Chapter Text
Why had Mydei chosen to stay with Phainon?
That was a question he had pushed back and forth through his mind throughout the majority of their partnership. After all, you had to be a sick kind of twisted to willingly stay with a murderer.
Over the course of unpacking his childhood anecdotes Mydei had taken to seeing a therapist at the behest of his mother. Something about never knowing the weight of the burden on your mind until laying it out before an objective point of view. He had taken to it quite well, finding a sense of catharsis through venting his frustrations to the world to the kind woman that promised him confidentiality and a safe environment, one that he had never been afforded at his family home.
The Kremnos family was… Difficult, to put it lightly. As were most families with the level of riches and power that Mydei’s father had in the palm of his hand. His name had been enough to strike fear in the hearts of his rivals, a name that Mydei had carried through his life. Mydeimos Kremnos. He had always hated it. It rhymed for the worst part.
To get to that seat of power Eurypon had done many unforgivable acts. Mydei had been too young at the time to register what was truly happening before him at the time. Yet the screams of pain and metallic scent of blood had become as commonplace as the prayers at the dinner table and the wafting smell of his mother’s pancakes in the morning. To become strong was to have an iron fist, one that would never falter in the face of conflict, that was the first lesson Mydei had been taught by his father.
But Mydei had never truly wished to be strong.
He was a man of simple whims, he wished to pursue the arts, to develop his love of cuisine, to partake in the drama productions that his schools had put on while growing up. Gorgo had always supported him in such ways, he would always be grateful for that. It had become a point of much contention with Eurypon however, who would rather him focus entirely on devoting himself to the family business as the heir to his empire. Thus, Mydei had been thrown into a never ending sea of reports and calculations, gritting his teeth as he endured hour after hour of his father’s lectures, the laws of the world of business being hammered into his mind until he could think of naught else.
He had truly been miserable. The arguments between his parents had become more fierce, the sounds of slaps and yelling filling the halls of their home. Gorgo had never been the one to back down from a fight, but neither had Eurypon. The Kremnos value of strength flowed through both of their veins, Mydei stranded in the middle of that sea of blood, torn between love and obligation.
College had been an escape from the erosion of his parents’ marriage. A chance to make friends, to branch out and be himself, not Mydeimos, just… Mydei. He had always been lacking in companions, the five friends that he held close to his heart had all drifted apart, going their separate ways after high school. They still messaged rather frequently but it wasn’t the same as things had been in the past and Mydei found himself craving that company more than anything else. To be isolated was to become completely alone, and with the crushing weight of the world on his back, Mydei was sure if left to himself he would surely break.
Henceforth, the therapist.
The diagnosis had been what Mydei had expected, a lack of paternal love always did wonders to the brains of children. Stern hands and sterner words building up a steel resolve but not leaving the cracks for affection to slip through. A life ruled by boredom causing a desire to seek thrills and dangerous activities, that had been less expected, but he couldn’t deny the layers of truth hidden underneath it. Humans needed a source of excitement to keep themselves alive, lest they become empty husks of themselves. The modern world had been taken over by zombies disguised as people, never thinking for themselves, never loving for themselves, working themselves to the bone until they couldn’t bear it anymore. Mydei had seen the state of his father’s workers, had seen the way they hauled their entire lives apart simply to satisfy that man’s needs. It disgusted him truly.
Mydei was a law-abiding citizen at the very least. He had too much respect for the people of Okhema to cause them unnecessary trouble. The dangerous activities in question more often than not involved himself, pushing himself to his limits, standing too close to the edge to see what made himself tick, to see how mortal he truly was. The self loathing, the therapist had mentioned that too. Self loathing caused by a neglectful environment, caused by an ideal he could never reach. Drinking to see just how much it took to tip him over the line, sitting at the edge of a cliff and wondering if he would survive the fall.
The tattoos had been a way to manage that. Crimson ink cascaded across his body like the very lines of his veins that pumped blood through his core. The tattoos were a proof that Mydei was alive, the sensation of needles on skin, painting those rivers one prick at a time. Whenever he spent time at the gym he would always get stares when the tattoos showed themselves, questions were extremely common, and well, Mydei was never that good at giving answers. He tried his best, he reasoned, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke of inspiration and prices and designers. The tattoos were certainly special to him, yet he still hadn’t quite defined it.
In fact, that had been the first topic of conversation when Mydei had first met his college flatmate, Phainon.
“Woah! Are those tattoos?!”
“Huh? What else would they be?”
“Those are amazing!” Phainon had gasped at just the sight of the ink on Mydei’s arms.
“I’ve always wanted a tattoo… Where did you get yours done? Do you have any recommendations? How much did it hurt?”
The questions had bombarded Mydei merely minutes after he had hauled his boxes through the front door. Phainon was bright, cheerful, the only suitable comparison of his likeness would be to an excitable puppy, ears perked and tail wagging. Much to his countenance Phainon had expressed his desire to have the sun as a tattoo, marking his neck with bright rays and a, for lack of a better word, sunny disposition.
For Mydei who had been used to the monotone tedium of life under pressure, Phainon had been a breath of fresh air, akin to the first day of spring after the miserable grey winters that Okhema was so used to. At times it had become too much for him to handle, Phainon always adamant on wanting to take Mydei with him to parties, to the gym, to the library, to outings with his friends. In time he had fallen into place with the small group, not oblivious to the way that Phainon’s eyes sparkled at the prospect of getting Mydei out of his shell. The man had become a constant in Mydei’s life, as constant as the sun that later adorned his neck, as constant as the celestial being that rose to greet them every morning.
Merely a few months into their time as flatmates, Mydei struggled to imagine a life without Phainon.
Perhaps it had been the desire to be close to someone, the need to feel that he belonged to something that was not his heritage. To allow himself the freedom to embrace the world as Mydei, not Mydeimos, to spend his evenings with the company of others. The nights that Phainon would invite Castorice and Cipher over and they would fight over room on the couch, the nights that Phainon would attempt to cook even the simplest of dishes and Mydei would end up waving dark smoke out of the windows. Even the nights where Mydei would fall asleep in the armchair, laboring over his coursework, just to open his eyes during the witching hour to find a blanket wrapped around his form.
These were little comforts that Mydei had never truly experienced in the time of his life, unimportant memories that seeked to make his human experience, reminding himself of the truth behind perfectionism.
He had truly learned to appreciate Phainon for that. And somewhere along the way, little to his acknowledgement, those feelings had twisted and turned into love. A love for the bright blue eyes that shimmered in the light, a love for pure white hair as soft and fluffy as the illusions of clouds in the sky. A love for rosy cheeks and taut muscles that beheld a man so full of admittedly adorable imperfections. The hands that struggled to draw, hands that burnt their supper, hands that clasped together in apology when yet another cheap appliance broke at their mercy.
These were all Phainon, the man that Mydei had grown to value above all else.
Their silly competitions had created a spark for his everyday life, allowing himself to just be a boy finding his way in the world. Cipher and Castorice had been giggling together at length about how long it would take for the two men to admit their feelings, yet Mydei had never been sure if Phainon felt the same way towards him. After all, to him at least, Phainon’s cheer had never dampened, he treated everyone he came across with optimism and exuberant elation.
Looking back on it, he couldn’t have been more wrong.
Yet, perhaps that had been a testament to how strong Phainon’s mask had been.
“I think I love you Phainon…”
But did he love The Reaver?
“What the hell Phainon?!”
Mydei would never forget that sight.
Even when standing above a corpse Phainon had looked joyous, leaning over the lifeless body with an interest sparkling in those blue eyes, the same way they had done when Mydei was talking about his tattoos, the same way they had done when Mydei had agreed to go jogging with him the first time.
The same way they had done when Mydei had told Phainon he loved him.
He had been muttering to himself, not coherent enough for Mydei to hear as he had watched his boyfriend from the expanse of the trees. His thoughts had been racing a mile a minute, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Phainon had been late to come back that night, having claimed he was staying late at the library to cram for their upcoming exams. Mydei would have believed him if Phainon hadn’t accidentally taken Mydei’s smartwatch instead of his own that morning, the location ping on Mydei’s phone baffling him at the moving signal in the woods.
His heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. This was Phainon. His Phainon. It was him, no doubt. No doubt at all.
Why hadn’t he run? Why hadn’t he screamed and called the police as soon as he was confronted by his partner? Why hadn’t he sobbed and begged for mercy or attempted to subdue the killer standing right in front of him?
The answer was a simple one in hindsight.
This was his Phainon.
Phainon who attempted to make him breakfast in bed when he was sick. Phainon who always asked if he wanted anything from the Marmoreal market when passing through on the way back from class. Phainon who tucked him in and kissed his forehead despite Mydei’s grumbling over physical affection. Phainon who looked at him like he was the most important thing in the world.
This was still his Phainon. Mydei was sure of that.
Perhaps his upbringing had broken him more than he had initially thought.
“He was questioning you, and your family. I know you hate your father, but I wasn’t going to let him speak about you or your mother like that… If it consoles you, I didn’t mean to kill him.”
Fuck. He had done this for him.
Mydei didn’t feel consoled.
It wasn’t even the sight of the dead body that froze him in place, that had his heart battering the confines of his chest. He had seen multiple corpses in his life, just another obstacle to business his father had taught him.
It was the fact that Phainon had committed this crime for him. That Phainon had thrown himself to the mercy of the hells because he thought it would be what Mydei had wanted from him. That when Phainon had promised he would do anything for his love for him, he had truly meant it.
That thought on its own made Mydei’s head spin.
This had only been the first time that Phainon had been caught in the act.
How many times had Phainon already…?
Some questions were better left unanswered, Mydei reasoned.
Anger coursed through him. A blind rage to feelings he could not speak, could hardly think. The hands that held him were the hands of a murderer, the hands that fed him were the hands of a killer.
He had needed time, a lot of it.
Phainon was surprisingly happy to oblige.
Where the blame of his outburst truly lied he did not know. Anger at Phainon? That was definitely there to some degree. Anger at himself? Perhaps more. Due to his blindness a man had lost his life, even if he were not the deliverer of that death, the rock had been bashed into his skull with Mydei’s wellbeing in mind. Anger at himself for not seeing the signs in Phainon? That notion was absurd, how could anyone have ever seen those signs in a man like him?
Mydei was aware of ‘the type’ that Phainon was acquainted with. The lovesick type that would kill for their affections. The type that would steal their lovers away to keep them from the world, never allowing them to go unless it was at the end of their own knife. No… Phainon did not seem that type at least.
When Mydei had gone to stay at Castorice’s for a while, Phainon had simply nodded, knowing that Mydei needed the time to himself to think things through. He hadn’t begged or cried or knocked Mydei out before he could leave through the door. Mydei had never once woken up to chains binding him to a bed or a gag in his mouth. In that sense, perhaps Phainon was better than ‘that type’.
Or perhaps he was simply grateful that Mydei hadn’t reported him, or perhaps he was more grateful that Mydei hadn’t left his life outright.
It had taken a lot of adjusting. But Mydei had already grown quite accustomed to sharing his spaces with murderers.
Accommodating this new side to Phainon though… That had taken a lot more work, but it was work he had been willing to do, for the love that still resided within him in his own mind that was broken beyond repair.
The Reaver had become an underground sensation as time passed between them. Phainon had shown no signs of wishing to stop his behaviour, in fact the process of the murders seemed to exhilarate him. It had become a tell-tale sign when he would walk through the door, hair messier than usual, panting softly with his steps. To anyone else he would simply look to be in high spirits as he often was, mistaking his usual cheer with the very specific glee that would contort his expression on the night of a kill.
He had given himself a signature move, to truly cement his practices. To fashion a spear out of whatever he could find and skewer it through the back of his victims, placing their torsos up like a flag to wave his devotion. The photos had disgusted Mydei, the faces becoming less and less recognisable with time.
No matter how much they rowed about this hobby of his, no matter how upset it made the man that he loved, Phainon had no desire to stop his ways. He had a goal, an end in mind, but one that he had ensured would take many many steps to reach.
“I… I’m sorry Mydei.” He had whispered to him, the two standing in the kitchen as Mydei had helped Phainon out of a bloodstained shirt. “I can’t stop. Not yet.”
Irritation had flickered in golden eyes, brows furrowing as Mydei stared at the slightly taller figure across from him. “You can easily stop, and the world would be better for it.” He almost snarled as he spoke, staring at the splotches of crimson on Phainon’s ensemble.
“It wouldn’t be.” Phainon had muttered, gaze downcast and dull as he spoke, eyes glued to Mydei’s hands.
“The world won’t be better until we- until I, I mean, finish what I started.” Phainon had grown clumsier with his words, especially when coming down from the high of a hunt. He had been going after numerous workers in the Kremnos company, seemingly searching for something in particular.
“Fucks sake Phainon…” Mydei closed his eyes, shaking his head as he threw the shirt into the laundry.
“Please Mydei, please trust me, keep trusting me as you hav-”
“I don’t fucking trust you!” Mydei had yelled, unsheathing a knife from the kitchen block and holding it up to Phainon’s throat.
“You think I could trust you?! When you’re killing someone at least once a week now?!”
Phainon had gulped, eyes shooting up to meet his assailant’s, gripping at the kitchen counter that supported his stand.
“It would make you happy-” Phainon had pleaded, eyes desperate as he looked at the man he loved so much.
Impulsion had become Mydei in that moment, anger contracting his muscles as he had stabbed the knife into Phainon’s left shoulder.
“Ah! Fuck! Mydei!” Phainon had yelled, tears pricking at the sides of his eyes, adrenaline mixing with the pain into something even more twisted that Phainon would never admit.
But they both saw it, they both felt it.
“Are you fucking turned on right now?!” Mydei screamed, anger shaking his voice as he kept one hand on the knife and the other on Phainon’s other shoulder, grip trembling with rage.
Phainon didn’t need to answer, teeth digging into his lips as he stared at Mydei, letting the pleasure of the pain overcome him as he stared at his lover with sheer adoration. A desperation to be seen, to be understood, to be loved by the most beautiful man in the world.
And Mydei truly was.
“Please Mydei…” Phainon’s voice was hushed as he spoke, doing his best to ignore the straining heat in his pants as the pain surged through him.
“I love you Mydei… You know that right?”
“Of course I know that.” Mydei snapped, the malice slowly fading from his voice. He didn’t lower his hold on the knife though, as if it was the only thing still holding him upright.
“This doesn’t make me happy Phainon…” Mydei reached out to him in the only way he could, Phainon’s eyes softening at the sight.
“I know. But it will Mydei, please just give me more time. Once I’ve finished what I set out to do then- I promise- I’ll get help, I’ll make sure you never meet The Reaver again. I promise.”
How could he trust him? Mydei knew he couldn’t. If he was a smarter man then he would bury that knife in deeper, he would pull it out to stab it through his lover’s heart. One kill to finish this ceaseless wave of crime.
Mydei wouldn’t trust him.
Yet he loved him all the same.
Phainon didn’t complain as he watched him, watched how his eyes darted around the room, brain whirring with contemplation and consideration. He could feel the blood slowly dripping from the wound, the sharp pain setting his senses alight. It felt good, anything from Mydei would feel good.
“Fucks sake…” Was Mydei’s reply as he slowly pulled the knife from Phainon’s skin, quickly working on patching up the wound before Phainon could lose too much blood. His hands were skilled and dexterous as they worked, that lovesick puppy-like expression never leaving Phainon’s face as he observed his ministrations.
“You don’t need to apologise. I deserved that.” Phainon hummed as he caught Mydei’s hand, nuzzling his cheek against the skin before letting go to allow Mydei to keep cleaning and patching the wound.
“You deserve worse than that.” Mydei had groaned under his breath, a soft chuckle passing through Phainon’s lips.
“I know.” He agreed, leaning back in the chair he was sat on to close his eyes and exhale in relief.
“If the day comes that you’ve had enough of me. I would love for you to be the one to kill me.” Phainon had said gently, opening his eyes to gauge Mydei’s reaction.
Mydei had looked shocked at the insinuation, rolling his eyes with a resounding huff. “You’ve lost your mind.” He grumbled as he put the first aid kit away, leaning against the table to fold his arms and look at him, stating the obvious of course.
“Duly noted.” Phainon smirked lightly as he got to his feet, ignoring the dizzy sensation that almost sent him off balance.
He had been quiet for a moment, slowly making his way to the door that led to his bedroom. He grabbed the doorframe for support, turning his head back to look at Mydei who had not moved from his spot in the kitchen.
“Thank you. For staying.”
“I really shouldn’t have.”
“But you did.”
“... I did.”
“I assume you’re not joining me in bed tonight?”
“Definitely not.”
A soft laugh echoed through the room, Phainon nodding his head gingerly.
“Goodnight then, I love you Mydei.”
“I think I love you Phainon…”
A grumble and a scowl. “...Love you too.”
Phainon offered a weak smile in return before the door closed behind him, allowing him to finally collapse in his bed.
Mydei stayed where he stood, staring at the space where Phainon had been just moments ago, a drop of his blood still staining the surface.
A thumb slowly swiped across the crimson liquid, Mydei holding the substance up to the light to get a better look at it.
“...Love you too.”
He wondered about it often, if this is truly how love felt to the people around him. He would never know, if the love he and Phainon shared was a common occurrence or if they were both truly fucked beyond belief. Perhaps this is how his parents had felt once, overtaken by the sensation of belonging to another, disregarding reason and logic to chase that passion.
Why had Mydei chosen to stay with Phainon?
No good would come out of figuring out why.