Archive of Our Own

Phainon dreams of a life in a different place, of a distant time.

It starts out innocently enough—something close to his reality of golden wheat fields and the sweetest sister blinding him with every afternoon sun and carefree smile.

If he's lucky, the dream does end happy. Most times, though, it's blood and fire.

It got bad enough that Cyrene had to wake him screaming and crying because it all felt so real.

"I'm here and I'm okay," she'd say. "We're okay," she presses before shakily singing him one of her many songs and lullabies. They'd sound familiar except he could never figure out where they were from and no one else seems to know about them.

It's only when they're a little older that she decides to tell him more about her dreams, if only to reassure him that he isn't alone and crazy about it.

"I dream of dying sometimes," she says, looking off into the distance from their vantage at a hill overlooking the village.

He could see it, the phantom of her slumped and bleeding ichor from the stab wound at her chest.

She'd laugh wryly, a little apologetic at her reveal. It's unfortunate that she's leaving so soon after this little truth, off to the big city.

"It's always gold and fire and there's some god in the distance but they're gone, too."

Phainon knows the one. It has a statue and everything in Okhema, where she's going, and he's loathe to imagine her going through the trouble of finding answers on her own.

"Is that part of why you're going to Okhema?" Phainon mutters sourly.

"I'm going because I'm going to sing," she trills, heart soaring. "I'm going on stage, would you believe that?"

A smile blooms on his face under the light of her happiness, fears aside for a moment. Phainon knows of course, it's the biggest thing happening to her right next to her starting out her music career and actually getting traction despite her doubts.

"Hah, well, it wouldn't hurt to find out, sure," Cyrene hums, contemplative. "But it's no use thinking about a past that might not have happened anyway, when I'm very much alive and well. That alone is a win for sure."

"And your music career a bonus?" Phainon teases.

"I have you to thank for that," Cyrene says, roughly pinching his cheeks to his chagrin. Phainon had insisted she bring those properly to life, a compilation of her many songs and lullabies to calm Phainon down through the years. And more than those, of course, when he's grown out somewhat of his nightmares and suggested that she really own the music she makes.

Now here they are, Cyrene finally leaving home to perform in the big city after years in their little town.

"'M gonna miss you."

"Oh, you big baby."

Phainon flushes, but says nothing.

"Besides, no one's stopping you from leaving, either. You could also... see the world, perhaps."

Phainon nods mutely against her shoulder and she could only laugh as she tries to console him before she leaves him in tears instead.

***

True to her words, it really didn't take long before Phaimon follows her to Okhema. Things have been well at home, with almost nothing of note to speak of. Even the dreams have stopped.

So he goes, following the little trail Cyrene left him and surprising her at her doorstep in Okhema.

***

He doesn't quite follow Cyrene around once he's situated, of course. He hasn't quite taken after her dazzling life on stage as the beloved musician Elysia, and all the business surrounding it despite her unwavering belief that he could.

As if to prove his point, he has a knack of finding quiet spaces in the city, honed by years of winning hide and seek against her. He had already snagged a job at a little antique shop after the shop owner found him picking out a random tub that caught his eye at a bargain sale. Said he had an eye for appraisal, just by picking out a treasure on first try. Phainon is a little confused why he hadn't bought it for himself if he had wanted it that much.

He'd tugged it back to the apartment, of course, to the man's dismay and Cyrene's amusement.

Phainon still does take up the man's offer at a job despite his migivings about his "eye for treasure" and now splits his time between the antique shop and a museum the owner is associated with. It makes Phainon think that the shop is just a glorified storeroom for the place but he enjoys both nonetheless.

For one, he can play Cyrene's music in the store without the occasional customer batting an eye at the choice of music. She is well-known in the city and her works pleasant, and most of their customers enjoy the juxtaposition of hearing the modern songstress in an antique-filled space.

All in all, a rather pleasant time to welcome him to the city.

***

"Phainon, wake up!!!"

He wakes to Cyrene's teary face. It's a familiar sight from childhood—one that has his hair standing in realization at what must have just transpired.

"You said the dreams stopped," Cyrene sobbed, rubbing at her tired eyes. "And you were doing okay, why now? What happened?

"Did— did something happen at work?"

If he's right, and they're snippets of a past, and some of the artifacts there actually triggered something or another—

Phainon shakes his head no, wiping at his face to fully wake. His hands are cold and shaking. Must have been a bad one. He's only slightly relieved he doesn't remember—this time.

"I'm going to make some tea... are you going back to sleep?"

Phainon shakes his head once again, trailing after her to the kitchen where she immediately busies herself.

"It was so bad. You were yelling, you know? And you wouldn't wake up, that's the worst part. It never got that bad before."

"Oh, and you're shaking," she says softly when she checks up on him, squeezing his hands for a bit of warmth and hands him tea a little later on.

"It's not too bad," he mutters, trying for reassurance. "Sorry. Thanks," he adds at the severe look shot his way.

They didn't sleep after that, too shaken to even consider it.

They keep a silent vigil until morning breaks and Cyrene calls her manager for a day off as soon as it's time enough for people to be awake. She marches into the antique shop with Phainon when he leaves for work and all but demanded for him to have the day off or spend the day with him if disallowed. Theodoros almost dropped a pot at the sight of her and all but shooed them out of his establishment before anyone notices and mobs them. After all, it's Elysia in the flesh!

Essentially free for the day, Phainon turns helplessly to Cyrene.

"Now what?"

"I think it's time we hang out just the two of us, no?"

Phainon grins, admittedly excited despite the sleepless night. It has been a while, and they haven't ever properly hung out since Phainon arrived.

And what a day, indeed, with Cyrene leading the retour of Okhema like he hadn't roamed through the city when left to his own devices in the few months after he arrived. They move up their shopping schedule since they're out together for once, and go to her favorite diner to eat.

The rest of the afternoon they spend at the little chimera cafe in the city gardens until the little ones were ushered to their shelters by the sweet caretaker.

Then Cyrene pulled him even deeper into the city which seemed to be having a second wind and breathing new life for the night.

"Nope. No sleeping tonight," Cyrene sniffs. "Or at least, we're not going home yet."

"You're ruining your beauty sleep," Phainon scolds. "Your managers will not like it."

"Hmph. Like they can stop me," Cyrene says, decided. "And it's only one night and I know just the place for dinner. They're having open mic tonight! Anyone can perform!"

"Cyrene. You know I'm hopeless."

"No, you're not," Cyrene singsongs. He has such a lovely voice that he keeps downplaying, it's a shame. But, she knows it will only be a matter of time before she will eventually return the favor and make him sing. "But I'll let you delude yourself for a bit longer. For now, let's just be one of the audience and listen."

An idea that blows up spectacularly as they entered. All eyes are on them and whispers fill the air as the crowd speculates the Elysia's arrival. It's a good thing that Cyrene isn't one to be deterred and takes the stage after the next musician stepped down, unnerved at the sight of her; explains with a thinly veiled warning to the most disruptive, diehard fans that she's here for a good time with her dear brother and hopes it'll be a peaceful one.

It's a reasonable request, one that the lot of them honor after she gives them a show, a little treat. It's enough to get them free drinks as well, which Cyrene brings over from the counter as someone else takes the stage after her short performance.

"Oh," Cyrene breathes, slightly surprised, a little relieved. Her stealing the show was enough to upend the whole open mic and she worries now whether anyone would step up after her. Considering who it is, though, it's no wonder they had all the confidence to follow her up right after. "It's Mydei," she whispers excitedly to Phainon.

"Who?"

"Ah, right, you don't listen much to anyone else," she sighs. "He's a pretty famous artist himself. Our songs are really different, though."

"How different?"

"He's a rockstar," she summarizes unhelpfully before hushing Phainon.

He sounds sweet, though, and Phainon tells her as such, when Mydei starts singing about suns and shadows.

"And you're crying," Cyrene whispers back, brow furrowed in worry.

Phainon, shocked, hurriedly retreats to the toilet before he makes a scene. He misses the golden gaze snapping towards him when he stands, but is ultimately left alone for the rest of the song. He listens through the closed door as the other people join in by the end. He must be pretty famous if the majority of the crowd knew his song.

He goes out just as the crowd applauses Mydei who goes back to his own table. He blends with the chaos of switching performers and ordering people while there's a break until he reaches Cyrene.

"What happened?" Cyrene asks worriedly.

"It was really... sad?" he says eloquently.

She tilts her head slightly as if to acknowledge his answer.

"I guess it is. It's from one of their more emotional albums, for sure. As emotional as they get, anyway."

Phainon sighs, rubbing at his face.

"Sorry for, um."

"Please. Nothing wrong with crying over a song. Besides," she adds with a grin. "Guess you have something to look forward to, other than my songs for a change!"

***

Cyrene gives him the album the next morning.

He narrows his eyes in suspicion. No order arrives this fast, if she just ordered it last night without him noticing...

"We're friends, okay," she says, laughing at the confused face he's making. "I kinda sorta have an obligation to listen to his stuff and vice versa."

"If you're friends, why didn't he say hi last night?"

"Does he look like someone who just does that?" she challenges.

"Fair. He looks like someone who'll only grunt at you like an animal."

Cyrene laughs hysterically at his words, slapping his shoulder in admonishment.

"Rude! Might I remind you that he already made you cry with words? He's gonna make you cry again if he heard you say that."

Phainon flushes at the reminder, the color obvious on his pale complexion, and he snatches the album from her hands so he could put it in their player. They listen to it together, blasting it in their apartment at Cyrene's insistence—she won't have Phainon's ears shattered after a single listen if she could help it. Phainon definitely agrees, with the way he lowers the volume just a bit when the full force of Mydei's sound threatens to fill their apartment and the next.

He does perk up in attention when Mydei starts screaming. He's definitely locked in when Mydei does the scream, eyes wide and wild grin at the sound of it. Sucks in a breath in the measure of silence like he's the one out of it.

"That's him?" he asks, breathless. So different from the gentle sound the night before.

"You should see him in person," Cyrene giggles. "Some would argue it's a religious experience. I think he's just made for the stage."

Phainon makes a wounded sound at the back of his throat, mind obviously going places and comparing it to the one time he saw Mydei on stage which was just last night, and connecting it with the fury of the Mydei in the album now.

"How is this the same person..."

Cyrene shrugs unhelpfully, letting Mydei sing for himself, the album now playing a relatively gentler song compared to the one before. Something mournful and pleading with his voice almost wavering at times that Phainon thinks he'll cry.

Unbidden, the memory of himself crying last night comes to mind and he groans in embarrassment once again.

"This is unfair..." he mutters weakly.

The player blares a lively song next that has Phainon sighing in relief as the mood is inevitably shifted. Cyrene rolls her eyes at the timely intervention and says nothing to push it. For now, that is.

For now, she'll let him have his fun. She'll let him listen to the song from last night when it comes up and watch in silence as a flush creeps back up his neck to his cheeks. Even as his expression shifts into something heartbreaking again as he listens.

Simply holds him as he sniffles and huffs in exasperation as the next song comes in lively as if they weren't just having a moment.

***

They hold off on that concert among the many things busying their lives after that little day off. Not to mention that the dreams really came back with a vengeance.

***

He doesn't have the heart to tell her that its not all bad, like old dreams of wheat fields and sparkling sunshine and happy smiles. Or gold thread and triplets and butterflies. And especially honey and strawberry, golds and rubies.

***

He definitely doesn't want to tell her that he's seeing ghosts—every bit of gold dusting Cyrene's cheeks and random pages flipping by his fingertips; every nameless face and golden ichor that bleeds into his reality; haunting words that now echo into waking.

It's like a dam had been opened, and he's drowning in a current of memories that aren't his—were his.

Aglaea had been kind when they finally meet during one of Cyrene's shopping trips, showering him in pixie dust when she tells him all she knows and dresses him up in whites and blues.

"Suits you," she says, smiling self-satisfied and saying no more on the subject. He suspects she's a little like Cyrene on the matter—leaving the past in the past, for they were a past, and now completely looking forward to the future.

Cas smiles as, by Aglaea's silent commend, she takes away the yellows and purples he'd been wearing earlier. She's as sweet as the one in his memories, hugging him tight before he leaves and crowning him with flowers that pair nicely with his new wear.

He spots bright red turning round a corner. Multiple pictures of a scholar in Aglaea's phone. The blur of a girl follows like a cat.

And most of all, Mydei.

Mydei.

Mydei.
Mydeimydeimy—

***

He becomes a near obsession, this Mydei.

Phainon peruses the complete library of his works high in Cyrene's beloved shelf right above her albums—looking for something to listen to next.

"Huh," he breathes as he pulls out the thin photobook tucked between the last album and the next, with the cover of a beautiful lady laying with a blade at her side.

Curious, he flips it open to a picture of Cyrene and Mydei posing in the studio, notes heaped in front of them.

"You sang together?" Phainon asks, continuing to look. There's Cyrene at the booth, Mydei with his guitar, the band, the staff.

"We did!" Cyrene answers from across the apartment, hurriedly joining him. "Not that one, though. I sang alone in that, but the words are all his."

"You worked together on two albums?"

"Eh, we had a few more than two, hehe," she giggles, tiptoeing to get the booklet and album beside it. "Ah, this one."

This one features a kid with snow white hair on the cover, and he laughs as the most ridiculous thought went to his head.

"Did he approach you because of your hair?"

Cyrene laughs along at the question.

"I asked him that, too!"

They share a laugh together as Cyrene opens the kid's photobook to a picture similar to the one in the lady's—Cyrene and Mydei at the studio posing in the studio, a single notebook shared between them. Phainon coos in adoration at the duo's stiff frames, the most awkward smile on Cyrene's face and a blank stare on Mydei's like he was caught off-guard.

"You two look so awkward!" Phainon laughs. "So stiff!"

"Poor guy's baring his soul to a stranger, don't tease," Cyrene chuckles, thumbing at the page before flipping to the next. "Look."

It's a picture of Mydei and a similar-looking woman, no doubt his—

"His mother," Cyrene confirms. "They're like carbon copies."

"They are," Phainon agrees. From the crown of gold hair to matching red adorning their bodies. "Did she sing as well?"

"No, the boys were just sweet like that, holding her a mini-concert after Mydei finished "Mother, I'm Here" and dedicating that song to her."

"The songs were that personal for a project that isn't entirely his?"

"Mm. It tied the whole thing together in the end, and gave it a depth that it wouldn't have otherwise."

"And Mydei?"

"He treats them like secret, personal albums for those who'll look."

Phainon smiles, admiring the openness of this man. How often, after all, do people bare themselves to the world without fear?

"And this?" he asks, gesturing to the album in his hands.

"It was just a couple of songs the first time but the devs loved my voice and his lyrics so they brought us back for that one."

"That's good for you," Phainon says, laughing as he flips to another picture of Cyrene, hair now in signature pink, Mydei's band pointing excitedly at her as she frames her face. Below it is a small selfie of herself and Mydei beside her at the salon.

"I wanted to match Red, the lady in the cover," Cyrene explains, smiling as she peeks. The lady has a shock of red hair and Phainon suppresses a snort at the unbidden image of a red-head Cyrene. "Mydei said it doesn't suit me, though, and chose this for me instead."

"He's right," Phainon agrees. Not to mention it matches the sister of his dreams—a dream come true, if anything.

"Mhm," she hums, pleased, flipping her hair. "Anyway, like the other one, it's really all his. It's an album full of love songs, too, I feel kinda bad that I got to sing it all."

He pops Red's album into the player, not quite ready to hear Mydei singing his heart out and knowing it's as real as he could get. Perhaps his familiarity to Cyene's voice could curb the emotions he's sure will be coaxed out of him, love song or no.

Cyrene hums along, continuing whatever she was doing before and leaving Phainon to his devices.

The instrumentals meant nothing much to him, when he had nothing in the way of context. But when it's Cyrene's turn to sing, she sings.

Shivers run through his spine as Cyrene start belting out the notes—a reminder that it's Mydei's. She holds the notes and his heart like Mydei's songs often do, like slowly squeezing his heart and shaking him to his core.

I know it's mine, twisted and tied

Cyrene pokes him to get his attention, gives him a treat as she joins him in listening.

My siren song for you

"Phainon, are you okay?"

We all lie beneath her light

He wipes at his face, lets out a watery laugh when he feels a wetness making their way down his face.

I'll always... always find you

"Guess he did it again," he says softly. Mydei truly had a way with words to coax tears out of him and the way his heart clenches like he's been seen through.

Just on the edge of a dream

Cyrene squeezes his hand in comfort.

Tearing it all at its seams

***

"Say," Cyrene pipes up once he's cleaned up his tears and the player had long been silent. "Why don't you write something back? Like, the thing some others do to show they're fine but not really."

He laughs at the inane proposal.

"He doesn't even know me," he chuckles.

"But he does."

His head snaps to Cyrene, who had an unreadable look on her face.

"He knows you like how you know him, right?"

And it's a thought he's afraid of entertaining when they're so different from their dreams. He is different from the Phainon in his dreams—a broken boy who'd gone through so much and lost so much but who has to continue moving forward nevertheless.

He's just Phainon, Cyrene's brother, apprentice appraiser, as normal as can be.

And this Mydei a rockstar, full of life and everything he could have been with none of the death and loss the clung to the one in his dreams.

"I thought you didn't like that way of thinking, entertaining these dreams," he says haltingly.

"Well, it has now been a while and your dreams are clearly still affecting you this badly," Cyrene shoots back, firm. She won't be budging on this anytime soon. "Better to let it all out than shutting it in, and what better way to do it than to sing?"

She tries for a reassuring smile.

"I'm... sure it's not all bad, no?"

It's an olive branch Phainon gladly takes. There's a sweetness there, yes. He supposes it's what makes it all hurt so much more.

***

To say she's happy is an understatement. Cyrene shrieks when she finally comprehends what the record he'd thrust into her hands was, several months later, and almost shoots it across the room when she jumps Phainon for a hug.

She goes off to put it in the player, squealing happily as she raids their snack box and pulls out refreshments to last them through their sound trip.

"I'm so happy," she whisper-shouts as if she had pressed play already. "I'm so proud of you!"

"You haven't even listened to it all yet," Phainon groans, hiding his flushing face from her view.

"Because you won't let me!"

She did hear bits and pieces. Inevitable, as she was an incredible help in making the whole thing come to life. She waves off the studio costs and the rest of his concerns as an opportunity to work with her crew on the more technical side of things and leaving the heavy lifting to Phainon since it's his.

Never before had he been more thankful that Cyrene made him tag along all those music lessons when they were kids.

"Even the Crew heard it first," she continues whining. Again, an inevitable outcome since they helped a lot during recording. Plus, he thinks he's become the twins' hero when he got Mr. Yang to play a little trumpet on one of the tracks as a treat.

"But I already know it's a good one," she singsongs, relaxing beside him as she finally presses play.

He mouths along the lyrics while they play, while closely observing Cyrene as she listens. She seems pleased, and a little knowing, he thinks with a shiver as she throws him a look after the first couple of songs. And if not a little heartbroken on some songs if the little sighs and occasional squeezed hand were any indication.

"You really went all out," she says, eyes sparkling.

Let it rage
Like the end of everything
In this epoch
In this age

Her smile widens to a grin.

"And was that a reference to "The Spine"?"

It was always in your bones, your blood, your heart, your back

Of course she caught it.

"Just a little," he admits. He doesn't mention the haunting sight of it showing up in his dreams. "You did tell me to write something back."

"Well, I'm glad you turned it around—and that you made your dreams yours."

and you'll know it, cause it finally made some sense of it

***

The album is a hit, especially with Cyrene's and the Crew's involvement and very vocal support. It held up well on its own, enough that he has to hide in the nearest hiding places when someone comes looking for him about it. He'd been living his life in relative anonymity until now and, after his most secret and personal self released into the world in that very album, he's unwilling to expose any more of himself for a while after.

So much so that he's already scheduled a trip back home to spend the rest of the year there in relative peace. Nevermind the fact that it's still the middle of summer and there's still a long year ahead. Cyrene pouts a little when he tells her but doesn't even try and convince him otherwise. Just a smile and a fond pat on his head while telling him to get some good rest.

He's thinking of looking for that waterfall in the woods to steel his nerves for the eventual day he has to face the music.

He does hit a particularly large bump in the road before he could even leave.

The metaphorical spotlight that is now shining upon him is only getting bigger and brighter and even more heated when a certain someone decided to sing something from his album in their concert without as much as a warning to anyone.

Phainon gapes at his phone after the video ends.

The rest of Amphoreus—or at least the comment section—is in an uproar, as surprised as he is at the sudden cover. He knows how difficult it is to impress the man, and hadn't yet readied his heart at the thought of Mydei ever finding out about the album—a ridiculous thought, he now realizes, when he remembers Mydei and Cyrene are friends and Cyrene and Phainon are siblings and it's really only a matter of time before his dear sister will push them along to meet each other with or without Phainon ever baring his soul first.

Now, it's rare enough for Mydei to cover another artist's song, how much more his song? His, when he's only released this album in his name and a mere handful of uncredited duets with Cyrene in her albums.

As much as he wants to see the man, there must be some kind of mistake.

Cyrene taps playfully at his chin and he shuts his damn mouth. Mercifully, she says nothing... yet.

"He... sang my song," he says awkwardly to start with.

"Mhm."

"You think he picked one at random?"

"...I don't think so. I mean, even I'd say that there were more obvious picks, but he really went with that one."

Cyrene grins, a laugh finally bubbling out of her.

"Witty, too. If this is ending, I'd prefer it to be quick~ haha! And he bowed out without having to explain himself!"

Phainon groans at hearing his lyrics parroted back to him and the beginning of sisterly teasing.

"Even Peucesta was laughing," she points out. "Oh, I just know they're teasing him, too."

She busies herself with her phone, probably trying to get a scoop out of the band, and laughs merrily when a reply does come in. She squeezes in next to Phainon where he's dramatically thinking his life over on the couch and shoves her phone to his face so he can see whatever she's been sent.

It's Mydei stiffly sitting at his chair in the dressing room, looking annoyed but unable to escape.

"Mister~ Mydeimos~"

There's the playful sound of a ukelele in the background.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"What do you want," Mydei bites out, wary.

"We are talking about that last song. You know, the one you just sang before running away."

"I do not run away."

"You just absolutely did."

"That aside! You put that one in the setlist with only a week's notice, my friend. I think we deserve a little explanation why."

"Peucesta's still pretty pissed that he has to transcribe the song on short notice enough for us to play it."

The ukelele pauses.

"I am."

"You said you liked it!" Mydei protests.

"The song, yes. The work? Not so much."

"It's pretty good, by the way. Cyrene, tell your brother to play with us sometime."

"I bet Mydei would like to—"

"Enough!"

There's a roar of laughter and yells as Mydei finally stands and barrels into the nearest person, catching them into a headlock.

Phainon's eyes widen at the show of muscles and only had a moment to admire before the man let go, a mere warning while they're squished in that tiny dressing room.

"He's blushing," Cyrene squeals, obviously itching to tease along with them. Phainon is briefly thankful she's distracted—there's no mistaking the heat on his own cheeks.

"I liked the song, it fit our sound, I wanted to sing it. What more do you want?"

"You didn't mention how you were crying, showing it to us—"

Mydei's face darkens in a glare, threateningly cracks his knuckles and the video starts shaking as they all frantically try to run and cuts off to the sound of more teasing and yelling and laughing and snapping strings.

Phainon and Cyrene are laughing, too, by the end of it.

But more importantly...

"He knows, doesn't he?" Phainon asks softly.

He knows me like how I know him.

Cyrene playfully bumps shoulders with him.

"You two can't be any more obvious, after all."

***

"What time are you leaving, again?"

"Some time in Entry Hour, why?"

"Good. We're going out before you go, then. "

Phainon tilts his head in confusion when Cyrene sweeps into his room, already dressed up and now rifling through what's left of Phainon's dresser.

"I can dress myself," he protests.

And oh, there's that unimpressed, disbelieving, and judgemental look only a sibling could pull off. Phainon wisely shuts up and allows her to have her way.

That night finds the two of them squeezing into Mydei's concert in Okhema, as if Phainon doesn't have a flight home to catch the next morning. She's probably trying to kill him for still owning those comfy purple dromas pants.

His potential murder aside, the boys themselves had sent her tickets to their next show shortly after that chaotic little video and it would be remiss of them not to go.

It's a festival of sound and Phainon is living for it. It's much more intense and oh, so incredibly loud. And at the helm is Mydei in all his glory, jacket holding on for dear life and partly discarded in the middle of the show. He commands the stage and the rest of the arena like a battlefield and Phainon could only be swept away.

"Had enough yet?!"

The crowd roars.

"Yeah, well, you better savor this, since it's it'll be a while before the next one."

He starts shifting down the music for a breather as they approach the end of the concert. Then they all get a treat as Mydei decides to surprise them, fit for a last show indeed.

"The boys had been bothering me lately," he starts. "So. I decided to get back at them now. Thanks for coming through, Peucesta."

That gets him a few boos from his band, and a good laugh from the crowd. Peucesta shakes his head fondly but waves away his concerns.

"That said, you're all still getting what you want, don't complain," Mydei huffs, pointing at the rest of his band, who have matching wild grins. "That means... I'm borrowing another song."

Phainon's heart stutters as that golden gaze snags on him and doesn't leave.

"I hope you don't mind."

The crowd cheers, elated at the fact that they'll be serenaded by Mydei, crescendos as the first notes ring out. Phainon only belatedly realizes that Mydei is singing his song, only focused on how Mydei's gaze never leaves him despite all the distractions.

"Stop gettin' so damn caught up about everything," Mydei almost chides and Phainon mouths back the lyrics, transfixed.

"'Cause this life is too long to live that way
And the only thing that matters is you and me today"

Phainon feels warm as the music swells into the chorus and Mydei finally closes his eyes to really feel the music. Phainon fights the urge to flee, thinks about Cyrene's words months before and the damn tickets and stays for two encores before booking out of the concert without looking back.

***

He runs away all the way to Aedes Elysiae come Entry Hour for his much-needed retreat.

Cyrene doesn't quite scold him, but had sent a rather ominous text that he better watch himself while he's home and receives nothing more.

His parents are far more welcoming, singing praises for his work. He obliges once requested to sing some for them in the evening, and retreats to his room smiling and warm in the comfort of home and thoughts of Okhema and beyond are no more.

This is a dream he doesn't mind not waking from, he thinks in the morning, sunlight not quite blinding him when he opens his eyes to the familiar view of his home. He sends a picture of the view through the window to Cyrene as a good morning and quickly makes his way down to look for things to do.

It's only the start of Creation Season, though, and in Aedes Elysiae where the old traditions are still mostly upheld, it means being kicked out of the house to look for something to do, himself.

He ends up finding that waterfall in the woods, looking after the children overjoyed at his return, and essentially becoming everyone's errand boy once again—all like an idyllic dream and he doesn't want to wake.

***

Reality comes knocking only a month later and Phainon could only wish he'd readied himself for this.

***

They meet in the month of harvest, in the rolling wheat fields of his dreams. Phainon notices from afar, and how could he not when Mydei looks like he strode out of his dreams and into reality? He's a god walking the land, and Phainon a mere witness of his path.

Each languid step is an eternity and Phainon could do nothing else but wait with his frantic heart trying to beat its way out of his chest.

What does Mydei see, Phainon wonders. Does he truly remember? What made that gaze reminiscent of the past him striding into battle melt into warm honey once Phainon's in arm's reach?

Mydei, for his part, does not hesitate, reaching up to cup Phainon's cheek in a warm hand. It grounds him finally in reality even as Phainon's eyes flutter close and thinks he's falling deeper into a dream. He feels Mydei come even closer, the way Mydei gently brings their foreheads together like a shared prayer and Phainon could feel him breathe, breathing Phainon in and savoring the moment they never truly had.

"Found you."

A smile blooms on Phainon's face at his familiar words—so much so that it wobbles into a sob that Mydei hushes with a laugh.

"What are you crying about?" Mydei huffs. "Have I misread it, after all? Am I so unwanted that you are bursting into tears?"

Insufferable man.

Phainon shakes his head no, rubbing hard against Mydei's forehead. Mydei laughs again, steadying his head with both hands. Phainon marvels at the openness of this Mydei. He supposes this could have been had he not suffered so much—had they not suffered so much. When he continues to be silent, Mydei fills the void.

"Your music moved me," Mydei admits in a whisper, only for Phainon to hear. "In ways that I shouldn't—when I might not ever measure up to the Mydeimos in your dreams... and I've no doubt you're far different from the Phainon in mine, and yet..."

And it's not meant to make sense

"I still think how fortunate that we remember," Mydei mutters. "That I may only know the you of the past, and know nothing of you now, but I still know—hope that you will allow me to get to know you in your entirety once more."

It's just meant to be said in present tense

Phainon's face hurts from smiling so much—could feel his face warm from the flush erupting on his cheeks, when everything as he's written is coming true and unravelling in the best way he never imagined happening.

He hears stuttering breath—was that Mydei? Just what has his very breath stolen from his lungs when he was the one weaving poetry out of thin air?

"How romantic," Phainon says wetly. "And I thought you Kremnoans don't have a word for romance."

"Haikas," Mydei admonishes, squishes the cheeks cupped in his palms. Phainon laughs. All is well.

Mydei does lean in to kiss him when asked, for old times' sake.

"Will you kiss me again?" Phainon whispers, and sees just how Mydei melts—can see him just falling apart, and looking exactly like falling in love. Mydei does not hesitate still, this time for the future.