Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Est’s first day of second year began with him almost missing the shuttle.

Not because he had woken up late. He had been awake before his alarm, lying in bed with his eyes open and his heart tapping against his ribs like it had somewhere important to be. It was the first day back after break, and even though he was already a second-year student now, the campus still made him feel strangely small.

The university was huge. Too huge, sometimes. Too many buildings with glass walls and polished floors. Too many students who seemed to know exactly where they were going, exactly who they were meeting, exactly what kind of life they were building.

Est had spent most of his first year learning how not to look lost, though maybe that was because he had already arrived feeling a step behind everyone else. 

He had skipped a year before university, not because he wanted a break, but because his mother had gotten sick and someone had to take care of her. Someone had to earn enough to keep medicine in the house, food on the table, and his younger sister from realizing too early how frightening money could be when there was never enough of it. 

So Est had worked whatever hours he could, taking small photography jobs at birthdays, school events, shop openings, anything that paid, until the camera in his hands felt less like a dream and more like another responsibility. Even after finally entering university, he had continued that part-time photography work, squeezing shoots between classes and assignments, always carrying the quiet fear that if he stopped moving, everything behind him would fall apart.

Now, standing near the shuttle stop with his bag hanging from one shoulder and a half-finished iced coffee sweating in his hand, he tried to remind himself that he belonged here. He had passed his classes. He had made it into second year. He had chosen Communication Arts because he loved stories, loved the way people could take something invisible and make others feel it through words, films, images, sound.

He belonged here. Probably. Maybe.

The shuttle area was crowded with students, everyone waiting under the white shade canopy while the morning sun turned the pavement bright enough to hurt. Some students were laughing loudly in groups. Some were scrolling through their phones. A few were checking their schedules with the serious expressions of people preparing for battle.

Est checked his own schedule again, even though he had already memorized it.

First class, Communication Theory. Room 304, Comms Building.

He looked up just as the shuttle turned the corner at the far end of the road. The small crowd shifted at once. Someone behind him stepped forward too quickly. A shoulder hit his back.

Est stumbled.

His iced coffee nearly slipped from his hand, and his bag slid off his shoulder, hitting the ground with a dull thump. A notebook spilled out, followed by a pen, his student ID, and one embarrassing packet of strawberry biscuits he had shoved in there in case he got hungry before lunch.

For one second, Est just stared down at the mess. Great. Perfect. First day of second year, and he was already making a public performance out of existing.

“Sorry, sorry,” someone muttered vaguely, already moving past him toward the shuttle doors.

Est crouched down quickly, cheeks heating as students stepped around him. “It’s okay,” he said, though the person was already gone.

He reached for his notebook. Before his fingers could touch it, another hand picked it up.

“Hey, are you okay?”

The voice came from behind him. Clear. Warm. Easy. Est looked up. And forgot, for one extremely stupid second, how breathing worked.

A boy stood there, holding Est’s notebook in one hand and his student ID in the other. He looked around Est’s age, maybe a little younger, with wind-touched hair that somehow looked styled and effortless at the same time. His uniform shirt was crisp, his sleeves rolled up neatly, and there was something about him that made the sunlight seem almost unfair.

He was handsome.

Not just handsome in the way people were when they had nice features. Handsome in a way that made other people look twice without realizing they were doing it. Sharp jaw, bright eyes, a mouth curved with concern instead of amusement. He looked like the kind of boy who belonged in expensive advertisements for watches, cars, or futures Est could not afford.

Est realized he had been staring. He immediately looked down. “I’m fine,” he said, too quickly. “Thank you.”

The boy crouched in front of him and gathered the pen and biscuit packet too, placing them carefully on top of the notebook instead of laughing at them. “You sure? That guy hit you pretty hard.”

“I’m sure.” Est reached for his things, but the boy smiled and stood first.

Then he held out his hand. Est looked at it. It was a nice hand. Which was such a ridiculous thought that Est almost wanted to hit himself with his own notebook. Long fingers. Clean nails. A slim silver watch at his wrist that looked simple but expensive, the kind of expensive that did not need to announce itself because everyone who mattered would already know.

Est hesitated for one second too long. The boy’s smile widened slightly, not mocking. Just gentle.

“Come on,” he said. “Before the shuttle leaves without us.”

Est swallowed and placed his hand in his. 

The boy’s grip was warm. He pulled Est up easily. Too easily. Est stood so fast he nearly collided with him, catching himself at the last second. Their shoulders brushed. The boy smelled faintly of clean soap, citrus, and something expensive Est could not name.

“Sorry,” Est blurted.

The boy laughed softly. “You apologize a lot for someone who got bumped into.”

Est’s face burned. “I just…” He took his notebook and ID back, stuffing everything into his bag with more force than necessary. “I don’t know. Reflex.”

“That sounds dangerous.” The boy adjusted the strap of his own bag over one shoulder. “I’m William.”

Est blinked. William. The name sat strangely bright in the air between them. “I’m Est,” he said.

“Est,” William repeated, like he was testing how it sounded.

Est hated the way his stomach did something small and foolish at that. The shuttle doors began to close.

William turned, then looked back at him. “Are you getting on?”

“Yes.” Est nodded quickly and followed him.

The shuttle was crowded, most seats already taken by students who had pushed in ahead. William climbed on first, then shifted aside so Est could step in. There was no space to sit, so they stood near the middle, holding onto the overhead rail as the shuttle jerked forward.

Est’s shoulder bumped lightly against William’s arm.

“Sorry,” Est said again before he could stop himself.

William gave him a look. Est pressed his lips together. “Reflex,” he mumbled.

William smiled.

Est looked away, staring out the window as the campus rolled past. Trees, walkways, students hurrying between buildings, banners for clubs and events fluttering on poles. He tried to focus on anything except the boy standing beside him.

It was difficult.

William had that kind of presence. Not loud. But more like he was not talking over everyone or trying to make people look at him. He did not need to. People looked anyway.

Two girls sitting near the front kept whispering and glancing back. Another girl near the door had angled her phone slightly, pretending to check messages while clearly sneaking looks at him. Even one of the older students paused mid-conversation when William shifted his weight and pushed his hair back from his forehead.

Est noticed all of it. He also noticed the way William seemed used to it. Not arrogantly. But more like… comfortable? Like attention was simply the weather he had lived under all his life. As doors opened, people moved aside, eyes followed, and none of it surprised him.

There was a rich boy vibe around him. Est could not think of another way to describe it. It was in the watch, yes, and the clean shoes, and the quality of his bag, dark leather with no visible brand but clearly worth more than Est’s monthly allowance. But it was more than that. It was the way William stood, relaxed and balanced, as if he had never once wondered whether he had the right to take up space.

There was an air of superiority around him. A quiet, invisible crown. Est should have found it irritating. Instead, he found himself blushing like an idiot every time William looked at him.

“So,” William said after a minute, turning slightly toward him. “Second year?”

Est nodded. “Yes. You?”

“First year.” William’s eyes flicked to the ID card Est had clipped onto his bag. “New student. Which probably explains why I’m already lost.”

Est blinked, a little surprised. “You’re a first year?”

William smiled. “Do I not look like one?”

No, Est thought immediately. William did not look like a nervous first-year student at all. He looked too polished for that, too confident, too comfortable standing in the middle of the crowded shuttle like the campus had been built around him instead of the other way around.

“You just…” Est hesitated, then looked away before William could catch too much of his expression. “You seem like you already know where you’re going.”

“That’s the trick,” William said lightly. “Look confident enough and people assume you do.”

Est almost smiled.

William glanced again at the card hanging from Est’s bag. “Communication Arts?”

Est looked down, then back up. “Yes. I’m in Comm Arts.”

“That suits you.”

Est’s heart gave one embarrassing kick. “You don’t even know me,” he said, then immediately wondered why he had said that. It sounded sharper than he meant.

William did not seem offended. If anything, he looked amused. “True,” he said. “But you look like someone who notices things.”

Est did not know what to do with that. Because he truly did. He did notice things. Too many things, sometimes. The small shifts in people’s voices. The way a smile could mean five different things, depending on the eyes. The way silence was not empty at all if someone knew how to listen to it.

But strangers did not usually see that in him. Especially not strangers who looked like William.

“So what do you study?” Est asked, partly because he needed to stop thinking about how warm William’s voice sounded when he said his name.

“Global Business Management.”

Of course. Est almost laughed. That suited him too well. The expensive watch, the easy confidence, the polished way he spoke, the invisible crown. He looked exactly like someone being prepared to inherit boardrooms, fly business class, and make decisions that affected people whose names he would never learn.

“Global Business Management,” Est repeated.

William raised an eyebrow. “Why did you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you just solved a mystery.”

Est looked away again, but he was smiling despite himself. “No reason.”

William leaned slightly closer, just enough that Est could feel his attention like sunlight on skin. “Now I’m curious.”

“It just suits you,” Est said.

William hummed. “Because I look smart?”

Est glanced at him before he could stop himself. “Because you look rich.”

For half a second, silence. Est’s stomach dropped. Then William laughed. It was not polite laughter. Not an ‘I’m offended’ laughter. Real laughter, bright and surprised, spilling out of him in a way that made the girls near the front turn around again.

Est’s face went red enough to burn.

“I’m sorry,” he rushed out. “That was rude. I didn’t mean –”

“No, no.” William was still smiling. “You’re not wrong.”

That made Est pause. William said it easily. Not embarrassed. Not boastful. Just truthful.

The shuttle stopped near the central library, and several students got off. The crowd loosened around them. William moved slightly, giving Est more space, though his arm still brushed Est’s when the shuttle started again.

Est tried very hard not to think about it.

“So, Comm Arts,” William said. “Do you want to do film? Journalism? Advertising?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Est admitted. “Maybe media production. Maybe scriptwriting. I like… stories.”

William looked at him. Est suddenly felt shy again. “That sounds vague, doesn’t it?” he said.

“It sounds honest.”

Est’s fingers tightened around the rail. William had an irritating habit of saying simple things like they mattered.

“What about you?” Est asked. “Why Global Business Management?”

William shrugged. “Family.”

Est waited, but William said nothing more at first. Then he added, “My family has businesses. My father thinks it’s useful. My brothers already took other paths in the company structure, so I’m supposed to learn the global side.”

There it was again. That world Est could barely imagine. Company structure. Global side. Family businesses. Not my dad owns a small shop. Not my parents want me to get a stable job. Not 'I hope I can get a scholarship next semester'.

William said it like he was talking about the weather. Est wondered what it must feel like to have a life already laid out before you. A road paved in your family name. To know that even if you failed, there would be cushions beneath every fall.

He expected to feel envy. Instead, he felt curiosity. William did not sound happy about it. Not unhappy either. Just resigned in a beautiful, expensive sort of way.

“That sounds like a lot,” Est said quietly.

William glanced at him, and for a second, something changed in his eyes. The smile softened. “Sometimes.”

The word was small. The shuttle pulled to the next stop.

“Comms Building,” the driver called.

Est startled. “This is me.”

“Me too,” William said.

Est blinked. “You have class here?”

“International communication elective,” William said, stepping down after him. “I’m probably lost.”

The air outside felt hotter after the shuttle’s air-conditioning. Students poured around them, moving toward the wide entrance of the Communication Arts building. Est adjusted his bag, then pointed toward the left hallway visible through the glass doors.

“International comms classes are usually in the newer wing,” he said. “Second floor. Room 216, I think.”

William looked impressed. “You know the building well?”

“I got lost a lot last year.”

“So you’re an expert now?”

“An expert in getting lost, maybe.”

William smiled again, and Est had the terrible thought that he might want to keep making William smile. It was absurd. They had known each other for less than twenty minutes.

Still, as they walked toward the building together, Est felt oddly light. The nervousness from the morning had not disappeared entirely, but it had changed shape. It no longer sat heavy in his chest. It fluttered instead, warm and restless.

Inside the building, the lobby was crowded. Posters lined the walls, advertising student films, debate club auditions, an open call for campus radio hosts, and a welcome-back event for second years. Est led William toward the staircase, weaving through students with practiced care.

William walked beside him like the crowd parted naturally. And maybe it did. More people looked at him inside the building, too. Some girls whispered. A few boys stared with the quick assessing look of people measuring competition. William seemed aware of it all and bothered by none of it.

Est kept his gaze forward. He did not want to be caught staring again. But every time William’s shoulder brushed close, Est’s thoughts scattered like papers in the wind.

“So where’s your class?” William asked as they reached the second floor.

“Third floor,” Est said. “Room 304.”

William nodded toward the hallway. “Then you’ve still got time.”

“I do?”

William lifted his wrist, checking his watch. “Ten minutes.”

Est looked at the watch too, then quickly looked away when he realized he was staring at William’s hand again. Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.

They reached the corridor leading to the newer wing. It was quieter here, with fewer students and more sunlight pouring in through the long windows. Est stopped near a signboard and pointed down the hall.

“Room 216 is that way. Just go straight, then turn right after the vending machines.”

William looked down the hall, then back at Est. “Thanks.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It is something. You saved me from wandering around looking tragically handsome and confused.”

Est choked on a laugh.

For a brief second, William simply looked at him, and Est felt the strange sensation of being seen too clearly by someone who should have been a stranger. It made him nervous. It made him want to step back. It made him want to stay exactly where he was, too.

Then William shifted his bag higher on his shoulder and said, as casually as if they were already friends, “We should grab lunch later.”

Est stared. William said it so easily, like it was normal. Like handsome rich boys with silver watches and sunlight in their hair, always asked shy Communication Arts students to lunch after helping them pick up spilled notebooks and strawberry biscuits.

Est should have said no. Not because he wanted to, but because saying yes felt too sudden, too eager, too much like stepping onto a road without checking where it led. William was a stranger. A very handsome stranger, obviously, but still a stranger.

A stranger with a rich boy vibe, an easy smile, and an air of superiority that should have warned Est away.

But Est was twenty years old. It was the first day of second year. The morning sun was spilling through the hallway windows, and William was looking at him as if Est were not invisible, not awkward, not someone who had to work hard to belong.

So Est nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. “Lunch.”

William’s smile widened. “Good.” He took out his phone. “Give me your number?”

Est’s heart stumbled. He recited it before he could overthink, and William typed it in, then called him once. Est’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

“There,” William said. “Now you can’t escape lunch.”

Est looked down at the unknown number on his screen and saved it. William. Just William. He did not know yet that this name would someday become the center of his life.

He did not know that he would hear it whispered against his skin, shouted across rooms, typed in messages he would reread until dawn. He did not know that this boy would become home, then storm, then wound.

He only knew that William was standing in front of him, smiling like the day had offered them something simple and bright.

Neither of them moved for another second. Then William stepped backward toward his hallway, still looking at him. “See you at lunch, Est.”

Est’s name sounded different in his mouth. Warmer. Dangerous, though Est did not know that yet.

“See you,” Est said.

William turned and walked away, and Est watched him go despite himself. A group of girls passed William in the hall. One of them looked back immediately, whispering to her friend. William did not seem to notice. Or maybe he did and simply did not care.

Est stood there until William disappeared around the corner. Only then did he let out the breath he had been holding. His face was still warm. His heart was still beating too fast.

When he finally turned toward the stairs to go to his own class, he looked down at his phone again. William’s number sat there like a secret. Est smiled before he could stop himself. It was small. Shy. Foolish. But it was real.

And as he climbed the stairs to Room 304, hugging his bag close to his chest, Est thought that maybe second year would be different. Maybe it would be good. Maybe this year, something wonderful would happen.

He had no idea that it already had. He had no idea that it would also be the beginning of everything that would one day break him.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 

Est stared at William’s hand.

It was the same hand. Younger, yes. Softer in a way time had not yet ruined. There were no new and faded marks on his wrist yet, no subtle sign of the man he would become, no visible proof of future arrogance, future cruelty, future secrets. Just a clean hand adorned with an expensive watch stretched toward him under the university sunlight.

But Est knew that hand.

He knew how it would feel wrapped around his own in a crowded hallway. He knew how it would tighten around his fingers whenever William got jealous. He knew how it would cup the back of his neck before a kiss. He knew how it would one day push through his hair with tired affection after long work nights, back when Est still believed exhaustion was the only thing making William distant.

He also knew how empty it would feel when William stopped reaching for him. And even emptier and painful when he started twisting the same hand.

The courtyard blurred for one terrifying second. Past and present folded over each other, thin and sharp as glass.

William standing above him now, eighteen years old, eyes bright and concerned. William, in their bedroom years later, twenty-eight and cold, standing beside a ruined bed with someone else’s scent on his skin.

William laughing across campus. William looking at Est like Est was an inconvenience.

William saying his name softly. William not apologizing.

Est’s chest tightened so hard he almost forgot where he was. Then the truth settled into him. He was back. Somehow, impossibly, cruelly, beautifully, he was back.

The shooting star. The wish. The headache. The darkness.

This was not a dream. It could not be. Dreams were never this vivid. Dreams did not have sunlight burning against your neck, grass damp under your palm, and the ghost of eight ruined years sitting inside your ribs like a second heart. He had been given another chance.

Not to save William. Not to repair what had already torn him open in another life. But a chance to rectify his own life.

The thought struck him with such force that his fingers curled into the grass. His life. Not William’s expectations. Not William’s moods. Not William’s endless gravity, dragging Est closer every time he tried to breathe on his own. His life.

He remembered the bench. The cut in his palm. The humiliation of being fired after years of swallowing unfairness because he had forgotten how to fight for himself. He remembered walking into that bedroom, feeling the world end so quietly that the silence had hurt more than screaming.

He remembered wishing he had never met William.

And now William was here. At the beginning. Smiling down at him like fate had not already used that smile as a weapon.

“Hey – can you stand?” William asked again.

His voice was kind. That was the worst part. It was exactly as Est remembered it. Warm enough to make a lonely boy trust him.

Est looked at William’s hand for one more second. Then he pulled his own hand back. William’s brows lifted slightly.

Est placed both palms against the ground and pushed himself up without taking the offered help. His knees felt weak, and the dizziness had not fully passed, but he forced his body upright anyway. If he fell, he would fall by himself. If he stood, he would stand by himself.

Not again. Never again.

William slowly lowered his hand. For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Est brushed grass from his jeans with more force than necessary. His bag lay beside his foot, and he picked it up, slinging it over his shoulder. His heart was still racing, but the panic had begun to harden into something clearer. Annoyance. No, more than that. Defiance.

Because how dare William be here with the same face? How dare he stand there untouched by everything Est had suffered? How dare the universe drag Est back to the exact moment his life had first tilted toward disaster and expect him to play his part again?

William studied him, and Est saw the change in his expression. Concern first. Then confusion. Then something like surprise. In the old timeline, Est knew what he must have looked like in this moment. Flustered. Shy. Grateful. Probably red to the ears because a handsome boy had noticed him.

This time, Est knew he looked irritated. Good.

“Are you okay?” William asked carefully.

“I’m fine.” The words came out flat.

William blinked. Est almost laughed. Bitterly. Quietly. The kind of laugh that belonged to graveyards and bad memories.

William had no idea. He had no idea that Est had heard that question before. That once, those same words had felt like kindness. That they had become the first thread in a net Est had willingly wrapped around himself.

He adjusted the strap of his bag and turned away.

“Wait,” William said.

Est closed his eyes for half a second. Of course. Of course, William would stop him. In this timeline, too, apparently, William did not know how to let Est walk away.

Est turned back, his expression guarded. “What?”

William looked at him for a moment too long. Then he asked, slowly, “Do we know each other?”

The question slid under Est’s skin. His hand tightened around the strap of his bag.

Do we know each other?

Est wanted to say yes. He wanted to say, I know how you sleep. I know how you lie. I know your coffee order and the way your voice changes when you want forgiveness. I know the exact shape of the wound you will leave behind. I know your hands, your pride, your anger, your silence. I know what it feels like to love you until there is almost nothing left of me.

Instead, Est looked straight at him. “No.”

William’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but in curiosity. “No?”

“No,” Est repeated. “We don’t.”

The answer should have been simple. It was not. It tore something small on the way out.

William’s gaze held his, and for one strange second Est felt as though the air between them had thickened. Like something unseen had recognized the lie and was waiting to see if either of them would admit it.

Est did not. He turned again and started walking toward the main path. His steps were steady. That felt like a victory, ridiculous as it was.

Behind him, William called, “Wait, sorry.”

Est’s jaw clenched. He stopped but did not turn around immediately. He took one breath, then another, forcing himself to remember the park bench. The birthday. The way William had looked at him without remorse.

When Est finally faced him, William had taken a few steps closer. “I’m new,” William said, lifting one hand slightly as if to prove he meant no harm. “Do you know where the International Comms classes are?”

The question hit Est like a cruel little joke. Of course. The International Comms class. The same question. The same beginning. The same little bridge fate had built between them the first time.

In the past, Est had pointed him there. In the past, they had walked together. In the past, William had asked him to lunch, and Est had said yes because he was young, lonely, and dazzled by a boy who looked like sunlight knew his name.

Not this time.

Est’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “There’s a new student desk near the main lobby,” he said. “Ask there.”

William paused. “Right,” he said, but his tone had shifted. “I just thought since you were already heading – ”

“I’m busy, Nong.”

The words cut cleanly through his sentence. William stopped speaking. Est saw it then. The flicker of surprise across his face. William was not used to being dismissed. Not like this. Not by someone he had just tried to help. Not by someone who, in another life, would have looked at him like he had hung the stars with his bare hands.

Good, Est thought again. Let him be surprised.

William looked at him, still puzzled, still trying to understand why this stranger was treating him like a problem. For a heartbeat, Est almost felt guilty. Almost.

Then memory rose in him like black water. Their lives. Their bed. The stranger’s shoes. William’s cold face. The guilt died before it could breathe.

“Okay,” William said at last. “Sorry for bothering you, Phi.”

The softness of his voice was dangerous. Est knew that softness. It had opened doors inside him once. He would not let it open anything now.

He gave a short nod, turned, and walked away. This time, he did not look back.

Every step felt strange, like he was walking through a scene that had been written for someone else. The campus stretched ahead of him exactly as he remembered it: the fountain, the trees, the Comms Building in the distance, students laughing under the warm morning light.

Everything was the same. But Est was not. His younger body still trembled with shock. His mind still spun with impossible questions. He did not know why he had been sent back, or how, or whether this second chance came with rules hidden beneath it.

But one thing was clear. This time, he would keep himself first. No matter what. No matter how William smiled. No matter how gentle his voice sounded. No matter how much some foolish, wounded part of Est still remembered loving him.

Behind him, he could feel William’s gaze on his back.

Est kept walking. The path ahead looked bright. Terrifying. Unwritten.

And for the first time in years, it belonged to him.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 

Nut had decided that university would be fun.

He had made that decision somewhere between his mother fussing over his shirt collar that morning and Hong sending seventeen messages to the group chat asking where everyone was, only for Lego to reply with a sticker of a confused cat and Tui to send nothing because Tui was probably still asleep while standing upright.

University was supposed to be serious. That was what adults kept saying. A place to study, to prepare for the future, to become a proper person who knew things about taxes and careers and other terrifying concepts. Nut understood that, technically. He had nodded very seriously through every speech about responsibility.

But also, all of his favorite idiots were here. And that, unquestionably, made everything better.

William was here. Hong was here. Tui was here. Lego was here. 

Their little high school circle had somehow survived graduation, entrance exams, family expectations, and the hundred little disasters of teenage life. Now they were stepping into university together, five boys who had once turned an empty music room into their kingdom and called themselves LYKN because they thought it sounded cool.

To be fair, Nut still thought it sounded cool.

LYKN had started in high school with one borrowed guitar, a drum set that belonged to the music club, and William insisting they could actually sound good if Nut stopped singing like he was fighting a mosquito. Nut had told him mosquitoes deserved music too. Hong had nearly fallen off a chair laughing. Tui had pretended not to smile. Lego had joined because someone gave him snacks during practice.

Somehow, from that mess, they had become a band.

Not a famous band, obviously. Not yet. But they had performed at school festivals, charity events, little cafés where relatives clapped too loudly, and one terrifying private party where an auntie had requested three love songs and then cried into the microphone.

They were not perfect, but they were theirs. Nut liked that. He liked having something that belonged to the five of them before the world started pulling them into different shapes.

Now, walking across campus toward the new student desk with his bag bouncing against his hip, Nut felt a strange excitement buzzing under his skin. The campus was huge, sunlit, crowded, and alive. Students moved everywhere, laughing, calling out names, dragging suitcases, checking maps, taking photos under banners.

It felt like the beginning of a movie. Probably one where they all made bad choices and learned important lessons with good lighting.

Nut grinned to himself. He was supposed to meet William near the new student desk first, then find the others. William had texted earlier that he was already on campus, which was typical. William liked to act calm, but he hated being late. He would rather arrive thirty minutes early and pretend it was accidental than admit he cared.

Nut knew him too well. William was the kind of person who made everything look easy. School, music, attention, rich people's manners, walking through crowds like the air itself had signed a contract to move for him. Most people saw that and thought William was effortless.

Nut saw the way William checked his watch when he thought no one noticed. He saw the way William acted too bored to care, while quietly memorizing everyone’s schedule so nobody got lost. That was William. Annoying, handsome, secretly soft, and dramatic enough to deserve theme music.

Nut turned toward the main courtyard, scanning the moving crowd for him. He did not find William first. He found someone else by accidentally crashing into him.

Nut had been looking at his phone, reading Hong’s latest message complaining that the campus map was drawn by someone who hated freshmen. He took one step too far to the side, failed completely to notice the student walking in front of him, and bumped shoulder-first into him.

The other student stumbled. His bag slipped. Books and papers scattered across the walkway.

“Shia,” Nut hissed, immediately shoving his phone into his pocket. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

The student crouched down quickly, reaching for his things. Nut dropped down too, grabbing a notebook before it could be stepped on by a passing student. “I wasn’t looking. Totally my fault. My brain was somewhere between a group chat emergency and a campus map tragedy.”

The other student did not answer. Nut picked up a pen, then a folded class schedule, then looked up. And paused.

Oh. Oh. Oh, wow.

The student in front of him was beautiful.

Nut had met good-looking people before. He was friends with William, which meant he was practically vaccinated against handsome faces. William attracted staring the way streetlights attracted insects. Hong had his own smooth charm, Tui had that quiet prince thing going on, and Lego had big innocent eyes that made aunties forgive him for everything.

But this student was different. Not flashy. Not polished. Not the kind of beauty that announced itself loudly. He was pretty in a way that made Nut’s brain go strangely quiet for half a second.

Soft eyes. Clear skin. Dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. A mouth pressed into a tense line, like he was trying very hard not to feel something. There was a delicate sharpness to him, like glass under silk. Beautiful, yes, but not easy. Not open.

His expression made Nut feel, very suddenly, that he had interrupted something much bigger than a walk across campus.

“Are you okay?” Nut asked, gentler this time.

The student reached for his notebook. “I’m fine.”

His voice was calm. Too calm. Nut frowned slightly. Before he could say anything else, footsteps rushed toward them.

“Phi?”

Nut turned his head. William was coming across the courtyard faster than Nut had ever seen him move in public.

Not running exactly, because William had dignity and a rich boy posture to protect, but close enough. His eyes were fixed on the student crouched on the ground, and for a moment, Nut forgot all about the spilled bag.

Interesting. Very interesting.

William reached them and crouched beside the student at once. “Phi, are you okay?” he asked, breathing slightly uneven.

Nut’s brows lifted. The student looked up. The air changed. And Nut felt it instantly. He was very good at picking up on vibes. People underestimated him because he joked too much, but joking was the easiest way to make people relax, and relaxed people showed everything. They showed what they wanted, what they feared, what they were hiding, who they looked at first when the room changed.

This student looked at William like he had seen a ghost. Not for long. Just a flash. A tiny crack in the calm. Then his face closed.

“I’m fine,” he said.

William stared at him. Nut looked between them. Hello? What drama channel had he accidentally subscribed to?

William’s hand hovered near the student’s shoulder. “You fell pretty hard, Phi.”

The student’s body reacted before William even touched him. He backed away. Sharp. Sudden. Not dramatic, but unmistakable. William froze. Nut froze too.

The courtyard noise seemed to dip around them for one strange second, though maybe that was just Nut’s imagination deciding this moment needed atmosphere. William slowly lowered his hand.

The student stood on his own, clutching his bag strap. He looked annoyed now, but Nut could tell annoyance was only the top layer. Beneath it was something else, something tight and old-looking in a face too young to carry it.

William seemed completely taken aback.

Nut had known William since high school. He had seen girls blush because William glanced at them. He had seen seniors become sweet for no reason when William asked a question. He had seen teachers forgive him for being late because he smiled politely and said sorry in that expensive voice of his.

People did not usually step away from William. People stepped toward William. Always. Nut, being Nut, could not leave that alone.

He pointed lightly between them and said, “Wow. This is new.”

Both of them looked at him. Nut gave his best innocent smile. “First time I’ve seen someone backing away from Willy. Usually, people orbit him like tiny emotional planets.”

William shot him a look. Nut ignored it because ignoring William’s warning look was a skill he had spent years perfecting. The student said nothing. Not even a polite laugh. Tough crowd.

Nut stood and dusted off his knees, then offered the notebook back. “Sorry again. I swear I don’t usually attack people before breakfast. I’m Nut.”

The student hesitated before taking the notebook. For one tiny second, his eyes connected with Nut’s, and something flickered there. Recognition. Nut almost missed it.

It came and went so quickly that he wondered if he had imagined it, just a strange trick of sunlight and his own too-curious brain. But the look had been there. A small widening of the eyes. A breath caught too carefully. The expression of someone who had heard a familiar name in an unfamiliar place. Then it vanished. The student’s face closed again, smooth and guarded.

“Est, khaap,” he said.

Est. Nut held onto the name without meaning to. He did not know this guy. He was sure of that. He would remember meeting someone who looked this pretty, someone with eyes that seemed tired in a way no student’s eyes should be. Still, something about Est felt strangely close, like Nut had stumbled into the middle of a conversation his heart already knew but his mind had forgotten.

Weird. Very weird. Nut’s eyes flicked to William. William’s expression changed so slightly that most people would have missed it.

Luckily or unluckily for William, Nut was not most people. He did not miss it. Which was… interesting. William clearly had not known his name before this moment. But once he heard it, the name seemed to settle somewhere behind his eyes, bright and sharp, like someone had lit a match in a dark room.

William was looking at Est like he had just discovered a song he wanted to replay until the speakers broke.

Oh, Nut thought. Oh, this is going to be fun. Or terrible. Possibly both.

Est seemed to notice William looking, because his expression grew even more guarded. He shoved the rest of his things into his bag and turned as if to leave. Nut’s instincts, which had led him into many problems and exactly zero regrets, activated.

“Wait, Phi,” he said quickly.

Est stopped. Very slowly, he turned back.

Nut smiled brightly. “Could you please direct two poor new nongs to the International Comms class? We are freshly hatched, tragically clueless, and at risk of becoming late on the first day.”

William looked at him. Est looked at him too, but with less amusement and more suspicion.

Nut clasped his hands together in a wai pose. “Please? Just point us in the right direction. My friend here looks composed, but he is secretly useless with directions.”

“I am not,” William said.

Nut pointed at him without looking. “He is.”

Est’s gaze flicked between them. “There’s a new student desk.”

“Yes,” Nut said, nodding seriously. “And I am walking to it. But there’s a line, and the line has at least fifteen confused people. I counted. One of them is holding a printed map upside down. Another looks like he might cry. I fear for our survival.”

William muttered, “Nut.”

Nut continued, “You look like someone who knows the building.”

Est’s jaw tightened. For a moment, Nut thought he would still refuse. And honestly, he should have been able to. Nut knew that. A stranger asking for directions did not deserve anyone’s time, especially after bumping into them and making their morning worse.

But Nut also knew how to make himself difficult to reject. It was a gift. Possibly a curse for everyone else.

He stepped closer and gently caught Est’s wrist, not hard, just enough to tug him toward the walkway. “Come on, Phi. Save us. Be our campus guardian angel for five minutes.”

Est stiffened. Immediately. William moved before Nut could fully register it.

“Don’t drag him too roughly,” William said. His voice was icy calm. And Nut’s hand subconsciously loosened at once. There was something in the way he said it. Something firm beneath the softness. A warning wrapped in silk.

Nut blinked. Then he looked at William. William was looking at Est’s wrist. No, not at Nut. But at the place where Nut’s fingers had touched Est.

Interesting just became fascinating.

Nut let go completely and lifted both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. No dragging. Gentle new student behavior only.”

Est pulled his wrist back to his side, his expression unreadable. “I said I’m busy.”

Nut tilted his head. “Class?”

“Yes.”

“What room?”

Est stared at him. “Why?”

“Because if it’s in the Comms Building, we’re all going the same way.”

Est’s silence was answer enough. Nut grinned. “Perfect. See? Fate. Campus logistics. Divine administrative intervention.”

William gave him another look, but this one had less bite. His attention kept slipping back to Est, as if he could not help it. 

Nut had seen William interested before. Of course, he had. William was very popular in high school. There had been crushes, flirtations, messages, confessions folded into notebooks, Valentine’s chocolates stacked on his desk like offerings to a bored prince. William had always handled it all with smooth politeness, accepting attention without letting it touch too deeply.

But this was different. William was not being admired. William was the one watching. Carefully. Curiously. Too closely for someone he had just met.

Nut’s eyes lit up. Aha. Aha, aha, aha.

There was something here. A spark, maybe. Or at least the possibility of a spark. William, with all his practiced ease, looked unsettled. Not embarrassed, not smitten exactly, but pulled. Like Est had become a question, William’s mind refused to put down. And Est…

Nut glanced at him. Est looked like he wanted to run in the opposite direction. That, admittedly, complicated the romance drama Nut had already started drafting in his head.

Est exhaled through his nose. “International Comms is in the newer wing. Second floor. Room 216. Go straight through the lobby, take the stairs on the left, turn right after the vending machines.”

Nut clutched his chest. “A miracle. We are saved.”

“There,” Est said. “Now you know.”

He turned again. Nut stepped lightly into his path, but this time he kept his hands to himself because William had apparently developed sudden bodyguard instincts. “Phi, one tiny problem.”

Est looked at him like he was seconds away from regretting every kind thing he had ever done.

Nut smiled wider. “I will forget those directions in twelve seconds.”

William pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m serious,” Nut said. “My brain keeps important things only. Song lyrics, food places, embarrassing stories about William. Directions? Gone. Dust. Tragedy.”

“I’m not walking you there,” Est said.

“You don’t have to walk us there,” Nut replied. “You just have to happen to go to your own class while we happen to follow at a respectful distance.”

“That is walking you there.”

“Not technically.”

Est stared. Nut stared back, cheerful and unashamed. Finally, Est looked past him toward the Comms Building, then checked his phone. His expression flickered with irritation. He was going to be late, too, if he kept arguing.

Nut could practically see the calculation behind his eyes. Then Est said, “Fine. But don’t talk to me.”

Nut brightened. “Absolutely.”

William gave a tiny cough.

Nut amended, “Much.”

Est started walking. Nut fell into step behind him immediately. William walked beside Nut at first, but within a few steps, he had drifted slightly closer to Est. Not enough to crowd him. Not enough for Est to snap. Just enough that his attention remained fixed there, orbiting despite Nut’s earlier joke.

Nut watched them both.

Est walked fast, shoulders straight, bag held close. He did not look back. He did not seem flustered now. He seemed annoyed, yes, but also tense in a way Nut could not quite understand. Like William’s presence was not simply unwanted, but painful.

That made no sense. They had just met. Unless they had not. Nut’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. No, that was ridiculous. William would have told him if he knew someone like Est. Wouldn’t he?

“Phi Est,” Nut said after exactly eight seconds.

Est did not slow down. “I said, don’t talk to me.”

“I know. I’m failing already. It’s part of my charm.”

“No, it’s not.”

Nut laughed before he could stop himself. William’s mouth twitched. That tiny reaction did not escape Nut either.

He leaned closer to William and murmured, “He’s mean. I like him.” William elbowed him lightly. Nut nearly cackled.

They entered the Comms Building, and the noise changed around them. Outside, campus had been open and bright, full of birds and engines and distant voices. Inside, everything echoed against glass and polished floors. Students moved in streams, checking room numbers, greeting friends, staring at bulletin boards.

Est navigated the lobby easily. Nut noticed that too. He had the kind of confidence that came from knowing a place through trial and error, not entitlement. He moved around slow groups before they blocked the way, avoided a loose tile near the staircase without looking down, and held the door for a girl carrying too many books even though his face still said he hated all of them.

Pretty and competent. Dangerous combination. William was doomed. Nut could already feel it.

They reached the staircase, and Est gestured with two fingers. “Second floor. Turn right after the vending machines. Your room is there.”

Nut looked up the stairs, then at Est. “Are you not going up?”

“I am. Third floor.”

“Great. Then we continue together.”

Est’s expression sharpened. “You know where to go now.”

“Yes,” Nut said. “But emotionally, I am attached to the guide.”

William’s lips twitched again. Est saw it this time. His eyes moved from Nut to William, and something cold passed through his expression. Not jealousy. Not shyness. A weird recognition of danger.

Nut’s amusement dimmed slightly. There was really something wrong here. Est looked at William like he was not a handsome stranger, not a new student, not some boy who had tried to help him after a fall. He looked at William like William was a wound trying to reopen. But William only looked more fascinated. More careful. More drawn in.

Nut stepped aside as they climbed the stairs, letting Est go first. William followed a step behind, and Nut took the rear, his gaze bouncing between them like he was watching the first act of a drama whose ending had already caught fire.

At the second-floor landing, Est stopped. “This is your floor,” he said.

Nut saluted. “Thank you, Phi Est. You have saved the lives of two helpless freshmen.”

“I doubt that.”

“Emotionally, yes.”

Est ignored him and turned to go up another flight. William spoke before Nut could. “Thank you, Phi,” he said.

Est paused. Just for half a second. He did not turn fully; only angled his face enough for them to see the side of it.

“You’re welcome,” he said, quiet but distant.

Then he continued upstairs. William watched him go. Nut watched William watch him go. There it was again. That look. Not simple attraction. No. No. No. Nut knew what attraction looked like on William. This had something else tangled in it. Curiosity, yes. Interest, definitely. But also confusion, like William had felt a string tug somewhere inside him and could not find the other end.

Nut rocked back on his heels, delighted despite the weirdness. “Well,” he said.

William did not look away from the stairs. “What?”

Nut grinned. “You are in trouble.”

William finally turned to him, eyebrows drawn. “What are you talking about?”

Nut nodded toward the staircase where Est had disappeared. “That.”

“There is no that.”

“There is always a that when someone like you makes that face.”

William’s eyes narrowed. “We’re going to be late.”

“Deflection. Noted.”

Nut started walking toward the vending machines, laughing under his breath. William followed, quieter than usual. That only made Nut’s grin wider.

University was going to be fun. Maybe even more fun than he had expected.

Their little friend circle had come here ready for four years of classes, music, late nights, and terrible cafeteria food. Nut had thought the first big story would be about LYKN finding a practice room, or Hong getting lost, or Lego accidentally joining the wrong club because they offered snacks.

Instead, the first story of university might be William getting rejected by the prettiest man Nut had ever seen.

And judging by the way William glanced back toward the stairs one more time before entering the hallway, Nut had a feeling this was not going to end with simple directions. No.

This was going to become a whole song. Probably one with a painful bridge.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 

Est kept walking until the sound of William’s voice and the giggly vibes of Nut disappeared behind him. Even then, he did not slow down.

His fingers were curled too tightly around the strap of his bag, his knuckles tense, his heartbeat still loud in his ears. The campus was bright around him, full of morning noise and first-day excitement, but it all felt far away, like he was moving through a memory someone else had painted too vividly.

William had looked exactly the same. That was the thought Est could not shake. Younger, yes, but exactly the same in all the ways that mattered. The same careless beauty. The same warmth hidden in the corners of his mouth. The same habit of looking at people like the world had quieted around them.

It had almost worked. For one horrifying second, when William had held out his hand, Est had almost taken it.

His body had remembered before his mind could stop it. His fingers had twitched, ready to reach, ready to accept, ready to fall into the same old story because apparently even heartbreak could become muscle memory.

But he had not taken it. He had stood up on his own. Est repeated that to himself as he crossed the courtyard toward the Communication Arts building. He had stood up on his own.

It was a small thing. Ridiculously small. But in Est’s chest, it felt enormous. A stone dropped into the center of a lake, sending ripples through a future that had not happened yet. Or would not happen.

Not if he could help it.

He pushed through the glass doors of the building, and the familiar cool air washed over him. The lobby smelled like floor polish, paper, coffee, and the faint metallic scent of overworked air conditioners. Students crowded around the bulletin boards, laughing and comparing schedules. Someone called out to a friend near the elevators. A girl rushed past holding three folders against her chest, her ponytail swinging behind her.

Est knew this place.

He knew the broken vending machine near the left staircase. He knew the poster wall where student film announcements overlapped until no one could read them properly. He knew the tiny crack on the second step of the stairs, the one he used to avoid without thinking. He knew the rhythm of this building in a way he had forgotten he knew anything before William.

His throat tightened. Before William. The phrase was dangerous. It made his chest ache with possibility.

Est climbed the stairs to the third floor, one hand trailing lightly along the railing. His legs still felt a little weak from waking up on the ground, but his body obeyed him. Younger. Stronger. Less tired. It was strange to inhabit himself like this again, to feel twenty years old and ancient at the same time.

Every step carried him closer to class. To his first class of second year. To a life he had already lived badly once. At the third-floor landing, he paused.

The hallway stretched ahead of him, bright with sunlight spilling through tall windows. Room 304 was at the end, just like he remembered. The classroom door was open, and students were already drifting in, voices overlapping in casual bursts.

Est took one breath. Then he heard laughter. A familiar loud, bright laugh that hit him straight in the ribs.

Daou.

Est turned before he could stop himself. There, near the windows outside Room 304, stood four people he had not seen together in years.

Daou was leaning against the wall with one foot propped behind him, talking with his hands like the story would die if his fingers stopped moving. Tam stood beside him, arms crossed, smiling quietly in that calm way of his. Offroad was crouched near his bag, digging through it with increasing panic, probably looking for a pen he had definitely packed and definitely lost already. Punch stood in the middle of them, hair clipped neatly back, holding her phone in one hand and rolling her eyes at something Daou had said.

Daou. Punch. Tam. Offroad. His friends.

Est stopped breathing.

They were younger than him by one year, something they used to tease him about constantly, because Est had entered university a year late.  So technically, they were his classmates. Emotionally, they were his noisy, ridiculous, beloved younger siblings who had adopted him before he realized he needed adopting.

In his last life, Est had let them go slowly. Not all at once. That would have been easier to notice.

It had happened during missed lunches. In messages left unread because William was in a bad mood. In canceled plans because William did not like the café they chose, or because Est was too tired from work, or because he felt guilty leaving William alone. It happened on birthdays he forgot to attend, on calls he promised to return but never did, group chats that grew quieter around him until one day he realized he had become a guest in his own friendships.

They had tried. That was what hurt most.

Daou had kept inviting him long after Est started saying no. Punch had called him out once, gently at first, then angrily when Est defended William without thinking. Tam had sent simple messages like, "Eat something good today, Phi". Offroad had mailed him a stupid keychain from a trip because he said it looked lonely and reminded him of Est’s bag.

And Est had loved them.

But he had let William become the center of everything. He had let the rest of his life blur at the edges. By twenty-eight, they were no longer strangers, exactly, but they were no longer his people either. They were old names on his phone. Occasional posts online. Smiles in photographs, he was no longer part of.

Now they were here. In front of him. Laughing. Waiting outside a classroom, like no time had passed at all.

Est’s vision blurred.

“Phi Est!” Offroad called first, finally looking up from his bag. His face lit up. “There you are!”

Daou turned immediately. “Phi! We thought you abandoned us on the first day.”

Punch raised an eyebrow. “He does have abandonment energy today.”

Tam smiled. “Morning, Phi.”

The word Phi hit Est like a hand over his heart. He tried to answer. Nothing came out. His eyes burned. His chest filled too quickly, too painfully, with all the years he had missed them and all the apologies he had never given because he had not realized until it was too late how much there was to apologize for.

Daou’s smile faltered. “Phi?”

Est moved before he thought. He rushed forward and threw his arms around them. Not gracefully. He practically crashed into Daou first, then pulled Punch in with one arm and Tam with the other, while Offroad yelped and scrambled upright just in time to be caught in the mess too. His bag slipped off his shoulder and hit the floor, but Est did not care.

He held them. All four of them. As much as he could. For one second, they all froze.

Then Daou made a strangled sound. “Uh. Phi?”

Offroad laughed nervously. “Are we dying? Did someone tell Phi something?”

Punch’s hand landed against Est’s back. “What happened?”

Tam, quiet as always, did not ask anything at first. He simply hugged back. That broke Est more than anything. His face twisted, and he buried it against Daou’s shoulder before they could see too clearly.

“I missed you all,” he whispered.

The hallway noise carried on around them. Students walked past, glancing curiously. Someone inside the classroom laughed. The world kept moving, unaware that Est was holding ghosts who had become real again.

Daou’s body softened.

“Phi,” he said, his voice gentler now. “We saw each other two days ago.”

Est squeezed his eyes shut. Yes. For them, it had only been two days. For him, it had been years. Years of distance. Years of silence. Years of choosing wrong.

“I know,” Est said, voice rough. “Still.”

Offroad sniffed dramatically. “This is suspicious. Phi is being affectionate. Someone check the sky. Is it falling?”

Punch, despite herself, laughed. “Maybe he finally realized we’re adorable.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tam said. “I’m dignified.”

Daou snorted. “You spilled soup on your shirt last week.”

“That was tactical.”

“Tactical soup?”

“It distracted the enemy.”

“There was no enemy,” Punch said.

Tam nodded solemnly. “Exactly. It worked.”

Est laughed. It came out shaky and wet, but it was real. His arms loosened, though he did not fully let go yet. He leaned back enough to see their faces, and the sight nearly undid him again.

Daou’s bright eyes were full of concern, hidden badly beneath humor. Punch was studying him carefully, her teasing expression softened around the edges. Tam looked calm, but one hand remained firm against Est’s shoulder. Offroad’s mouth was curved in a smile, but his brows were drawn together.

They knew him. Maybe not the future version of him. Maybe not the broken twenty-eight-year-old who had wished on a star with blood on his palm. But they knew enough. They knew when something was wrong.

Est swallowed hard and forced himself to smile. “I’m okay,” he said.

Punch’s eyebrow lifted. “That sounded fake.”

“It was,” Daou agreed.

Offroad nodded. “Very fake. Like cafeteria chicken.”

Tam tilted his head. “Do you need water?”

Est almost started crying again. That simple question. Do you need water? Not what happened, not explain yourself, not why are you being weird. Just care. Immediate and practical. The kind of kindness he had once been surrounded by and somehow still let slip through his fingers.

“No,” Est said softly. “I’m okay. Really.”

Punch crossed her arms. “You just group-hugged us in public like you were returning from war.”

Est’s smile trembled. “I had a weird morning.”

Daou leaned closer. “Define weird.”

Est hesitated. He could not exactly say, I woke up eight years in the past after wishing I never met the man who ruined my life, and now I am trying not to emotionally combust because all of you are here and still love me.

So he said, “I fainted.”

All four of them reacted at once.

“What?” Punch snapped.

“Phi!” Offroad cried.

Daou grabbed his shoulders. “When? Where? Did you hit your head?”

Tam had already pulled a water bottle from his bag. Of course, he had that tucked away. “Drink.”

Est accepted it automatically. “I’m fine,” he said after taking a sip. “I woke up near the courtyard. I think I just got dizzy.”

Offroad looked worried. “Did you eat breakfast?”

Est opened his mouth. Closed it. In this timeline? He had no idea. In his body’s memory? Maybe. In his mind’s memory? His last meal had been birthday sadness and public humiliation.

“Not much,” he admitted.

Punch pointed at him. “There. Guilty.”

Tam handed him a small packet of crackers without a word. Est looked down at it. His throat tightened again. Tam had always carried snacks. For himself, for friends, for strangers who looked faint in elevators. Est remembered making fun of him for it once, years ago, and Tam had simply said, Hunger makes people sad. I don’t like that.

Est had forgotten that. No, worse. He had remembered it only after Tam was no longer close enough to hand him crackers.

“Thank you,” Est said quietly.

Tam smiled. “Eat before class.”

Daou peered at him. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the clinic?”

“I’m sure.”

“Because if you faint dramatically, I will scream dramatically.”

Offroad raised a hand. “I’ll join.”

Punch sighed. “Neither of you is allowed near emergencies.”

“That’s discrimination against emotional people,” Daou said.

“That’s survival,” Punch replied.

Est ate one cracker, mostly to stop them from fussing. It tasted dry and plain and somehow better than anything he had eaten in years.

The classroom door opened wider as more students entered. A professor’s assistant stepped inside with a stack of papers. Around them, the hallway started thinning.

Punch glanced toward the room. “We should go in before all the decent seats are gone.”

Offroad groaned. “I lost my pen.”

Tam immediately held out one. Offroad froze, then took it with reverence. “You are my hero.”

“I know,” Tam said.

Daou slung an arm over Est’s shoulders. “Come on, Phi. We’ll protect you from dizziness, boring introductions, and anyone who asks why you look like you hugged us from another lifetime.”

Est stiffened for half a breath. Daou said it carelessly, jokingly, with no idea how close the words had landed. Another lifetime. Est looked at him. Daou’s grin remained bright, but his eyes were searching. And Est’s heart squeezed.

He had lost this. All of this. The easy touching. The teasing. The comfort of people who did not need him to be useful to love him. The warmth of a group that made space for him without asking him to earn it.

This time, he would not let go. No matter what. No matter who came into his life. No matter how charming William looked. No matter how old feelings clawed at the locked doors inside him.

Est would not abandon his friends again. He would not abandon himself again.

He let Daou guide him into the classroom. They found seats near the middle, Punch sliding in first, then Offroad, then Tam, with Daou nudging Est into the chair beside him like he was afraid Est might float away if left unattended.

“You’re all being weird,” Est murmured, though his voice held no real complaint.

Punch leaned over from the row in front. “We’re being weird? You hugged us like a tragic drama lead.”

Daou gasped. “Phi Est does have that energy today.”

Offroad turned around with the borrowed pen tucked behind his ear. “A very pretty lead.”

Tam nodded. “With fainting.”

Est covered his face with one hand. “Please stop.”

“No,” Punch said.

Daou grinned. “Never.”

For the first time since waking up in the past, Est felt something loosen in his chest. The fear was still there. The impossible truth of what had happened still sat beneath his skin, humming like a hidden wire. William was still somewhere in this building or on this campus, young and curious and already looking at Est like a question.

But here, surrounded by his friends, Est could breathe.

The professor entered a few minutes later, and the room settled slowly. Papers rustled. Chairs scraped. Someone whispered behind them and got shushed by the assistant. Est opened his notebook. His hand trembled slightly when he wrote the date at the top of the page.

The date from eight years ago. His stomach twisted, but he forced himself to keep writing. First class. Second year. New timeline.

Then he stopped. No. He crossed out the last two words. Not a new timeline. New life.

Daou leaned over, trying to peek. “What are you writing?”

Est tilted the notebook away. “Notes.”

“Class hasn’t started.”

“Pre-notes.”

“That sounds fake.”

“It is,” Est said.

Daou laughed quietly and faced forward. Est looked at the four people around him. Daou whispering something to Offroad, Punch pretending not to listen while clearly listening, and Tam arranging his pens by color because some things, apparently, were sacred across timelines.

His eyes burned again, but this time he did not cry. He looked down at his notebook and pressed his pen to the page. This time, he thought, I’ll stay.

The professor began introducing the course. Outside the window, sunlight spilled across the campus, turning the courtyard gold. Somewhere below, first-year students were probably still getting lost. Somewhere, William was beginning his own class.

No Est, don’t. Instead, Est sat with his friends. He listened. He breathed.

And when Daou quietly slid half a candy bar onto his desk halfway through the lecture, Est took it with a small smile. This, he reminded himself, was what he had come back for.

Not William. Not love. Not fate.

This.

The life he had forgotten to choose.