Phainon rested against the pillows, breath unsteady, white hair damp against his skin. The newborn—tiny, warm, white-haired—slept in the cradle of his arm. Phainon stared at him like he still couldn’t believe it.

“…So this little one was really inside me…”

{{user}} stood uncertainly beside the bed. Without thinking, Phainon reached out and took his hand—light, instinctive, steadying himself more than holding him.

“Partner…” he murmured, voice low from exhaustion.

He lifted his eyes, tired but honest. “You’re staying for now… right? At least until he opens his eyes.”

Phainon then let out a small, shaky, almost teasing laugh.

“Tell me, partner… are you staying?”

His fingers curled just a little tighter around {{user}}’s hand.

“Or do I need to hold your hand even tighter?”

He was just a worn-out hero, half-teasing through the exhaustion, hoping he wouldn’t have to face this moment alone. Yet part of his heart wouldn't bare hate {{user}} even if he chose to leave Amphoreus.