Chapter Text
Really, it was only a matter of time before Theseus inadvertently discovered a new way to make a fool of himself. He’d found quite a few in his fifty-six years on this planet. Leave it to the bull himself to be the cause of another.
He first caught a glimpse of the minotaur (doing squats with perfect form!) was through the gym mirror. Theseus ought to have left him alone, and typically when he saw bull-men he did. It wasn’t so unusual of a sight; lots of minotaurs lived around here these days, and plenty of them enjoyed developing their naturally massive bodies even more.
But the moment he caught a glimpse of this particular minotaur, Theseus was struck by a sudden sense of familiarity.
It couldn’t be— why would it be— but no, it must be! He knew this minotaur! And he simply had to speak with him!
(And besides, the squat form was very impressive. If things got awkward, Theseus could just complement him and quickly dismiss himself.)
“Excuse me!” Theseus said, tapping the minotaur on his shoulder in between sets. (As impulsive as he was, Theseus would not disrupt the sacred squat!) “Have we met before?”
The minotaur took a quick glance at him and snorted, in the way that minotaurs were wont to do. “No,” he said, and turned back to his barbell.
Seeing his face made Theseus sure of it: yes, this was unmistakably his longtime rival. “I do know you!” he insisted. “You must be the bull himself!”
That gave the minotaur pause, and he studied Theseus for a long moment. Theseus gulped, suddenly feeling oddly vulnerable. It wasn’t fear—theirs hadn’t been that sort of rivalry—but still there was an electricity in his gaze that made Theseus’ stomach do a flip.
“I am,” the minotaur said. “And you are... Theseus. The king. From high school.”
“That I am!” Theseus replied, grinning widely at the use of his old nickname. “It’s a surprise to see you here, but certainly a welcome one!”
“You remember me. But not my name.”
“That simply isn’t the case! I apologize for the oversight, my dear—” and here Theseus stumbled for just a moment, in a way he hoped wasn’t too obvious— “Asterius! It was Asterius, right?”
Asterius snorted in a way that Theseus felt at least moderately confident he could interpret as affirmation. He’d never really called Asterius by his real name before, but he supposed that at their ages they ought to talk to each other like adults. Still... Theseus liked the way Asterius’ nickname sounded, just as he was quite fond of being called a king himself.
The nicknames weren’t ones they’d come up with for each other, though. Asterius had already been called bull thanks to his size and his relentless techniques. (The cow’s head was a secondary reason.) Whispers of his ability filled the locker room at Theseus’ very prestigious high school from the very day he joined the wrestling team: you like to brag, new kid, and you think you’re gonna rise up the ranks and be the team’s star, but the other guys, our rival school? Good luck facing their new kid.
Looked like an animal and acted like one too. Minotaurs were known for their strength and athleticism, and Theseus knew that it was inevitable that he’d face one at some point. The rumors about Asterius didn’t phase him, even when he heard more details in the disjointed way that one does about students from other schools. He wore old clothes, his only friend was his sister, he brought weird lunches.
(“It’s human meat,” Pirithous whispered to him in the school weight room once.
“It’s not.”
“It is! I heard it straight from Ariadne.”
“Since when does his sister talk to you?”
Pirithous shook his head. “Guess we can’t all be popular with girls!”
Theseus, who was plenty popular with girls, thank you, tried very hard from that moment not to imagine a cow eating a human’s flesh.)
The sound of Asterius’ voice brought Theseus back to the present. “A surprise to see you indeed,” he said. “Though not a surprise to see that you’re still in the gym. Have a good day.”
Theseus wasn’t sure what to make of that.. Was that it? If Asterius didn’t look back on his high school days with the same fondness as Theseus, the two men had nothing in common any longer.
For his part, Theseus could still recall every last detail of their first and last time in the ring: the match, his eventual victory, and the cheers and praise that had come with it for the rest of the school year.
Defeated, but simply incapable of giving up, he took one last shot. “Bull! Do you recall our match? It was the district championship!”
Asterius snorted. “I remember. You were very good. And I hadn’t had breakfast.”
Very good was putting it mildly, if you asked Theseus, but it was a start. He’d been outstanding! Magnanimous! And positively radiant! But... he would accept “very good”. Asterius had never seemed the type to lavish anyone with praise.
“We should do it again, and soon! Imagine it: a rematch years later, after we’ve both had years to train. The whole gym can watch as our skin glistens with sweat, our bodies tremble with stress, and our hearts sing with the love of the challenge!”
“Oh, I stopped wrestling after college,” Asterius shrugged. “This is a powerlifting gym. They don’t have the right sort of space for it anyway.”
“I know this is a powerlifting gym! And I, uh, also haven’t been the most focused on wrestling!” He had been training still, it just happened to be focused on what got him the most online engagement. “But none of that matters, not when a man sees his rival again after years of absence!”
Asterius blinked. “I didn’t know we were rivals, you should have told me.”
“Ugh!”
“Also, I’m in the middle of my routine. Which I would like to return to.”
“UGH!”
“Have a nice workout.”
Have a nice workout. The very nerve!
His history with Asterius had been a long, sordid tale. Or at least it had been to Theseus! They’d been the top members of their respective high school wrestling teams, and though they’d only had one true match against one another, it was one to remember.
From the very day he’d learned that his rival was to be a bull-man, Theseus trained each morning and evening to strengthen both his body and his spirit, and even studied the techniques of celebrated minotaur athletes to learn something, anything, about proper techniques to defeat them in single-minded combat.
Theseus’ father was a celebrated politician, a controversial figure perhaps but the people of their city by and large loved him. A philanthropist known for his lush fundraising galas and his progressive policies, his reputation hung over Theseus’ head and followed him wherever he went. Theseus was used to being recognized, and his experience upon entering high school had been no exception: immediately, he gained friends, enemies, hangers-on, and had about a half dozen potential dates within a week of attending classes.
So the shock when he encountered Asterius in the ring was not because of the minotaur’s appearance (it was as expected) or his strength (though his reputation was not an exaggeration). No, Theseus was shocked that Asterius simply did not care who Theseus was, or what sort of reputation he had. In fact, Asterius didn’t seem to know who he was at all.
Theseus could still remember it like it was yesterday: sweat dripping from his brow from the harsh lights even before the match began. Seeing the bull himself preparing, and knowing that he was in for the fight of his life. Adrenaline surged through Theseus’ body and he heard the sound of blood pumping in his ears, and the pure, unabridged excitement of his victory was like nothing he felt before... or since.
You beat the bull! I knew you had it in you!
In the moment it had seemed like his life’s climax, though he’d laughed off that thought. Of course there would be better things. And there were! But there were also much worse things, and his defeats and humiliations were far easier to remember these days. In his darkest times Theseus thought of this moment, when he was on top of the world, his life still stretching out ahead of him.
As for Asterius, Theseus hadn’t seen him since. Try as he might to find a reason to face him again, or even an excuse to orchestrate a chance encounter outside of the ring, Theseus could never quite find the courage to take that final step. Asterius remained a precious memory, and nothing else.
And after their faithful meeting so many years later, he was finally forced to confront the fact that perhaps none of those feelings had ever been mutual. Now, he couldn’t even capture Asterius’ interest long enough to have a real conversation.
The sun was shining through his window and his alarm had already gone off, but Theseus could only stare at the ceiling.
The wise thing to do would be to acknowledge that they’d both grown up since they were teenagers and conclude that Asterius’ curt answers had been a sign that he didn’t wish to speak with him.
Theseus had never been known to be particularly wise.
He’d first encountered Asterius about a week ago, and hadn’t seen him again. After asking around, he had managed to gather some intel—not very hard, since Theseus was on friendly terms with most of the other gym patrons (though there were a few who pointedly avoided him at all costs). He learned that Asterius only lifted here a few days a week, which explained how their paths hadn’t crossed earlier, and he primarily visited a local strongman gym. That seemed like it would suit him: flipping tires and lifting barrels seemed natural for a bull-man, and it was easy to imagine that Asterius would be quite good at it.
He also learned that Asterius was single and as far as anyone could tell had never been married, which was… intriguing. Given Theseus’ own multiple divorces that made for one more thing that they didn’t have in common, but it was good to know that he wasn’t going home to some stranger to complain about Theseus. (Yes, surely that was the only reason that Theseus cared about this at all.)
Other than that, there didn’t seem to be much to learn. Asterius was quiet and always seemed to have a laser-like focus on his workouts, so much so that most people were afraid to approach him, even to see if he was using a particular piece of equipment or to ask him for a spot. It seemed like Theseus may have been the only one who dared—which was silly, he told them all. Asterius was large, but there was nothing to be afraid of. Lots of people were minotaurs! What was all of the fuss about?
And so, armed with what little new knowledge he had, Theseus became all the more determined to rekindle… something. It didn’t have to be a rivalry, really. Just something. Anything. Maybe it was pathetic to cling onto his high school glories, but they were all that he had.
Theseus groaned as he rolled out of bed, cursing his joints. He kept them as healthy as he possibly could, but even stretching and fish oil capsules could only go so far at his age.
Ugh. “His age”. As soon as he gave in to talking like that, it would mean he was old. No, thank you.
As he had for the past half-decade, Theseus plodded through his empty apartment to his cold kitchen, flipping the switch on the coffee pot and sitting down to a silent room. He hadn’t had the heart to find a roommate, let alone anything more than that, since Phaedra left him, and left both his heart and his home barren.
(Deep down, he knew most of the failings of that relationship had been his fault. Not that he’d ever admit that to her face.)
Maybe he didn’t need a rival, but rather a friend.
The coffee bubbled away and Theseus impatiently poured himself half of a cup before the rest was done.
But just like he’d learned that love and hate were like two sides of the same coin, so too had Theseus long suspected that rivalry was nothing but the most passionate of friendships. If only he could make the bull understand!