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It was a cool night in October, the crisp winds of Autumn nipping gently at the exposed skin of his wrists and neck.
Mydei had left a little later than he usually did, which wasn't saying much because he usually spent most of his day in the kitchen. An unavoidable issue when you have to be the one cleaning and prepping the mise en place with little to no help. He just hopes his boss finally decides to hire more people. He'd really like a vacation.
He sighed, used to how sore his body felt from a full day of work and waking up at an ungodly hour just to fit going to the gym in his schedule. He wonders how nice it would be to fall asleep in his bathtub, not worrying about the water bill and spoiling himself with scalding hot water and a nice pomegranate scented bathbomb. He sighed again, a little wearier and heavier, dragging his tired feet home.
The familiar walk down the street was interrupted by the sweet laughter of a child, a tiny body running past him with vigour despite the time of the day. The weary call of her name from who he presumes was her mother made something that felt like soft amusement bubble up his chest.
He lifted his gaze from the pavement to follow the bubbly movement of the child adorably wrapped up in a puffy pink jacket as she crossed the street, his soft smile fading when he saw a car hurtling down the road, its speed consistent despite the traffic light. His stomach dropped when he realized the mother was a little too far to make it in time and the child was oblivious to the impending doom behind her.
Despite working in the kitchen for the better part of the day, Mydei never skimped on making sure his body was in shape. He didn’t really have a thriving social life, so it wasn’t particularly hard. He also had good reflexes, a necessity in the kitchen. So when he saw those flashing headlights he didn’t hesitate even for a moment, rushing to the street, his bags of food dropping haphazardly on the sidewalk as he dove the last few inches between him and the child to push her out of the way. His amber eyes were wide open when the car had struck him, the lights blinding him and the screech of brakes deafening from the proximity.
He thought it would hurt, that he’d feel every shard of glass piercing his skin, the impact of the metal body breaking his bones and warping his flesh, the blistering heat of the collision melting his skin and ripping a scream from his throat before he eventually dies. As much as he would like to say he’d survive, given the speed at which the car had been going, he doubts it. He doesn’t really have qualms about dying anyway. He was living on borrowed time.
So he’s rather thankful that death was so kind. Really kind, he distantly thought as he felt a warm embrace wrap around him, the firm yet gentle grip around him so achingly kind. Was this how death felt? Forgiving and sweet? As his consciousness faded, he felt a firm pressure on his lips, cold unlike the embrace but just as pleasant. It almost reminded him of a kiss. So much so that he hallucinated a voice with a cadence soft and deep say:
“I apologize for the kiss, there was no other way.”
When he opened his eyes again it was to golden wheatfields. He sat up in a daze, the slow sway of the wheatstalks mesmerizing. He got to his feet feeling oddly light, the gauzy haze over everything making him think he was in a dream. Or maybe this was the afterlife. There was a person among the wheatstalks, tall with platinum hair. They were facing away.
He walked through the golden field of wheat, compelled to go to that person.
“...You aren’t supposed to be here…but you’ve always been quite stubborn,” The same voice that had apologized for the kiss said.
“And where is here? The afterlife? Am I dead?” He asked, coming to a stop an arm’s length away. The man didn’t turn.
“You aren’t dead, Mydeimos.” The man said.
“A dream then.” He said, not quite believing he wasn’t dead but not wanting to argue with a figment of his imagination.
The man laughed, the sound of it pleasant.
“Not quite. But if that assuages any discomfort you’re feeling, you could think of it as one.”
Mydei made a displeased noise in his throat, low and rough.
“How would saying that make anyone feel comfortable?” He said, crossing his arms. The man laughed again, his shoulders lifting in a shrug.
“You must forgive me, it's been a while since I’ve made small talk,”
“Then don’t make small talk. Tell me about this place instead.”
There was a brief moment of silence, the air thick with something Mydei couldn’t name.
“The golden of your hair reminds me of these fields of wheat,” The man murmured, his words barely heard over the rustling of the swaying wheat stalks. Mydei’s breath involuntarily hitched.
“The amber of your eyes remind me of when the sun sets over the fields here. It casts the place in this rose gold sheen…it's really pretty,” The man continued with a soft chuckle.
“...I do not require your flattery.” Mydei said, his throat tight with an emotion he couldn't name. The way this man spoke was so painfully sincere. And so…so sad.
The man laughed again, though this time it was weak and stilted.
“My apologies if it came across that way, but you seemed like a man who preferred honesty.”
“You say this and yet you don’t even turn around to face me.” Mydei accused, though his heart really wasn’t in it, something about the melancholic feeling in that man’s words making him second guess everything he wanted to say.
“...I’m sorry,” The man said softly in lieu of a response. His broad back looked so lonely, his shoulders slumped with the weight of the world. Mydei didn’t know what to say in response. A pregnant silence fell upon them, saturated with words that couldn't be said out loud.
“Ah, you must leave now. You cannot stay here for long,” The man said, breaking the silence and sounding gentle and apologetic.
“Forgive me…again,”
His words sounded so far away as Mydei’s eyelids suddenly felt heavy, his consciousness succumbing to darkness once more.
***
When Mydei woke up next, he was in the hospital.
He groaned, opening the heavy lids of his eyes, his temples pounding something fierce. He made to get up, squinting to adjust to the sunlight filtering through the window. He surveyed his surroundings, realizing he was in an inpatient ward, his view obscured from the rest of the room by sterile blue curtains.
The pain and the less than impressive surroundings could only mean one thing: He was alive. Or perhaps he was in some sort of purgatory. He winced when he made to get off the bed, the sting of the IV needle in his arm and the persistent ache in his limbs dispelling any vestiges of sleep that had remained. He truly had survived a head-on collision with a car.
He checked out of the hospital in a daze, still confused by the whole ordeal and how the receptionist simply waved him off when he asked for the bill.
“A handsome man came by just moments after you were admitted to pay for anything you’d need,” she had said, looking as perplexed as he did.
“...I assumed he was your friend…? Is he not? He looked rather gloomy…”
Mydei had barely paid attention to her words, nodding and thanking her instead, his thoughts drifting back to that surreal field of wheat and that man. He could barely remember him; the clothes he was wearing, the colour of his hair, the sound of his voice. All wrapped in the gauzy haze of a dream, melting away like a hard boiled candy on his tongue, sweet and fleeting.
He found himself walking back home with just a few scratches and a concussion, feeling rather strange about everything that had happened.
He walked away from an accident that should have killed him, had an oddly specific dream about a stranger and some handsome man had paid his hospital bills. It felt too much like the dime a dozen web novels he reads during his breaks at work, something that helped empty his mind and prepare him mentally to complete his shift without breaking down in the middle. Not that he would really. He doesn’t want to give his boss the satisfaction of seeing him in tears. He huffed a sigh, tucking a hand into his threadbare coat to feel the jagged crack on his phone with his thumb absently as he walked down the beaten sidewalk to his dingy apartment.
He’d survived the encounter but his phone was not left unscathed. Its display still worked, surprisingly, but the battery was almost dead. Not that it mattered, there was no one who would call to check in on him or worry if he was in the hospital. Any person like that was already gone, any person who cared was cursed to leave him behind, haunting him with the remnants of their presence in corners he wouldn’t dare to look in.
Death was familiar, death was both cruel and kind. It took away everyone he loved but it also took away their pain, their last breaths always content, unfairly so.
It made him wonder how that would feel. To be whisked away by death like everyone he’d known. He wanted to know if it was kind, wanted to know if it would treat him better than life did. He’s heard most deaths are painful, from drowning to jumping off a tall building, to breaking your neck as you hang yourself from a ceiling fan. But he also heard it was over quickly, that before you die, a numbness takes over your body, your organs shutting down and your blood flow stopping, as if they were finally clocking out of a gruelling tedious shift at work. He wondered if the afterlife was just a void of nothingness, comforting in a way compared to the technicolour pain of life.
Or was it a field of wheat and the back of a man, so close yet so far…a voice telling him to watch out…watch out—
Mydeimos, watch out!
He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes widening when he heard something snap, his eyes darting skywards just in time to see the broken remnants of a scaffolding fall. The machinery and the jagged edges of metal were sure to rip his flesh and limbs asunder, and yet he couldn’t move. His muscles seized, causing frissons of pain to run up his limbs and to keep him in place. His eyes widened, pupils shaking…unprepared, unmoored…scared. It was humiliating…embarrassing that he felt fear from this. It was an instinctive fear, a fear born from the loss of control of his body, of how he was not dictating how his death would go. It was different from the car crash, too sudden and meaningless…too much like the deaths of everyone he loved.
Mydei squeezed his eyes shut, a broken noise escaping his throat. He hoped death would be kind again this time, would embrace him like it did before…would kiss him on the lips and hold him close.
He gasped when something did embrace him and shove him to the ground, the crashing of the scaffolding sounding distant as he was held close against something firm but with enough give, the softness of cloth brushing against his cheek. It took him a moment to realize someone had saved him by tackling him to the ground and was now cradling him against their chest, a palm cushioning his head from the fall. It should be disconcerting that he couldn’t hear a heart beat from the close proximity but he wasn’t alarmed. There was something so comforting about the embrace, an emotion he couldn’t put his finger on.
“I wish…you’d be more careful,” He heard the person holding him say, their voice achingly familiar. Before he could even say anything in response, he was gently pulled up to his feet. He blinked his eyes open to see the person who saved his life only to be greeted with a man whose head was ducked low, his shoulders hunched like he was trying to be less conspicuous.
It didn’t help that the man was huge. Mydei was a large man, and this guy was just that little bit taller, the span of his broad shoulders barely hidden under his loose black hoodie. The man stepped back gingerly, his hands leaving the assuring perch they had on his arms. If Mydei was a more cautious person, he’d question why the man was wearing a black facemask or why his hood was pulled so low he could only make out a fringe of platinum hair and the bridge of a sharp nose. Instead, he said this:
“Thank you for saving me, but I must point out that I’ve walked these streets for years. That scaffolding falling wasn’t something that usually happens.”
He felt a rather alien pit of irritation in his belly…It was irrational. This man had just saved him, but that one sentence he’d spoken sounded almost goading. And much to his mounting frustration, the man simply turned around to walk away like he didn’t hear him.
Mydei would like to believe he was level headed, always proving his peers wrong when they assumed he was a hot headed brute because of his surly appearance.
But something about this man brought forth a sense of restlessness he was unfamiliar with, his hand reaching out impulsively to grab the retreating man’s wrist almost instinctually.
“Wait–I,” He sighed, his teeth digging into his lower lip in a punishing manner.
“Thank you for saving me…It's… been a long day. If there is any way I can repay you…let me know. I dislike being in debt.”
The man froze for a moment, his back stiff with tension. The width of it was familiar in a way he couldn’t put his finger on. He shook his head, refusing to turn back around.
“You do not owe me—” He began before pausing, finally deigning to look over his shoulder at Mydei. His eyes were a shade of blue he couldn’t name.
“...If you want to repay me…you should watch your back, Mydeimos. Once is an accident, twice a coincidence…but three times?”
His voice had a pleasant cadence even if his words sent a chill down his spine.
And like he was just the echo of a dream Mydei could barely remember, he was gone, the firm grip Mydei thought he had around that stranger’s wrist proved futile for what seemed to be a mere mirage.
When Mydei had arrived at his dingy shoebox apartment, he was grateful the accident had happened on a weekend. He still had to meal prep and do the laundry, and nothing was going to wait for him just because he'd been hit by a car. He sighed, heavy and weary, hanging his threadbare coat and kicking his shoes off to first take a nice and hot shower, water and electricity bills be damned. He thinks he deserves it after that day he's had.
He strips down, his mind elsewhere as he stuffs his clothes into the laundry basket, something compelling him to drag his feet to face the bathroom mirror.
A tired man stares back, his skin sallow and his eyes tired. He remembers being told he was a spitting image of his late mother, that the only thing he got from his father was the colour of his hair and the blood on his hands.
He traced the red markings tattooed on his body with his eyes, contemplating whether he should leave his dressed wounds as is in the shower when he saw something strange. He frowned, leaning closer to the mirror, his breath hitching as he brought a hand up to gingerly touch his skin, right above where his heart is.
It was faint, almost washed out by the lights but it was there. A pale imprint of a sunburst spanning the length of his thumb sat inconspicuously upon his skin. He laughed, short and harsh, squeezing his eyes shut as he was reminded of the court mandated psychologist he had as a child.
“What you went through is not something a child should have ever been subjected to,”
The old lady had said, sighing as she took off her reading glasses. She leaned forward towards him to show her sincerity. Mydei leaned back.
“Hallucination after going through duress and grief is normal…but you must remember it is just that, Mydeimos…That apparition you see every night by your bedside is not your mother.”
He exhaled sharply, opening his eyes again, taking in his tired visage and pointedly ignoring his chest.
The shower was scalding hot, turning his skin pink and he wished it would wash his thoughts away. But all he could think about was swaying stalks of wheat and the hazy visage of a lonely back. He wonders if it was all him simply hallucinating… if it was all just him hoping there was more to the life he was living.
***
He barely got any sleep thatnight, a tiring mix of being exhausted and restless making him wake up every few hours. When his alarm finally rang at six, he was far from well rested, his head pounding and his eyes painfully dry.
Mydei forced himself to get up, a little annoyed that his poor sleep messed up his daily meticulous schedule. He knows the key to maintaining his form is good rest and good food, so he structures his days to follow that, the repeated ritual a numbing balm to his mind.
Determined to make sure his schedule went off without another hiccup, he went about getting ready for the long day ahead, burying any lingering thought about the events of yesterday. Mydei didn’t pause to think, busying himself with his tasks.
Because he knows if he didn’t, he'd hear the gentle sway of wheatstalks echoing softly in his head, haunting and beckoning.
The commute to work was uneventful. He pointedly walked around scaffoldings and looked twice, and then another time, before crossing the road. It was all so uneventful that he found himself feeling a little disappointed when he reached work.
Mydei was ready to dismiss yesterday as a fever dream, the cuts and bruises on his skin simply from him having an unfortunate tumble. But alas…fate had never been kind to him.
The kitchen was his haven, his battlefield and his domain. Chefs have joined and left, line cooks have quit mid service, but he remained, both from having no choice and from being too stubborn for his own good. So here he was, a chef in everything but name, holding the operation together with an iron grip. Mydei had been teaching a new hire the ropes and had fully committed his attention to keeping service smooth, unaware of how close death was, of how he was going to be waltzing with it again soon.
It all happened so quickly, his ears ringing from how loud the new hire had screamed, the horror in her voice not registering as the now familiar feeling of his muscles seizing painfully happened again, the upturn of the deep fryer happening in what looked to be slow motion, a laughable thing considering that he couldn’t move. And like the two times before his eyes were wide open, anticipating the pain of the burns, an agonizingly slow death.
He wonders if he deserved it. He's not sure why but perhaps he was simply cursed from birth, and death was finally coming back to take what was due.
You should watch your back, Mydeimos. Once is an accident, twice a coincidence…but three times?”
Arms wrapped around his waist, their hold on him firm and sure as he was pulled against a broad chest. He gasped as the grip tightened, his back pressed against the person behind him, their hair soft against his cheek, their breath cold on his nape. Soft lips brush against the skin of his neck making him shudder, the soft intimacy dizzyingly sweet.
“Can't look away for a second with you, can I?” The man murmured against his ear, sounding so fond it made Mydei’s throat close up. The oil splatters a few inches away from his feet. He turned around in the cradle of those arms holding him, to protest, to retort that the things happening were out of his control.
…Only to see an empty counter.
“Mister Mydei…?” he heard the girl he was training timidly call out. He stared blankly at the counter.
It took him a second, more worried, call of his name to finally respond, finally ripping his gaze away to look at the girl, her already pale skin turning ashen, her eyes wide with worry. He sighed, shaking his head to physically get rid of any thought that would hinder his work, shoving everything to the back of his mind to address in the comfort of his home.
“...I'm alright, Castorice. You don't have to add the Mister…just Mydei is fine,”
She looked behind him for just a moment, her eyes immediately darting back to him before reluctantly nodding.
He spent the rest of the shift in a daze. He wasn’t upset about the accident, no. The voice that had heralded every attempt at his life haunted his thoughts instead, the pleasant cadence, the cool breath against his skin…all of it felt too surreal. Was he truly hallucinating again? But why after all these years?
Before he knew it, he was already packing up after his shift, nodding at Castorice, in what he hoped was an amicable goodbye before leaving. The fact that she’d been able to pick herself up and help him with a smooth service after the whole fryer incident meant that she’d stay longer than any of the hires from before. Or at least he hoped. She was better company than the previous line cook.
“Miste—Mydei!” He heard her call right as he’d turned to leave. He looked over his shoulder with a raised brow. Castorice looked hesitant about something, her brows furrowed.
“If…If there is anything that is bothering you, please don’t hesitate to reach out,” She said, looking imploringly at him. He blinked in surprise, not expecting something along those lines.
It was a rather strange request from someone he just met but he couldn’t find it in himself to turn her down so he simply nodded again before leaving.
Mydei decided to take a detour and stock up on baking supplies at the grocery store, desperately needing a change of pace to forget about everything that had happened.
“Do you prefer a little tartness in your dessert or do you simply prefer it to be sweet?”
He muttered under his breath to his imaginary hero. He can vividly imagine his old psychologist frowning, the whole thing making him smile to himself in the pastry aisle, not particularly caring about how he probably looked to the other people there.
“Not that you have a choice. Your embrace might feel nice and your voice is rather fetching, but you’re just a figment of my imagination,”
The shelf with premade puff pastry and instant cake mixes shook beside him like someone had stumbled into it in response, making him chuckle to himself, already at peace with the fact that he probably looked like a psychopath laughing at the bag of icing sugar he was holding.
“Oh? Shy, are we? You’re quite cute for an agent of death,” He said, putting the icing sugar he was eyeing into the basket before moving on to the cookie cutter stencils. He felt a lazy smile pull at his lips, the whole situation probably a little odd to an outsider.
He almost died three times, and each time he was saved by a man with a nice voice who was most likely a figment of his imagination, a comfort of sorts like how he’d imagined his dead mother by his bedside for years. Mydei scoffed, throwing the discount set of cookie cutters into the basket with more force than necessary.
So what if it wasn’t normal to imagine things that comforted him? So what if he was societally maladjusted, with a phone full of contacts with numbers that were repurposed years ago? The only person he’d ever killed was a man who deserved it, and the only thing he’s done this past decade was work long hours and barely make enough for rent, refusing to touch the blood money entrusted to him. He thinks he can imagine a handsome persona of death holding him close and speaking to him softly, he doesn’t see the issue with it.
Mydei huffed, annoyed by how he was trying to justify his own actions to an invisible jury. He ignored the brief recollection of his old psychiatrist’s disappointed face and turned towards the refrigerated section right across the pastry aisle, eyeing the discounted slab of unsalted butter.
That's when accident number four happened.
He prided himself for having a quick reaction time, honed by his time in the gym and the kitchen, the two places he frequented the most in his life. So more than fear or acceptance, this time he was embarrassed. Mortified, even.
Grocery store refrigerators were huge and unwieldy, always humming loudly with the sound of the cooling mechanisms, working overtime to keep the drinks and produce fresh. It's not something one would expect to topple, or for its wirings to spill out of its innards like guts if they sparked dangerously with electricity. It’s just not something that made sense. And so his sharply honed senses had faltered, just for a moment. Not that it mattered, really. He could feel the familiar painful pull of muscles in his body, freezing him in place, a rather useless endeavor by whoever was trying to kill him because this time, they truly caught him off guard.
If he wasn’t paralyzed, he probably would have even barked out a disbelieving laugh, because it was frankly hilarious how his life had turned from a drab tragedy to a b grade horror movie.
Or perhaps a romance one.
He thought hysterically when he felt arms wrap around him and pull him to safety.
In a dizzying turn of events, he found himself sat on the floor, a safe distance away from the massacred refrigeration unit, his back pressed against a supple chest and arms that were starting to become awfully familiar wrapped around his torso.
“To answer your question from earlier, I’d say I like a little bit of tartness. It elevates the sweetness without fatiguing your tastebuds,” That infuriatingly nice voice said, sounding a little too amused. The embrace was warm but the breath against the skin of his neck was startlingly cold.
“...Not bad, did not expect death to know a thing or two about sweets,” Mydei muttered, sighing as he slumped in the man’s embrace. “Is this going to be a common occurrence? You saving me like I’m some damsel in distress?”
The man huffed a laugh, the sound of it frustratingly pleasant. His long legs bracketed him, making the embrace feel more intimate than it had any right to be.
“I’m afraid so. I don’t think I’ve encountered a human who’s almost died before his time four times in a row,”
Mydei’s brows furrowed. Being this close he could smell the scent of sunwarmed clothes and bulrushes. It reminded him of the dream he had of swaying wheatstalks and the man he could barely remember.
“Before my time…?” He asked, a harsh bark of laughter ripping itself out of his chest at the absurdity of the line.
“Hah…nevermind that. Why is it an issue if I die earlier?”
He felt the body behind him go stiff with tension, the arms around him tightening for a moment before going back to how it was.
“...You don’t deserve to die like this, Mydeimos,” the agent of Death said softly, sounding pained for some reason. Mydei scoffed, attempting to turn around in the embrace like he did before, only for the arms to tighten around him again in a vice grip to prevent him from doing so. A frustrated noise escaped his lips, his nails digging into the meat of the firm arms wrapped around him.
“Deserve? Is that really something you can say?” He spat, the bitterness in his mouth a familiar thing.
“Did my mother deserve to die? Did my friends deserve to die?”
“...Those were not things I could put a stop to…but this I can,” He murmured, meek in the face of Mydei’s rage.
“What makes me so special? Can’t you just let me die and leave it at that?” Mydei asked, his anger burning up quick and leaving behind a bone deep tiredness that never truly left him.
A moment of heavy silence passed before the man responded, his voice quiet but firm with conviction.
“I cannot, no.” He said simply.
“Do you wish to be my knight in shining armor or something? How does this even help you?” He asked, his voice hoarse. He finally registered the worried murmurs in the proximity as staff surrounded the fallen refrigeration unit in worry.
“Maybe I do want to be your knight in shining armor,” The man said with a soft laugh. Mydei sighed, shaking his head in exasperation.
“You’re wasting your time, Deliverer.” He said, the nickname slipping out of his mouth unbidden. It suited him. Not that he’d ever voice his thoughts on why it suited him out loud. He’s not sure thinking that he reminded him of a just hero on a quest of Deliverance was something Mydei would ever admit to.
The man laughed again, his breath cool against his skin, his arms warm.
“A nickname for me? Can I call you Mydei then? You let Miss Castorice call you that,” He asked, his cadence low and sweet. Mydei fought back an embarrassing shiver.
Before he could think of something to respond, their conversation was interrupted by a worried staff member rushing towards him in worry.
“Sir…Oh my god…are you okay?” The guy asked, his voice sounding distant as Mydei felt the brush of lips on his nape before the weight behind him disappeared. It took him a moment to realize there were bags of potato chips scattered around him, his carefully picked basket of pastry supplies upended beside the gutted refrigerator. He laughed disbelievingly, only a little sheepish about the fact that his laughter only made the staff member turn paler. His mind was a little preoccupied by his so-called imaginary knight in armor and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation he was in.
***
“Was I right? Are you really shy?” Mydei asked after he’d returned to the safe confines of his home. He predictably didn’t get an answer, scoffing and shaking his head as he returned to making the raspberry coulis for the tartlets he was making. He'd managed to get discounted items at the store after the whole debacle.
Perhaps he was going crazy and The Deliverer was just a figment of his imagination, a desperate mind working overtime to rationalize whatever is happening to him. But the embrace, his voice…his infuriating laugh. He doubts his imagination is wild enough to conjure such things.
“I wonder if this is some game you’re playing because you’re bored and my life looks miserable enough for you to take some joy in it,”
One of the kitchen stools violently crashed to the floor in response making Mydei laugh, mocking and harsh.
“How childish. I expected more from a supernatural being like you,”
The sullen silence in response made him huff in amusement.
“If you truly have a problem with anything I’ve said, you’re free to stop hiding and voice your opinion.” Mydei said, ignoring the slam he heard on the kitchen island behind him. He set the coulis to cool and brushed egg wash on his pastry before putting it in the oven. He may have jumped a little when he felt the familiar cool breath against his neck but there was no one here to confirm that happened except for the fool of a man behind him.
“I’m doing this to keep you safe.” He heard the man bite out from behind him, a stark difference to his melancholic yet playful demeanor from before.
“Pinning me against the counter keeps me safe?” He asked, knowing full well he was simply fueling The Deliverer’s ire.
“...Mydei,” he said, his voice reprimanding and so…so close, and as much as Mydei would like to say he was unaffected by it, he had to embarrassingly bite his tongue to avoid making a noise in the cradle of The Deliverer's arms. The hands on the counter placed on either side of him were pale, his fingers elegant and his palms wide. They were nice hands, he hated how delicately they held him every time they saved him.
“I didn't ask for all of this so the least you could do is explain yourself,” Mydei said, gritting his teeth when he was pushed into the counter to prevent him from turning.
Tense silence ensued for a moment before The Deliverer sighed, knocking his forehead gently against the back of Mydei’s head.
“...I'm not something that should be seen by a human,” he murmured, his voice grave. Mydei scoffed in response, struggling against the dead weight against his back to attempt to turn around again, gasping when one of the hands on the counter dipped down to grab him by the waist.
“What, are you ugly or something? Looks don’t matter to me, HKS.” he hissed, gripping one of The Deliverer's arms as viciously as he could. The man behind him laughed softly at the provocation.
“Maybe. It's not something I would know. Humans constantly change the standard of beauty. It's hard to keep track of it,” He said with a hum, his chest pressed so close to his back he could feel the vibration of it. It was a little dizzying every time he was in close proximity with this man. Perhaps the constant isolation had made him into a creature that flushes easily in the face of proximity.
“...Besides,” he began when Mydei didn’t respond, a little too preoccupied by the feeling of a warm body pressed against him.
“I would say in the face of your beauty I am rather lacklustre,” He said softly, his cold breath brushing Mydei’s ear. He swallowed, feeling his skin and ears burn, his eyes wide as he stared blankly at the kitchen counter. The only people he was ever close to were all gone and no one had ever spoken about him so brazenly whilst draped over him. He could have pushed him off, punched him even…but something was stopping him. He wasn’t sure if it was his voice or the way he held Mydei but something ensnared him and left him dazed and flustered. It was embarrassing and pathetic in the worst possible way.
“...I have no need for flattery. I just need answers.” He bit out, hating how tremulous and rough his voice was.
“...And unhand me. I will not turn around,” He added after a moment, muttering in defeat. He’d like to be able to listen to The Deliverer’s words with a clear head and that would not happen with the man draped over him like he was at the moment.
Mydei was let go of without complaint, and it took everything in him to not just slide down to the floor like a limp marionette with its strings cut off. He fought the urge to slump against the counter and stood straight and rigid, his hands clenched into fists on top of the counter.
“Well?” He asked, his voice now sharper without the agent of Death draped over him.
Draped over you Like a lover, his mind had unhelpfully pointed out. Thankfully The Deliverer spoke before he decided to consider talking to his old psychologist again.
“I…am someone who used to guide souls back to the underworld. A…ferryman of sorts,”
The man said. Mydei heard the drag of a kitchen stool like the man had taken a seat.
“Used to?” He asked.
“I have…as you humans would say, retired. It wasn’t a conscious choice I made, but the person I work for was rather insistent. I saw you for the first time on the first day of my retirement,”
“If you’re not a reaper of souls anymore, why can I not see you?” He said with a frown. A pregnant pause ensued, the tension in the air palpable.
“Out of a job, I may be…the taint of death still lingers around me. I do not want to know if you would die if you saw my face.”
Mydei scoffed, rolling his eyes. The excuse was flimsy, the delivery was awkward. If what he was saying was truly the case, Mydei should have already been a corpse from the amount of times he's been touched.
“Forget I asked anything. I didn't know my imagination was so vivid that I conjured up an infuriating man just to piss myself off.” he muttered, turning around to an empty room. He wasn't really surprised, but the annoying pang of disappointment he felt at being proven right was driving him crazy. The Deliverer left nothing to prove he existed behind, not even an upturned chair.
Mydei stared blankly at the kitchen island, a nauseous mix of emotions he couldn't name pushing him to rush to the bathroom, blindly pushing the lightswitch with an irrational urgency. He pulled his shirt up and leaned closer to the mirror, a hysterical laugh tearing itself out of his chest when he saw the pale sunburst over his heart, its imprint on his skin darker than it was yesterday.
He pushed a finger against it and watched it morph, the skin of his face numb as he looked at the only proof he had of him not going crazy. But what if this wasn't real either? He couldn't really ask his boss or Castorice to look at his bare chest.
He sighed, a heavy exhaustion taking over him again, the smell of something burning finally snapping him out of his reverie to rush back to the kitchen to salvage his pastries.
He managed to save most of them, buffing the burnt tips off with a grater because he was not one to waste food. He waited for them to cool before piping on the raspberry coulis, the tartlets managing to not look too much like they'd spend a tad bit too long in the oven.
He placed them neatly in a box, too much on his mind to indulge in a post dinner snack. He hesitated for a moment before he put a single tartlet on a plate and placed it on the kitchen counter, swiftly turning to leave and get ready for bed to prevent himself from thinking about the implications of that.
That night, he dreamt again of wheatfields.
It was a little different this time.
He heard the shouts and laughter of children, the wheatstalks being violently swayed to and fro by two children running around, their jubilant voices sounding like they were from a dream long forgotten.
He had awoken to standing in the fields this time, clad in a loose chiton, his feet bare. The air was balmy and humid, the skies blue.
One of the children inevitably bumped into him, prompting him to steady them with his hands. The boy looked up at him with wide blue eyes, his cheeks plump with baby fat. He had a head of fluffy white hair, his entire demeanor resembling that of a puppy.
“Ah! I'm sorry, mister!” The boy yelped, his voice squeaky and pitchy. It was terribly cute. He knelt in front of the boy, a smile finding its way to his lips.
“That's alright. Are you hurt? You shouldn’t run around so recklessly,” He gently chided.
“Its…its not my fault! It's because of Mydei!” he whined and before Mydei could even register the shock he felt he saw the other boy emerging from the wheatstalks, his throat suddenly tight with emotion. He found himself looking at a younger version of him, one without cuts and bruises or a haunted look in his eyes. It was disconcerting. The younger Mydei was frowning at the other boy with his hands on his hips.
“Because of me? Just admit you’re a loser-crybaby, HKS.”
The puppy looking boy glared at the younger Mydei before his eyes widened with what looked like an idea that didn’t bode anything good. He looked up at Mydei with sparkling eyes. He absently ruffled the child’s hair in response, confused by what was happening.
“Mydei! I thought this mister looked like you but he’s actually prettier and stronger than you! Like a Warrior Prince!”
And to his horror he saw his own younger face crumple in response, his teary eyed glare being directed at him instead of the cheeky culprit next to him.
“Stupid Phainon.” He muttered quietly before turning around to leave, alarming the boy beside him who yelped and ran after him. He stared at the scene in front of him with an odd mix of confusion and longing.
“I'm not sure how you've managed to find yourself here again…but I'm not particularly surprised,” a familiar voice said in amusement, snapping Mydei out of his reverie.
He turned to see a man amidst the sea of wheat, his shoulders broad and platinum hair windswept and soft looking. He was in a white suit. The ensemble with his form and hair would have made him look like a prince if it wasn’t for the fact that Mydei couldn’t make out any of his features. No matter how much he squinted his face remained frustratingly obscured.
“You again.” Mydei said, irritated as he stormed over to the other man to grab him by his lapels. He smelt like sunwarmed clothes and bulrushes. The man simply laughed, his calloused hands wrapping around his wrists but making no attempt to struggle in his hold.
“Am I not allowed to be in a place I've woven into existence?” The Deliverer asked, his head tilting like a curious dog. He reminded him too much of the child his younger self had been playing with.
“Who…is that boy?” He found himself asking in lieu of a response.
The Deliverer stiffened, his shoulders tight with tension. He looked away, his throat bobbing and his jaw clenching. The sunburst on the side of his neck matched the one over Mydei’s heart.
“...Ask me something else,” He said.
Mydei sighed, enough had happened today for him to give up and acquiesce to The Deliverer's request.
“Fine. Show me around this place.”
That seemed to be enough because The Deliverer laughed again, tension bleeding out from the lines of his body as he bowed before Mydei, offering his hand out like a gallant knight from a storybook.
“As you wish, Your Highness,” He said with mirth in his pleasant voice, making Mydei feel his ears burn in response. He scoffed but placed his hand in The Deliverer’s and opted to ignore how warm his hand was.
A Reaper with warm hands. Maybe this man truly was just a figment of his imagination.
He showed him to the stables with horses, and pens with sheep and goats, to pastures with cows and quaint cottages by the sea. He took him past the docks—something Mydei was grateful for—and to the rolling plains that overlooked the village. All the while he held Mydei’s hand and he didn't have it in him to protest, the whole thing feeling too much like something out of a fairytale romance, his heart threatening to leave his chest and splatter on the ground in front of them.
He was too unused to the proximity, the soft smiles and the laughs, the playful teasing and the earnest way the man spoke about every place he'd taken him to. When they'd finally stopped to rest under a tree, The Deliverer took his coat off and placed it over the grass, beckoning Mydei to take a seat on it.
He frowned, ignoring how much his face burned from the princess treatment. It was getting ridiculous.
“You don’t have to do all this,” He mumbled, hating how weak his protest sounded. He sat down anyway, The Deliverer sitting right beside him, the coat not large enough to fit two grown men without their shoulders brushing.
“I want to,” The man insisted, stubborn and dogged, and there was just something about him being so sweet to Mydei without asking for anything in return that just frustrated him so much. And like he heard Mydei’s thoughts he turned to him, his blurry face hard to read but something told Mydei that his expression was one of earnestness.
“I’m…not doing this for some higher noble purpose. Think of it as me being very selfish about one human.”
“But why…me?” He found himself asking the question that was still plaguing his mind.
He thinks he can see The Deliverer smile when he shrugs. He pushes his shoulder against Mydei’s before knocking his head lightly against his, the gesture so casually affectionate it makes his throat close up.
“Why not?” He said simply and it made Mydei huff in exasperation, the fondness that bled through in that exhale of breath making him a little uncomfortable. The Deliverer must have sensed it when he had stiffened because he moved away, fidgeting with his hands like a nervous adolescent.
“I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?” He asked, and Mydei had to bite back a chuckle, remembering the way he had pinned him to the kitchen counter, and the times after every near-death incident where he’d just wrap himself around Mydei even after the incident had passed, like he was loath to be separated from him.
“You ask that now?” He asked, the mirth in his voice hard to control. The Deliverer ducked his head looking properly chastised.
“I’m…I’m sorry, I’ll stop—”
“No.” Mydei said, interrupting him mid-sentence. His shoulder still tingled with the residue of warmth The Deliverer left behind.
“I…,” He began, clearing his throat when his voice embarrassingly cracked. His cheeks burned as he looked down at The Deliverer's coat. He ignored the way the other man had whipped his head back up to stare at him.
“I don’t want you to stop.” I like it when you touch me.
“It's…pleasant.”
His throat was too tight to say everything he wanted to say, so he settled on being as concise and honest as he could instead.
Mydei’s breath hitched when his chin was tipped up to face The Deliverer, his thumb brushing the skin right beside his mouth gently. He imagines he's smiling right now even if he can see nothing but a blur.
The memory of something that felt like a kiss, right after the first accident, rushed to the forefront of his mind, unbidden.
“You find my touch pleasant?” The Deliverer asked and Mydei knows his skin is flushed an embarrassing red.
“...” He refused to answer.
The Deliverer hummed, leaning forward to plant a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before leaning back, chuckling when he noticed the way Mydei had unconsciously chased his touch.
“Too much?” He asked, teasingly, a boisterous laugh spilling out of his mouth when Mydei punched his shoulder.
“...HKS.” Mydei muttered, dizzy from how hot his face was at the moment, slumping against The Deliverer without protest when he was pulled closer, his cheek cushioned on a very nice chest. This wasn't really something he would have done, but if this was all a dream and this man wasn't real then perhaps—
He buried his face deeper in The Deliverer’s chest, the gentle vibration of his laugh and the fingers in his hair lulled him into losing consciousness, the darkness and warmth comforting and nice. Nice enough to make waking up to his blaring alarm sharper and colder than it usually was.
He got ready to go for work, numb and blank, only to feel warmth bloom in his chest when he saw an empty plate on the kitchen counter.
***
The first two days seemed to have only been preparation for how worse things would get. At least in the deathflag department.
It was routine now for a knife to simply fall out of the holder to attempt to stab him in the neck, right where his jugular was; for a loading truck to tip over and topple over him, for a hobbyist woodcutter to lose control of his chainsaw when he was in the vicinity, or for him to be trapped in a burning party hall.
And it was also routine for warm arms to wrap around him and pull him to safety, for a syrupy sweet voice to make conversation with him, for the man to linger for a moment pressed up against his back only to disappear the next moment.
And maybe he was too far gone because he started looking forward to every new attempt on his life.
He spoke to his reaper, teased him and left out treats for him every night, complained when The Deliverer never washed after himself but he didn’t truly hate it.
The plate and the crumbs left behind were a sign there was someone sharing the space with him, and it felt almost too much after years of being left behind. Something changed after The Deliverer and he didn’t hate it.
His heart had never felt this light before, the mirth bubbling out of his chest because of something stupid The Deliverer had muttered in his ear foreign but pleasant.
Today he'd slipped and fallen right out of his balcony and The Deliverer had caught him in a princess carry, defying any physics law that should have stated that Mydei should have at least broken his bones, considering he fell from the seventh floor, but he wasn’t complaining. Even if The Deliverer had covered his eyes with a hand before kissing his lips.
“Do you only kiss me on the lips when the accident can't be stopped by simply pulling me to safety?”
He asked later that day when The Deliverer had spun him around like they were in a dance to save him from an acid spill from a truck delivering goods to a lab. The movement had been too quick for him to catch a glimpse of his face, his vision now obscured by the way his head was tucked under the man’s chin.
The Deliverer had sequestered them away to an alley close by.
“...Forgive me for those kisses. If I was a faster and stronger—”
“I’m not…mad. It was just a question,” Mydei said with an exasperated sigh. Besides…he didn’t hate those kisses. Not that he would ever admit that. He felt the tense body pressed against him relax.
“The deaths that you’ve been subjected to are abnormal…so they take a moment before they’re registered in the book. I…can stop that by happening by sharing a—” He cleared his throat.
“Uh…kissing is supposed to anchor the soul and revise the mistake before it reaches the book,”
“I…see,” he said blankly.
“Mydei, I apologize, but I would never do anything untoward to you unless it was to save—”
“Me, yes. I know. I’m not questioning your integrity, Deliverer…I truly don’t mind you kissing me.”
He felt the arms around him tighten before letting him go, warm hands lingering on his sides as if they were loath to leave him. It felt nice.
“That's…thats good,” the reaper uncharacteristically stuttered before he vanished.
Mydei blinked, staggering a little when the weight behind him disappeared. He chuckled, shaking his head. His reaper was cute.
“You've been in a great mood recently, Mydeimos,” his boss remarked, weeks into this odd relationship he shared with a man he wasn’t sure was real.
She rarely ventured into the kitchen, fully trusting Mydei with it despite his sketchy past and questionable demeanor. He does work long hours, and barely makes enough to get by, but he doesn't really hate her, considering she was the only one who'd been willing to hire him after he'd come out of Juvie.
He hummed in response to her statement, looking up from his mise en place to nod in greeting. He saw Castorice perk up from his periphery.
“A girlfriend, perhaps?” She asked and if Mydei was a weaker person, he would have chopped his fingers off from shock. Instead he may have left a dent on the cutting board before he carefully set the knife aside. The parsley would have to wait.
His boss eyed his actions with an unreadable expression before nodding.
“Ah, a boyfriend, then. Congratulations, Mydeimos.”
She smiled and patted him on the shoulder, already out the door before he could even formulate a response, his mouth agape.
“I'm so happy for you two, Mydei,” He heard Castorice say, her voice soft but warm. He cleared his throat, feeling terrible about refuting her heartfelt words.
“I'm…not dating anyone, there's been a misunderstanding.”
He said, meeting Castorice's gaze with what he hoped was an apologetic look. She blinked, her gaze darting behind him for a moment before looking back at him.
“Oh,” she trailed off, looking behind him for a moment again before she smiled, looking a little confused.
“I…see. If there's anything,” she glanced behind him again, making him a little self conscious. He looked over his shoulder. There was nothing but half cut parsley and the dented cutting board.
“If there's anything you need help with, let me know!” She finished in a rush, prompting him to turn back to her, only to see that she already went back to her station to finish preparing her part of the mise en place.
He shrugged it off for now, preparing to focus on the long day ahead instead. He could think of the implications after work. Implications that involved a certain smooth-voiced, silver-haired, faceless fiend.
While service was smooth, he did have the usual life threatening accidents on the menu, accompanied by timely rescues; an arm around his waist, a hand wrapped around his bicep, cold lips against his bare skin. The Deliverer was quick to disappear after saving him from kitchen related mishaps. He had said he didn't want to disrupt Mydei’s work when he had asked him about it a few days into this whole mess.
Castorice never seemed alarmed either after the first time with the deep fryer. He should question it but he'd rather not look a gift horse in its mouth.
Despite trying to forget about the whole boyfriend fiasco, he couldn’t help but ruminate on it. He wondered what the reaper thought of it too. After a few days of contemplation, he finally decided to get an answer to his question. He’d been waiting to see if The Deliverer would bring it up but considering the fact that he won’t even show him his face, he shouldn't have expected otherwise.
“Hey. Are you my boyfriend?” Mydei asked while he was waiting for the brown butter cookies to bake.
He heard the crockery cabinet rattle dangerously like something crashed into it. Mydei rolled his eyes. This man was so dramatic.
“A simple yes or no would suffice. Please don't trip and fall against my crockery cabinet again.”
“S-sorry…I don’t think I heard you quite right,” he heard the reaper stutter from behind him.
“I said, are you my boyfriend?” He asked, exasperated and a little unsure. Not that The Deliverer will know he’s unsure.
There was silence behind him for a moment.
“...Why do you ask?” He asked in lieu of an answer. Mydei bit his lip.
“You kiss me and hold my hand. Does that not make you my boyfriend?” He asked, hating how tremulous the tail end of his sentence was. His face was hot, his chest tight. He’s never dated before, but there were some technicalities involved…right?
“...You cannot equate a human understanding of a relationship with a reaper,”
Mydei scoffed, his body alternating from scalding hot to freezing cold, his head spinning. His grip on the counter was white-knuckled as he laughed harshly.
“You always get cryptic when you don’t want to answer something, disappearing conveniently when you’re put on the spot.”
He turned to an empty kitchen, the acrid smell of burnt cookies stinging his nostrils. He slammed a plate of burnt cookies on the counter before going to bed, frustrated, and for some foolish reason, despondent.
***
He didn’t feel any better the next morning, starting the day sullen and annoyed. It didn’t help that The Deliverer was uncharacteristically subdued, quiet except for the usual soft ‘are you okay?’ murmur before he disappeared with a lingering squeeze of Mydei’s waist after Mydei nodded. It was worse in the kitchen with the reaper’s visits being even more quiet and subdued than they usually were. The whole ordeal made Mydei feel absolutely terrible. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be upset at The Deliverer or at himself.
He decided enough was enough and the mutual moping was driving him up the wall. Today, instead of going to the kitchen to prepare something for The Deliverer like he usually does, with the chilled pastry dough he had prepped a few days ago, he freshened up and switched on his television instead. Castorice had asked him weeks ago if he’d wanted to share an OTT account with her and she’d looked very hopeful, so he’d caved in and said okay. He’s glad he did now so he can try winding down and watching some brain numbing movie to forget The Deliverer’s stupid existence.
He absently clicked the first suggestion, leaning back into the uneven lumpiness of the couch, hoping that whatever bullshit he’d picked to watch would make him forget the despondency he felt last night.
And because he’d been born under an unlucky star, fate had decided to mess with him once more.
“Phaethon…would it kill you to be more serious about this?”
“Deimos! I’m very serious about you…I’m in love with you, my heart is yours,”
Mydei looked on in dismay as Phaethon wrapped an arm around Deimos’ waist and pulled him close. Did he really pick a historical romance movie of all things?! He thought hysterically. The mortification he felt was tenfold because The Deliverer didn’t even pop out of the woodwork to make fun of his choice of movie.
Mydei sighed, too proud to turn off the television and curl up into a ball, but too mortified to keep a straight face when romance was displayed in its full glory on screen. He resigned himself to watching Phaethon waltz with Deimos in the ruins of an old temple, the play of lights dramatic as it followed Phaethon’s amorous gaze and Deimos’ besotted expression.
And because fate truly wanted to mock him, he found himself replacing Phaethon’s fiery blond hair with snow-white, his scalding golden eyes with warm blue ones. He didn’t really know any other facial features of The Deliverer’s face, but that didn’t stop him from imagining his dependable hands and wide shoulders, his sweet laugh and his reassuring embrace.
He couldn’t help but imagine himself as Deimos, the bare skin now marked with red ink, his red hair now the colour of straw.
“Will you allow me the honour of worshipping you?” Phaethon murmured into Deimos’ flushed ear. The demigod looked up at his companion with parted lips, his hands bunched into the fabric of Phaethon’s chiton.
“Please,” Deimos said softly, a soft moan escaping him when Phaethon pressed his lips to his neck.
Mydei squirmed in his couch, his cheeks burning and his lungs suddenly a few sizes smaller.
The Deliverer cupped his cheek as he kissed the corner of Mydei’s mouth, his icy cold kisses trailing down to the soft skin of Mydei’s neck. A soft, needy noise escaped Mydei when teeth scraped against his sensitive skin, calloused palms gripping his bare waist tight like they were determined to leave marks.
“Mydei,” the reaper’s soft voice whispered into his burning skin. He dragged a palm up Mydei’s shivering body, naked and laid bare for The Deliverer to feast on. He could only helplessly claw at the man as he used his other hand to push Mydei’s thigh against his chest, stretching and molding him as he saw fit. The Deliverer’s teeth sunk into his skin as he—
He was snapped out of his dazed daydream when the remote control clattered to the ground, sitting up straight as he felt mortification burn the skin of his face. He switched off the television and rushed back to his bedroom, his pride taking a bruising as he curled up into a ball under the blankets, ashamed and dismayed by what had happened.
Waking up next morning with full knowledge of what had happened last night had somehow made the day worse than it had been yesterday. He prematurely pulled out of all of The Deliverer’s embraces, muttering a thanks with tense shoulders, not even attempting to make conversation or complain. Castorice had worriedly looked his way the whole shift but he was too embarrassed to face anyone.
The delusional vision from last night had evolved into a beast today, every small thing reminding him of lips on his skin and calloused hands roaming his body. He felt wired, a strange thirst in his throat that refused to be quenched by water. He hated how out-of-control it had all become. His saviour knight in shining armor turned him into a creature that wanted. He grew voracious for more, his nights becoming restless as he dreamed of white hair and blue eyes and a warm hand pushing down on his shoulders and sharp teeth sinking into his nape. It was getting out of control.
Mydeimos was first and foremost a man who never beat around the bush. He hated ruminating and stewing and waiting—he faced his problems head on. And so he made up his mind to do the only thing he could think of to slake his thirst, shame be damned.
He walked into a pharmacy later in the evening after another day of an incessant case of parched throat, and left as quickly as he’d come with a hefty bottle of lube, ignoring the feeling of being watched as he stormed home.
“You’re welcome to watch.” He said, his words curt and to the point. He’d finished showering and was clad in only a towel around his waist, drying his damp hair and tying it up in a loose bun. The only sign of The Deliverer being there was the creak of a floor board and a soft intake of breath, quiet enough to be dismissed if he wasn’t paying attention.
He swallowed as his hand trembled for a moment as he reached to pull the towel off, a strange heat and dizziness taking over his body as he stood vulnerable and bare beside the bed. Mydei sat gingerly on the mattress, a hand reaching for the lube the bedside table.
He took a deep breath before he laid on the bed, his legs spread and his chest heaving. He knows the reaper was watching because just his gaze was enough to make his skin heat up, a sweet tingling growing in his navel thinking about how The Deliverer was probably fully clothed. The soft material of his joggers would probably feel so good against his bare skin. He bit his lip when he splayed a hand on his throat, imagining a slightly wider hand gently squeezing before he dragged it down his chest, shivering as his fingers brushed over a pebbled nipple.
He remembered the way Phaethon had squeezed Deimos’ chest and mimicked it, a soft noise escaping his lips as he flicked his nipple with a thumb, his other hand roughly squeezing his waist to follow the way he hoped The Deliverer would whenever he held Mydei’s waist. He gasped as he lost himself in the fantasy, squirming as he squeezed his chest and pinched and pulled harshly at his nipple, blindly grabbing the bottle of lube beside him and flicking it open.
He was already hard just from the knowledge of the reaper watching him, and from touching himself so shamelessly and wantonly when he’s never even kissed someone before The Deliverer. He spilled an obscene amount of lube over his twitching cock, the cold wetness of it reminding him of The Deliverer’s mouth. A soft moan escaped him when the cold liquid spilled down his cock, imagining the reaper’s clever mouth and his soft hair brushing Mydei’s inner thighs.
He whined, the noise punched out of his lungs when he finally squeezed his cock, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he circled the sensitive head and rubbed the underside with his thumb, precum spilling from his weeping cock at the slightest stimulation.
Mydei was embarrassingly wet, his thighs trembling as precum and lube trickled down his twitching cock and to his taint, his mouth agape as he panted, his eyes half mast.
“Deliverer…you stupid fool,” Mydei rasped, dragging his other hand down his body to grab the meat of his thigh and spread it wider, the stimulation on his cock not enough to get him off. He wanted more. He imagined calloused hands spreading him wide, a cold mouth kissing and biting at his skin as he was made to present his most vulnerable parts.
A frustrated noise escaped him as he tucked his knees to his chest, ignoring the angry tears rolling down his cheeks. He scooped the mess of lube and precum dribbling down his pathetic cock and spread it down his perineum and spasming hole.
Mydei wanted to be devoured whole and made a mess of, wanted to be breached and spread wide around The Deliverer. Wanted to know if he was hot or cold down there, if he would fill him with cum over and over like he wanted his child. It was too much, the thought of it making him dizzy with want. He pushed a finger inside his hole down to the knuckle, impatient and wanting. He pressed against his perineum with his thumb as he shoved another finger inside, the hunger burning his lungs as he gulped breaths of air.
He wondered how The Deliverer would prepare him for his cock, he wonders if he’d be sweet and patient like he usually is and take his time, or if he’d stretch him rough and quick because he wanted it as much as Mydei did and he couldn’t wait to fuck him. He shivered, rocking into the fingers as he crooked them inside him, an embarrassingly needy noise escaping him.
“Deliverer,” he gasped, wanting to be held in his warm embrace as he held him down and fucked him deep and slow. Mydei pushed a third finger inside, whining at the stretch. It wasn’t enough he wanted more, he wanted The Deliverer to fuck him full and make him cry, he wanted more than his fingers, he wanted him to lay beside him, his breath against his ear—
His eyes fluttered open, a soft noise spilling from his lips when he realized he could hear The Deliverer’s heavy breaths, his sheets rustling with the presence of another body. That was enough to send a wave of arousal that made his toes curl, keeling over to the side when he tried to push his fingers inside a little deeper to press against his prostate.
He panted, keenly feeling the presence of a warm body beside him, The Deliverer laying on his bed enough to make him shiver with want. He crooked his fingers hoping to reach where he needed to, whining in frustration when it just wasn’t happening.
“Do I....Look too much of a–ah mess?” He asked with what he hoped was mirth, only to sound painfully self-conscious. His skin burned with a mix of mortification and want, hating how his arousal was flagging when he couldn’t find his prostate, the angle too awkward, his fingers too inexperienced. He stopped his fruitless flailing and sighed, ready to call today quits, the consistent punches fate and The Deliverer were throwing at him finally wearing him down.
He pulled his fingers out with a squelch that made him cringe, ready to drown himself in his bathtub when he was stopped abruptly by familiar hands holding him by the waist and manoeuvring him like a doll on top of firm thighs and against a warm and plush chest.
“No,” The Deliverer said, his usually soft voice now hoarse and rough, his cool breaths heavy against his neck.
“You never look a mess,” he said with a conviction that made Mydei flush, his fingers digging into the meat of The Deliverer’s arms as if to cement that he was really there and this wasn’t another delusion his mind was feeding him.
“You’re being ridiculous.” He muttered, gasping when the reaper nipped his neck in response.
“I’m merely telling the truth,” The Deliverer said simply, dragging his calloused hands down Mydei’s waist, his fingers briefly twitching over Mydei’s ass before he gripped his thighs, spreading him wider than he could have achieved by himself. He hooked Mydei’s knees over his arms and pulled, folding him as he saw fit, curling over Mydei’s body like a dragon laying claim on its treasure.
“It should be easier for you to reach deeper now,” he murmured into his ear prompting Mydei to bite his tongue to stop an embarrassing noise from slipping out of his mouth.
“I could have done this without you.” He bit out, his body suddenly much too sensitive, his head too light, and his senses too overwhelmed. He was stripped bare and spread open on The Deliverer’s lap, squirming to feel more of the reaper against him, whining when warm hands cupped his chest and squeezed in response.
“Mm, I don’t doubt it,” The Deliverer said with a hum Mydei felt against his back, softly kissing the notch of his jaw. He firmly kneaded the malleable flesh of Mydei’s chest, flicking his thumbs over his sensitive nipples. Mydei keened, unused to the waves of pleasure he was feeling from the man just playing with his chest, his cock already filling out again, wet with precum.
“I thought I'd help out anyway,” he said with a laugh that sounded a tad bit strained, his voice hoarse. Mydei scoffed, or at least tried to, the huff of breath quickly turning into a moan he couldn’t stop fast enough when The Deliverer adjusted him again, sucking a bruise into the skin of his neck.
He could feel how hard he was against the small of his back, the voracious hunger from before of wanting the reaper inside him hitting full force again. He tucked his face in the crook of The Deliverer's neck, nuzzling the skin as he worked on opening himself up again. It felt good to know The Deliverer was just as affected as he was.
He grit his teeth and shoved all three of his fingers inside him again, ignoring the slight burn of the stretch as he thrust them inside him, impatient and fast with his ministrations. His breath hitched when a hand wrapped around his wrist, easing the pace.
“I know you want to feel good but let's start slow, yeah?” The Deliverer said, making him thrust his fingers deep and slow into his sopping wet hole. Mydei hid his burning face in the safe confines of The Deliverer's neck, a needy whine spilling from his lips.
The act of pleasuring himself felt amplified, his hole more sensitive than it was earlier with the way the reaper was kneading his chest and manipulating his thrusts.
“Now spread your fingers…like that, yeah,” The Deliverer breathed, kissing his ear and cupping his heaving chest with reverence.
“Deliverer,” Mydei whined, squirming on top of firm thighs, his legs spread as he stretched his hole with his unwieldy fingers. It should be embarrassing how wet he was from the reaper not even touching his cock or his hole. This did feel better than the aimless and quick thrusts, a slow and sweet pleasure building in his gut as needy noises spilled from his mouth.
The pleasure felt more potent with The Deliverer’s presence, his hands and voice driving Mydei insane.
“Now crook your fingers and massage your insides,” He murmured, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of his wrist. Mydei cried out, sharp and loud, his eyes widening when he brushed something inside him.
“Deliverer,” he breathed, gasping when the firm grip on his wrist encouraged him to keep his fingers inside. He clawed at The Deliverer's arm, whining when his nipple was cruelly twisted and pulled, needy noises spilling from his gaping mouth.
“Keep stimulating it, I'll take care of the rest. Need to see you pleasured and satisfied…Want to hear how you sound when you're overwhelmed with pleasure,” the reaper gasped into his neck, sounding more human than he ever had before.
Mydei couldn’t even formulate a response that wasn’t an obscene cry, his eyes rolling back into his skull from the onslaught of pleasure. His fingers pressed and prodded the sensitive bundle of nerves inside him, so far gone he didn’t even realize the hand the reaper had on his wrist was now cupping his neglected breast. Both his hands now kneaded his chest and pinched and pulled at his nipples, blunt teeth digging into his skin and an ice cold tongue laving his heated flesh.
Pleasure spread deliciously quick, the tingle in his navel growing more prevalent as he felt his orgasm crest, his nails pressing crescents into The Deliverer’s arm as he spilled all over himself, his cock untouched. He shivered from the aftershocks, his thighs still quaking and his hole still twitching around his unmoving fingers.
Soothing hands ran up and down his sides, the reaper murmuring reassurances and peppering kisses down his cheek and neck.
He was brought out of his post-coital daze when he felt a wet cloth brush against his inner thighs. The Deliverer was wiping him down from his place between Mydei’s thighs, his head of platinum hair ducked down to hide any glimpse of his face. Mydei felt an uncontrollable burst of fondness in his chest, a hand coming up to absently card through The Deliverer’s hair. It was surprisingly soft.
“You…don't have to do all this,” he murmured, laughing when he felt the reaper freeze for a moment before pushing into his touch like a needy puppy.
“I want to. Didn’t I tell you I'd take care of the rest?”
He said, setting the cloth aside to trail soft kisses up his navel to his chest, kissing the sunburst he left behind before leaving open mouthed kisses on his neck and shoulders.
It felt good, the intimacy heady. He held on to the reaper’s shoulders and bared his neck, soft sighs escaping his lips as he pet The Deliverer’s head.
“Would you fuck me if I asked you to?” Mydei asked, moaning when the reaper nipped a little too hard, the mix of pain and pleasure dizzyingly good. The Deliverer paused his ministrations at the question, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. The air in the room had changed somehow after his question, his heart plummeting to his stomach.
“...rest, you'll feel a little sore tomorrow,” He said before he felt the weight on top of him disappear.
It was a non-answer, something terribly on brand for the reaper. Mydei simply sighed, leaning back and sinking into the pillow beneath his head. He was more tired than he'd expected, his eyelids heavy.
At least this way he didn’t have to wallow in his disappointment.
***
When he woke the next morning, his thighs were sore in a way he'd never experienced before, and he flushed when he remembered last night. The proof that last night had happened was undeniable when he saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror after the shower. His neck looked like he’d been mauled by an animal, with hickeys and bruises spreading all the way down his shoulders. He looked at them in a daze, pressing his fingers into a particularly dark one at the base of his throat, his skin burning.
He liked a bit too much, the way The Deliverer had gone and left more marks on him like the sunburst over his heart wasn’t enough. He bit his lip, feeling a perverse sense of excitement at the fact that he could hide them with a turtleneck like a besotted lover.
“Are you watching me now, Deliverer?” He murmured, locking his gaze with his reflection. There was no response but Mydei was no fool. He smiled.
Much to his disappointment, The Deliverer was quiet and awkward again, greeting him with brooding silence even when his embrace remained all-encompassing and warm. The whole situation was pretty cut and dry if The Deliverer had not decided to be a coward. He knows the man always watches him, knows how his touches linger longer than was necessary. No uninterested man would have pleasured him like he did last night, bit and sucked bruises into his skin like he wanted them to stay forever.
The dancing around the subject was unnecessary and frustrating, the whole thing too—
He paused in the middle of chopping the chicken he’d just disemboweled, his eyes widening in horror.
Was it because he hadn’t reciprocated? Was it because he selfishly pleasured himself and had passed out before he offered anything to The Deliverer?
...Is that why he didn’t want to fuck him…?
“Deliverer!” He whispered, eying Castorice from the periphery of his vision and hoping she couldn’t hear over the sizzle of the onions she was frying for toppings.
“I know you’re listening, so I will say what I have to say anyway.” He bit out, using a bit too much force to separate the thigh of the chicken from the body.
“I’m sorry for not…returning the favour. That was my first time and I was rather exhausted…I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted,” he said, his voice turning rough with emotion. He jumped when he heard the pans rattling, a warm hand wrapping around his wrist after the commotion.
“No! Don’t apologize. It was not your fault!” The Deliverer said, rushed and frantic. Castorice had thankfully only looked up for a moment after the racket, immediately ducking her head down to concentrate on frying the onions. She was a good employee, she would do wonders here in the long run.
“I just…needed time to think about whether I’ve been taking advantage of you,” he said quietly, sounding ashamed. The answer only raised Mydei’s ire, the way he was twisting the wings off the chicken carcass grew a little too violent.
“Advantage?!” He hissed. Was The Deliverer hit in the head a little too many times because of the way he bumbled around whenever he got embarrassed?
“I wanted it as much as you did!”
“Mydei…you don’t even know what I look like! Or my name!” he gritted out, slamming his hands on the counter from behind Mydei—reminiscent of their first argument. He cursed under his breath, sounding pained, the sound of it so foreign to Mydei he stopped in his ministrations, eyes wide.
“You don’t even know if I’m real! I can’t do that to you,” he said, his voice soft and broken.
“Deliverer—”
“I can’t steal you away and keep you to myself as much as I want to when there’s a whole world out there for you,” he said tremulously, his arms trembling as he embraced Mydei from behind, his head buried in the crook of Mydei’s neck.
“...I’m close to finding the answer. I’m close to breaking your curse. I promise you Mydei…I’ll turn everything back to normal again. I…promise you won’t have to deal with me again,” he said firmly and resolutely and it was unfair. So fucking unfair.
“HKS!” He spat, gripping the arms around him to make him stay and to give him a piece of his mind. He just needed The Deliverer to understand, to see things his way too. He just needed—
He stumbled forward when the weight behind him disappeared, his knife skittering across the counter from the movement.
He stared blankly at the half butchered chicken, a cold hand wrapping around his arm snapping him out of his reverie.
“Mydei…” Castorice began, looking unsure and sad. It somehow made him feel worse, the lump that had settled in his throat after The Deliverer had left growing bigger, the corners of his eyes burning.
“Are you…okay?” She asked, and Mydei swallowed down the tears, remembering everyone he’s lost along the way. There was…time to sort their issues out. After all, he was still being actively pursued by a death curse. He took a deep breath before looking up at her with what he hoped was a smile.
“I’m okay. I was just spacing out,” he said, hoping it was convincing enough to stop her from looking so worried. She smiled back, unsure and wobbly, glancing behind him for a moment.
“...Alright. Let me know if there is anything I can help with,” she said with an awkwardly courteous bow before she scuttled back to her workstation. Mydei smiled despite everything, grateful that he had a good coworker after all these years of terrible ones.
Mydei went through the day with a restlessness he wished to resolve. It didn’t help that the way he was being saved from every death wasn't as intimate as it used to be, the half embraces stiff and awkward, with no soft reassurances spoken into his ear.
He decided to finally use the pomegranate bathbomb he’d been saving for an occasion where he decided to rack his water bills up. He was going to have a nice, scalding hot bath with a pomegranate scented bathbomb and bake lemon tarts. The Deliverer was quite fond of them. He’d found that sometimes there were tarts missing in the fridge when they happened to be lemon flavoured. He’d then have a conversation with that fool and they’d sort out their differences and everything will go back to the way it was when the reaper used to embrace him and tease him and kiss the corners of his mouth.
With the whole plan mapped out in his mind, he quickly stripped, preparing to step into the bath. He paused and cursed with a leg still raised when he remembered he’d left the bathbomb on the dressing table, stepping back to go get it. And perhaps he was so spoiled by the attention The Deliverer had lavished on him all this time whenever an accident was around the corner, that he forgot to think about what would happen if he wasn’t there on time to save him.
He landed badly on his ankle, twisting it and promptly losing his balance, a pained noise escaping him as he fell forward, everything happening so quickly that he didn’t realize he’d hit his head on the ceramic lip of the bath tub, his head ringing and his body twisting as the momentum pulled him forward, his temple ramming violently into the rusted metal of the bathtub faucet. The upper half of his body fell face first into the water, his vision blurry and his head light. Hot water entered his mouth and nose quickly, his body going numb as he fought to struggle against whatever it is that was slowly drowning him.
Where did The Deliverer go?
Did he finally…leave him like everyone before?
He squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for the end, despondent and lost.
The next sequence of events happened so quickly Mydei was in too much of a daze to recount it in detail.
He was pulled out of the water in a rush, a loud curse belatedly registering as the person who saved him slipped into the tub along with him, their arms wrapped securely around him to keep him above water and prevent him from being hurt again. He was kissed roughly, a cold tongue slipping into his pliant mouth as desperate arms grabbed at his waist. He saw a blur of blue and white in a daze, his mouth welcoming The Deliverer’s desperate kisses.
Warm hands cupped his cheeks and his face was peppered with kisses, the faint sound of a sob belatedly registered before he was pulled into an embrace, his fingers twitched as they yearned to reach The Deliverer and hold him close, his body still suffering from the aftershocks of the curse.
“I’m sorry,” The reaper murmured into Mydei’s hair, sounding so broken his chest hurt and his eyes stung, his lips trembling as he tried to call out to the reaper.
Mydei was gently manoeuvred to sit in the bathtub, the water still warm enough to be enjoyable. His back rested against a familiar chest, arms wrapping around his torso, The Deliverer’s face buried in the crook of his neck. He was as bare as he was last night except the reaper’s embrace was one of desperation and protection as opposed to a one of want.
“I found the root of your curse and I thought I’d be able to get rid of it quick enough to not pose any danger to you,” he said, sounding devastated. The skin of his neck was wet with more than water; he could feel the tears dripping down his nape and the shuddering breaths against his back.
“It’s…fine,” he managed to say, turning to nuzzle the side of The Deliverer’s head in what he hoped was reassurance.
“It’s not. But…I found a way to break your curse,” he said, sounding resolute. He leaned away from the crook of Mydei’s neck, his arms squeezing around Mydei’s waist before they began to loosen.
Alarm bells rang in his head as The Deliverer’s words finally snapped him out of his daze, his arms scrambling to wrestle the reaper off of him and pin him beneath him. His desperation had given him enough strength to achieve that, panting as he locked his thighs around the reaper’s waist, his hands coming up to grab fistfuls of The Deliverer’s hoodie.
“I didn’t ask you to do any of that!” He yelled, his arms still trembling from the curse’s after effects. It belatedly registers to him that he could finally see The Deliverer’s face, his blurry vision from water and tears finally clearing up enough for his breath to hitch.
His eyes were a gorgeous shade of blue that reminded him of a cloudless sky, his lashes long and wet with the bath water. The elegant arch of his nose and his pale lips, his chiselled jaw and damp platinum hair—they all served to make him look like a princely knight.
He saw The Deliverer’s eyes widen like he'd realized that he'd forgotten to hide his face, his expression reminiscent of the puppy-like child from the dream he had all those days ago. Mydei cupped his cheeks to stop him from turning away, ignoring how his arm and leg muscles screamed from the sudden movement after paralysis.
“Don't hide away…Don't leave,” he said, his voice cracking embarrassingly as he pulled him closer to rest his forehead against his.
“I know you have your worries, but we can talk about all of them and sort it out…I want to share my story too, so you'd understand I'm not under some spell to force me to be fond of you,”
He felt arms circle around him and pull him closer, hope blooming in his chest as he leaned back to look at his handsome reaper again.
His brows were furrowed, his expression conflicted. He looked gorgeous like this, but Mydei wished he could see the smile that accompanied his usual teasing, his jubilant expression when he laughed into the crook of his neck whenever Mydei joined in on the shenanigans with a quip or two.
He brushed the tender skin under the reaper’s eyes gently, opening his mouth to ask if there was anything he could do to ease his burden when a sharp pain pierced through the center of his back, his eyes widening as he fell bonelessly against The Deliverer, his gasp soft and weak.
The reaper had pressed a spot on his spine, the action inducing a paralysis much too similar to his curse.
“Deliverer…what…?” He managed to slur out, his fingers trying to grab anything he could reach of the reaper to no avail, confusion and terror flooding his veins. The Deliverer's other hand gently carded through his hair, the touch soft and reverent.
“Your curse originated from another reaper. I killed them. They decided to toy with you for their own sick amusement when they saw that you were alone with no one in your life,” he said, his voice rough with emotion as he held Mydei tight against his chest.
“We reapers are hard to kill, but I disembowelled him over and over till I found a way to end his life once and for all.”
Mydei couldn’t speak, a soft questioning noise was all he could manage, frustrated by how he couldn't even hold The Deliverer.
“I didn't realize he would be frustratingly hell-bent on his malice…but I think I was to blame. To spite me after I succeeded in killing him, he used the last of his breath to place a curse on your tenth thoracic vertebrae.”
He paused for a moment, kissing the top of Mydei’s head.
“...I'm sorry for taking advantage of it to stop you from moving…I needed to do it to save you. You can hate me and despise me for it…I'd prefer if you did,” he murmured, manoeuvring Mydei’s prone body to face away again, placing a hand on his navel to bend him over, the hand on his waist keeping his back arched.
“I will place my mark over the curse to neutralize it…I'm sorry for leaving another mark on your body. You…never deserved any of this. You deserve only the best the world has to offer…and I hope you get that after I leave,” he said, hoarse and broken, his voice wet like he was going to cry. Mydei’s eyes burned as he tried to make a noise, something…anything to make The Deliverer change his mind.
He softly kissed the back of Mydei’s nape before he kissed the centre of his back, a flash of heat spreading from the point that would have made Mydei gasp if he had control of his body.
“There we go,” the reaper said softly. The bathtub water sloshed as The Deliverer got up, embracing Mydei for a moment before he carried his numb body in a bridal carry, the way he'd stepped over the ledge of the bathtub reminiscent of a groom carrying his bride over a threshold. His head lolled against the reaper’s chest, devastation ravaging his chest when he realized he lost his chance at convincing The Deliverer to stay.
He was dried with a towel and dressed in his usual nightwear and placed on the bed. His pupils shook as he looked up at The Deliverer helplessly, tears running down his cheeks as he tried to make his mouth work to make him stay.
“N…no,” he managed to slur out when he saw The Deliverer’s pained expression, his fingers twitching as he tried to grab the reaper’s wrist.
“Goodbye, Mydei,” he said, his eyes glistening with their own tears as he cupped Mydei’s face to give him a chaste kiss before Mydei’s vision began to fade as he lost consciousness.
***
That night he dreamed of wheatfields again.
He spotted the puppy-like child from all those dreams ago sitting in a clearing amidst the wheatstalks, his knees raised and his arms curled around them.
He sat beside him mimicking his sitting position.
“...Phainon was your name, yeah?” He asked after a bout of silence.
“...You aren’t supposed to be here, mister,” he mumbled into his knees.
Mydei scoffed, tired of hearing where he was supposed to be and what he was supposed to do, but reigned himself in because Phainon was just a child.
“Well I’m here right now and there’s nothing neither of us can do about it,” he grumbled. He sighed after a moment of tense silence, softening his voice. He doesn’t want to think about what will happen when he wakes from this dream, so he might as well make conversation that doesn’t antagonize the child.
“Where is your friend…Mydei?” He asked, wondering why the bubbly and cheerful boy who’d been playing with his younger self looked as despondent as he felt.
Phainon stiffened, hugging his legs closer to his body. His tiny shoulders trembled.
“He’s gone…He had to leave. It was too dangerous for him to be beside me,” he said quietly, his voice tremulous.
“And why was it dangerous?” He asked, fighting to keep his voice even. This child looked and acted too much like The Deliverer for it to be a coincidence.
He looked up from the cradle of his knees, his eyes too old and tired to belong to a child.
“I’m an omen of death,” he said and the familiarity of the sentiment hit Mydei like a truck, his breath seizing for a moment, his eyes widening.
“...How so?” He asked.
“Everyone I’ve ever loved has died. I would have dismissed it as a coincidence if it was only my mother and father…but everyone had started to die…one by one,” he said, his voice subdued and defeated. Mydei found he couldn’t stop his hands from trembling.
“I met Mydei after being alone for so long that it felt unreal. I’d never been this happy before…nor has anyone looked at me the way he has…Like I was more than a symbol of death.”
“Then why did you let him go?” Mydei asked, unable to control the way his voice had turned tremulous with emotion as he got up to kneel beside the child.
“Why did you let me go, Deliverer?” He asked as he felt tears roll down his cheeks again, his hands clenched into fists as he stopped himself from reaching out. Phainon looked at him with wide eyes blinking them before they curved when his lips twisted into a pained smile. The child morphed into an adult before his eyes, his form too much like The Deliverer except for the fact that he was clad in a chiton.
“Ah. you figured it out?” He said with a chuckle, and Mydei couldn’t stop himself from pouncing on him and grabbing him by the chiton, angry tears dripping down onto the Deliverer’s shocked face.
“Is that all you have to say for yourself?!” He growled, his hands trembling and his vision blurry.
“...I am him and he is me. But I am also the memories he chose to lock away. I know what he knows but he does not know what I do…as I’m merely a piece of himself that he locked away.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Mydei asked, too tired and angry to begin to properly pick apart his words.
“He…wants you. Yearns for you. Unconsciously lets you into his realm of dreams whenever he’s upset.”
He cupped Mydei’s cheeks, wiping his tears gently with his thumbs, a helpless smile on his lips. He looked achingly beautiful at that moment. It was unfair.
“He doesn’t want you to die, Mydei…He—I wish for you to be happy,”
Mydei held the hands cupping his cheeks, shaking his head. Why didn’t he understand?
“I was happy with you by my side…I was happy with what we had,”
Phainon’s smile was wobbly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“It’s too late,” he rasped, Mydei’s vision fading again much to his dismay.
“Wait!” He said desperately, fighting the pull of unconsciousness, his nails digging into Phainon’s skin.
“Phainon…please,”
“Phainon!”
He was forced from the dream, feeling a coldness in his chest as he stared blankly at his ceiling fan, his eyes sore and caked with grit.
“Deliverer,” he called out.
There was no response.
“Phainon?” He tried.
He was all alone once more.
“...Mydei, are you okay?” Castorice asked again. Her voice was distant like she was speaking over the phone.
He’d cut himself by mistake while he was preparing the cod and was wrapping a bandaid around his index finger. He was numb, like a calloused shell had wrapped around his heart and mind, going through the motions of cooking—an alternative better than lying in bed.
“Yes,” he affirmed, a clinging exhaustion preventing him from softening his words like he usually did with her. Castorice looked conflicted, glancing behind him for a moment, her frown oddly fierce.
“If…if something happened. Y-you can always ask me for help. I have a friend, Cipher—”
“I’m okay, don’t worry about me,” he said, hoping he sounded firm and sure enough to assuage her concern. It didn’t seem to work because he saw her face fall but she meekly nodded before going back to her prep work.
He didn’t realize how out of it he was until his boss had snapped him out of his work induced daze with a hand on his shoulder, her usually cold and reserved expression now marred with a look of foreign worry.
“Mydeimos…please take the day off. I’ve told you before there will be no pay cuts here. Please don’t worry about that and take some rest. I’d love for you to take tomorrow off too…We can manage a day or two without you.”
He didn’t even have it in himself to protest, nodding blankly before he packed up his things to leave.
It was the end of June, the balmy heat and the buzzing of cicadas replacing the biting cold of when he’d met The Deliverer—Phainon for the first time. He smiled absently at nothing when he remembered the times they spent after work bickering and laughing on the way home, something that would have been so hard to comprehend for the Mydei from before.
He’d been alone ever since he’d killed Eurypon and had been sent to the juvenile detention centre. He’d been alone when he stubbornly memorized his mother and his friends’ numbers so he could add them to the new phone he could afford from doing odd jobs after he’d left the detention centre. It was better that way. Keeping an arm’s length of distance from anyone to prevent them from meeting the same fate as all his loved ones. To prevent himself from getting attached and to pick up the pieces of his heart every time it shattered.
So he understood Phainon and his reasoning, the fact that he did understand made the ordeal all the more frustrating. They could talk it out…share their pain. He was mortal yes, but he’s stubborn enough to follow The Deliverer to the afterlife and become a reaper himself. It was a no-brainer.
And now he was left with no way to take back what they had, Phainon selfishly leaving him no choice.
His thoughts were interrupted by a screech of brakes, his eyes finally looking up from the sidewalk to see a man get out of his car and pick a fight with the man on the bicycle he just hit. Mydei was reminded of the day he first met Phainon and his first kiss. Mydei brushed a finger over his bottom lip absently, an idea forming in his mind. He smiled.
***
He got off the last bus to the beach, the smell of seawater nauseating but he was determined.
The reaper had known when he’d die every single time like he’d been attuned to Mydei, so he decided to make a gamble. If it failed, at least he tried and would meet all his loved ones in the afterlife. Perhaps he could get started on becoming a reaper and making sure he got to torment Phainon.
He chose the sea because that was the first time he nearly died and was marked with misfortune. His life started in the sea, and if he fails today would end here.
He walked to the shore, tamping down the memories the dark sea reminded him of.
“Phainon, you fool,” he muttered as he walked into the ankle deep water, his steps measured and slow. The beach was quiet except for the sound of the waves and the distant cicadas. The water was now waist deep. It was bitterly cold despite it being summer, its murky black depths awakening a primal fear that had never truly left him. His hands began to tremble but he trudged deeper, feeling the ocean currents pull at his body till it was at his chin before pulling him under.
It was dark under the sea. Lonely.
He forced his lungs to relax and welcome the sea water in, the way it scorched his insides familiar and terrible. He let himself drift, reveling in the excruciating pain, knowing it was temporary before he either joined his mother and friends or met Phainon again. His consciousness began to falter, the lack of oxygen finally shutting his body down.
Ah.
He felt his numb lips form a bitter smile.
It looked like he’d meet mother and his friends again.
.
.
.
.
.
Mydeimos, a voice sweetly called in his head. It sounded like his mother.
Mydeimos, voices called him jubilantly in his head, it sounded just like his friends.
Mydei you fool! He heard Phainon growl in his head. He felt familiar arms wrap around him.
“Mydei!” His eyes snapped open, keeling over to the side as he hacked up seawater, gasping as he fought to catch his breath. He was grabbed by the lapels as soon as he was done, Phainon’s angry and tear streaked face coming into view.
From the periphery of his vision he noted that they seemed to be in an abandoned shack by the beach, going by the wooden floorboards and the strong smell of salt.
“Are you out of your mind?!” The Deliverer yelled, furious.
Mydei grinned, grabbing the reaper's hoodie in turn, teeth bared. He laughed, knowing he looked manic but the situation to him was ridiculous. He may have lost his mind but it was all Phainon’s fault.
“You left me no choice, Deliverer. You refused to listen to anything I had to say, deciding everything by yourself and leaving me behind,” he snarled, uncaring of how it hurt his already sore throat from swallowing all that seawater. Phainon’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment before his expression twisted, shaking his head.
“You don’t understand—”
“No, you don’t understand, Phainon!” He snapped, the usage of The Deliverer’s name finally shutting him up as he stared at Mydei in shock.
“I’ve been alone all my life and I was fine with that! I lost every single person I loved, sentencing anyone who dared to care to die by simply existing.”
Phainon’s pupils shook, his face pale.
“I was fine until you decided to save my life and offer your company. It made me look forward to waking up everyday, made me think there was finally something worth living for,” he knew his voice was getting thick and shaky but he pushed forward, frustrated and resolute in pushing till Phainon understood.
“If you truly wanted to leave in the end you should have just let me die,” he said, feeling a perverse satisfaction watching the way the reaper’s face fell. It served him right.
But alas, he was much too fond of The Deliverer to make him wallow in self flagellation.
“...I know you understand how I feel. I’ve spoken to…your memories,” he said softly, cupping Phainon’s cheeks and wiping away his tears just like how his memories had done to him in his dream.
“...Mydei,” the reaper managed, his voice quiet and hoarse.
“Can you give this a chance?...Give us a chance? I can’t guarantee I won’t die before my time but…” he sighed, locking his gaze with Phainon’s, hoping his sincerity was enough.
…Along with a threat.
“...if you leave again I will make sure I torment you by attempting different ways to—”
He was silenced with a kiss, Phainon leaning back after a moment with a pained smile.
“...Please don’t.”
Mydei laughed, returning the kiss.
“You started it, Deliverer. Don’t be a coward and back out.”
Phainon sighed in exasperation, fondness bleeding through regardless with the smile that stretched his lips.
“You’re such a brat,” He said fondly, leaning in to kiss him again. Mydei hummed, wrapping his arms around Phainon’s shoulders.
“Oh, you love it.” He smirked before deepening the kiss.
“Does this mean you're my boyfriend then?” Mydei asked after they broke the kiss, feeling warmth spread in his chest when Phainon smiled sweetly in response, wrapping his hands around Mydei’s waist to hoist him up onto his lap.
“Will you allow me the honor? After everything…?” He asked, his smile melting into a deprecating one.
“Did you not hear my words earlier? Must I be more clear? I love you, you stupid fool.”
Phainon’s smile was wobbly, his blue eyes bright as he held Mydei like he was something precious.
“...Can I be your boyfriend, Mydei?” He asked, soft and sincere.
Mydei hummed, pretending to think about it. Pretending like his chest wasn't so full it was about to burst.
“You’ll have to prove you can keep up with me, can you do that?” He asked, biting Phainon’s cheek gently and getting a whine in response.
“Saving your life doesn’t fulfil the criteria?” He asked in mock offense.
“Ah. You don’t want to fuck me then?” Mydei countered, revelling in the rosy blush that quickly coloured Phainon’s pale skin. The hands wrapped around him pulled him closer, Phainon’s pleading expression terribly cute.
“Of course I do! I…I wasn’t sure if I was allowed after I turned you down last time,” he mumbled, looking chastised. Mydei sighed, utterly besotted by the fool beneath him, leaning down to give him a chaste kiss before extricating himself from their embrace to stand up and pull his damp clothes off, uncaring of where they fell. That was a problem for future Mydei. Phainon gaped, wide eyed and flushed, his eyes trailing up his body, stopping at his chest for a moment before settling on his face.
Mydei tilted his head with a smile, settling down on Phainon’s lap again.
“Is this enough of an answer?”
The reaper took a moment to answer, his hands reverently touching his torso with an awed expression that made Mydei flush a little from embarrassment. He brushed his thumb over the sunburst on Mydei’s chest, following the touch with a reverent kiss.
“I’m not sure if I’m deserving of you,” He said softly, his eyes creasing with emotion.
“But I want to lavish you with my affection,” he said, hoarse and wanting as he grabbed Mydei’s waist to pull him into a hungry kiss. He sighed into the kiss, threading a hand in Phainon’s fluffy hair to deepen it, his skin already burning from the intimacy. His mouth was cold, quenching the scorching heat ravaging in his belly but it wasn’t enough.
He wanted more, he waited long enough, agonized long enough. Now he wanted Phainon to fuck him until he couldn’t think, to lay his claim inside him and never leave. He rocked in the reaper’s lap to move things along, the both of them gasping in unison when they brushed, hard and sensitive. Mydei pawed at Phainon’s joggers, lightheaded and needy, biting his lip when he managed to get his cock out.
It was big, much bigger than Mydei’s, flushed and glistening with a flared head. His throat was dry, an insistent hunger possessing him to wrap a hand around it and squeeze, its girth and the scalding heat of it making him dizzy with want. Phainon groaned into his ear, his hands tightening their grip on his waist as Mydei circled the head and squeezed, running a finger down the sensitive underside.
It was a terrible place to decide to fuck in, the floor boards were creaky and the shack's front door was missing, the space much too exposed considering he could hear the distant voices of people at the beach, but Mydei didn’t care at the moment, shoving fingers into his mouth in so much of a rush that he gagged for a moment, wetting them enough to push two fingers inside his hole, ignoring the burn of the sudden stretch as he tried to simultaneously get Phainon off and finger himself.
Warm hands wrapped around his wrists and stopped his ministrations, trapping his hands in front of his chest. He looked up to glare at Phainon only to stop even before he spoke, his breath hitching when he saw the raw hunger in his expression, his blue eyes dark as they eyed him like a predator would.
He swallowed, lightheaded as he went limp in Phainon’s hold, letting him move his body to his liking.
“Stay, don't move,” he said before releasing his hands to pull his hoodie off, his hair mussed and his gaze molten. He really looked terribly handsome, his dark gaze making Mydei shiver with want.
He gasped when Phainon wrapped an arm beneath his thighs and stood up effortlessly, the casual show of strength making him wetter and more lightheaded as he squirmed in his firm grip. He kissed the side of Mydei’s neck before setting him down on his discarded hoodie, his legs splayed over the reaper's firm thighs.
“Let me do it for you this time…let me open you up and fuck you,” he rasped, his fingers sinking into the plush flesh of Mydei’s thighs as he bent him till his knees were against his chest, his spasming hole exposed to Phainon’s scorching gaze.
“...Stop speaking and get on with it,” Mydei panted, wanting to sound more assertive but failing miserably. His hips were lifted, a shock of pleasure running through his body when Phainon spat into his twitching hole, not even giving him a chance to linger on that before he shoved a finger inside him. His spit was ice cold, his fingers scorching hot, the play of temperatures making his toes curl as he clawed the wooden floorboards.
“Sorry about that,” Phainon murmured into his jaw before sucking a bruise into the thin skin beneath it. He didn’t sound very sorry.
“Didn’t have lube on hand because I was a little preoccupied from saving you,”
Mydei sunk his nails into Phainon’s shoulders in retaliation, too preoccupied by the finger inside him to do much else, his eyelids fluttering when a second finger was added.
“One…ah…one more,” Mydei said, remembering the girth of Phainon’s dick, keening when the reaper followed suit, his hips impatiently bucking into the fingers to swallow them deeper.
He keened, clawing the reaper's back when Phainon curled his fingers and jabbed his sweet spot, kneading it relentlessly even when Mydei began to wail, his eyes wide as a pleasure he never felt before began to overwhelm his senses.
“Aah…ahh, Phainon…ple–ase,” he begged, his voice pitched in an obscene whine as he squirmed, his skin on fire and his mind in a daze.
“Inside…now! Now…nnh.” He leaned forward to bite at the sunburst on Phainon’s neck to show his urgency, his hips chasing the reaper's fingers when they slipped out of his hole, a broken whine spilling from his lips unbidden.
Phainon laughed in response but Mydei could hear how strained it was, could feel how painfully hard the other man was from how his dick kept brushing the underside of Mydei’s ass.
“I can never say no to you, Your Highness,” he said sweetly before spreading Mydei’s wanton hole with a thumb and pressing his fat cockhead against it. Mydei gasped, his wide eyes unseeing as he attempted to catch his breath.
Phainon was huge.
He stretched him wider than his fingers, the bursts of pain-pleasure addicting as he clawed the reaper's back more viciously as the heat and pleasure melted any thoughts that were in his head, his ears buzzing and his chest heaving.
Phainon wheezed, his hands gripping Mydei’s waist hard enough to leave bruises. Mydei looked at him in a daze. Phainon brows were furrowed, his teeth digging into his bottom lip with the effort to stay still. Sweat made his skin glisten, damp curls of platinum hair framing his face like a pretty picture. He was gorgeous.
“You…gh–you're too tight, Mydei,” he said, his voice hoarse as he pushed Mydei’s thighs and spread them wider, his cock pushing into him and bullying his hole to stretch and accommodate his girth.
Mydei whined in response, rocking his hips to greedily take more of Phainon, his eyes half mast as he panted, dizzy and starved.
“I'm…ah, I'm trying, HKS!” He managed to hiss before he thrust his hips a little too violently as a petty response, accidentally swallowing the rest of Phainon’s length in one go.
His vision turned white, his ears only hearing static, the onslaught of pleasure and pain too much for him. He belatedly realized he screamed when he felt copper on his tongue as he came untouched, the delicious stretch of the cock inside him and the way it was pressed against his prostate making tears spill down his cheeks, his mind blank.
He slowly came down from the assault to his senses, soft noises of pleasure spilling from his sore throat as Phainon peppered kisses on his face and neck in apology.
“...Too much?” He asked, worried. He was still hard, his cock so big it molded Mydei’s insides to fit it snugly, the shaft pressing insistently against his prostate still as his head pushed even deeper inside him. It felt deliciously good, Mydei wanted more, he wanted to be ruined.
He wrapped his legs around Phainon's waist to urge him to fuck him, kicking his back when he didn't budge.
“I'm not weak. I can take this and more. If you don't cum in me right now I will bite your dick off,” he snarled.
Phainon groaned, growing bigger inside him for some reason, pressing his thighs flat and pushing him into what could only be a mating press.
“Very well,” Phainon rasped, his voice deeper than its usual cadence, his cock somehow pushing deeper in this angle. He'd just orgasmed, the bursts of pleasure bordering on overstimulation, the addictive tingles of pleasure radiating from his navel leaving him dazed as Phainon thrusted slow and deep, his eyes rolling back into his skull as he whined and wailed, drool tracking down his chin his brain filled with static.
The Deliverer had broken him and remade him, piece by piece.
“You…you're so beautiful. Your face…your body and even your soul,” Phainon panted into his ear, leaving open mouthed kisses on his skin. His dick was scalding hot, the mouth on his skin ice cold, the dual sensation making him moan like he was in heat, obscene and loud.
“When I saw you for the first time…you glowed under the streetlights,” he whispered, his breaths shaky from pleasure and emotion.
“I thought you were an angel for a moment. A rather silly thing for a creature of death like me to think,” he said with a chuckle.
“I knew I had to…ah…save you, it was selfish but I don't regret it…I adore you, Mydeimos,” he murmured, his words saturated with fondness, enough to make Mydei's breath hitch and more tears to spill from his eyes.
He held Phainon close as he came inside him, at peace in a way he never thought he'd find himself to be.
***
“I've thought about adding more staff for the kitchen, and I've picked a great candidate for the role,” Mydei’s boss said a day later after Mydei had returned to work.
The reaper had taken to enjoying his retirement loafing around and watching terrible shows in their now shared apartment. Mydei begrudgingly loved every second of it.
He even cooked for him occasionally, his food surprisingly good. It was like they were newlyweds and Phainon was his husband indulging him and pleasuring him.
Mydei blinked up from de-veining shrimps in surprise. He walked up to his boss, closely followed by Castorice who looked just as curious as him.
It was a little surprising that they'd gotten someone that satisfied the boss to the point she'd personally come to introduce them.
She stepped aside to introduce a very familiar face, his platinum hair and beaming smile a little too hard to replicate. Mydei's eyes widened in surprise. He heard Castorice gasp from beside him.
“Meet Phainon, he'll join you in the kitchen to help out with prepping and cooking.”
The reaper grinned cheekily.
“I look forward to working with you guys!”
***