The steady scratch of chalk filled the room, a rhythm almost hypnotic. Equations sprawled across the blackboard as the teacher muttered about differentiation, his back to the class. Half the students were either zoning out or fighting to keep their eyes open.
Roy sat slouched in his chair, spinning his pencil between his fingers, his gaze fixed on the ceiling rather than the board. Beside him, Kieran leaned forward on his desk, whispering out of the corner of his mouth.
"Hey, Roy. Do you think soulmates are real?"
Roy blinked, turning his head with a raised brow. "Seriously? That's what you're thinking about during maths?"
"I'm serious." Kieran frowned, lowering his voice further. "Like… you know, someone you're destined to meet. The one. You think that's a thing?"
Roy smirked faintly. "Soulmates? Nah. Sounds like a scam for writers invented to sell books. The world doesn't hand you love on a silver platter. You trip into it, usually face-first."
Kieran tilted his head, lips twitching. "So you're saying you don't think you'll ever find love?"
"I didn't say that," Roy replied, resting his cheek against his fist. "I'm just saying it's not written in the stars or whatever. If it happens, it happens. If not…" He shrugged. "Guess I'll keep buying faludas until the void swallows me."
Kieran chuckled, shaking his head. "See, that's your problem; you make everything sound bleak. Me? I think everyone's got someone. Even you."
Roy snorted. "Aww, how nice. Now, where did you get that quote from?"
Before Kieran could reply, a loud cough echoed from the back row. Both boys turned their heads to see two empty seats. Brock's chair was vacant, and Tanaka's bag was missing.
Kieran frowned. "Right, I forgot. They're both sick today. And Tanaka's match is in a few days…"
"Bad timing," Roy muttered, though his tone carried no surprise.
Kieran smirked, but before he could fire back, the classroom's air shifted. The teacher turned suddenly, chalk still in hand, his eyes locking directly on them.
"Mr Nazaroff," the teacher said sharply, voice cutting through the chatter of the room. "Since you seem so eager to talk instead of listening, perhaps you can answer this. Differentiate 3x^3−5x^2+2x."
The class turned, eyes locking onto Kieran. He straightened immediately, clearing his throat, and without missing a beat replied, "9x^2−10x+2."
The teacher blinked once, then gave a curt nod. "Correct." His gaze shifted. "And you, Roy."
Roy sat up a little, surprised he got picked for the question. "Me?"
"Yes, you. Suppose we're working with the gradient of a line. Show me how you'd apply it to determine the coordinates of a point."
Roy tapped his pencil against the desk. "Alright. First, differentiate to get the gradient function. Then, set it equal to zero if you want stationary points, and solve for x. Once you've got x, substitute it back into the original equation to get y. That gives you the coordinates x and y."
The teacher paused, then nodded slowly. "Correct. But please, next time do not talk in my class."
Roy leaned back in his chair, smirking faintly at Kieran. "See? Even maths says soulmates don't exist. It's just lines crossing on a graph."
Kieran rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. "Or maybe, genius, it's about finding the right intersection."
The teacher coughed loudly. Both boys straightened immediately, pretending to scribble notes as the lecture resumed.
After the final bell, the classroom emptied in a rush of scraping chairs and chatter. Roy and Kieran strolled out together, the stale maths lesson already forgotten.
Kieran unfolded his crumpled timetable. Roy glanced over his shoulder. "Huh. Looks like we've got the rest of the day off. No more lessons."
Roy stretched his arms, his bag dangling carelessly from one hand. "Well, there's no point wasting it. Might as well head to the base, right? Beats sitting around."
But before Roy could get too far, Kieran slowed to a stop. "Actually…" He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "I've got something to do. Can't make it."
Roy blinked, a little thrown off. He'd expected Kieran to tag along like always. "Oh. Ok then." His tone was flat, but he shrugged it off. "Alright then."
Without another word, Roy shoved his hands into his pockets and headed toward the main road, his stride casual as ever.
Kieran stayed rooted for a moment, watching his friend disappear into the crowd. A part of him wanted to call out, to explain, but he didn't. He just turned on his heel, his pace quickening.
What would've taken an average person thirty minutes, Kieran closed in less than ten, legs pumping like pistons as he blitzed through side streets. By the time he slowed, his chest wasn't even heaving. He stood before a modest apartment complex, the familiar door looming ahead.
He pressed the bell.
A moment later, the door creaked open, and Aarti stood there, apron still tied around her waist. The smell of spices and freshly cooked food spilt out into the hall.
"You're here," she said, her expression softening into a smile. "Come in. I just finished cooking; there's plenty for four."
Four? Maybe she got it wrong and should have said three.
Kieran stepped inside, the warmth of the home wrapping around him instantly. He glanced toward the table set neatly for dinner.
But Aarti added, "Mira's still at school. She should be back soon."
Kieran stepped into the apartment, the smell of warm food drifting from the kitchen. He slipped off his shoes and looked up, only to pause mid-step.
At the table, already seated with a half-finished plate, was him.
A man in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled neatly, his silver hair loosely tied. His presence was so controlled that it seemed to bend the atmosphere of the room itself. Graham Rose. Commander of the Scholars.
The fork in his hand scraped gently against the plate as he looked up, meeting Kieran's eyes with the kind of pleasant smile that seemed utterly genuine… And yet it made Kieran's stomach knot.
It was not that Kieran had something against him, but the fact that he is his enemy by nature.
"Kieran," Graham greeted, setting down his fork with a smile. "It's good to see you again."
Kieran blinked, recovering quickly. "…Commander Rose," he said with a polite nod, his voice even. "I wasn't expecting you here."
"Your sister is far too kind," Graham replied smoothly. "She invited me to join for a home-cooked meal, and really, how could I refuse? And please, do call me Graham."
Kieran managed a faint smile at that, though his chest tightened. He glanced toward Aarti, who was fumbling with her apron, her cheeks already tinged pink.
"Commander's exaggerating," she muttered quickly. "It's nothing formal. Just dinner."
Setting down his fork. "Your sister talks a lot about you now."
Kieran managed a faint smile at that, though his chest tightened. He glanced toward Aarti, who was fumbling with her apron, her cheeks already tinged pink, looking at her commander.
Before Kieran could even react, Graham stood. In a fluid step, he was beside Aarti, brushing a strand of hair from her face with the faintest touch. And then. Kissed her on the lips with her body resting in his arms.
The room stilled.
Aarti froze, her hands flying to his shirt in a startled clutch, her entire body rigid. When Graham finally pulled back, she stumbled a half-step, stammering. "Th-that…! He…! Commander, you…!" Her voice cracked, her face scarlet as she turned sharply away.
Graham responded to Kieran's question, "That should answer it."
He did answer a question that was not asked. Kieran had initially thought of what their relationship truly was.
Kieran didn't move. His gut twisted, but he forced his expression into calm. He had no right to flare up, not after abandoning her for years. Whatever choices she made weren't his to question. So instead, he simply straightened his back and offered the faintest, most measured nod.
"Well played, Commander. Well played," he said quietly, almost dryly.
Graham adjusted his cuffs, that too-gentle smile never fading. "I should be going. Wouldn't want to overstay my welcome." He retrieved his coat, then paused at the door, his gaze lingering briefly on Kieran. Beneath the softness was something sharper.
"It's good to see you again, Kieran Nazaroff. Properly this time."
With that, Graham stepped out, the door shutting softly behind him.
Aarti still hadn't turned back. Her hands pressed against her flushed face, her breath uneven.
Kieran stood in silence, the storm in his chest buried deep. Finally, he exhaled slowly.
"…I won't ask."
Aarti glanced up, startled.
"I've been gone too long to start judging you," he continued, his voice steady, if faintly strained. "Just… be careful."
Her eyes wavered, and for a moment, neither spoke. The food on the table steamed gently, but the warmth in the room felt thinner than before.