Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PROLOGUE

Stories say that the first time a destined pair meet, it leaves an imprint on each of their souls, marking them for eternity.

This mark will never fade even after death and reincarnation, making these two souls yearn for each other in every cycle of life they'll ever live.

Some myths speak of the tale of the red thread of fate - an invisible strand that connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance. This thread may stretch, or tangle, but it will never break.

The concept of a soul mate has already been proven centuries ago, and though not everyone is lucky enough to meet theirs in one lifetime, no one denies its existence. There are many who claim that in the exact moment they meet their soul mates, they get fragments of memories of their past lives, but never enough to tell them anything significant.

Arthit Rojnapat is an anomaly to everything that the world knows and acknowledges about soul mates.

He is 19 years old, and has already lived a hundred lifetimes.

Or at least that's what it feels like, with all the memories from his past lives jumbled up in his mind.

From fishing in the Tigris river of ancient Mesopotamia to acting in the grand Théâtre du Vaudeville in Paris, he's experienced it all.

In all those lives he believes he's lived, two things remain constant - he meets his soul mate before he turns 20, and the moment they fall in love, one of them dies within the year.

Always.

When he was a very young boy, he would often wake up in bed screaming from the nightmares of having died a hundred different times. His parents first thought that he was just suffering from an overactive imagination. However, as the years passed and all the memories become even clearer, they begin to believe their son's stories of past lives.

They took him to a witch doctor in the mountains who immediately knew what was wrong with the young boy.

His soul is cursed, and though the details remain unclear, the shaman was sure that it is connected to his soul mate. For what else in the Universe can leave such a deep mark in his soul, as to survive death and reincarnation?

Young as he was, he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

So when the memories of how exactly he died in all those lifetimes finally became clear in his mind, he didn't inform his parents.

He doesn't tell them that meeting his soul mate is the thing that triggers the curse.

He also doesn't tell them that the first one to fall in love is also the first one to die, leaving the other to wander through life as an empty shell before following its pair to the afterlife shortly afterwards.

Growing up, he tried to live as normal a life as possible, despite always being on the lookout for that familiar face, ready to run far away after a glimpse.

This caused him to appear quite aloof to most people, though there are a few who managed to look past his tough exterior and befriend the lonely soul hiding within.

Yet aside from his parents, he's never told anyone else, even the very best of his friends, about the memories.

He is now in his junior year at University, and aside from the difficult workload of his course, he also has to worry about his impending date with doom.

He is turning twenty in eight months, and his time is running out.

Standing in front of his mirror, he pushes these thoughts at the back of his head.

He has more important matters to focus on, especially today of all days.

It is the first day of SOTUS for the Faculty of Engineering, and as the head hazer of the year, he can't afford to lose control.

Destiny, and everything else, can wait.

Chapter Text

THE HANDSOME DEVIL

The chill was getting more noticeable in the air, as the last days of autumn start giving way to winter. Pretty soon, the fields will be barren under a thick blanket of snow. For now though, Athens remains golden under the dying rays of sunlight, as Apollo slowly drives his chariot across the sky.

He sits on the ground, feeling the wind breeze,  ruffling his dark locks of hair. From his position in the Hill of the Muses, he has a beautiful view of the Cecropia, the symbol of their city's superiority among all of Greece's city states.

He sees the torch lights slowly start to flicker within the Parthenon, signaling the end of worshipping hours. He relaxes further, going as far as to lay down in the grass. He has another hour to kill before he can expect Leonidas to arrive.

Without meaning to, he falls asleep, the sounds of a hundred cicadas serving as a lullaby in his ears. He dreams of his family manse in Acharnae, with its sprawling grape vineyard and acres of olive trees.

He remembers being a young boy, the eldest grandson of a retired war general and doted only child of a merchant couple. Growing up, he wanted for nothing; from the softest fabric for his chitons to the most learned masters as private tutors, his parents made sure that he had everything he would want and need.

Yet for all his life, he's only ever really wanted one thing - the companionship of the son of his father's steward.

He and Leonidas were two years apart, but the younger boy's solemn nature and maturity made it seem like they were of the same age. They met each other when the other's mother passed away, and not having any other choice, his father asked the master's permission for his son to join the household. His own mother was delighted and persuaded her husband to agree, for she grew worried about her son growing lonely with only adults for company.

The first time his eyes met the warm amber orbs of the other's, it was like the world stopped turning. Everything and everyone before that moment seized to matter, as he finally found the answer to the mystery of his own existence. From the second he grabbed the other's hand, and the younger boy sent him a painfully shy smile, they became inseparable.

When his father told him that he will be going to Athens for formal schooling, much older than the usual age, he begged and bargained for Leonidas to be allowed to go with him. His wish was finally granted, and at the age of thirteen and eleven respectively, they left behind the familiarity of home.

Six years later, he is almost done with school, while the other man still has a couple more years to go. He is already planning to ask his parents to allow him to stay in Athens longer, for he worries about leaving Leonidas behind on his own, ever since the younger man started getting offers to become an eromenos.

With his slim but athletic built, tanned golden skin, and sharp angular features, it wasn't surprising that a number of prominent citizens of the city have been interested in becoming his erastes.

He himself rejected all of these offers, since Leonidas is a member of his father's household, by extension as the heir, he holds authority over the younger man's decisions.

At first, he thought his protectiveness over the other was because of brotherly concern. It wasn't until he heard one of his classmate, Antipater, boasting about his plans to have his ways with the younger man that he realized his feelings went beyond that of brotherhood.

A week later, he decides to finally claim what was always his.

He can still vividly recall how surprised Leonidas was that day. They were walking to their house after the hour of worship in the Parthenon, he suddenly grabbed hold of the other's chiton and just planted a kiss in his mouth. It took several seconds, but eventually, the younger man melted in his arms and kissed him back.

They have been in a romantic relationship since then.

It has almost been a year, and he wants to tell his parents about it. He is sure his mother will be happy, and while his father might be concerned about the issue of continuing their family line, he is confident that he can persuade the older man to accept their relationship. After all, with their wealth, it was quite easy to find a woman who would be willing to bear his child, even without the promise of marriage.

He was suddenly yanked away from his pleasant dream by a series of sharp kicks all over his body, making him curl up into a ball. He felt a pair of rough hands dragging him up from the ground, and another hand grabbing his hair, forcing his head backwards.

He opens his eyes and meets the sharp gaze of Laius, a minor noble from Boeotia and one of the earliest man to make an offer to become Leonidas' erastes. His attention was wrenched away from the older man when he sees a struggling figure behind.

Over Laius' shoulder, he meets the terrified gaze of Leonidas. His hands were bound behind his back, his mouth was gagged, and he was being held back by one of Laius' guards.

Their eyes break contact when the rough hands holding him lets go, only to deliver a painful punch to his stomach.  He doubles over awkwardly, as he was still being held by his hair. Beyond the pain, he hears Leonidas desperately renew his struggle against his guard.

Thousands of miles and years away, Arthit Rojnapat snaps awake with a start, almost falling off his chair.

The phantom pain of a punch still lingers in his body, and he struggles to contain his grimace.

A few seats from him, Tootah and Bright exchange slightly guilty looks, as their bickering was the reason for their friend's sudden awakening.

Knot sends them both a warning glance, while Prem just continued fiddling with his camera.

Thankfully, their lecturer enters the room just a few minutes after, and they were soon immersed in the lesson.

An hour and a half later, they stagger out of their classroom, overwhelmed with all the requirements presented to them that were due for this term.

Bags in hand, they make their way to the lounge reserved for the hazing team, all the while complaining about their professors.

"How am I supposed to work my magic on all the new hot girls when I'm too busy doing school work?", whined Bright, which they all promptly ignored except for Tootah.

"Ai'Bright, you must be dreaming if you actually believe you have a chance with the girls. Better take this excuse of schoolwork to save your pride!"

The two loudmouths kept on bickering even as they all settled down in the couches, and Prem just looked on in amusement.

Meanwhile, Knot sensed something was bothering their leader, so he quietly pulled him aside to ask how he was doing.

"Ai'Arthit, are you alright? You seem tense today."

The smaller man shrugged off his concern with a tired smile and a quick assurance.

"Don't worry about me, I'm just nervous for this afternoon."

Knot looked like he doesn't entirely believe what his friend said, but lets the matter drop.

The group of 3rd year students quickly started with their homework, knowing they wouldn't have the time to do it later as they still have a debriefing scheduled after the first session of SOTUS this afternoon.

Time flew by fast, and before they knew it, a second year student was timidly calling their attention, telling them that the freshmen were already waiting in the hall.

They fixed their things, trying to calm their wildly beating hearts, before forming a circle and huddling close.

Arthit musters up enough courage to give his friends a much needed pep talk.

"This is it, guys. We go out there and show them what SOTUS is all about. Let's do for these juniors what our own seniors did for us. Let's keep the fire burning in the hearts of every student of this faculty."

Arthit wasn't much for being vocal, often finding it hard to express his feelings in words, but for this matter, he felt it was important to get his intent across loud and clear.

After that, they all fell in line, with Arthit in the middle.

As they walked outside, the other members of the third year hazing team joined them, and together, they entered the hazing hall.

All of the activities inside immediately stopped, and the noise level dropped to zero.

If Arthit wasn't feeling so nervous about what's going to happen, he would have felt amused by the looks in all of the freshmen's faces.

The hazing team went up the stage and formed a line, Arthit once again being in the middle.

They quietly observed the freshmen, even as the younger students looked at them in trepidation.

They kept silent for several long minutes, building up the anticipation, before Arthit moved forward and started talking.

"Sawasdee, first year students. My name is Arthit. I'm a third year and your senior in this Faculty of Engineering. I'm in charge of monitoring all of you throughout the next whole year to make sure that you stay disciplined and that you strictly comply with all the rules. I expect to receive full cooperation from all of you."

Even as his own confidence grew, Arthit can see that the freshmen are growing more restless as time went on.

Knot gives his congratulations to the crowd for passing the entrance exams, and that was Arthit's cue to cut in and tell the younger students that they aren't officially considered part of the Faculty yet.

Arthit sees the confusion in all of their faces at his words, so he quickly takes out his gear from his pocket, and shows it off for all to see.

He tells them the importance of cogwheels, and how the gear represents each member of the Faculty, putting emphasis on how it is a symbol of their honor and dignity as Engineering students.

He then tells them that they won't earn their own gear unless they've fully learned and understood what SOTUS really means.

Prem finally speaks up, laying down the ground rules for each freshmen gathering activity, and Arthit finishes it off by reminding them that his words and orders must be strictly followed at all times.

He feels fulfilled when the freshmen eagerly answered yes when he asked them if they understood.

Finally, it was time for them to reveal the first test for the freshmen.

Arthit asks them if they want to get to know their seniors, and they say yes.

He then informs them of their task - to introduce themselves and get the signatures of 1000 seniors from the Faculty of Engineering, all within one week.

Furious whispers broke out among the seated freshmen, as they all turned to their neighbors to either complain about the impossibility of the task, or to check if they understood the instructions correctly.

Arthit allows it to go on for a few seconds before asking them if there's a problem.

He pauses for a bit, as if recalling something, before telling them about one of the Faculty's customs.

He informs them that before they can speak, they must raise their hands, stand up, and introduce themselves.

There was a beat of silence, before a hand goes up in the crowd.

The third year hazing team exchange surprised glances, not expecting any of the freshmen to actually have the guts to speak up this early.

The freshman doesn't wait to be acknowledged before standing up, and immediately started talking.

"Student number 0062. One week is too tight. We don't think it's going to be possible."

Arthit feels the veins in his temple throb at the audacity of this freshman, so he quickly answers.

"Have you tried yet? If you can't complete this small task, will you be able to get anything done in the future?"

"Can we have at least one month?", the upstart freshman continues to ask, further angering Arthit.

"No, you can't!"

Without fail, the younger man talks back, "If it were you, would you be able to get 1000 signatures in a week?"

They can see the freshmen all break out in excited mutterings, feeling slightly more confident now that they have a hero in their midst to stand and speak up for them.

This doesn't go unnoticed by the hazing team, and they take note of the possible headache coming their way.

Arthit puts a stop to all of this by simply declaring that the freshman has no right to question him, as he already said before that his orders were absolute.

He asks the crowd if they understood, and the response he got was lacklustre, so he angrily repeated his question.

The freshmen were shaken by the head hazer's sudden burst of temper, so they had no other choice but to say that they understood.

The hazing team starts moving away, leaving behind a still terrified crowd of first years.

However, before they can fully leave the stage, Arthit turns back and points to the still standing freshman.

"You, student number 0062. You have the nerve to question my first order, yet you can't even follow the most simple instruction. What is your name?"

The entire room hold its breath, both freshmen and junior students waiting to see how this will play out.

Embarrassed by all the attention, and after being called out, the freshman refused to answer at first, instead bowing his head in submission.

Arthit, not satisfied by this, repeats his question.

"I said, 0062, what is your name?"

Without any other choice, and in a small voice, the freshman finally answers.

"Student number 0062, Phaitoon Tangtrongchit."

The head hazer does not acknowledge the answer except for one last icy glare thrown in the poor boy's way, and the whole junior team finally exits the hall, allowing the sophomore team to take over and assure the scared freshmen that everything was going to be fine.

Inside the hazing lounge, they begin the debriefing, as well as finalising plans for the future freshmen gatherings.

They finish after a couple of hours, just as the sun was setting outside.

As everyone else quickly files out of the room, Arthit and his friends remain behind.

Uncharacteristically, it was Prem who spoke first.

"That Phaitoon kid, you think he's gonna be a problem?"

They all exchange glances, thinking the question through, before Arthit finally gives his verdict.

"No, you all saw how quickly he folded once I called him out. He was just an upstart who thought he can play the part of the hero. He is nothing special. Everything proceeds as planned."

With that, the group of friends goes out of the room, intending to have dinner before going their separate ways.

A few kilometers away, inside a standard student dormitory, a young man feels an inexplicable chill run down his spine.

For some reason, his senses were telling him that he just narrowly missed something important.

Chapter Text

THE FOUR MUSKETEERS

"Ai'Aim, do you want to go to my place after this to continue playing our game?", a young man wearing thick glasses asked his seat mate, as they were both packing up their things at the end of their last class for the week.

The man in question, Aim, shoots the other guy, Oak, a horrified glance.

"Are you crazy? We're supposed to go straight to the hazing hall for the freshmen gathering! Do you want a repeat of what happened last Tuesday?"

They have been attending University for two weeks now, and likewise, have been going to the SOTUS hazing activities for that long.

Last Tuesday, when they got to the hazing hall, they noticed that a lot of their batch mates were missing.

Perhaps it had something to do with the punishment they all received the day before, after none of them even came close to getting the required 1000 signatures from the seniors.

The 3rd year hazing team, led by the Handsome Devil himself, as what some of the freshmen girls and ladyboys have taken to calling P'Arthit behind his back, were very furious with them.

They were accused of not having tried enough, even though they really did and the task itself was near impossible.

Of course, after P'Arthit scolded Pie on the first day, no one was brave enough to speak up.

As punishment, they were supposed to do sit-ups or push-ups the whole week, depending on the number of missing signatures.

Since Aim only managed to get 145 signatures, he was supposed to do 855 rounds of the punishment over the 5 days of gathering.

He was able to do 126 on that Monday, before his arms gave out on him.

The following day, it was not a big surprise that a lot of their classmates didn't attend.

They were asked by the hazing team where the missing students were, but none of the freshmen could give an answer.

So, as further punishment, aside from the sit-ups and push-ups they have left to do, they were also told to run laps around the field.

Since 54 students were missing, those that attended were punished to run 54 laps over the next 4 days.

Aim and his two friends, Oak and Tew, managed to do 12 laps before they gave up for the day.

From that day, and because attendance to the freshmen gathering was not really mandatory, more of their classmates stopped going.

Yesterday, there were 78 absences.

So far, the hazing team hasn't said anything about it, but surely, it was only a matter of time before the issue will be addressed.

"Yes, I think I'm crazy. Why else would I continue going to the gatherings with you guys if I wasn't!", was Oak's sarcastic reply as they walked out of their classroom.

"Tsssss, you all should have quit after the first week. This whole SOTUS thing is pure bullshit. It's just a bunch of assholes going on a power trip and abusing their limited authority."

They look behind them to see Wad, their class' resident rebel, shooting them an annoyed glance even as he joined their little group.

On Thursday last week, he had an argument that almost escalated to a physical brawl with one of the main hazers, P'Prem and he hasn't gone to any of the gatherings since then.

Tew, ever the diplomat, tried to maintain a positive outlook and defended their seniors.

"They aren't that bad, guys. My dormitory building houses some of them, and we get to talk sometimes. They're just really into the maintaining the customs of the Faculty. I think if we give it a chance, we can learn a lot from this experience."

They all shot Tew an incredulous look, not believing anything he's saying, except for the part about him living near the seniors.

"Ai'Tew, are they holding your pet ransom for you to spout all these nonsense?", joked Oak, even as they went inside the washrooms to change into their SOTUS shirts.

Wad, seeing that no one's going to join him in skipping the gathering, leaves them after agreeing to meet up for a basketball match during the weekend.

"Do you guys want to go out for a drink after the gathering?", Aim asks the other two as they all hurriedly walked towards the hazing hall.

"I'm meeting one of my high school friends later at a local bar nearby, just to catch up. He's from another faculty, and we haven't seen each other since graduation because his family was abroad the whole summer break."

Oak and Tew exchange surprised glances, not having expected the usually shy Aim to extend an invitation.

Both guys readily agreed, since they also think that it'll be a good opportunity to unwind and relax after this exhausting week.

They enter the hazing hall, just in time to be greeted by another furious lecture from P'Arthit about the merits of punctuality.

They all watched quietly as the last few freshmen exited the hall, shuffling like lifeless zombies, their bodies slumped in exhaustion.

The sophomore hazing team quickly cleaned up after, and within a few minutes, were also going out the door after respectfully saying their goodbyes.

It was just the junior hazing team left, and normally, they would hold a debriefing as well as discuss the plans for the following week.

They looked to the head hazer, all of them standing at attention, waiting for his orders.

Arthit looked lost in his thoughts and didn't seem to realize that everyone else has left.

Knot subtly called his attention by gently tapping him at his back, near the base of his spine.

The smaller man blinked rapidly, as if clearing his eyes of a fog that only he can see.

He doesn't show any other reaction, instead taking a slow look around the hall, before turning to address them all.

"We won't have a debriefing tonight. Let's do it tomorrow afternoon, instead. I need one of you to tell Yacht that the second years will be joining us."

Someone says he'll be the one to do it, since he lives in the same building as the second year hazer.

Arthit nods in acknowledgement, before dismissing everyone for the night.

Before long, it was just him and his friends left.

"What should we do tonight, then?", asked Tootah, already thinking of something fun for them to do.

Oh, I know! A local bar just opened nearby, I'm sure they'll be offering discounts! Let's go there!", was Bright's enthusiastic reply.

The other guys mulled over the suggestion, mentally checking if they have anything else planned for tomorrow aside from the meeting, before everyone agreed.

Everyone, except Arthit.

"You guys go ahead, I'm just going back to the dorm. I have a killer headache that I need to sleep off."

Tootah and Bright seemed to be on the verge of complaining, before they were signalled by Knot to drop the issue.

They all looked at each other awkwardly, not knowing if they should still push through with the plan.

To everyone's surprise, Prem broke the silence, "Ai'Arthit, you should come. You're too tense lately. You're having a headache because you take the whole head hazer business too seriously!"

Arthit shoots him a frustrated glance, before answering.

"You think I'm too tense? Gee, I wonder why. Don't think your little stunt against that freshman hasn't reached the board, Prem. We're in hot water because of that!"

The taller man huffs in annoyance, popping his knuckles, as if in remembrance of the fight.

"That punk deserved a beating! You're being too soft on these freshmen, that's why they think it's okay to mouth off."

"Too soft? The attendance is down to 2/3 of the batch, and you think I'm being too soft?"

Before the fight can go further, Knot decides to physically put himself in the middle of the two arguing men, trying to pacify the situation.

"Stop it, you two. We shouldn't fight amongst ourselves. We're in this together, remember? We're the musketeers, one for all, all for one, right?"

Bright immediately voiced his agreement, trying to break the tension of the moment.

"Of course, we are! As long as we're in agreement that I'm obviously D'Artagnan."

Tootah rolls his eyes at Bright's claim, but keeps silent, for once not jumping into a squabble with the other man.

Knot nods at both guys thankfully, acknowledging their support.

Prem and Arthit still look at each other warily, as if waiting for the other to start again.

Fortunately, neither of them does, so silence once again permeated the group before Bright spoke again.

"Seriously though, you should come with us Ai'Arthit. It'll be fun! We might even see some of the freshmen there. Then you can lecture them about getting their priorities straight or something!"

Knott facepalms at Bright's attempt to cajole the smaller man, while Tootah and Prem both wonder at their friend's obliviousness.

Meanwhile, Arthit just shakes his head, again declining the invitation.

"Thank you, guys, really. But I'm good. I'll see you all tomorrow, don't be late!"

With that, the head hazer quickly leaves the room, not giving his friends any other chance to persuade him to go with them.

The four friends looked at each other, all their faces wearing identical worried frowns.

Naturally, it was Knot who said what they were all thinking about.

"Something's wrong with Arthit. Something aside from the stress of being the head hazer. Has he mentioned anything to any of you lately?"

Shaking his head, Tootah answered, "Ai'Knot, you know you're the one he usually goes to for the serious stuff. If you don't know anything, then we don't know anything too."

"Don't look at me, I don't know anything either!", interjects Prem.

They all turned to Bright, who had a peculiar look in his face.

Knot calls his name, asking him if he knows something.

The other man shrugs helplessly, but answers anyway.

"I'm not sure if it means anything, but before the first day of classes, I was in Arthit's room. I was waiting for him to come out of the bathroom and I heard him talking to himself, because the door was open a bit."

They all moved a little closer to Bright, wanting to hear what he has to say next.

"He kept on saying 'don't think about it, it's not real anymore'. I asked him about it, but he said it was nothing, so I didn't think about it anymore."

They looked at each other helplessly, clueless on how to interpret Bright's story.

They tried to think of what Arthit could possibly mean by "it" not being real anymore, but each of them come up empty.

Feeling frustrated, Prem tells them all they are getting nowhere, speculating like this.

"Do you think we should investigate, then?", asked Tootah, intrigued about the possibility of playing detective.

"Or you know, we can just ask him. It seems safer that way...", Bright suggests, not wanting to get in Arthit's infamous bad side.

The three of them turn to Knot, all in agreement that he was often the voice of reason.

The bigger man sighs before answering.

"For now, let's just wait and observe. I don't really want to invade Arthit's privacy, no matter how worried I am. Besides, knowing him, if it gets too much, he'll talk eventually."

They all agree that it's the most logical solution.

Not feeling up to going out for a drink anymore, they just decided to go have dinner together, before going back to their dormitories.

They moved out of the hazing all, each of them with a worried thought about their friend.

He awakens into consciousness with a painful gasp, after a particularly hard punch to the face. His arms feel like dead weight, as they hang limply from the ceiling.

His chiton, once a pristine white, now resembled bloodied rags, torn into pieces where his assailants mercilessly kicked him.

He is given a little reprieve when the guard at the door calls out to his torturer.

"Make sure he doesn't fall unconscious again. The master wants him awake for the next part."

He begins to feel dread at what he hears. What else can they possibly do that is worse than this?

Suddenly, the image of a struggling Leonidas flashed in his mind. Where was he? Where did they take him?

He begins to thrash in his bonds, immediately getting the attention of the two other men.

T hey jeer at him, calling out insults and abuses, but he pays them no mind. All of his concentration was focused on the rope holding him hostage in place.

Eventually, his tormentors decide that the verbal attacks weren't enough. They approach him, each man carrying his own leather whip.

The bigger man, the one at the door, leers at him while the other, his constant companion the past two days, spoke up.

"Imagine my surprise, when I found out that a little lordling like you bleeds the same color of blood as me. Hah! You think you're so great, pampered in your little palace, every whim catered to by your rich father. In the end, boy, you're just like all of us."

He doesn't know how many times the whips touch him, he's lost count by the time the lashes broke his skin.

He tried holding in his shouts, but in the end, he couldn't stop the pained whimpers from escaping.

It could have been an hour or an eternity, he doesn't know, but the attack finally, blessedly stops.

He tried catching his breath to no avail, still partially suspended in the air by his rope bonds. He sees the door opening, his torturers stepping away from him.

He looks up, and feels the remaining air escape his lungs.

Being carelessly dragged by the hair was the bruised and bloodied form of his beloved Leonidas, the limp body thrown carelessly at his own feet.

He hears an inhuman noise, belatedly realizing it was his own desperate shout, but his poor lover doesn't stir.

He renews his struggle against the bond, wanting, needing to touch the other man, and take him in his arms, but the rope wouldn't give.

Helplessly, he keeps on calling out Leonidas' name, but the other boy remained still.

"It won't work, no matter how hard you try. He's already gone, his soul left the moment I entered his body."

He looks up, and sees the blank face of Laius staring at him. It took a moment before he understood what the other man said.

He chokes on his own tongue as his struggles intensified. He was like a deranged, savage beast, howling in anger and baying for blood.

Yet no matter how hard he yanked at his bonds, the skin of his wrists chaffing and breaking, everything still remained out of his reach.

The three other conscious men just continued to watch him, content to let him tire himself out.

F inally, feeling all the fight leave him, he asks just one question; his voice nothing more but a hoarse whisper.

"What did my Leonidas ever do to you?"

Laius remains silent for a moment, before the wretched man crouched down, gently touching the unmoving head in a parody of a caress.

"Leonidas? He didn't do anything. He was perfectly delightful even. So it is such a shame, believe me."

"Then why? Why did you do this to him?"

The older man stood up, and walked towards him.

Had he any fire left within him, he would have attempted an attack.

"I did this because of you, Phaidros."

He felt the bile rise violently up his throat, and the world swims around him, as his vision threatens to black out. Y et, he still hears the rest of what Laius has to say.

"You thought yourself above me, denying my request. This is a lesson for you, boy. It's just unfortunate that Leonidas had to pay the price. A pity really, so much wasted potential."

Even before the guard brought down the sword, he already knew what was going to happen.

Still, he didn't look away from that beautiful face, his Leonidas deserved that much.

When the deed was done, they cut his own bond, and he fell boneless to the floor besides the lifeless body of his beloved. 

He feels numb, all signs of life leaving him. He gently brushes the hair off the other's forehead, before mindlessly dropping a kiss on his brows.

He looks up, blankly staring straight at Laius' eyes, and says, "kill me too".

The man shakes his head and walks towards the door, taking the guards with him. Right before he completely leaves the dungeon, the other man looks back.

"Now, where would be the lesson in that?"

Chapter Text

THE PINK MILK MONSTER

He moves mechanically, putting one foot in front of the other, repeating the process without thought, his mind completely focused on taking flight as to spare him from the horror of remembering.

The ache in his bones did not stop him from moving, the scalding pain as the torn flesh of his feet meet the rough edges of the dirt road did not register, the numbness from the chill as he walked with only a tattered chiton in the cold Autumn evening did not matter.

All he cared about was putting distance between himself and that cursed place.

The blessed quiet in both his mind and the actual surrounding was suddenly shattered by loud voices demanding for him to halt in his tracks. Without meaning to, he unconsciously tightened his hold around the burden he was carrying.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

He looked at the pair of guards standing in his way, their spears held in front of them, and alert eyes cataloguing his injuries before landing on the wrapped body in his arms. There is stilted silence, as he chose not to answer them.

"We asked you, stranger, who are you and what is your business here in Athens?"

He looks at them blankly for a few heartbeats, unwilling to open his mouth to answer their query. This was not appreciated by the guards and they raised their spears threateningly.

"If you refuse to talk, we will be forced to take you captive to present to our Captain. Lower that body to the ground and come with us peacefully, no harm will come to you."

The other guard made a move to go near him, and he almost dropped his precious cargo in his haste to move back. This caused both guards to be more alert, now pointing the spear in his direction.

"This is your last chance. Who are you and what is your purpose in the city?"

Feeling as though he was choking on sand, he forced himself to speak, if only to ensure that they won't think of asking him to let go of what was in his arms.

"Phaidros. I am Phaidros of Acharnae, and I have need of your assistance. Send word to General Anteros - tell him his grandson has been aggrieved and is baying for vengeance."

"Have you heard? It's all over the school forum!"

"Hah! I hope the Dean cracks down on them soon, I can't stand the torture any longer!"

"I told you ages ago, we should stop going to the gatherings, it's really pointless anyway."

The cafeteria was abuzz with the latest gossip posted on the ever reliable University Forum. Apparently, one freshman living in the dormitory populated by a lot of the third year students heard that the Engineering Hazing team was in hot water with the school's Board of Governors.

Rumor has it that some parents are demanding for the University to put a stop to the SOTUS system, as it is nothing more than an antiquated ritual from the past that no longer has a place in today's society.

Tew kept his head down while going about with ordering his food, before speed walking towards the table at the far end of the cafeteria where he can already see his friends settling down.

He hurriedly squeezed himself in between Aim and Wad, and shot a murderous glare at the oblivious Oak seated across the table. The bespectacled young man looked back at him in confusion, before reaching out to steal a piece of nori from Wad’s tray.

“What? Why are you looking at me like I murdered your beloved pomeranian?”

The usually silent Wad snorted in response, hitting the wandering hand and shifting his tray away from the other. Aim looks around them nervously, eyes shifting uneasily and seemingly wanting to hide under the table at the slightest hint of trouble.

“Leave Bumbum out of this and stop acting like you don’t know! I told you it was supposed to be a secret, Ai’Oak! And what did you do? You posted it in the damn forum!”

Tew didn’t know what he wanted to do more - strangle his friend’s scrawny neck or dig himself a hole to die in. Either way, homicide or suicide looks like a better option that the fate that awaits him once P’Knot figures out it was him who let the news out. The punishment from P’Arthit is something he cannot even bear to think about.

Oak, the rascal, had the audacity to look offended and tried to defend himself, “I didn’t post it, ok? I might have just accidentally let it slip to Yang, who told Yin. It wasn’t my fault Blue heard the twins and decided to tell Ten, who then posted it in the forum!”

Aim made a low, wailing noise at the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like the cry of a dying whale. Wad shook his head and looked at their exchange in amusement. Tew dropped all pretense of being in control and just clutched his head, wanting to tear all his hair out.

“When the Hazers come, and you can be sure that they can sniff out the truth from miles away, you can tell them yourself that it was your big mouth that led to all of this trouble.”

Oak’s eyes went comically wide, looking like they were about to pop out of his face, as he finally realized the consequence of his blabbering. He gulped audibly and reached for Tew’s arms.

“Ai’Tew, you have to protect me. P ’Arthit will murder me dead!”

Tew shrugged off his friend’s hands in annoyance, and was about to respond when another figure suddenly joined their table and asked, “Have you guys heard the news?”

Turning to the newcomer, Tew forced a smile in his face and politely answered Pie, “I think everyone’s saw the posts in the forum already”.

Pie, their fellow freshman and the sometimes heralded hero of their batch for having stood up to the Devil himself – never mind the fact that he actually surrendered quickly, shook his head frantically, “No man, I’m talking about the 4^th year hazing team joining the gathering this afternoon!”

The four friends exchanged surprised looks, not having heard this little tidbit before. Aim clears his throat and shyly opens his mouth to ask, “Where did you hear about that, Pie?”

“You know how Maprang likes to follow the Devil around, right?”, Pie asked them, voice pitching oddly high when he mentioned P’Arthit’s alias – he must still be nervous about their encounter weeks ago – and waited for them to nod before continuing. 

“Well, she saw him this morning with last year’s head hazer, and she overheard P’Deer saying that he’ll see P’Arthit later at the gathering, and to prepare himself.”

Wad surprised them all by speaking up, “Hn, should be interesting, it almost makes me want to go to the gathering today.”

They didn’t really have anything else to say about it, so they just quickly finished their meal before heading back to class, each of them either anticipating or dreading what was to come.

“Ai’Oon, are you sure about this?”

He snapped back to reality after hearing his nickname fall from his normally stoic friend’s mouth. He was feeling out of sorts lately, from a combination of many factors competing for his mind’s complete attention.

Part of it is because of how completely he was failing in his head hazer duty, the Board of Governors cracking on them and deeming their punishments too harsh for this generation of freshmen. He wanted to shake his head in disbelief – not even three years ago, he was suffering even harder tasks without any complaint.

He never should have listened to P’Tum and agreed to take this position. It has brought him nothing but headaches, which certainly doesn’t help the almost nightly dreams he’s been having lately.

And really, it all boils down to it in the end – the dreams.

When he started having them as a child, he felt like he was going crazy. Seeing yourself living countless lives, and having the experience of dying numerous deaths, it was a wonder he wasn’t institutionalized by age 12.

He had a plan though, one he made right after he realized the cause of all his deaths.

He knew the key to the curse was his soul mate, or rather, falling in love with his soul mate is the fire that lights the matchstick of his life’s burning candle.

So really, all he needed to do was to avoid meeting him.

Part of the plan was to maintain a low profile throughout his University years, or at least until he turns twenty and breaks the pattern of his past incarnations.

It was going along pretty well, if he were to say so himself, despite the almost slip up that happened a few months ago.

It was a good thing he could recognize that side profile anywhere in the world - and that gave him the chance to turn tails and run.

However, all this mess with the hazing team is rising his notoriety and he is quickly gaining a reputation even outside the Engineering faculty – which goes against the whole plan of being low profile.

He sighs in annoyance – if he were any less stubborn, he would have readily and happily given up the position to Knot and went back to relative obscurity.

But he promised P’Tum, and he’s never been one to break a promise – not in this life, the previous ones, or even, as he suspects, the next.

So, he has no choice but to bear the consequence of his choice.

He has no problem doing what P’Deer suggested, the physical punishments he will be doing are nothing but mere inconvenience. What is bothering him the most is the fact that it will certainly make the rounds in the University Forum afterwards, and he has no idea how it will affect his plan for anonymity after SOTUS season.

“Ai’Oon, seriously, you don’t have to do the last part on your own, we can divide it amongst ourselves!”

Arthit can’t help but feel the warmth slowly spreading his being when he sees his other friends nod in agreement to Tootah’s proposal – even Bright who absolutely hates doing any type of exercise other than the horizontal tango.

He smiles at them ruefully, shakes his head and says, “Thanks guys, but I’m sure of it. We can make a lesson out of this for the freshies –a leader takes accountability and responsibility for his own actions.”

“ And what of the lesson about unity, that there is no I in team, and that we are stronger together?”

He turns to Prem in surprise, and they lock eyes. The two most stubborn people in their group, neither one of them willing to back out.

Predictably, it was Knot who once again steps in before an argument can break out, “Children, one lesson at a time, yes?”

Arthit forces himself to relax and nods his head towards Prem, a silent acknowledgement and gratitude, knowing what the other really wanted to say but couldn’t.

Deer enters the room then, followed by his own hazing circle, and Arthit immediately stands in attention.

The older man approaches him, and to his surprise, gives him a quick hug.

“I’m proud of you, N’Arthit, never forget that. I can’t wait to tell P’Tum about this, even though he will probably hang me for harming his obedient Ai’Oon.”

He tries to suppress a blush as Bright and Tootah snickers loudly in the background. The memory of him diligently waiing to a tree for hours will never stop being funny to those two.

He can hear them stage whispering to each other.

“Handsome Devil my ass! If only they knew how much of a softie our Ai’Oon is!"

"Yah! They’ll call him Pink Milk Monster instead!”

One of these days, he will really be committing multiple homicide.

The time for the gathering arrived, and with one final nod to the others, Arthit took a deep breath and led the way to the hazing hall.

Everything passed by like a blur, the third year hazers having been briefed earlier on what P’Deer will be asking them to do did all the punishments without complaints.

They can see the amusement, and vindication, in the eyes of most of the freshmen when they figured out that the evil hazers are now being punished the same way they were.

Yet the sparkle of delight slowly but surely transformed into confused questioning as the punishments wore on, finally becoming grudging and shamed respect when the third years finished all the exercises without a word of protest.

In as much as this exercise was a way to appease the Board of Governors, it was also very specifically designed to teach the freshmen the much needed lessons of perseverance and fortitude

That is why it is very important that Arthit does not falter in the next part, the last punishment that, as head hazer, he will be undertaking on his own.

Unbidden, a voice from one of his past comes to the forefront of his mind.

“A good commander does not lead from the back. Prince Grian, a king must always be ready to do what he asks his men to do. Only then will he be truly respected.”

Arthit waits for the signal from P’Deer, and when the older man gives the cue, he steps forward and looks straight to the back of the hall, not having direct eye contact with anyone when he makes his announcement.

“Thank you for the lesson today, P’Deer. With your permission, I will be doing the last part on my own.”

The older man gives him one last questioning glance, and he gives a subtle nod of affirmation.

He can see his friends trying hard to maintain their blank expressions, even as the freshmen loudly exchanged questions after seeing the sophomore hazers’ horrified looks.

They deliberately did not inform the second years about this part, deciding to make it a test to see which among them has the potential to be the next head hazer.

With a final nod to P’Deer, Arthit briskly walks out of the hall and proceeds to go to the University oval to start his 54 laps.