The Equation of Hearts

√𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟺ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩ

Some days later, he got a card for his number, and was texting Soji often. Though the pair didn't meet up in person as assumed. They never found the time. So the texts they sent were enough for the pair. Until one day: where the boy was at his apartment and looking at the board. They hadn't found it yet. But Adonis hadn't been around much either. That couldn't mean good for him. He had to stay diligent. His phone buzzed and as he looked at what his next course of action was, he checked what his uncle could have possibly sent him. Then he froze and stared longer. Irū was coming soon. He looked around the place and realised his plan was in motion. In all honesty, it was nearly complete. He'd be gone soon at this rate.

That was good. He liked that thought. The quicker he got out of here the quicker he could go back, he had to keep telling himself that. Packing away the board, he realised he'd need to start moving it with him. He'd need his bag. Until then: he left the apartment and looked around the more derelict street. Well, he had preparations. He looked at his phone and walked down the street calmly, while structuring what was in his head. And there was a lot to structure. He had never been so emotional before - though his face stayed as stoic as it often was, with no grimace or tension to feed into how he was feeling.

And soon enough, he returned to the penthouse, where he stepped in and Athena stared at him. He stared back and she covered her mouth, "uh..." she frowned. He tilted his head and felt something running down his face, "I-I'll get a tissue." She stood up and left, he wiped below his nose and checked his hand, seeing blood. A nosebleed, he didn't get them often - usually when he broke his nose he would have felt the blood running down his face. But he didn't even notice.

She rushed over and gave him a tissue, before coming closer and helping him clean up. It was almost like their uncle, how she frowned. Her nose scrunched up in the same way and the corner of her otherwise feline lips curled inwards as she pursed them. His sense of familiarity with it all was a difficult battle of whether or not he would let his guard down.

"That startled me, are you okay?" She sighed as he pressed the tissue to his nose, "is that normal for you?" She then added, only fair she wondered, in case it was. He hummed in affirmation and rested a hand on her cheek. She didn't know how to react to it, the physical touch wasn't common as it was, and from him of all people? "Oh, am I getting a kiss as thanks?" She grinned and leaned forward. He felt slightly repulsed, and pulled away. "Harsh." She crossed her arms and looked off to the side, "but is it common for you?" She repeated the question she wasn't sure was answered,

"It's... genetic." His hand dropped to his side and he looked behind her,

"Mother or father?" She wanted to continue the conversation.

"Father." He replied. Tenshi would suffer migraines and nose bleeds when he thought too much or remembered something he otherwise should have forgotten.

"God, he sounds like the weakest link." She chortled, in a way, he was. "Is there anything redeemable about the guy? Tall? Like what's happening?" She wanted to keep talking to him. After all, he had iced her out the day prior because of her mother, and Bianca was bubbly at the thought of their conversation.

"He's... one of the smartest men I know," he let her in! That was a green flag for Athena, who pulled him to the couch and sat down. He remained standing, his arms behind his back like a soldier.

"Well, I assume then that he's the one that taught you all that maths stuff," she glanced at his door. Somehow, the room just gave off a dark aura. Strange though, the man wasn't exactly the edgiest guy she had met. He nodded and she then realised something, "oh I see," she gasped and tilted her head, "you're an academic aren't you? Awfully bulky for a nerd," she eyed him and he nodded, "but you can't socially interact, can you?" She grinned. He could do so perfectly fine, though more on the quiet and blunt side, he was able to hold up his own conversation. He was selective with who, though. And often, it was bound by context. He would talk when his family were hosting events (though he usually elected to stand guard), and he could host by himself perfectly fine - as he had to in some situations where the rest of his family weren't available. But he was selective, and he elected to not speak much. Looking at her: he didn't want to speak to her often. Because though she had such a familiar face, she had the personality of her father. Egotistical and brash, maybe overconfident and still sickeningly enticing to be around. He wasn't going to fall for her charms. "Well?" She leaned forward. He could only pray she wouldn't wear such low necks often. But it was just her style: pearls, gold, and chic dresses regardless of her own modesty. In fact, the more attention grabbing, the better it was for her. He looked away - not that she could tell,