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If happiness were tangible, then Anaxa’s happiness would surely take on the form of Phainon.
For one lifetime, two lifetimes, three…
…For as long as they exist, no matter in what shape or form, Anaxagoras the Foolish will always belong to Phainon of Aedes Elysiae.
He watches silently as the sun sets in the horizon over the golden wheat fields of Aedes Elysiae— his quivering heart full of anticipation and belly heavy with their proof of love. The breeze caresses his long, green hair and his thin outfit flutters in response. It is still enough to keep him warm for now, for the weather continues to hold on to the dying warmth of summer.
The professor cradles his large belly, unborn baby stirring awake within, and tiptoes ever so slightly. He is careful not to lose his balance.
Maybe if he tries a little bit harder like this… he will be able to catch a glimpse of Phainon a little quicker.
It is a favorite habit of his now.
Since the day they moved back into Phainon’s hometown, Anaxa would constantly wait.
Every day without fail, come rain or shine, he waits outside their home in the evenings for Phainon’s silhouette to appear in the distance.
He waits for his husband to come home.
And it is to his greatest comfort that Phainon never fails to return these feelings of his; never fails to return home to him every evening.
A bulky looking silhouette appears at the edge of the wheat fields and Anaxa hurriedly lowers himself flat on his feet before he is caught in the act. If his overprotective husband spots him on his toes, he will never let him hear the end of it— “you have to be more careful now, professor!” he will nag as always— and Anaxa, ever prideful, will also be too embarrassed to explain the reasoning behind it.
As he cleverly expects, Phainon notices him the instant their home comes into view. His husband waves excitedly like a child; having memorized his patterns by heart and fully aware that Anaxa will always be waiting at that exact spot.
Phainon starts to run.
And Anaxa’s body moves on its own, equally eager to be in the other’s arms, even for just a brief moment sooner. He successfully resists the urge to run, but briskly waddles along anyway.
They meet somewhere down the path to their little home— both of their arms already reaching out for each other before they are within hugging distance.
As the space between them closes, Phainon grabs hold of Anaxa’s wrist and pulls him into a tight embrace. His large belly gets in their way, but not enough to prevent his husband from kissing him.
And as their excitement settles, he whispers happily to the white haired man:
“Welcome home.”
“Why are you waiting outside again?” Phainon begins to fuss— in spite of the satisfied grin on his face— and places a large, calloused hand on his belly. The warmth emanating from his husband’s hand reminds Anaxa that their surroundings are beginning to feel chilly.
He casts a glance downwards and smiles at the sight.
Regardless of how huge he gets, Phainon’s hand can easily make the baby seem small in comparison. The man plants a kiss on his forehead and Anaxa acknowledges that perhaps Phainon simply has that effect: for he constantly makes all of their problems seem small too.
“Professor, you should just wait at home. I let it slide when you weren’t showing but you’re fast approaching your due date now.”
The smile falls. Anaxa clicks his tongue in slight annoyance.
“There’s no difference, is there? I’m still capable of moving around. Besides, this large baby of yours is not due for another week or so.”
“Yeah, but what if something happens?”
“I’m being careful, Phainon. I always have been.”
More kisses— this time in his hair. And Anaxa is aware that it is his husband’s way of placating and persuading him. Phainon closes any remaining gap between them so that his heavy belly is now snugly situated between them. His husband thumbs at his waist pleadingly, running circles over the thin fabric of his outfit.
“Professor…” he begins to whine, “Look at the fields around us. Everything is ready for harvesting. And don’t forget, tomorrow is the annual Harvest Festival— this means that you’re ‘ripe’ too. The healer said that the baby is due around this time of the year.”
Anaxa blushes lightly at the comment and tries to push Phainon away in vain, “Yes, yes, I know. Aedes Elysiae’s very own ‘golden’ baby, along with its famous father.”
“As if its mother isn’t equally, if not more, famous. You’re well-known among these parts too: not many people are able to receive Cerces’ blessing and become Their favorite scholar.”
He huffs, “So?”
“So… everybody is concerned about you and the baby. Especially your loving husband.”
“Phainon of Aedes Elysiae. Never in a million years would I have imagined that you’d become so insufferable.”
The look of defeat on Anaxa’s face draws soft laughter from Phainon. With one hand, he gently tilts the scholar’s face upwards by his chin, and plants another chaste kiss. It has been like this since their marriage— day after day, Phainon is unable to get enough of him.
“If you want me to nag less, then promise me you’ll take it easy until the baby comes.”
“I refuse.”
Anaxa misses the unhappy look on his husband’s face because he averts his gaze right at that precise moment. The thinly veiled threat that comes next, however, is much more difficult to ignore.
“Then I’ll have to lock you up at home.”
The scholar glares at the presumptuous Phainon.
“Try it. If the baby comes during then, I will refuse to allow you or anybody else into the house to assist me. Yes, including the midwife.”
His comeback leaves his originally well-meaning husband speechless, so a smug Anaxa takes the opportunity to drive the point home. He is winning this argument for sure.
“My loving husband wouldn’t subject me or our baby to something so dangerous, would he?”
The white haired man sighs in defeat and begins to obediently lead him home by the hand.
“No, he wouldn’t.”
…
They have a quick dinner— courtesy of Anaxa’s efforts, as always— and both settle into the familiar routine of spending time together on the carpeted floor of their home. Phainon tucks a couple of cushions underneath and behind Anaxa. He does his best to ensure that his wife is fully comfortable before he sits down himself.
In spite of his own exhaustion from working the fields all day, Phainon begins to massage his pregnant wife’s sore feet.
Anaxa heaves a quiet sigh of relief as strong hands knead at his tightly strung muscles. As his belly grew, the additional weight that comes with carrying their baby has made it so difficult for him to stay on his feet for hours.
In Okhema or the Grove of Epiphany, a warm bath might have had a similar soothing effect as Phainon’s massages. But out in the countryside of Aedes Elysiae, those are rare. Keeping a tub of water consistently warm simply requires too much effort and resources.
If it weren’t for Phainon’s constant pampering, this entire pregnancy would have been a nightmare.
He reclines onto the pile of cushions.
As he quietly admires his husband’s look of concentration, the baby begins to deliver strong kicks from within. One kick hits him in his ribs, and Anaxa lets out an involuntary, soft ‘oof’ in response to the discomfort.
It catches Phainon’s attention immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
“The baby is kicking. They managed to land a good one right in my ribs.” Anaxa runs his fingers over the distended, upper curve of his belly, “This amount of strength is ridiculous. You really are your papa’s child.”
Another kick, and Anaxa groans. He tilts his head backwards helplessly.
“Phainon, please get your energetic child to stop.”
His husband laughs, observes the movement beneath taut skin and proceeds to lean over to place a kiss on the sheer fabric.
“Papa doesn’t mind,” he whispers to Anaxa’s belly deviously, “You can do it for a while longer as long as you stay in this position. It’s better for both you and your mama.”
The offensive comment fills him with indignant, righteous anger. Anaxa nearly smacks Phainon on the head for it. Better? How is this any better for anybody?
He purses his lips.
“You and this child will be the death of me—”
The words barely land before his husband is covering his mouth in alarm. Phainon shakes his head childishly, obviously upset by his choice of words. “Professor, you shouldn’t say something so inauspicious.”
“Stop teaming up with our child to infuriate me then.”
The man hums and presses at the spot where their baby’s little foot is sticking out. The naughty little one retracts their limb at the surprising sensation. Then almost immediately, it pushes out against his taut skin once more. Anaxa grimaces at the feeling.
“Look, he’s kicking so high up along your belly. The women of the village tell me that it’s a good sign, because it means that the baby’s head is facing downwards. You’ll have a safer delivery this way.”
Oh. Well, at least it makes sense.
Anaxa’s frustration dissipates almost entirely at the thought. Unfortunately, Phainon is much larger than him and the baby truly takes after his father in so many ways. Someone has also previously mentioned that the size of his belly is an indication that the baby might be huge.
For once, largeness is undesirable. Largeness equates to a difficult delivery.
As such, the less complications the better. With some luck, he will hopefully have a smooth and fast delivery— baby coming out head first, no random hemorrhaging, no cord around its neck or the baby getting stuck on his small pelvis.
None of that.
Their unborn child kicks once more and Anaxa sighs breathlessly at the feeling.
“I think he might have just gotten me in the lungs.”
“Alright, alright.” Phainon concludes and pats his belly firmly, “Enough of bullying mama. Settle down for tonight hmm?”
It doesn’t work. It seems like Phainon has opened Pandora’s Box earlier when he gave his approval for the baby’s bad behavior. The baby continues to tumble within and it is all Anaxa can do to inhale deeply whenever possible.
“Sorry.” His husband grins at him sheepishly as he completes the night’s massage and moves to re-braid Anaxa’s long green hair.
The pampering really is effective.
These days he is less likely to reprimand Phainon for anything he does.
And today, it is the same. Instead of raising his voice at Phainon for placing him in this situation, Anaxa attempts to relax as much as possible— rubbing absentminded circles around his swollen belly.
Phainon, on the other hand, runs his thick fingers through Anaxa’s hair. He has gotten incredibly adept at tidying up the loose strands. Perhaps even more so than Anaxa himself.
Like everything else in their married life, Phainon had started out being terrible at braiding his silky hair correctly. And Anaxa had almost sought to keep his hair short after seeing how dejected his husband felt about this simple task.
But the days of practice turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. And months turned into years.
And now Phainon is more than capable of neatly bundling and tidying up his long hair for him.
The man slips a new hairpiece onto the band as he finishes up. Having noticed it, Anaxa lifts the piece up for a closer look and realizes that it is another custom piece that is fashioned in the form of flowers commonly used for weddings in Aedes Elysiae.
He frowns.
Now that they are no longer living in Okhema, they are less well-to-do. And they often do not have access to the various extravagances from before.
“Phainon… did you spend a lot on this?”
The white haired man moves to sit and cuddle him with their sides touching. His husband wraps one arm comfortably around his waist.
“I don’t require constant gifts. It is not why I chose to marry you.”
“I know.” Phainon hums in contentment, “But it brings me joy when I see you wearing them. And these flowers remind me of the ones at our wedding.”
He grins at Anaxa foolishly. And again, the latter finds it difficult to get mad at him.
The wedding flowers of Aedes Elysiae… Anaxa muses to himself. It is true that the artisan who crafted this had done a really good job at emulating them.
It is just a pity that these flowers, however well done, are still an imitation at best. They do not carry the scent of the real ones.
The sight of them everywhere that day… in his hair, on his veil, in their hands, floating through the air…
And the sight of Phainon smiling at him with one hand outstretched at the altar.
Anaxa is quite sure that nothing in this life will ever compare.
Still, the hairpiece brings him joy in a different form: Phainon remembers. His husband remembers that day and cherishes the memory equally as much as he does. The love between them did not diminish with time— even with a baby now on the way, all this simple life does is strengthen their bond further.
“Is the baby still kicking?” Phainon inquires and Anaxa abruptly realizes that the man now has his head on his swollen belly. He presses his ear to taut skin, as if this way, he might be able to hear its occupant making sounds within.
Anaxa cards his fingers through white hair.
The baby is quiet now.
“Phainon,” he starts softly and patiently, “Have you decided on a name?”
“Hmm? You want me to name them?”
“I’d like that very much, yes.”
“Oh.” Phainon closes his eyes and reaches up to rub the lower curve of his swell this time. He is deep in thought. If Anaxa hadn’t known better, he might have guessed that his husband was waiting for the baby to whisper the answer to him.
Slender fingers continue to caress his husband’s beautiful white hair.
“Did you not stop to think of it even once?”
“I mean, I did…” comes the dazed murmur, “I just thought that you might have wanted to name the baby yourself. And you know I’d be happy with any name you come up with.”
Anaxa lets out a small, pleased laugh.
“Phainon of Aedes Elysiae, this baby is yours too, you know.”
“I know.” he grins with eyes still closed, “And you’re the one who is carrying them. It’s so amazing, isn’t it? I still can’t wrap my head around it sometimes.”
Anaxa interlaces the fingers of his remaining hand with the one that Phainon has on his belly.
“Professor, this baby belongs to both of us. They’re our flesh and blood.”
“Isn’t it amazing?” The younger man repeats the question once more and Anaxa cannot help but smile.
“I’ve been pregnant for nine whole months and you’re choosing to be starstruck now? It is not news that a baby is made whole from the sum of its parents’ halves.”
As the statement lands, an idea seems to come to mind. Phainon finally sits back up; eyes sparkling at his own revelation.
“I know, professor! How about ‘Inon’ for a boy? And ‘Ana’ for a girl?”
Confused by this sudden and random epiphany, Anaxa blinks and tilts his head at his excited husband.
“The sum of our halves. Half of me is ‘Inon’ and half of you is ‘Ana’. Not bad right? I’m a genius if I say so myself— ow. ow ow ow—” He laughs when Anaxa instinctively pinches him by the cheek. The professor gives it a tiny, upset shake.
“Phainon of Aedes Elysiae! Your child has to live with this name for the rest of their life! Reason forbid that you do this half-heartedly.”
“But I’m serious! I— ow, ow, please stop Anaxa—”
“You make me so mad sometimes. I swear I will—”
It is the older man’s turn to grimace in pain as a strange, sharp sensation pierces him in a corner of his belly. His hand drops from Phainon’s face and instinctively moves to cover his middle. The painful sensation disappears as quickly as it arrives, and Anaxa wonders if it was simply a figment of his imagination.
With a concerned frown, he waits for it to happen again; his heart still beating fast.
Nothing occurs.
That’s strange.
The abrupt and worrying pause has the smile falling from Phainon’s face. With one large hand also protectively placed on his swollen belly, his husband searches his face for an answer.
“Anaxa…?”
“... …”
“Is it the baby? Is something wrong?”
“No, it’s just… It must have been my imagination.”
“What do you mean?”
“I felt a strange sensation. But it might have just been the usual braxton hicks since I’m close to delivering. Nothing to be concerned about.”
Phainon remains unconvinced. He frowns, and Anaxa is suddenly very aware that he is on the verge of being locked up in their cosy home for the remainder of his pregnancy.
“...I insist on attending the Harvest Festival tomorrow.”
“The village has enough helping hands. You shouldn’t be working the grounds anyway in your current state.”
“You know that it is one of the most significant days in Aedes Elysiae. I’m your wife and I should be present.”
“Anaxa… I’m sure the others will understand. They’re just as worried about you as I am.”
Will they? Anaxa ponders as insecurity washes over him. Unlike Phainon, he was not born to the village and while everybody has been incredibly kind to him, there is a constant, nagging feeling that he doesn’t really belong.
His own arm that he has wrapped around his belly tightens ever so slightly.
And if they are not fond of him, will they ostracize or treat his child differently too?
“I must attend. If you stop me, I will… I will escape somehow and make my way down. Or I will deliver this child right now so you’ll have no reason to keep me at home.”
His husband sighs helplessly; sky blue eyes glancing at his belly in apprehension. He is seriously contemplating the possibility that Anaxa will hold true to his promise. Phainon’s understanding of his professor’s personality tells him that Anaxa might be unpredictable enough to actually induce labor, as long as he knows that the baby will be safe.
“Professor, why are you being so stubborn?”
“You chose me. You should have known beforehand that this is how I am.”
He steels himself for another wave of reprimanding but it never comes. Instead, Phainon holds his hands as gently as he did on their wedding day and lifts them to his lips.
His husband kisses the pale skin of his flesh lovingly and flashes him a look that resembles a kicked puppy.
“Okay… You know that I will never stop you from doing something you truly desire. But promise me that you’ll tell me the moment something feels off.”
“I’m really fine, Phainon.”
“For now.” the man grumbles, “You tend to bite off a lot more than you can chew.”
They fall silent, because it is true. Anaxa is silent for a brief moment, because he is unsure of what to say. And ‘sorry’ doesn’t feel like an appropriate answer. ‘Sorry’ indicates that he acknowledges he shouldn’t be heading out tomorrow— ‘sorry’ might make things worse.
So the opposite falls off the tip of his tongue instead:
“Thank you. I know you’re behaving like this only because you care.” he tells his husband gratefully.
‘Thank you’, and…
“I love you, Phainon.”
Sky blue eyes peer at him in shock. These words are few and far between because they have always been the type to act than to speak of it. But as his due date nears, Anaxa finds that his chest is often full of an emotion that threatens to overflow.
In the same way his belly is now swollen with child, his heart swells with years of unspoken love.
And so he gives it voice.
“I love you. I’ll be careful tomorrow.”
The second declaration has Phainon finally finding his own voice as well. His husband’s gaze softens as he pulls him into his arms.
“If this is a dream, I’d rather not wake.”
“Anaxa, do you know how happy you make me? You and the baby are everything to me.”
He thinks that he hears Phainon sniffling a little, so he pats him on the head gently.
“I’ll make you both equally happy for as long as we live. If we ever meet again in another lifetime, I’m sure that I’d choose you again. I’d choose you over and over again.”
“Professor, I love you so much.”
“So please, stay with me. And promise me you’ll never let go as well.”
He takes Phainon’s desperate request and seals it within his own heart. And Anaxa smiles, even though Phainon’s tears are clearly falling like rain when they part.
Always the crybaby.
For all of eternity and beyond, Anaxagoras the Foolish will belong to only one person. Will only love one person.
“I promise.”
Dawn breaks the next day, and their little household awakes to the excited sounds of people already out and about in Aedes Elysiae.
When they leave the house— fully prepared and ready to tackle the day— he is surprised to find that the village is full of pink flowers, similar to the scentless one currently adorned in his hair.
It is a beautiful day, quite unlike any other.
As the petals and flowers float through the air and cover the earth, he recalls laying eyes on a scene like this, once in his lifetime.
Phainon grasps his hand tight, and they walk hand-in-hand to where the ladies are already hard at work in the fields; harvesting in the cooling air of the morning. The aim is to get some of it done by noon so that they can rest and set out some offerings to both Kephale and Cerces— one for the gentle dawn that always breaks, and the other for blessing their crops year after year.
When they notice Anaxa’s heavily pregnant frame and the way Phainon seems to be forcing him to help out with harvesting, most of them begin to riot. Some of the ladies berate the young man harshly while others threaten him with their shoes.
Phainon nearly becomes the village pin cushion for sickles and scythes.
The fuss only ends when Anaxa blocks his poor husband with his smaller, yet gravid body and uses his teaching voice to insist that helping out is his idea.
His booming voice successfully catches their attention.
“Oh Anaxagoras…” A woman in her fifties that he recognizes as a neighbour three doors down, shakes her head, “Look at you! You’re ready to pop at any given moment. You shouldn’t be pushing yourself in the fields.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he replies stubbornly, “The baby isn’t due for another week or so. Besides, staying at home will only make me feel listless.”
“Y-Yeah, he has promised that he’ll only be working for a short while and will inform us if he feels unwell.” Phainon pipes up from behind him.
“You!” The same lady points a sickle at him, “SHUSH!”
Her voice, where cloyingly sweet and accommodating to Anaxa earlier, has now dropped at least two octaves. Towards Phainon, the women of the village are only harsh and furious.
The difference makes Anaxa’s stomach flip anxiously. And from within his womb, he is almost sure that the baby does a terrified, little twitch as well.
A small, short cramp, akin to getting prodded hard by a stick, stabs at him for a brief moment before disappearing like the night before.
“Oh sweetie,” she resumes the kind tone from before, and Anaxa reflexively wraps both of his arms around his belly protectively, “If you insist. But only for an hour or two, alright? And if you feel unwell— even the slightest bit! — you make sure to tell any of us and we’ll get you some rest immediately.”
He nods nervously. And behind him, Phainon nods while cowering.
Aside, an old grandma sitting in the shade narrows her eyes disapprovingly at the most useless husband in Aedes Elysiae.
Two ladies then flank Anaxa, one on each side, to gently get him started in an easy spot. It is a convenient location that ensures he can be easily found by at least three to four people at any given moment. The neighbour from before then grabs Phainon by his ear and unceremoniously removes him from the area.
Anaxa turns at the last moment to catch the sight of his husband stumbling by the woman’s side and his heart clenches tightly in his chest. Guilt overwhelms him. Somehow, he didn’t think that him being in the fields is such a huge cause for concern.
Sorry, Phainon.
There is not much time to feel sorry though, because the amount of work that needs to be done is massive. The ladies offer him only a small patch of wheat to work on, but the inconvenient nature of his gravid belly means that he takes twice or thrice the time needed to clear a single area.
Ten minutes in, Anaxa impatiently tries to pick up the pace.
He bends down as much as he can and swings the sickle hard to clear more ground. It is only a matter of time before something goes wrong— the morning sun is now starting to feel somewhat stifling and his body is constantly bent over in an awkward position. His lower back begins to hurt and ache badly.
And is that his imagination? It feels like his belly has dropped and his center of gravity has shifted ever so slightly.
He pauses to straighten his back.
The baby’s head presses against his cervix when he does, and he recognizes that this new position hurts as well. The pressure in his belly is definitely much more unbearable than it has been in the past few days. Not wanting to be overwhelmed, he takes a moment to catch his breath and to wait for the feeling to pass—
Except it does not.
Everything aches, and he is unsure if it is the strain on his back that is causing some pain or his belly itself. Worry creeps into his mind. What if something is wrong?
Anaxa rubs the upper curve of his belly where the baby had been the most active yesterday.
No response.
The little one has been quiet all day too.
“Maybe Phainon was right.” The scholar finally admits weakly as he kneels on the ground for a break, “I should stop and just wait for them to finish.”
Sweat drips from his forehead and he squeezes his eyes shut tightly at another uncomfortable sensation. From within his belly, more pressure accumulates. It feels weird. It is as if his body is barely able to keep the baby from simply falling out onto the open ground below.
He bends over and grips the wheat tightly…
…And lets out a low groan.
He swallows hard as the feeling lightens up just briefly and swears firmly under his breath, “Titans.”
“Anaxagoras?” A female voice calls out from his right, and one of the ladies appears from among the wheat to rush forward and take hold of his upper arm, “Is something wrong?”
“I… I don’t know.” he confesses nervously, “The baby isn’t due but my body feels like it’s falling apart.”
“Can you stand?”
The green haired man tries to contain the pain and steady himself, “Only for a bit. I-It hurts.”
She starts yelling for help and more women appear from various directions. Together, the strongest two hoist him up to his feet with both arms draped over their shoulders. His back straightens once more and the pressure in his belly shifts further downwards.
They have taken only two steps forward when there is a small popping sound. Almost unnoticeable to the ear in a wide, open field.
But Anaxa feels it more so than hears it.
Liquid begins to trickle down his thighs as the unbearable pressure in his belly reaches a breaking point. And then, like lightning, he is struck by acute cramps so intense that he inevitably recognizes them for what they are:
Contractions.
Oh.
Oh no.
He curls in on himself and the two women notice, but they continue with their endeavor of dragging him out of the wheat fields. As they lay him underneath the giant, flowering tree that towers over the fields in Aedes Elysiae, Anaxa thinks back to all the small little signs of labor that he has conveniently ignored and wonders how long it has been happening.
He grits his teeth through another wave of nasty contractions and grips the hand of a helpful lady nearby.
Titans.
“The baby…” he gasps as the wave passes and he takes in deep breaths like a man surfacing for air, “It’s too early. The baby isn’t due.”
The overbearing auntie from earlier positions herself between his legs and gently coaxes them apart. Above them, another woman drapes a towel over his lower half for privacy’s sake. Anaxa nods gratefully at her— his rescued dignity thankful for this small, kind gesture.
“Your water broke in the fields. So this baby is most certainly coming sooner than later.”
“Sweetie, I have to check how close you are from delivering. May I?”
Absolutely terrified for himself and the baby, he allows her to do what she must. The lady sticks her fingers in his opening and spreads them to measure the dilation of his cervix.
It goes on way longer than she expects.
And her fingers end up in a wide V.
“Oh! Oh my.” She takes them out and Anaxa can see that they are covered in mucus and minor amounts of blood. He does not know what to expect, so the sight makes his blood freeze in place.
“You’re already fully dilated! Sweetie, either this baby is incredibly impatient or you’ve been laboring longer than expected.”
What? That’s… That’s not—
He wants to respond, but the contractions return at full force and his body tenses from the overwhelming pain once more. The baby shifts lower into his pelvis and a desperate urge to push washes over Anaxa.
There is the realization that if this baby comes any quicker, someone is going to miss the sight of his firstborn child entering the world.
“Phai… Phainon—!” he gasps helplessly while trying to resist the urge to follow his instincts and help the baby’s head descend, “Someone call Phainon, please—!”
One of the ladies nods and runs off to get his husband.
Still, he fears that they may not make it in time. Phainon’s impatient spawn is making it extremely difficult to prolong his labor. This baby wants to be born now. And the auntie between his legs also notices the way he’s been trying to hold back on laboring.
She reprimands him sternly.
“Professor, don’t fight the urge to push. If you delay the delivery, your amniotic fluid may run low and it’ll become dangerous for your baby. All sorts of complications will happen when it does.”
The auntie peers at his opening worriedly and then back at him.
“Phainon will see the baby whenever he sees the baby, do you understand?”
The pressure that he now recognizes as his unborn child descends further into his birth canal, and the pain ultimately draws another groan from him. It prompts the woman to check on his progress once more, and she finds the baby’s head just a short distance away from his opening.
“Oh my goodness, they’re almost here already!”
“What…?” He looks down breathlessly, and as anybody expects, sees nothing beyond his large belly.
“Hold your breath and push with the next contraction, okay sweetie?”
He doesn’t want to. He wants to wait for Phainon. Yet the woman’s warnings about how this might be dangerous for the baby makes his resolve falter.
His hesitation causes him to miss the opportunity to ride the next wave of contractions. The baby remains stuck in place and the auntie begins to get visibly angry at him.
“Now, professor! I understand that Phainon can be foolish but you should know better! Nothing is more important than you and your baby right now!”
Her voice dangerously drops two octaves once more.
“NOW PUSH! Or so help me, I will make you do so myself!”
It scares him enough that Anaxa immediately does as he is told: when another contraction comes, he holds his breath and bears down hard. The baby’s head pushes against his opening and his perineum bulges under its size. It shocks him that just one push is enough to get it to crown.
A smile lights up her face. She sees something that he does not.
He feels the lady maneuvering below to ensure that he does not tear— she holds the baby’s head back firmly so that it does not descend too quickly.
“Alright, slow and steady, professor… Just small little pushes to get your baby’s head out.”
He swears under his breath. First, she threatens him to get him to push, and now that they are almost done, she tells him to hold back? Still, the uncertainty of going through his first birth makes him subconsciously rely on the women around him.
He ignores the overwhelming urge to give one good, strong push and tries to stay in control of his body as much as he can. Two ladies hook their elbows around the back of his knees and help pull his legs up and wider apart.
Small pushes only. One. Two. One more.
The baby continues to crown further.
Then suddenly, without warning, his opening hurts like it is on fire.
Anaxa tries to close his legs in reflex, but the ladies have anticipated this and hold them steadily in place. “Ahh… Ahhh—!” He begins to scream in surprise as the widest part of the baby’s head passes through the small opening. Tears stream down his face, and the women soothe him with gentle shushes.
“It’ll be over soon. Just keep pushing.”
He desperately tries to focus on counting in his mind. More small pushes.
One push.
Two pushes.
Thre— ahhhh fuck—
Three.
The ring of fire only lasts for a couple of seconds. Yet Anaxa feels like a person in freefall; the excruciating pain causes the moment to stretch on infinitely in his mind.
The agony goes on forever.
Until it disappears just as abruptly.
It still hurts, but he is certain that the baby’s head has now popped out.
The woman gently twists his child on its side to prevent the shoulders from getting stuck and waits for him to catch his breath.
“You’re doing very well, professor. Just a little more and you can hold your baby.”
He feels faint. Anaxa takes a moment to look up at the giant tree sheltering them and he imagines Cerces’ annoying yet benevolent face smiling down at him. Something floods his system— nostalgia, maybe. His brain switches over to its scholarly mode; science tells him that he is simply being affected by the hormones his body releases while in labor.
He remembers Phainon.
…Or more specifically, the lack thereof, of his husband right now. Anaxa closes his eyes to calm himself.
Fear rises within. He tries to push it away but fails.
So he turns to the annoying Cerces, lowers his pride and prays:
Are you seeing this too? Can you bless this child?
Then he is once again violently pulled back into his own suffering— his contractions return, and he obediently bears down once more. He feels his baby slip out further, small shoulders now exposed to the world, but is unable to hold onto the momentum long enough to finish the marathon.
He slumps backwards, and his head touches the dirt ground once more. Anaxa feels overly exhausted and exposed— his large belly constantly heaving with the effort of bringing his child into the world.
“Just a little more!” The ladies offer him the usual encouragement, and one even wipes the sweat from his brows with a soft towel. Everything is a blur, so he does not recognize any of them. Yet the lady wiping his brow stands out the most because she softly whispers to him in the same, calm way that Cerces often does:
“By Kephale’s grace and the strength that you never knew was in you…”
She places a hand on his belly— her touch soft as a feather— and it mysteriously fills him with strength and determination.
“We welcome this little one into the world.”
Anaxa bears down hard.
With one final push, the rest of the baby’s body slides out of his opening and into the auntie’s open arms. Everybody around them begins to cheer.
“Oh look at that! Completely perfect! All ten toes and fingers.” The little one gives a small, unhappy sniffle (very much like someone else he knows) and starts bawling his lungs out. “And that loud, strong voice! Just like his father.”
As Anaxa struggles to catch his breath, the ladies help to cut the umbilical cord and wrap his newborn child in clean sheets. Oddly enough, he feels like one lady is now missing.
But there is no time to ponder about it because the auntie checks over the baby once more and announces happily, “Congratulations, it’s a boy.”
“Always full of surprises, Professor. Who knew you would give birth during harvesting? You did well!”
He wants to hold his child, but through the fog of his exhaustion, at the corner of his eyes, he sees a familiar figure running towards them.
Phainon appears like he always does, at the edge of the wheat fields.
Equally sweaty and out of breath, he arrives just in time to see the small bundle fussing in the auntie’s arms.
“Phainon’s here!” she declares proudly, “Don’t worry, both mother and baby are doing great. Do you want to hold him?”
Unlike his normally confident self, Phainon freezes up at the words. Does he think that he might accidentally hurt the baby? Sensing his hesitation, Anaxa encourages him gently in the same way he used to during their days at the Grove of Epiphany:
“Go on. Hold your son, Phainon.”
He reaches over cautiously, and takes the bundle from the lady.
Phainon blinks at the baby. The baby blinks back.
Then slowly but surely…
Both father and child burst into loud, ugly cries.
Phainon holds their firstborn son close and cries and cries and cries till his face is red. Their son follows suit, like a mini version of his father, and cries and cries and cries till his face is completely red as well.
Through his pain and exhaustion, Anaxa finally cracks a smile and begins to laugh uncontrollably.
“Look at the both of you,” he wheezes helplessly at the sight, “You two look exactly the same: equally ridiculous.”
His husband bends down to show him their newborn baby, and Anaxa laughs even more at how their eyes are now swollen and red from all the crying. It is impossible to tell if their baby has any features that might resemble their mama now.
Their son is all Phainon.
For some odd reason, this makes the little one even more adorable in his eyes.
“Y-You’ve worked hard!” His husband bursts into more tears as he lifts his hand to kiss it apologetically, “I should have been here earlier, Anaxa. I should have run faster.”
Anaxa stops laughing just long enough to give him an unbearably loving gaze.
“Knowing you, you’ve already done your best.”
And this is true. Because they will find out later on that the wheat fields are in disarray from the way Phainon panicked.
The white haired man nuzzles his face into Anaxa’s dirt-filled hair and snuggles close with their large son, “You can name him. You deserve this much.”
“Really?”
Phainon nods fervently. Anaxa reckons that he probably has stopped thinking altogether anyway. The words “OVERWHELMED” stamp themselves in large red letters across his husband’s forehead.
Besides, there is a name that strikes his fancy.
“Then…” Anaxa leans against him contentedly, “How about ‘Inon’?”
The silly man freezes up once more.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I think ‘Inon’ is perfect.”
“Inon…” Phainon utters softly while lifting his son once more, “Inon, Inon…” He presses his cheeks to the baby’s and poor little Inon fusses in his arms. To the panic of all the women around him, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae raises his son up high and declares:
“Inon!”
Anaxa simply watches on blissfully— a rare, wide smile present on his features.
“Inon! Anaxa!”
Phainon turns to him. His handsome face lights up with an overjoyed expression that shines as brightly as the sun above.
Anaxa’s heart skips a beat.
“Papa really loves you! Papa loves you both so much!”
And in this lifetime, Anaxa never has to wonder if that is true. Never has to wonder if Phainon might harbor thoughts that prove otherwise. He never wonders if he should have chosen someone else, or has to grieve any lives that he might have lived if he hadn’t fallen so deeply in love with Phainon of Aedes Elysiae.
No desperate pursuit of knowledge or fulfilling insane prophecies as a Chrysos Heir.
No more using himself as a balm to soothe the grief and hurt of others.
Just him, Phainon, their baby and a wonderful life in the beautiful countryside of Aedes Elysiae.
In this lifetime, and in this moment, Anaxagoras is irrefutably whole.
And for as long as Phainon and Inon remain by his side, he will be so…
Forevermore.