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It started with a whimper; one soft enough to barely be distinct, but discernible enough to any hyperactive senses.
Rather naturally, the disruption had stirred you awake from your restless slumber; you and Phainon had been assigned by Aglaea to stand guard amongst a temporary lodging post somewhere by yourselves within Amphoreus, after all, and being solely the inexperienced, non-prophetic healer of the equation had, rather unsurprisingly, flung you into a constant state of high alert.
After a moment’s breath, you forced yourself to recall one of Tribbie’s various words of advice upon stress on an already weary body; the specific lesson that ‘too much pressure upon a fragile constitution would inevitably permit it to shatter like glass’ came to mind, and, thus, proved that falling to the whims of insomnia and arising any sorts of emergency in the morning was out of the question.
Regardless of whatever your fears rushed you into believing, you reasoned it was far more likely to be a mere noisy critter, running about outside the premises of the cabin.
With those hastily-woven reassurances in mind, you fussed with the pitifully thin blanket that was draped over your reclining form, readjusting and repositioning the little warmth it had retained from your body heat along with it, before tucking your knees close to your chest in hopes that sleep would find you once more.
Briefly, you wondered if you would've been better off stealing the singular bed away from the sleeping Heir next door, leaving him to suffer with the lumpy, hard and unwelcoming kline—
The dreadful noise returned.
It was slightly louder this time, had lasted for a few seconds longer, and was most certainly being carried off from the same point of origin that was not, in fact, the vast outdoors.
In response to your abrupt realization, your hand had quickly slid down to where you had placed the dagger you had acquired from the Goldweaver in case of catastrophe.
The nearby clamor had died down just as swiftly as it arose.
Still, you clasped upon the handle of the weapon and held it taut against your palm, your fingers nearly itching, trembling, for the chance to act the moment the sound returned.
And it did return, seconds later, and far less undistinguishable than its predecessors, as it, for once, decided to take mercy upon your senses and present itself in a far-too-familiar fashion.
It was hardly any sorts of frolicking creature whimpering; you could tell that it was the sound of a human being stifling their remorse, holding back their anguished cries through the pursing of their lips, the gnashing of their teeth.
Someone was having a nightmare, and you didn't even need to lift your head up to know that the source had always ever been Phainon’s makeshift room.
But how was that so? Your dearest friend—no, the Chrysos Heir, had always seemed so strong, so perfect —strong enough to carry the burdens of Amphoreus' grand prophecy upon his shoulders, perfect enough for the other heirs and his friends alike to be able to consistently depend upon him—to the point that you believed that his sole biggest flaw, if he were capable of possessing any at all, was that he endlessly snored at night.
But perhaps, that was it? Was it the unwavering hope that nearly everyone held in him, as if they had cast aside even the mere notion that he could, in fact, be as flawed as the rest of them, that had weighed him down far more than he had ever let on?
You didn’t bother to ponder anything further as you heard another quietly smothered sound.
Even as the fatigue in your bones waged a war against the resolve within your heart, you lifted yourself away from the pitiful mishmash of materials you called your bedding, and didn't hesitate to linger a few mere footsteps away from where Phainon resided.
With a gentle rap of your knuckles against the wooden surface of a nearby wall, you called his name softly, as if approaching an anxious animal prone to startling.
“Phainon?”
You didn’t dare to peek in.
Instead, you waited through a series of noises, starting off with a startled hitch in Phainon’s breathing, followed up by him rustling the sheets as he sat upright, then finished off with him clearing his throat before he finally spoke.
“Mm,” he hummed groggily. You weakly smiled as he tried once more to clear the lull of sleep from his voice. “What is it?”
Suddenly struck frozen and without a natural beginning to such an intrusive conversation, you quickly feigned ignorance as you remained unseen. “Did you also hear that noise?”
“Huh? I...” An awkward chuckle was all you needed to deduce that Phainon, too, was dancing around the topic. “What noise? Ah, wait, don't tell me you're growing afraid of the sound of nature-”
“It came from your room, Phainon.”
There was silence for one beat, and a shaky breath in the next.
“Oh, come now, my friend,” Phainon began with a laugh you knew to be forced. “You really do fret too much. Perhaps your soul is so attuned to animals that you’re now hearing them from far away?”
Irked by Phainon’s refusal to acknowledge the situation, you revealed yourself by standing in the middle of the doorframe, greeted by a sight that was both all you expected to witness and everything you had feared at once.
Phainon was perched upright on the bed, his fluffy white hair tousled—likely from the combined efforts of thrashing his body in his sleep and running a distressed hand through the tufts whenever he briefly awoke—and his pale skin was flushed atop his still heaving chest, shivering from the cold that crept through his veins, yet shimmering from the sweat that anxiously clung to him like a festering vice.
“Did you... have a nightmare?” you finally dared to ask.
He did not dare to answer.
Instead, Phainon had looked off into the distance, his eyes appearing blearier with every slow, cautious step you took towards the bed.
“I’m...” A deep breath. “I’m fine, my friend.” he tried to reassure you through still-wavering breaths, almost as if he believed it weren't obvious that he was avoiding your worried gaze like the plague itself.
Carefully, you sat yourself down at the edge of the bed, your eyes, crinkled with concern, still fixed upon him. “You can’t even look me in the eye and properly lie, can you?”
Phainon let a weary, nearly amused breath slip past his lips as he forced his voice to steady itself. “You’re right.”
As his baby blue eyes glanced up at you, so unexpectantly soft as they met your own, full of all sorts of promises that not even him, even in all his heroic bravado—flawless on the surface as it may seem—could ever hope to wholly fulfill, you briefly pondered if the warmth his gaze brought forth was part of the reason why everyone was so quick to thrust their faith upon him nonetheless.
Suddenly, his hands grasped your shoulders, and he lightly shook you.
Or, what Phainon considered as ‘light’, anyways.
“I’m okay, you hear me?”
You were quick to snap out of whatever twisted stupor his pleading had trapped you in, slowly pushing his hands away with a fond smile. Endearing as he had appeared, his boyish whims would’ve worked far better if you were still as ignorant to the truth as everyone else in Okhema seemed to be.
Still, you couldn't ever deny yourself the chance to endure the insufferable miseries of the ever-present ache he always encouraged to endlessly burn in your chest.
“If you’re really okay, then why are you still glistening with sweat?”
“Ha-ah?” Phainon let out a mock gasp, covering up the full expanse of his muscular chest with his blanket, resting it just above his collarbone in a faux show of flustered modesty. “And... why are you looking?”
You could tell he was trying his best to lighten the mood, to distract you away from the issue at hand, and in a brief lapse of judgment, you allowed him to do so.
Which was the only reason why you allowed a soft giggle to escape you as you shook your head, you were sure.
Still, you were stubborn, unwavering in your resolve to get him to open up.
“You know you can tell me if you had one, right?” you prompted softly. “Besides, Lady Aglaea paired us up because she believes we tell one another nearly everything, so...?”
Your voice trailed off once you recognized the heavy dread that seemed to abruptly wash over Phainon’s features.
Something in your words must've snapped the last thread of what had lingered of his fraying composure, given the sight of his hand, which now trembled as it flexed inward and outward.
“Uh, right, her.” he swallowed. “I...”
The waver in his voice made your heart ache.
You had recognized the faltering; it was a familiar, broken pitch and the byproduct of the very thing that always haunted you at your weakest moments, now plaguing the very friend you believed to always be above such a treacherous foe.
“Phainon,” you uttered his name, desperate to intervene before it spiraled worse. “Name five things you can see.”
Phainon’s head had, as he remained in a far-off daze, tilted to the side, before realization dawned upon him and brought him back to at least the surface levels of reality.
“Y-You really believe me to be having a panic attack? Right now?” he asked with a disbelieving, strained chuckle. “Ha! My friend, you have no reason to worry! I... I don't get-”
“Five things, Phainon.”
“Oh, fine," he said in a huff, a pout overdramatically puffing out his bottom lip, before he took a deep, grounding breath. “I see the curtains, the floor beneath my feet, the bed I lounge upon, the blanket I am absolutely not clutching in my hands, and,” he paused, glancing up at you before looking away. “...the face of someone who's incessantly worrying about me for absolutely no good reason~”
You scrunched your brows together, cringing at the singsong tone he had forced out from his lips, but nevertheless, you persisted.
“Four things you can touch?”
As if on cue, Phainon’s hand, slightly trembling as it was, started to carefully feel and trace around his surroundings, starting from the top of his clothed kneecap. “I... I feel the cold material of my nightwear,” he began, before his hand slipped down towards his exposed skin. “The clamminess of my leg—gross. Do I really need to bathe that bad?”
The question, followed up by the playful sparkle that shimmered in his eyes as he looked up at you through his long lashes, nearly made you break.
You just hoped this was a sign he was snapping away from anxiety’s vicious grasp.
Seeing that you didn’t openly smile at his quip, despite his best efforts, Phainon’s expression fell, and his shoulders had stiffened as if he were disappointed, but still, he continued his list.
“I feel the cotton blanket beneath my fingertips, and,” his hand snuck to rest atop yours, his sweaty palm splayed over your knuckles. He waited for the physical recoil he had nearly expected to occur, before interlacing your fingers together by their delicate webbings in light of your stillness. “...a reassuring hand that always has my back.”
Your heart warmed considerably.
“Okay... three things you can hear?”
“I hear the chirping birds outside,” Phainon took another breath before he continued. “And, well, I always hear the ticking of the nearest clock. That dastardly mechanism must really think it’s calming enough to lull anyone to sleep, huh?” he chuckled weakly. “I also, finally, hear the nagging of a concerned friend.”
“Nagging?” you repeated.
Finally, you visibly witnessed the full colors of wonderful, radiant life seeping back into Phainon’s skin, refreshing his features as his smile only grew once he cheekily met your gaze.
You swore to yourself in that very moment that you never wished to see him stricken with any sort of pallor ever again.
“Nagging.” he confirmed with a nod. “You need to lay off the harassment! My head is just so weary, you know. From all those nightmares you accuse me of having.”
“Then... you need to stop associating me with all of your senses!” you huffed, unable to resist cracking a giggle at his latter remarks. “I do truly fear what the next two things you can smell are.”
“Well, I smell the fresh rain wafting into our humble little loft, and...” Phainon paused, leaning in for dramatic effect. “...I smell the scent of your bathing soap. It’s faint, but it’s there.” he took a breath. “What do you use again? Honey-”
“Okay, you’re fine now, I get it!” you gently shove him back with a laugh, your shoulders, so bristled with worry from the moments prior, finally relaxing at the new brush of levity.
Phainon let a soft ‘oomph’ slip out in response to the impact, but he effortlessly recomposed himself. “So, am I free from facing any sort of uncomfortable interrogations?”
“Not a chance,” you said with a shake of your head. “I think it’s too late to deny the nightmares, but... you haven't told me what they were of.”
You watched as Phainon visibly tensed, and you nearly thought to drop the subject, but he spoke before you could suggest otherwise.
“Plenty of dreams in Aedes Elysiae, followed up by the calamities wreaked upon it by the Black Tide,” he closed his eyes, sighing. “...and then those nightmares would turn to dreams regarding the Flame-Chase Journey...”
“And those would end up pleasant?” you inquired quietly, even if you already feared you knew the answer.
Phainon let out a chuckle, one brimming with bitterness and remorse, before shaking his head. “Even better than ‘pleasant’,” he remarked dryly. “Sometimes, the nightmares that follow get so detailed, that I get to watch my friends perish right before my very eyes, one after the other, until I’m the sole Heir standing.”
“Phainon, I... I’m so sorry...” you whispered.
“It’s alright," he quickly reassured. Absentmindedly, his hand sought yours, and, rather willingly, you gave it to him. “If... if I’m being honest, I think one of the absolute worst nightmares I have are the ones involving you.”
You looked up at him, watching wordlessly, helplessly, as your friend’s eyes, the very ones you fell so quietly hard for all those moons ago, began to shimmer with the starting shine of unshed tears.
You wished you could wipe them all away.
“But... I am not an Heir, we both know this,” you protested. “Why would I haunt your nightmares?”
Phainon simply leaned forward and ran his palm down your cheek, his gaze unwavering.
“I think,” he began shakily, his tone light yet oddly self-deprecating. “I must’ve gone wrong somewhere in our friendship, if you don’t currently believe you’re just as important to me as the Heirs, if not even slightly more.”
“Phainon, what-”
“Can’t you see, my dear friend?” he swiftly interrupted, a surprisingly reverent smile upon his lips. “You’ve become a central part of the very world I wish to protect. It’s absolutely no wonder that you haunt both the bitterest of my nightmares, and the sweetest of my dreams.”
You swore you felt your heart leap into your throat, hope flaring awake in your chest that you would’ve never dared to consider stirring if Phainon hadn’t prodded it first.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Nothing I haven’t already avoided telling myself for ages first.”
You had very clearly noticed that Phainon’s eyes had fallen to your lips, watching as he quickly looked away the moment he knew he was caught, as if he were scolding himself for even entertaining the idea.
It made you wonder if you ought to shun yourself in kind, given all the countless times you briefly contemplated placing stolen kisses upon his forehead or cheeks—you were too afraid to count the numerous times you've felt the notion regarding his lips—within the past yourself.
You swallowed thickly.
“If... if this truly means what I believe it to mean,” you said, shakily, fighting off the burning urge to finally unleash the affection you've longed to shower upon him for countless moons. “Then... please, let us not rush-”
Your protests were interrupted by Phainon gently, but oh-so-intently, pulling you closer.
“It doesn't have to feel rushed, you know.”
He brushed the tip of his nose against yours as he waited, begging for your consent with nothing more than his all-too-lethal pair of pleading, puppy-like eyes.
And, oh, it didn’t take you long at all to decide your answer at all.
Briefly did his soft lips brush against the likes of yours, his hands gently grasping your shoulders for support, as if he believed you wouldn't be whisked away by either the cruel hands of fate or his own heartless imagination if he just had something tangible to anchor himself to.
And you kissed him back with just as much love and reverence, your fingers tangling themselves within his soft tufts of hair as the shared display of affection deepened, before you both agreed to part.
Phainon pressed his forehead to yours as he caught his breath.
“...mostly because in my eyes, I think every moment I get to spend with you is special enough to deserve a kiss.” he murmured against your lips, before pulling himself away with a dopey, lovesick grin.
You let out a disbelieving chuckle underneath your breath. “You’re utterly hopeless.”
“Hey, bearing that title is worth it, if it means I can be utterly yours, too.”
Somehow, even the cheesiest of words sounded natural whenever they flowed from Phainon’s lips, as if he championed such flowery, wince-worthy language with as great of sincerity as a lovesick poet.
Still, you remained deeply concerned about his habitual nightmares.
“Will you be alright, sleeping by yourself tonight, or do you want company?”
You regretted the specific arrangement of words the moments you had let them free.
“Oh?” Phainon arched a surprised eyebrow, mirth sparkling in his eyes. “You really want to sleep next to me, when I’m already half-bared and vulnerable?”
Your pointed—albeit flustered—glare, however, quickly set him straight.
“Okay, okay! You’re right, that was an awful attempt at a joke...” Phainon trailed off into a small fit of chuckles, reaching for the pajama top he had discarded hours ago in a sweaty haze, slipping it over his head to protect himself from the sudden chill, before lifting the covers up and patting the spot next to him in the bed.
“C’mere?”
And willingly, you obliged, settling alongside him on the bed that was perhaps far too small for two. It was no matter, however; you had already made it a point to snuggle yourself closer.
Phainon buried his head against you, his breathing, once troubled by tremors and countless other woes hours prior, was now a quiet, rhythmic tune, akin to the steady beating of his fluttering heart.
He was at peace now, and so were you.
Because, perhaps in the eyes of all the Heirs, Phainon may be their prophesized ‘Deliverer’, but amongst the knowledge of intimate few, you would be his perfect rest.
“I’ll always do all that I can to make sure you feel safe in this world.” he whispered against your form, his hand tracing idle circles against you. “Please, believe that, okay?”
“I do, I promise.”
It really was only fair you inherited such a role, after all.