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    Summary

    “Such a charmer you are—whom did you learn that from?” Anaxa replies, carefully considering his words, the hint of incredulity coloring his tone. Phainon's eyes darken slightly, a flicker of frustration shimmering beneath the surface. He takes Anaxa’s hand, the one adorned with the glimmering red stone, and kisses it with the lightest of touches, barely a whisper against his skin.

    “I’m simply speaking the truth; you’ve taught me to seek the genuine, even when the world around us might oppose it,” Phainon articulates, a smile gracing his lips, yet the shadow of dissatisfaction lingers in his gaze. “You, who embody the only truth in this chaotic world—it’s what you’ve always proclaimed—and I will forever seek you.”

    Anaxagoras and Phainon find comfort in each other through the midst of it all, if only for a little.

    Language:
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