too much of himself on the plate, ready to be ripped apart. Phainon relaxes back into his chair despite that, staring at the page, heart racing. He knows the list isn’t finished, but it’s a start. And right now, that’s enough to keep the fragile thing inside his chest - hope, or maybe another thing he can’t quite put a name to - from collapsing completely.
If nothing else, he’ll at least try and say these three things to Mydei.
The weekend finally arrives with a welcome break from the usual chaos of classes, football practice, and - best of all - finished coursework. For once, there’s nothing pressing to do. No deadlines hanging over him, no early alarms to ruin the mornings. Just a slow, lazy Saturday that seems to stretch on endlessly with the sun still high in the sky. Phainon enjoys spending time like this, sprawled across the sofa, laptop balanced haphazardly on his knee while a documentary plays on the television, completely ignored.
It’s nearly two in the afternoon when Mydei wanders into the living room, yawning widely like he’s had the best lie-in of his life. He’s still in his pyjamas - a baby tee stretched just enough across his chest to leave little to the imagination and a pair of joggers that sit low on his hips, the fabric rumpled from a long night of sleep. Mydei’s hair is a mess, the layers flick and stick up at odd angles, the ends wild and untamed. The portion that’s usually braided now falls loose and wavy slightly below his shoulder, still bearing the faint mark of the plait’s imprint. Phainon can’t help but smile, a fond grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watches Mydei shuffle across the room, looking like a drowsy kitten.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Phainon calls out, laughing when Mydei levels him with a bleary half-hearted glare.
Mydei scratches absentmindedly at the strip of bare skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of his joggers, “How long have you been awake for?”
“Since ten,” Phainon replies, eyes immediately locking onto the brief glimpse of Mydei’s happy trail before focusing back on his face.
He brings his legs up when Mydei flops down beside him and nudges his feet, wordlessly asking for more room. They settle in easily next to each other like they always do, except Phainon has the horrible urge to ruin the peace by uncovering his notebook and shoving it in Mydei’s face, forcing him to read it just so he doesn’t have to agonise over it anymore.
Phainon wriggles in his spot, restless. The incriminating notebook is still in his room, top drawer, placed carefully beneath a stack of old handouts in the hopes of avoiding the embarrassment of anyone somehow stumbling across it. He’s spent the whole week thinking about finally showing Mydei - or at least dropping a hint - that he wants to try kissing him again. Even if he can just manage to hand the damn thing over and leg it out of the flat to take cover from the impending humiliation, that’d be better than nothing.
Now that they’re alone, and now that a possible moment is actually here to reveal his plan… his heart feels like it’s going to explode out of his chest. He’s never had trouble talking to Mydei before, even when they first met and Mydei acted like he’d rather be anywhere else than around Phainon. It’d taken a lot of wooing, hard work and persistence to get where he is now, and he cherishes every moment he has of Mydei’s attention. But he’s still greedy and wants more in every form that he can obtain it. Yet with this situation, he’s suddenly a coward who can barely meet Mydei’s eyes without wanting to dig himself into a hole.
They sit in silence for a bit, and Phainon offers Mydei the rest of his cup of tea to sip in hopes of helping wake him up as they watch the documentary. Phainon still has no idea what it’s about - something to do with penguins, he supposes, watching them waddle across the icy snow plains. The kind of quiet settled between them is usually comforting, one that Phainon revels in as he relaxes and feels their companionship, but today it has its edges that dig uncomfortably into his ribs.
Eventually, he closes his laptop lid and places it on the coffee table, standing up and stretching before he speaks.
“Be right back,” He mutters, just about catching Mydei’s answering grumble of approval before he hightails it back into his room.
Phainon storms over to his desk, yanking the top drawer open so forcefully it nearly falls out, and pulls the notebook from its hidden spot. He holds it with both hands, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should. His fingers hesitate on the cover, the edges slightly crinkled from where it’s been tucked away. Phainon stares at it for a long moment, the paper inside mocking him with its rawness splayed across the paper. It feels too personal, too real, like it’s a page from his diary and not a bullet-point list of reasons to kiss someone. His breathing hitches, fingers curling around the spiral spine like it might slip from his grip and disappear. Every word on those pages is stitched together with nerves and unspoken hopes - hopes that now he thinks about it, are far too exposing.
He flips the notebook open, rereading the bullet-points once more. He’s gone through them countless times over the past week, the words becoming familiar in their strangeness. Yet each time, they still unsettle him. The idea of showing it to Mydei, of letting him see this side of him, feels rather overwhelming.
What if he laughs? Phainon thinks, then shakes his head. Mydei wouldn’t do that - if anything, he’d get the thing handed back to him with nothing but a cold glare of disapproval.
What if he thinks I’m ridiculous? Is his next thought, but that is instantly squashed by the fact that Mydei always thinks he’s bordering on ridiculous. It’s what simultaneously made it so easy and hard to befriend him.
However, there are still doubts that creep in, suffocating his previous burst of confidence. He can’t help but think of what it would feel like to just hand it over and get it out in the open. Don’t ask, don’t get, and all that. With a reluctant sigh, he closes his drawer and leaves his bedroom, going back out into the living room.
Mydei isn’t where Phainon left him on the sofa. Instead, he’s standing at the kitchen sink, scrubbing at their blender with swift and practised movements, the sound of water splashing softly filling the quiet room. Two glass cups sit on the counter next to him, filled to the brim with a thick pink liquid. Phainon’s heart gives an uninvited flutter at the sight. It’s such a simple thing, but it always gets to him how Mydei always makes him a drink whenever he’s making one for himself. Whether it’s a protein shake, a cup of tea, or in this case, a fruit smoothie, Mydei always thinks to hand him the second cup, no questions asked.
Phainon stands frozen in the doorway, watching him. Mydei hasn’t noticed him yet, still focused on scrubbing the last remnants of fruit out of the blender, his back to him. Phainon lets himself take this small moment - only a quick glance, really, he swears, to allow his eyes to trace over the way Mydei’s muscles shift beneath his skin, the subtle flex of his shoulder blades moving with each motion. It’s impossible not to notice how the tightness of his t-shirt accentuates the width of his shoulders, how his broad back tapers down to a mouthwateringly slim waist. The sight makes Phainon’s chest tighten, his pulse quickening as he swallows down the sudden urge to reach out and place his hands over the curve of his hips.
He’s always been aware of Mydei’s body, but today, it feels like he’s seeing him in a new light - how the edges of the tattoos on his torso peek just beneath the hem of his shirt, those sharp red patterns acting like they belong to a different version of him, one Phainon’s still trying to figure out. Every inch of him pulls Phainon in, and he can’t look away no matter how much he should.
He remains standing in the doorway, clutching onto his notebook like a lifeline as he watches Mydei go from washing to drying until he finally puts the blender away back in the cupboard. Phainon’s caught between the warmth of the moment and the weight in his hands.
“Hey, Mydei…” Phainon says, his voice a little quieter than he intends. He’s made very aware of how nervous he is, clear as day in his tone.
“What do you want?” Mydei replies bluntly, turning around to face him.
Phainon winces, even more demotivated to share his secrets. “Nevermind.” He’s a coward. A big, giant, massive coward. He spins around on the tiled flooring to leave and head back into his room, but Mydei’s voice brings him to a stop.
“Spit it out. You’ve been hovering around me for the last few days like a lost dog.”
Phainon laughs nervously, poorly covering up how shocked he is that Mydei had him clocked so far back. He thought he’d done a good job of hiding his feelings, but he guesses he wasn’t as slick as he thought. Phainon shouldn’t be too surprised - he and Mydei have spent the last two years basically attached at the hip, taking the same classes and living together, so if anyone knows him better than himself, it’s Mydei.
“It’s really nothing,” Phainon says, looking at Mydei again. He seems hesitant, eyebrows pinched and lips pursed in thought.
Mydei clicks his tongue, disposing of the towel in his hand behind him and rests against the lip of the countertop, crossing his arms over his chest. “Is this about the kissing thing?”
Phainon goes red, spluttering out a mixture of words and gasps.
Mydei huffs, “I knew it. You’ve been weird since then.” He jerks his chin towards Phainon, “Does that hold your grand plan on convincing me to help you out?”
“Wh -!” Phainon startles, looking down at his notebook as though it betrayed him. Its cover is closed though, and the writing that lays beneath is still hidden away.
“I thought the deal was off,” Mydei says when Phainon doesn’t offer anything else.
“Why?! I told you to wait for me!” Phainon hates how whiny and desperate he sounds, cringing internally.
“You were taking forever,” Mydei sighs and walks up to Phainon, plucking the notebook straight out of his hands with ease. He doesn’t even grace it with a second glance, chucking it onto their dining table and out of reach for the both of them. “I don’t need to hear whatever rubbish you’ve come up with to try and convince me.”
“Oh,” Phainon says simply, deflating. There it is, clean and simple, Mydei’s answer. He should’ve guessed that it would’ve been a resounding no, that Mydei truly did hate their kiss and wouldn’t want to do it again. Phainon feels totally, completely and utterly silly, and -
“Because I’ve already decided that I’m going to help you.”
Phainon immediately perks up again, thoughts screeching to a halt. His heart skips a beat, his entire body going still. His eyes widen, mouth hanging slightly open in disbelief. For a moment, he’s rooted to the spot, unable to move and barely able to breathe, his mind scrambling to catch up with what was said. Phainon thought he’d have to go through the entire list, nervously stammering through each point, exposing himself to ridicule and, most likely, a true blunt rejection. But this - this wasn’t what he expected at all.
It’s like a flip switches in his brain, his pulse quickening and rushing in his ears as he slowly begins to accept the fact that Mydei is actually agreeing. No questions, no hesitations - a simple acceptance of something Phainon thought would be impossible. He’d never imagined this would be how it went down; Mydei clearly having done some thinking of his own on this situation, enough to have an answer prepared when needed. It takes another second for that to register, and when it does, it sends a warm shock of excitement through Phainon’s chest.
His stomach flips with a mix of nerves and anticipation. Mydei’s willingness to help has to mean something, right? Surely he wouldn’t have agreed so quickly if he didn’t feel at least a little bit the same, or maybe Phainon is reading too much into it and it’s truly just a thing that ‘good bros’ do: help each other out in their times of need. Either way, he can’t help the beaming grin stretching across his face.
Phainon steels himself quickly, forcing his expression into something serious, “I would be honoured.”
Mydei huffs a laugh, “Finally got your courage back, Deliverer?” The mention of his football nickname sparks a zing through him, a storm of butterflies erupting in his belly. They feel tender and warm, their wings fluttering dangerously powerfully as they band together. “Don’t back down this time, alright?”
Phainon’s breath falters, sharp and unsteady. Without a second thought, he grabs Mydei by the shoulders, his fingers gripping tight, and pulls him in. There’s no hesitation now, no time for second-guessing. The moment stretches impossibly long, the air thick with anticipation as he feels the pressure of Mydei’s body against his. Their chests collide with a quiet thud, a jolt of surprise running through both of them. Mydei stumbles forward, caught off guard, and leans into him, his weight fully pressed against Phainon.
For a split second, it’s all awkwardness - the suddenness of the movement, the way their bodies don’t quite sync. Phainon can feel the heat of Mydei against him, his muscles working as he tries to regain his balance. It’s enough to rattle him, a sharp onslaught of adrenaline floods his veins, but he steadies himself, legs planted firmly as he absorbs the impact. The intensity of their closeness overwhelms him, transforming into a euphoric rush, and before Phainon can think any more, his lips are against Mydei’s.
The moment they connect, it’s like a shock of electricity courses through him, so intense it nearly steals all the oxygen from his lungs. He’s not prepared for the immediate intensity. His fingertips tingle, the heat that blooms between them acts as if every inch of his skin is awake and alive. His heart races wildly, his pulse pounding through him as Mydei’s hands come to rest on his hips to deepen the kiss, and then Phainon’s mind goes blissfully blank. All he knows is the softness of Mydei’s lips, so familiar and yet unfamiliar at the same time, the weight of his hands on him, and the sensation of being so close. It’s dizzying, confusing and elating, and the world narrows down to this single point in time, shared only between them.
His hands, still gripping Mydei’s shoulders, tighten reflexively, anchoring himself to this moment, afraid that if he doesn’t, he might float away. He doesn’t want to let go, not just yet, not when Mydei is kissing him, holding onto him, meeting each press of his lips with equal vigour. Phainon sighs dreamily, relief washing over him, feeling everything slowly slot into place. It’s as slow as their first kiss was, a chaste exploration of the feeling of each other’s lips against their own. Phainon gets a little clumsy, his canine catching on Mydei’s plump bottom lip by accident. Instead of jolting away like he expected, Mydei makes a tiny sound. It’s quiet, but it’s there - a moan. For Phainon, because of Phainon. Suddenly, his knees feel weak enough to let him collapse onto the floor.
Phainon pulls away, staying close and using his grip on Mydei’s shoulders to move them, their feet stumbling over each other as they go backwards until Mydei hits the edge of the countertop. He doesn’t care if it digs in painfully, not when Phainon is rejoining their mouths together, groaning immediately as though he’d been starved of it. He squeezes his eyes shut until all he can see is a kaleidoscope of shapes and colours, all while flattening his palms against Mydei’s shoulders and dragging them down his biceps, gently scratching his nails along bare skin until they reach his elbows, cupping them. Phainon doesn’t think it can get any better until Mydei tilts his head just so, enough that their noses slot perfectly together, chests pressed tightly against each other, plastered from shoulder to thigh without an inch between them.
Fuck, it’s not enough. Phainon still doesn’t feel close enough, doesn’t feel like he’s kissing Mydei hard enough, doesn’t feel like this is really it - like he’s getting what he’s wanted for so long. Phainon feels himself changing, morphing and forming into something else, something that’s barely human. A creature only made up of desperation and greed, a yearning for more, as much as he can possibly get.
His heart thunders in his chest so much that there’s no way Mydei can’t feel it. After all, he can feel Mydei’s heartbeat echoing against his, quick and fast as though he’s running a marathon. The heat of Mydei’s skin seeps through their clothes, the thrum of his pulse beneath his fingertips, and it only makes Phainon crave more.
He wants to feel everything. Every inch, every breath, every gasp and every spark between them. So he takes, swiping his tongue against Mydei’s lips, hoping and praying to be let in. Mydei shivers, and Phainon has to hold himself back from bending him all the way back over the counter, not caring if he knocks over their now room-temperature smoothies. In fact, he’d enjoy it, hearing the crashing of glass and the dripping of liquid onto the floor, making a mess of them both as he indulges in taking more and more of Mydei. Finally, Mydei opens his mouth, not too much, but it’s enough for Phainon to lick straight in, tasting the freshness of toothpaste still lingering there and the sweetness of stolen strawberries tucked between his teeth. Phainon tastes it all, lavishing and caressing with each swipe of his tongue against Mydei’s, choking down whines and accidentally letting moans be voiced.
It’s not until Mydei’s grip on his hips becomes bruising that he pulls back, their lips parting with a slick pop. They’re both panting, chests heaving up and down, gulping down extra saliva as they gain their bearings again.
“Mydei -”
“Better,” Mydei says, the word rough and hoarse.
Phainon feels his stomach twist and bottom out, his eyes instantly drawn down to Mydei’s lips. They’re so swollen, red and wet. Wet from his saliva.
“Better than fine?” Phainon asks, because he has to. He has to know if he’s beaten that guy for the top spot.
Their foreheads touch, the tips of their noses brushing against each other, so close, drawn in even more by this magnetic force. Phainon swallows thickly, looking up through his eyelashes to catch Mydei’s gaze. But it’s elsewhere, further down, already staring at his lips, syrupy and honeyed.
“I’d rate it a C,” Mydei says, each word ghosting across his lips.
He’s right there. Still within Phainon’s grip, still within reach, merely atoms away, but Phainon won’t let himself take anymore.
Phainon laughs, dropping his grip on Mydei’s elbows and stepping backwards, the heat of the moment passing by as though it’d never been there in the first place. He feels vaguely nauseous, a sick feeling turning his stomach inside out at being so far away from Mydei, but he can’t let himself get swept up again so quickly.
“Only a C? Damn, I really need to step up my game,” Phainon scratches the back of his head to release some nervous energy. “You’ll have to think up some lessons for me, Teacher Mydeimos.”
“Don’t call me that,” Mydei snaps, although he’s so red in the face Phainon can hardly take him seriously.
“Sure thing, teach,” Phainon teases, easily dodging away from the swipe of Mydei’s hand coming towards him.
Mydei slumps against the countertop, pressing the heels of his palms against the edge of it as though it’s the only thing holding him up. “I made you a smoothie.”
It’s a sharp U-Turn from what they were just doing, but Phainon latches onto it, nodding happily as he gestures to the cups beside Mydei. “Strawberry flavour?”
“How did -” Mydei stops, face flushing an even deeper shade of red that practically matches the ends of his hair. He clears his throat, “Yes. Strawberry and raspberry.”
“Funny,” Phainon leans in, hands behind his back as he smirks. “I didn’t get a hint of raspberry from you.”
“Run now or you’ll get a fist in your face.”
“Kinky!” Phainon laughs loudly, ignoring the warning as he reaches out to grab the glass, taking a swig of it while keeping his eyes locked with Mydei's.
It tastes good, but not as good as Mydei does.