Less than a month into third year, Thanatos is swamped. His life is lectures, labs, and libraries. He lunches while studying and dozes while commuting, and the most he sees of the outdoors is rushing across campus and waiting for the bus. Even the potato pizza at Pie R Squared is starting to taste good.
Today, though, Zagreus is hosting an impromptu picnic. In the half hour after the end of his class, Zagreus has gone off campus for food and come back and re-parked his car. By the time Thanatos leaves his class, Main Mall is teeming with like-minded students lounging on the lawn, enjoying the last hurrah of summer. The air is balmy, nary a breeze, and the verdure canopy above mottles commons and commoners with sunlight and shade.
The canopy hiding tiny dangling inchworms.
Zagreus is up on his knees, black denim buried in grass, humming to himself as he unpacks flat plastic takeout boxes and arrays them on the lawn. There’s yakisoba, a couple sushi rolls, sashimi, and chicken karaage — all perfect landing sites for a miniature worm.
“What if a worm falls into our food,” Thanatos asks. His hand hovers over his watermelon juice, attempting to shield its cover and its straw.
“It’s fine,” Zagreus says, concentration still on takeout lids. “They only hang from the low branches over the sidewalks. And they only appear once it gets rainier in October.”
“I walked into one last week,” Thanatos insists. He eyes the tall trees around them. He doesn’t dare look straight up, because tiny pendent worms.
Zagreus laughs with the hubris of someone who barely walks between classes. His classes this term are confined to two blocks nowhere near any tree-lined boulevards. “C’mon, it’s not that bad,” Zagreus says. “Think of it as extra protein!”
“Extra pro—”
Zagreus leans forward and plops a piece of karaage on top of Thanatos’ yakisoba. “C’mon,” he says, rocking back onto his toes. “Eat.”
Thanatos lets out a put-upon sigh and raises a few strands of noodles with his chopsticks to his mouth. It’s as good as he remembers. He forgoes the pretence and digs into the yakisoba in earnest.
A few bites of food in, Thanatos notices Zagreus daydreaming, his food and drink untouched. He reaches forward and nudges a box of sushi. Zagreus smiles, a sheepish tilt of his mouth, and reaches for a soy sauce packet and some wasabi.
“How’s your week been?” Zagreus asks.
Thanatos lowers his yakisoba and gives Zagreus a look of dead-eyed despair. “I live in the lab now.”
“Um.” A piece of dynamite roll pauses halfway to Zagreus’ mouth. “That’s what you wanted to do right? Lab research?” He sounds confused, somewhere between supportive boyfriend and sympathetic commiserator.
“Yes, that’s still what I want to do,” Thanatos says. “I’m just complaining.” He pauses to drink his watermelon juice. “I didn’t think through being stuck in a windowless lab seven hours a week with third years who are still smashing pipettes. That guy’s pre-med. I can only hope he doesn’t go into surgery.”
“You’re technically pre-med,” Zagreus points out. “You took the MCAT last month!”
Thanatos spears a piece of karaage. “Please don’t remind me until I get my score.”
Zagreus snorts. “If you say so,” he says. He dunks a slice of sashimi in his soy-wasabi sauce.
“You’re the one getting a degree because your dad wanted you to, don’t throw any stones,” Thanatos replies. He borrows Zagreus’ malt milk tea for an experimental sip. “This isn’t bad.”
A corner of Zagreus’ lip tilts up. He leans in as he lowers his head, his eyes on Thanatos through a veil of lashes. His mouth closes around the straw. Thanatos doesn’t even notice when he frees the cup from Thanatos’ grasp.
“It tastes even better now,” a smug Zagreus says.
Thanatos covers the thump of his heart with a roll of his eyes. “Just for that, I’m having the rest of the karaage.”
Thanatos has already finished most of his yakisoba, and it’s quick work before the karaage is gone too. Zagreus chats about his classes, interspersing sentences with bites of sushi and drinks of tea. Before long, his empty containers join Thanatos’, and with a dramatic stretch he flops onto the grass. He wriggles like a starfish until his head is settled in Thanatos’ lap.
“Really?” Thanatos says. His hand strays, finding a few loose strands of Zagreus’ hair, black and a golden caramel at the fringes where the sun finds it. His gaze follows the curve of Zagreus’ features, to where a collarbone dips into a white Stüssy t-shirt. “You got a tan,” Thanatos says.
Zagreus brings up a bare arm to study it. “I guess so.” Light and shadow catch his hand as he turns it. “It’s what I get for being in Chengdu in August.”
Thanatos brushes a tuft of hair down. “I thought you said you stayed indoors where there was A/C?”
Zagreus sinks further into Thanatos’ lap. “I had to go golfing with my dad’s business partners,” he says. His expression conveys how much he disliked it, and Thanatos wonders if it was part of the fight he had with his dad. Still, despite any hours spent in the Sichuan sun, Zagreus’ complexion is pale beside Thanatos’ arms.
“Did you go outside at all this summer?” Zagreus asks, tilting his head into Thanatos’ thigh. “After you finished with the MCAT?”
“Once,” Thanatos says. “Hector had to drag me out.”
Zagreus’ eyes crinkle, his cheeks catching the sunlight. “Then I’m glad I got you out today.” A beat. “Despite the worms.”
They’d met in ENGL 112 in first year. Thanatos, who had yet to learn to schedule his courses using a map, had been sprinting late from another class. He’d tried to slip in, but the classroom only had thirty-odd students and a single door at the front. He had slunk along the wall to the closest open seat, behind a boy in a loud hoodie that he’d immediately pegged as a rich kid with a sports car.
Thanatos hadn’t exactly been wrong.
“I hate group presentations,” Zagreus declares. He’s sprawled over one of Pearl Fever’s dining chairs, wearing a different loud hoodie and idly stabbing floating taro chunks with a straw. “It’s the absolute worst part of being in Sauder.”
Thanatos takes a sip of his blueberry green tea. “I thought that was when you have to wear suits,” he says, tone bland. He knows, thanks to Zagreus’ complaints, that as a business school Sauder has business attire nights. “Even though you wore a Saints uniform with a blazer for six years,” Thanatos adds.
Zagreus makes a face. “I’ve erased that from my memory and it didn’t happen.” Zagreus might like to pretend he never attended private school, yet he’s the one wearing an Off-White hoodie here on campus. “At least with suits I look good,” he continues. “Group presentations though? I have to make sure no one else looks bad.”
Thanatos hums into his straw. “That sucks.”
“I’m not supposed to be the person propping this group up,” Zagreus laments. He pushes his drink away, and thuds his head into his arms into the table. “Ugh.”
Thanatos taps the doodle-decorated film covering his cup. “Think of it this way. It’s good practice for being a CEO.”
Zagreus pushes himself back up. “Group presentations?” he scoffs. “No. All I’m going to do is dictate and golf.” For a moment, Thanatos sees it, in his crisp voice and imperious posture. Then Zagreus is fiddling with his drink again.
A few more revolutions of his taro-tilt-a-whirl later, Zagreus pauses and looks up. “You said you were looking at grad schools,” he says. “Isn’t it a bit early?”
Thanatos stares. “Application deadlines are in exactly one year. I’ll need recommendation letters and preferably a lab by then. And if I’m in a lab, it’ll influence which profs will want to supervise me.”
Zagreus waves his hand to the red and black walls around them. “What about here?”
Thanatos sighs into his straw. “If only.”
“Your TA is part of your dream lab, right? You could network?”
“Athena is the least likely person to stand for networking I’ve ever met,” Thanatos says. “I’m more likely to go to Saskatchewan.”
“I draw the line at visiting Saskatchewan,” Zagreus says. It sounds like it might be a flippant joke, but Thanatos can’t tell.
Thanatos buries his apprehension and tries for levity. “Winnipeg?”
Zagreus knocks into his drink with the force of his laughter. “You hate mosquitoes,” he says, still chuckling as he steadies his cup. “You specifically said weren’t going anywhere near Manitoba because you hate mosquitoes.”
Thanatos shrugs. “Maybe I can avoid it as long as I’m not there over the summer,” he equivocates.
“Take it from someone who lived in Sichuan for twelve years: that’s not how mosquitoes work.” Zagreus pauses, looking at Thanatos with bright eyes. “You could go to med school.”
Thanatos shakes his head in fond exasperation.
Zagreus’ face softens to a contented warmth, and then to something more earnest, more grounded. “Have you told your mom yet?” he asks.
Thanatos shakes his head. “She just saw my MCAT score.” Fortunately or unfortunately, Thanatos had tested well. Well enough to get into UBC Med if he seriously wanted to.
Zagreus takes a drink of his taro milk. “You’re going to have to tell her at some point, you know. You’re the one who doesn’t want to tell her after you’re already there.”
Thanatos looks away. “That’s what you would do. You’re a terrible influence.”
Zagreus’ eyes light up with mischief. “So, you’re thinking about it.”
“No,” Thanatos says. Zagreus beams some more.
Something nags at Thanatos’ subconscious. Distracted, he turns to find Hypnos and his apple red jacket had somehow entered through the door and spent some time in line before Thanatos noticed. Hypnos sees him looking and waggles his fingers.
When Hypnos reaches the counter and turns to order, Zagreus leans in. “Is that your brother? With the perm?”
“Not a perm,” Thanatos says lowly. “But yes.”
Thanatos looks to the door, thinking of ways to escape, but Hypnos is already approaching. His twin pulls up a spare chair with a wink at the burgled table’s inhabitants. He straddles it, arms landing on the wooden back to form a perch for his chin.
“Thanatos!” Hypnos trills. “Who’s this who made you come out of your cave!” He swipes Thanatos’ drink and like always grimaces as soon as he tastes it.
Thanatos rolls his eyes and reclaims his drink with a pointed swig. “At least my classes are all above-ground. Your classes are in Kenny, a half-underground concrete monolith from the ’80s. One might say, a cave?”
“Are you sure you aren’t talking about BioSci?” Hypnos replies. “Besides, you’re in the Chem building half the time. Place is haunted.” He makes a spooky gesture that Thanatos ignores. Thanatos immediately regrets this when Hypnos turns his attentions to Zagreus.
“Hi, I’m Hypnos,” he says, smug as well-fed cat. “And who might you be?”
Zagreus gives Hypnos a boy-next-door smile and extends his hand. Hypnos looks awed and delighted as he shakes it. “Nice to meet you, I’m Zagreus,” he says. “You’re Than’s brother, right?”
“That’s me,” Hypnos chirps. He mouths Than with raised eyebrows at Thanatos.
Zagreus, still in charming Commerce student mode, seems to miss the byplay. “I didn’t know you were in Psych,” he chatters.
“’Course I am,” Hypnos says. He tilts his seat into the table and stage-whispers, “’Cause Kenny’s closer to Wreck Beach.” He makes a conspicuous toking motion.
“You wouldn’t go to Wreck Beach,” Thanatos mutters. “You’re too lazy to climb two flights of stairs, never mind three hundred steps. No one’s going to stop you from smoking in front of Kenny.”
Hypnos shakes his head with studied disappointment. “It’s about the ambience, bro.”
Thanatos breathes out. “How many times have I said. Don’t call me bro.”
“Fine, yih gō,” Hypnos says, dragging out the fraternal address until it loses any shade of deference.
Thanatos tsks and picks a brown leaf off the shoulder of Hypnos’ red jacket. “Do you even go to class?”
Hypnos rolls his eyes. “You sound like mom.”
There’s a snort, and Thanatos and Hypnos spin to look at its source. “Sorry!” Zagreus says, mirth on his face. “But it’s cute that the two of you have such a good relationship.”
“We do not,” Thanatos says forbiddingly.
“I’m going to tell mom you said that,” Hypnos says.
“If you do, I’m telling her where your weed stash is,” Thanatos retorts.
Hypnos raises his palms to the sky in an indolent shrug. “It’s your weed stash too.”
“Wow,” Zagreus blurts out. “I thought you didn’t smoke.” He looks as if his image of Thanatos Lau, Dean’s List Student And Filial Son, is crumbling before his eyes.
“I smoked once in high school,” Thanatos swears, glaring at Zagreus and Hypnos in turn. To Hypnos, he adds, “If you don’t shut up I’m seriously going to tell māa mī.”
Zagreus, who only speaks Mandarin and English, darts his eyes between the two of them.
“Pudding milk with pudding jelly,” the barista calls.
“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Hypnos says brightly, pushing himself out of the chair with a graceless swing. “Bye, Than. It was good meeting you Zagreus!”
“Anyway,” Zagreus breathes into the table-sized vacuum of silence.
Thanatos says nothing and drinks his tea.
Thanatos finds himself thinking about grad school instead of studying for classes that will get him into grad school. Even if rapport were impossible, he’d wanted to establish a glimmer of respect with his TAs before sounding them out. At this rate, though, he’s going to come across as an undedicated student or get Bs on his midterms.
He takes his time packing at the end of lab. When the huddle of students around Athena thins, he makes his approach.
“I’m doing an honours thesis next year,” Thanatos begins. “Do you have any tips for getting a lab placement?”
Athena regards him like she’s been asked this exact question countless times and she knows exactly what he’s actually asking. She picks up a stack of binders, ready to leave, and Thanatos resigns himself to asking one of the other TAs whom he doesn’t know personally. Or maybe desperately approaching a prof.
“An honours thesis,” Athena says. Thanatos, not sure if he should speak, makes two tentative nods. Athena harrumphs. “Come with me.”
Thanatos has a tutorial in five minutes, but he doesn’t know how to tell Athena this. He tries to keep up with her brisk pace down the hallway and stairs of Copp, through the crowd on University Boulevard, into Michael Smith and across its atrium. They stop at the foot of a stairwell.
Athena spins and looks him in the eye. “If you’re here to waste time and resources for a shiny line on your med school application, you can leave now.”
Thanatos doesn’t move. The atrium’s enormous wood ribcage looms against the grey sky.
Athena releases him from her regard, and they go forth. Some metres later, a rap on a door startles Thanatos out of his ambulatory daze. Athena lowers her hand, letting Thanatos read the nameplate behind it. Achilles Phthia: professor and lead researcher of the lab Athena’s in. That Thanatos wants to be in. There’s a lump in his throat.
“Come in,” a muffled voice calls.
Athena strides into the office with every right to be there. Thanatos shuffles in, awkward and furtive.
“Hello Athena,” Achilles says, tone warm and countenance inviting. He’s seated at a white L-shaped desk, with a utilitarian laptop and stacks of papers. A frame rests tucked into a corner, a photo of Achilles and another man in contrasting, complementing suits within an idyllic garden.
“Here’s the results for you to review,” Athena says briskly. “Also, Thanatos here is one of my students in Biochem 301. He’s looking for a lab for his honours thesis next year.” This was not what Thanatos was reading from this situation, and he hopes his panic doesn’t show on his face.
Even Achilles seems mildly surprised that Athena brought a random undergrad to his office, but he is gracious all the same. “You must have impressed Athena to be here.” He waves at a pair of honeydew plastic chairs in front of his desk. “Please, sit.”
Thanatos draws out a honeydew chair and sits down at its very edge. The words tumble out of his mouth. “I’ve been looking at a few labs that match what I want to focus on in grad school,” he says in a rush. “The gene expression papers that we’ve been reading for class are really interesting.”
Achilles’ smile is open and kind. “It’s always good to see bright young minds with enthusiasm about my field.”
Thanatos thinks he might be being too obsequious. “I’m also interested in prions,” he blurts out. “I haven’t really decided on what I want to do yet.” He tries not to slap himself as soon as he says it.
Achilles chuckles, and Thanatos responds with a nervous smile. “Every good scientist will have more passions than time,” the professor says. “Except perhaps myself. I’ve always known I wanted to focus on cancer, although I suppose I didn’t expect to end up in research.” The phrasing is well-worn, a common introduction, interrupted only by a glance in the direction of the wedding photo. “What about my research interests you?” asks Achilles.
“The concept of being able to prevent a disease from inception is compelling,” Thanatos answers, more confident than he’s feeling. “I’ve read some of your papers and I know we’re very far from that, but I think it’s the most promising future tool for treatment.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Achilles says. “No surprise you are also interested in prions.” He looks to Athena, who is standing tall behind Thanatos. “I am always looking for enthusiastic students,” he avers. “If, at the end of this year, Athena vouches for you, I’m willing to supervise your honours thesis.”
Somehow, Thanatos’ countenance stays professional as his heart races. This kind of opportunity is better than anything he could hope for.
“I believe your class will be touring my lab soon,” Achilles says. He gives Thanatos another smile. “I hope you’ll make up your mind your research interests then.”
“I will,” Thanatos says, “thank you.”
Thanatos manages to leave Achilles’ office and reach the end of the corridor at a calm, composed pace. Then he sprints — he’s definitely late for his tutorial.