Chapter Text
Phainon breathed in.
He breathed out.
And finally, he took the first step through the archway of his university--the ever so prestigious Grove University known for its rigorous research and decorated faculty. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would attend the institution as one of the small handful of PhD students accepted per year. A part of him itched, desperately, to turn around and sprint back from whence he came.
But he swallowed the bile which threatened to rise to his throat and nervously swiped his phone open. Displayed on the screen was an expansive map of the school grounds, a campus of brick buildings populated with students hustling to their next destination. And Phainon was already lost.
Phainon awkwardly stepped aside while he tried to figure out the route to the science building--an edifice of the old, standing tall with impressive architecture dating to the school’s founding, of marbled floors and chiseled stones. The university took great care to renovate the building with all the conveniences of the modern luxuries, all for the pride of their reputable College of Science.
He glanced to the right--this building was the Student Center. And to his left was one of the many dorms scattered throughout campus. Squinting at his phone screen, he figured he could cut across the grassy courtyard of the College of Engineering, then walk around the grand library for the quickest path to his building.
Well.
He had plenty of time, having opted to rush out the door and dive into his car for a restless drive for his first day of grad school. It was his choice to skip the orientation, after all, considering he truly only needed to find his way to a single building. His stomach twisted--one part due to nervousness and another part from anticipation.
He took one step. And another.
And another.
The smell of mint suffused through the air, sunlight slipping through the foliage swaying gently in the summer breeze, kissed by the edge of autumn that would roll in after a few short weeks. Time would fly by--but for now, he would enjoy the wind in his hair and the chirps of the songbirds hidden amidst the leaves and bushes.
It was calming, as though he belonged here. Or at least, Phainon tried to gaslight himself into believing that he belonged here, amidst an army of erudites with published papers in the triple digits and research topics that would push the world forward in great leaps.
Phainon made the mistake of glancing upward--a looming building stood tall in the distance, with vines hugging the sides of jagged rocks lined with stained glass reflecting the multicolored sunlight into his eyes. He squinted and blinked. From where he stood, he was but a mere fleeting passerby in the seemingly permanence of its stone walls, itself surely a witness to multiple events carved into the annals of history.
He shook his head.
“Do not think of such pessimistic thoughts. It’s the impostor syndrome talking,” Phainon tried to soothe himself.
Returning his attention to his phone, he closed out of the campus map to open the first social media app he laid his eyes on. This was one of the few options he had to distract the doom and gloom from overtaking his fragile state of mind--just a little bit, until the semester was underway and he could silence that little nagging voice with his studies.
He swiped quickly through the ads displayed prominently on his timeline, skipping past the pictures and videos without aim while he trudged through the winding gravel path. Occasionally, his thumb would pause its practiced motion when an adorable puppy or cute kitten perked their wide eyes at him through the screen--and he smiled.
But on his next swipe, his smile faltered. With widened eyes, he gasped--almost dropping his phone onto unyielding gravel when he laid eyes upon an image of seductive depravity, and quickly turned off his phone screen.
“What the--” he breathed.
What in the algorithm? Hello?
With heat quickly rising to his face, he decided perhaps a peek--a proper peek--would be fine. He glanced around for any nearby presences. Only when he deemed himself with adequate privacy despite the very public location did he unlock his phone again.
Immediately, he was met with a breathtaking photograph of a half-naked model with a lithe figure, donned in nothing but a set of white lace which hid little. To the backdrop of a set of feathery wings, his supple skin seemed to glow, so smooth it was almost milky. Where the lace dug into his flesh, it accentuated his delicate limbs positioned in a way which seemed to tease the viewer: You can look, but you can’t touch.
Phainon gulped, swallowing nothing.
The waist. It was so slender, he wondered if his fingers would touch when wrapped around such a sinful waist--
Phainon shook his head. No. He was not about to become infatuated with a lingerie model.
He clicked onto the profile of the model--Mint Kitty.
An influencer, posed to draw the eyes to scan a body on display. Who lived amidst silk sheets and bright lights, away from the grind of the mundane. Who, on the first day Phainon began to question his place of being, drew his attention on the lonely road to a towering, cold stone building in the distance.
Phainon didn’t need to browse through the catalogue of pictures to know they were high quality productions--of a single subject meant to sell a product by batting their pretty lashes at the cameras. But this model--the pictures were cut off at the bridge of the nose--rosy lips seemed to whisper secrets between just him, the viewer, and the model. A perky little nose and a dimpled smile showed cutely in some of the photographs, framed by strands of seafoam green hair. But never a set of sparkling eyes or a gaze to enrapture the viewer.
It brought a blush to his cheeks.
With an unsteady hand, Phainon scrolled up to press the “Follow” button. Perhaps on this fine morning, he would become one of the masses, looking at the dazzling stage of this influencer’s life. Perhaps he would imagine a luxurious existence, where he was allowed a glimpse into the life marked by plenty. Perhaps… a temporary escape was what he needed: To distract him from the daunting road ahead filled with jagged edges and lined with glass.
Another gulp--this time to swallow the air his lungs seemed to scream for.
“Watch out!” A yell echoed from a short distance away.
“Huh?” Phainon’s attention snapped towards the person who called out with urgency--only to see the person wince towards his direction as though preparing for something--
THUD
The hardness of the bark of an oak tree slammed into his head with an echoing thud, sending Phainon backwards to land--sprawled--into the grass. His forehead stun from the uneven texture, his ass hurt, and his ego was about to implode on itself. In his fall, his bag had opened, the contents spilled and scattered about.
Phainon stared up at the skies, clouds idly floating by. He was to make an amendment: It wasn’t his PhD program that would be the end of him. No--instead it was a very pretty lingerie model who had the power to turn his brain to utter mush and his composed self into a floundering buffoon.
He willed the earth so swallow him whole, right then and there.
But alas, reality was disappointing, and he had to hastily gather his books and pens now stained with blades of grass and dirt, then make the walk of shame back to the gravel path from which he had strayed. To the youths who could barely hold back a laugh or a smile as they glanced towards his disheveled form, Phainon disappeared into the College of Science.
The innards of the towering beast was simple: A grand staircase, flanked by two neverending hallways of classrooms and laboratories. On the first floor were lecture halls with seating in the hundreds, all meant to host first and second year lectures. Each subsequent floor belonged to a specific department--and Phainon had but two flights to climb: The third floor belonged to the Department of Chemistry, where he would be calling home for the next few years of his life.
He breathed in.
He breathed out.
And he graced the soles of his shoes with the first touch of the marble steps and his hand the mahogany banisters. He was quite sure that, though its majestic presence was a sight to behold right now, in a few short months it would be nothing more than a mundane set of stairs which would find itself lost in the static bustle of his life.
He walked past the decorative paintings, portraits of the school’s founder, and billboards filled with advertisements for clubs and events. Past the lounge chairs, the study stations and chalkboards, and the plants which seemed awkward in their placements. The whispers and chatters of students disappeared into the distance as he turned a corner towards the wing hosting the offices of professors and the meeting rooms--until he found his destination: Room C134.
Time seemed to slow as he reached out to firmly grasp the handle in a trembling, sweaty hand. His thundering heartbeat high in his throat, the taste of bile prominent once more. With a hitch of his breath, he quickly turned the handle and pushed the door wide open--
“Ah, Phainon, you’re here. Come in,” his advisor coaxed.
Robotic in the way he carried himself, he willed his mind blank as he nodded and slipped into the room.
He had barely taken a seat when the door swung open again--
Time seemed to stop as he held his breath.
In the dim meeting room illuminated by the steady light of a projector, the superficial glow could not hide the beauty of the man who walked in. With a confident posture and strides seeping with untold grace, the prim and proper man took a seat across from Phainon.
And Phainon--he could only stare, the various noises around him and the voices in mind muffled until all was quiet. All thoughts suddenly halted, every fiber of his being merely taking in the here and the now in the presence of the most elegant man he had ever laid eyes upon. Neat and combed mint green hair tied to the side, bangs framing delicate features and two precious eyes of pastel blues and pinks. They shimmered in the low light--oh, how Phainon wanted to see them reflecting the multicolored rays of the sun--
“Phainon?”
“Uh--huh?” Phainon snapped back to reality.
“Introduce yourself, please,” his advisor said.
“Oh--I--my name--” Phainon stammered. You got this, Phainon! He cleared his throat, gathering himself for a brief moment while he tried to do his best to avoid the gaze of the beauty across from him. “Good morning, my name is Phainon. Though I am a new graduate student in the chemistry department with limited experience in OPV, it is my hope to quickly catch up to my peers and begin contributing to the research lab.”
“Welcome to the team!” His advisor slid him a copy of the presentation slides. It outlined expectations, timelines, required courses--everything he needed to succeed in this program.
But everything uttered entered through one ear and flowed so easily out the other. Because, in the end, all Phainon could focus on was the mysterious and familiar man across from him who wore a stoic expression, the visage of an untouchable ephemeral presence.
Phainon was, for absolute certain, not going to survive graduate school in one piece.
-----------------x-----------------
A well-respected professor the beautiful man turned out to be, Dr. Anaxagoras was a headstrong existence who barreled through all obstacles which stood in his way in search of truth.
Phainon could only glance from afar, his head turning towards the soothing voice as he strained his ear to listen to another uttered syllable.
He sighed.
Phainon himself was but a joke, the concepts of his textbooks already sounding like alien tongues to his distracted mind. The papers were thick with theorems he had yet to grasp--and he doubted he would ever be able to grasp with how slow he was reading and digesting the materials. With classwork piled high on his desk, his study sessions already reached late into the evening and encroached upon the early mornings of the next day.
Phainon stepped through the door of a coffee shop, the jingles of wind chimes announcing his presence to the establishment.
At this time of the hour, the slow trickle of sleep-deprived students had yet to turn into the surge of the morning rush. The lone barista behind the counter smiled as he approached to place his order.
“I’d like a grande mocha, substitute with skim milk, one pump of caramel syrup, and an extra shot of espresso. Please and thank you.” And that extra shot of espresso would be sorely needed.
“Of course, sir. Will that be all?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, sir.”
He stepped aside to let the next customer place their order--
“Medium plain black coffee, please.” Phainon had barely reached for his phone when a familiar voice instantly drew his attention--his head snapping to the side with a crack of his neck.
“Professor!” Before Phainon could stop himself, he had already called out to the subject of his recent hyperfixation.
The man briefly glanced back, his expression unreadable as he paid for his order.
The two men remained silent, even as Dr. Anaxagoras--lovingly nicknamed Anaxa in Phainon’s head (he might have heard this nickname whispered in the hallways of his college)--stepped to the side while his order was being prepared.
The atmosphere grew heavy amidst the enticing scent of freshly brewed coffee suffused with a hint of steamed milk. Phainon grew nervous: A professor of high acclaim was by his side, and heavens please grant him strength, because Anaxa smelled so nice--
The way Anaxa glanced at Phainon made him believe he had somehow said his deepest darkest secrets out loud for the world to hear and judge. For a moment, he wanted to throw up.
“Ah, Phainon,” Anaxa spoke, this time with a glint of recognition in his gaze. Did… did he spend this entire time trying to remember who Phainon was? Surely, he wasn’t that forgettable? “The new chemistry student.”
“That’s me,” sheepish in the way he grinned, he didn’t know how else to respond to that.
“I remember your proposal.” Was this an acknowledgement of sorts? “I must say, it is quite daring. Not a lot of students are confident enough to pursue optimization models of OPV devices.”
Ah.
That.
Organic photovoltaic research was a field he had lucked into--a rigorous field that was a marriage of physics, mathematics, and chemistry. A part of him recoiled every time the topic was mentioned, for the impostor syndrome was an incessant goblin with a hammer and pick slowly chipping away at his existence.
“I…” Phainon trailed off.
“Hmm?” A gentle tilt of the head, the silky mint strands swaying to one side. Oh, how Phainon wanted to feel the soft hair between his fingers.
He shook his head--quickly removing all uncouth thought from his mind. “Nothing. I hope I can live up to the professor’s expectations.”
There. A simple statement affirming himself.
“My expectations?”
“Eh?” Phainon blinked. Was there… no expectation of his performance? A dash of worry tickled the back of his mind.
Anaxa looked at Phainon--a gaze which seemed to see through his entirety, from the storm brewing inside of his mind to the careless thoughts he wore on his sleeves. If Phainon looked into those dual-toned eyes, would he see himself reflected as clearly as the skies outside?
“My only expectation for you as a new PhD student is to work with your advisor and conduct original research that would become your life’s passion,” Anaxa stated. So simple, yet a feat which seemed unattainable. “Reviewing your application and interview materials, we would not have accepted you if we didn’t believe you would succeed.”
Phainon should be feeling pressured, under the scrutiny of a lauded professor. His heart should be threatening to burst through his ribcase, his brows should be sweating, his fingers should be twitching, and his perspiration rate should increase--but instead, even though Anaxa’s stare bore deep holes within his soul, he felt relaxed. He was at peace, so soothed under the tuttelage of such a gentle gaze.
“Understood,” he nodded.
“Doctor Anaxagoras, your order is ready,” the barista placed a cup on the counter.
“I must remind you: One of the greatest pitfalls of all new PhD students is the belief they must undertake their graduate career fully alone,” the good doctor warned. “The entire university is your resource, myself included. Should you need help, my office hours are printed on your welcome packet.”
Phainon watched as Anaxa turned away from him to grab his coffee. He walked past Phainon--
“And,” Anaxa continued. Phainon fidgeted, shifting his weight from leg to leg. “If you end up disliking your research topic, it only takes two signatures and a meeting for you to pivot. You are not beholden to your proposal.”
With that, Anaxa stepped out of the coffee shop, leaving Phainon to gaze at the door which clicked closed with another jingle of the windchimes. Amidst the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the steamed milk added a certain sweetness to its scent--and mixed within was the fragrance of cooling mint and calming lilac.
A dizzying combination that had Phainon sigh, wishing to bask in Anaxa’s presence for a little longer.
Later that evening, when all that was said and done, Phainon laid in bed. He flipped through his usual pre-bed brainrot routine: Checked his emails and various notifications, watched a couple quick video shorts--and, of course, looked at Mint Kitty’s newest uploads.
The model had donned a sheer babydoll today, the lavender fabric falling in waves around his torso to reveal a smooth belly and which hugged his breasts to hide perky nipples. Silk sheets crumpled around him, with wisteria and its petals a canvas of a masterful composition.
Supple thighs raised to tease the cameras, so enticing one would salivate at the thought of sinking teeth into flesh. Phainon gulped, his mind automatically performing mental gymnastics to hallucinate the image of his professor in this lingerie set, in this position, with a gaze which begged for attention--
He couldn’t help it.
The brief fragrance of lovely mint and lilac was on his mind, brought to the forefront of his thoughts by the bottle of perfume the model was holding to his chest. Polished nails sparkled under the light, wrapped around a pastel crystal bottle--a promotion, an advertisement--, the perfume the main subject that was to be sold to an audience of plenty.
Amidst the clamoring comments showering love and praise upon the model, Phainon found himself lost in thought.
-----------------x-----------------
Mint Kitty’s upload schedule was consistent. Every other day, there would be a post advertising a product, alongside a new set of lingerie that never failed to bring a blush to Phainon’s cheeks. And in between, there would be teasers and uploads with photographs taken of the model in various poses to draw engagement.
It was a routine for Phainon to check his timeline once in the morning and once at night. Because, occasionally, this model uploaded in the middle of the night stories of the mundane: The neatly plated dinner, a book by a dimly lit desk lamp, or an outfit far removed from what the model usually showcased. Phainon noticed the model’s palette leaned towards the heavier side: Spicy and sour, but never bitter.
Earlier this morning when Phainon woke up, he was met with a photograph of the model in soft reds, a ruby crystal earring hung from an ear which contrasted his snow white skin. Collarbones and smooth shoulders peeked through the wide collars of an oversized hoodie hung loosely on his frame, barely covering pert buttocks.
But the focus that drew the eyes were a set of red-stringed straps, tied in a pattern that dug into the flesh of a meaty thigh. One could imagine themselves entwining a finger into the red strings and playing with the strands, slowly undoing the knots until it fell loose to the side. Phainon could almost imagine the slightly reddened skin underneath from ribbons tied too tight.
Phainon shook his head.
Now was not the time to daydream.
He was on a mission, after all: He dutifully stood at the back of Anaxa’s lecture with a box of materials he was tasked to deliver. The smooth voice from the podium was the siren’s call that had bewitched him to stand stupefied. The glint of a red crystal earring from afar had him remember the photos he had seen--and thus started his small bout of vivid hallucinations.
Phainon quickly slid into an empty seat in the back row of the grand lecture hall. Listening to the scratching of pen on paper and the furious tapping of keyboards, he found himself zoning out again. His mind wandered, staring at that earring from afar.
He imagined the prim and proper Professor Anaxagoras in that oversized hoodie, with straps which hugged a thigh small enough to fit in a single hand. He imagined prying those delicate legs apar--
No.
Stop it.
The esteemed professor was not a lingerie model, and he needed to stop projecting his horny thoughts onto Anaxa. Even if they had very similar builds--down to their very body proportions and height--it was a mere coincidence. His infatuation with the lingerie model was his own problem to resolve, though not helped by this little crush of his.
He clenched his fists tightly, trimmed nails digging into the palm of his hand to prevent any further thoughts and kill the erection that threatened to reveal his inner secrets.
BAM
Phainon jumped in his seat, his attention snapped to the front where Anaxa stood and from which the explosion originated--only to breathe a sigh of relief when he found the professor unharmed and sporting a gleeful grin, a cackle slipping from his lips.
A mess of debris scattered on a table, a burner enclosed in a box of plexiglass stood lonely in its enclosure. To the gasps and hushed whispers of the students, Phainon found himself drawn to the singsong laughter of the man standing at the podium, voice carried by the mic still attached to the dress shirt--oh so mesmerizing.
It wasn’t until the end of class did Phainon learn the additional context of what experiment Anaxa had performed.
“Professor Anaxa is--”
“Anaxagoras,” Anaxa cut him off, reaching into the box of goods Phainon had delivered. He grabbed a beaker and inspected the cleanliness of the glassware, all the while Phainon swept the debris into a pail.
“Professor is quite daring,” Phainon chuckled. “Not a lot of professors, even tenured, dare to set an explosion at the front of the lecture hall to demonstrate a displacement reaction.”
Phainon was rewarded with a hearty cackle--low and breathy. “Do you know what makes a lecture memorable?”
“What?”
“Action,” came the answer. “Adventure. Something exciting.”
“An explosion is how this is achieved?” Phainon pondered this thought. A boring lecture might be dry, but it was still a student’s responsibility to learn and absorb the material provided. Not all lectures need to be memorable, as long as it conveyed the necessary information properly.
“Exactly.” Anaxa placed the beaker on the table, and reached into his bag for a small packet of black powder. Charcoal? No. Gunpowder? Surely not. “Copper oxide.”
That… made sense. Was Phainon’s curiosity that obvious?
“Hm.” Phainon nodded, reaching for a sanitation wipe to give the table a quick scrub.
“A lecture is a performance, weaved with instructions and demonstrations,” Anaxa continued. “To capture the audience’s attention, one must make a lecture exciting, no?”
“That’s…” Crazy. Insane. Foolhardy. Above and beyond what a professor was expected to do. “You could have come to harm.”
Anaxa stopped, his eyes widening. A corner of his lips twitched, a look of surprise likely betraying his expectations.
Phainon started to panic. Did he say something wrong? Oh no--it wasn’t his intention to doubt the professor’s capabilities or knowledge!
But before Phainon could open his mouth to utter the first syllable of an apology, Anaxa chuckled. Low--a giggle, melodious in the way the voice was filled with delight.
Phainon’s breath hitched, lost in its harmony.
“Thank you for your concern.”
Phainon could only blink. He stared into those beautiful eyes of blues rivaling the clear skies and pinks like the softest blooming lilacs. They shone, oh so softly--and he feared becoming lost in them, so dreamily.
Anaxa’s smile was something Phainon would forever etch into his memories to the depths of his soul, the lovely blush and crinkle of his eyes framed by bangs of seaform green.
-----------------x-----------------
Phainon having a crush on Anaxa was an understatement.
A crashing wave of lust took him, carrying him out to sea where he struggled against the current amidst the demands of school and life. Whenever his feet touched the sandy shores, another torrent would drag him back. His heart was at constant odds with his mind as the days yielded to the nights.
He felt guilty--truly. But the boiling love that threatened to consume him whole was constant, with every encounter with the erudite professor deepening his feelings that went past the yearning of a pretty face. Dreamy were the days he was allowed to spend an afternoon with his object of affection.
It was the can of coffee precariously placed by his workstation at the computer lab at midnight. The toils of grad school had engulfed him, alone as he ran the calculations for each minute change of his optimization models. He would get up to wash his face--something to help the frustration brewing from spilling over. And he would return to a gift from someone who happened to pass by.
“But there is no drinking or eating in the lab,” he would always comment.
“Only a toddler would spill a mere can of coffee,” the visitor would scoff and toss to him a packaged sweet.
It was the strips of paper upon which software licenses were printed, delivered with a pat on his back. The crumpled piece of paper held the key to the end of his misery, when software requests were denied due to budget constraints.
“I thought my request was denied,” Phainon would always wonder.
“Don’t ask.” And with a wave, Anaxa would walk away as elegantly as he had approached.
It was the countless times Anaxa allowed his name to be used to get in contact with hermit-like researchers from other universities. A paper not found in the university library’s catalogue, and a request to acquire the paper would take too long.
“For you,” Anaxa said, a sealed envelope held out for Phainon to take.
Sheepish in the way Phainon accepted the package, a nervous laughter would always slip through his lips. “Thank you, professor.”
It was always the little actions, endearing and reminding Phainon he was not alone. A helpful hand, words of encouragement, and acknowledgement of his efforts--it came so easily from Anaxa.
Surely, the dutiful professor was only helping out of principle, but Phainon couldn’t help but feel more and more attached.
He couldn’t help but fall more and more in love.
More and more, as the last leaf fell from the trees and the first snow blanketed the naked branches--and as the snow flurries turned to storms to cover the land in a layer of pristine white.
But with love came the guilt: The guilt of a one-sided love, where one’s kindness only fueled his screaming heart. The guilt of having nothing to give back, a poor student in the cogs of neverending research.
The latter of his two guilts was easier to address.
Phainon scrolled through his timeline, his search history filled with various ideas for gifts to professors--for someone who was handsome, diligent, kind, and passionate like Anaxa. Something that was small, as a token of gratitude for going above and beyond to help him. Something useful, or maybe--
He stopped scrolling, on his screen an advertisement by none other than the famous Mint Kitty.
Crimson silk wrapped around the torso of the lingerie model, a risque photograph implying he was fully naked underneath. Ribbons and lace tied his wrists above his head, soft pits revealed to the viewer in a pose that sent blood quickly flooding below.
Peeking from the silk sheets was a lithe leg, melted chocolate dripping onto milky skin. If Phainon was salivating--no, he wasn’t.
Chocolate… He guessed it was appropriate.
He clicked the website’s link. It was a brand of premium chocolate, fully reflected in the listing prices. Though the advertisement was for a certain product filled with aphrodisiac, the company had other listings for regular consumption as well.
And so, he placed his order.
It took only a mere few days for his order to arrive, in a pretty little box tied with a crimson ribbon. Even after surviving a tumultuous car ride, after a hasty walk jostled by unsteady steps, and crushed by surrounding papers and a laptop--the box remained pristine, though with a bow that had lost some of its starch.
He stood, visibly shaking and sweating outside of Anaxa’s office. If he didn’t throw up right then and there, he would count that as a victory.
He breathed in.
He breathed out.
“Phainon?”
And Phainon choked on his breath, an uncomfortable snort that had him almost writhe in pain in its aftermath. “P-professor.”
“Is everything alright?”
No, nothing was alright.
“Yes, everything is perfectly fine.” He tried to smile, but he wasn’t sure what exactly the muscles in his face were doing.
Anaxa raised an eyebrow.
Before Phainon could fumble further, he quickly reached into his bag to present the box of chocolates to Anaxa.
He expected a look of surprise, or perhaps some confusion. He expected questions about his motive. What he truly did not expect was a soft shade of pink to dust across Anaxa’s cheeks. Phainon could only stare as a hand hesitantly took the box of chocolates, while the other tucked strands of minty hair behind an ear--the one donning a ruby crystal earring.
“Thank you.” Anaxa’s voice was a soft whisper, consumed by a form of shyness Phainon didn’t quite understand yet.
For a moment, Phainon’s mind remained blank. And then he recognized it: A distinct mole, right below the earlobe.
Oh.
Oh no.
Anaxa was the lingerie model he had been gooning to for the past half year.
All of the hallucinations and daydreams he had came flooding back into his mind. The reality-shattering realization of who his professor was--his emotions became a jumbled mess of embarrassment and desire, of wanting to dive under a rock and perish right then and there.
Now Anaxa knew Phainon was one of Mint Kitty’s followers with this single impromptu gift.
What else could Phainon do, except run away?
-----------------x-----------------
Phainon proceeded to dodge Anaxa for the next week.
He dove into bushes whenever he saw Anaxa coming--as though the snow-covered fauna could hide his large frame. He turned around and sprinted away whenever he heard Anaxa’s voice from around the corner--as if his footsteps didn’t reveal his location and quick retreat. He gave a shoddy excuse when he claimed he couldn’t help Anaxa clean up after his lecture this week, all to a stoic face which revealed no emotion.
But what Phainon couldn’t escape from, was a direct summon to Anaxa’s office.
He stood, shivering and sniveling outside the doors to the office he had become well-acquainted with. He was not ready for whatever came next--whatever that came next. Was he going to be kicked from the program, such that Anaxa’s identity could be preserved? Was he going to be threatened? No, Anaxa was not this type of person.
However, the worst outcome of all would be for Anaxa to tell Phainon they should henceforth be nothing more than strangers. It would spell the end of a relationship he loved and a future he yearned for--a chance killed in its infancy.
“Phainon, stop dawdling and come in,” Anaxa called out from within.
Phainon gulped. With a trembling hand, he grasped the door handle and gave it a twist--and at the same time, his stomach twisted the same.
He slipped in, so carefully as to not disturb a single speck of dust.
“H-hello.” His voice was small, not befitting of his bright nature.
“Close the door,” Anaxa said.
Phainon gulped again. Once these doors were closed, not a sound would slip into the hallways--it was just him and Anaxa, in this cozy office that now seemed like a prison cell in its coldness.
The door clicked closed behind him.
“You called for me?” Phainon inquired, doing his best to keep his voice steady.
“Phainon, I think you owe me an explanation.”
“I…”
Anaxa rose from his desk--and Phainon jolted, taking one step back as Anaxa approached his sorry form. Should he brace himself for a punch? He probably deserved it. No, a professor would never hurt a student, and someone like Anaxa would never do so--
But his teaching tool was a gun--
No, it wasn’t a gun--
Anaxa was a mere step away from him, right as Phainon’s back hit the door with a thud and the handle dug into his waist. The jolt of pain was nothing when his mind was so preoccupied with how close Anaxa was.
He tried, desperately, to open the door and make his escape. He got as far as grasping the handle with a sweaty grip, when Anaxa slammed a hand to firmly press the door closed.
Phainon was much too flustered to speak, half of him wanting to flee with his tail tucked between his legs, and the other half of him in utter panic mode recognizing Anaxa was pressed up against him. He could smell the soothing mint and feel the occasional touch of his knee against a soft thigh--he was barely holding onto his sanity in the brewing turmoil of his mind.
Anaxa’s eyes widened in realization.
“The brand of chocolate,” Anaxa breathed. “It wasn’t a coincidence..?”
Anaxa immediately stepped back as though burned--and already, Phainon was missing the pressure and body heat.
Two men were panicking in an enclosed office now--Phainon trying his best to gather himself and make a quick escape, and Anaxa hiding his face in his hands, surely also considering his options. Now it was too late for Phainon to attempt to play it all off as a big misunderstanding.
But the way Anaxa blushed--the way his flush reached his ears and how he let his bangs hide his multicolored eyes--, everything was adorable. Oh, how Phainon wanted to hold the smaller man and soothe his worries.
“I…” Phainon took a large shaky breath. “The professor is really cute.”
Shit. What the fuck was he saying?!
Heat exploded in his cheeks, and once more his posture collapsed. He could feel the bile rise to his throat--he was going to hurl, but that was okay: He would clean up after himself, but he wouldn’t be able to do anything with the smell of vomit that would permeate throughout Anaxa’s office.
Oh dear.
A hand grabbed onto his, holding firm albeit with sweaty palms.
“Do you have something you want to say to me?” Anaxa asked, cheeks a gentle pink as he looked into Phainon’s eyes.
Ah, how clearly he was able to see himself reflected in those crystal clear eyes. Yes. The answer was yes. He would gladly lose himself in those pastel blues and pinks, to swim further away from the shore and dive deep within its depths.
“I--” Phainon croaked. “I might have a little crush on the professor.”
“Kiss me,” Anaxa demanded.
The hand on his own tugged him forward. Just a little motion, to coax Phainon from his shell and towards a waiting body.
He trembled and twitched--and all he could muster was a quick peck on a soft cheek. His vision swam, so lightheaded he thought he would pass out. His soul was leaving his body, the fragrance of mint so strong he could taste it. Anaxa smelled so, so enticing--
“Profe--”
Anaxa grabbed the collars of his shirt. If a pathetic whine slipped from Phainon--no, there wasn’t.
“Kiss me properly,” Anaxa demanded once more.
Anaxa all but dragged Phainon down towards him--and Phainon let him--until lips slotted against lips in a heated kiss. One where Phainon could taste Anaxa proper--so sweet with a hint of mint, as he let his worries of the morrow go while he embraced Anaxa for the first time.