’Just... what do I even start with?’
Blake dragged a hand through his hair, fingers catching briefly before he scratched the back of his head, eyes roaming slowly across the room again.
The first impression hadn’t been misleading, if anything, the longer he looked, the more overwhelming it beca.
There was just too much.
Stacks of books piled unevenly, so leaning dangerously as if one wrong movent would send them collapsing.
Papers layered over papers, so neatly clipped, others half-crumpled like they’d been abandoned mid-thought.
Posters covered most of the walls, overlapping in places... schematics, diagrams, abstract designs of machinery that looked like they belonged in a research facility rather than a teenager’s bedroom.
’Their interests are quite scary.’
And then there were the objects themselves.
Loose wires, circuit boards., tools. Small chanical parts scattered like breadcrumbs of unfinished ideas.
Blake exhaled quietly.
’Anything could be hidden in here.’
Sothing small could vanish between the pages of a book and never be found again. A folded docunt could slip behind a poster and sit there for years.
Even sothing slightly larger could be disguised as just another piece of clutter in this ss.
His gaze narrowed slightly.
’But then again...’
He leaned back just a fraction, folding his arms loosely.
’This isn’t Asher’s house.’
That mattered, of course.
If Asher had sothing important, truly important, he wouldn’t just leave it lying around in soone else’s room.
Not without so kind of precaution or without control over the space, that would be sloppy.
’And yet...’
Blake’s lips twitched faintly.
’He is naive, so who knows.’
Not stupid, definitely not, but naive in a way that made him trust people too easily.
More specifically, trust Blake.
So maybe, just maybe, he would leave sothing behind without realizing the risk.
Before Blake could follow that thought any further, the door opened.
Anthony’s father stepped inside, balancing a tray in his hands.
The scent of sothing sweet reached Blake first... cookies! Followed by the sharper saltiness of popcorns. Three glasses of orange juice sat neatly arranged beside them.
"I’ll just leave this here," he said, voice warm and easy as he set the tray down on a nearby surface. "You boys enjoy yourselves."
"Thanks, dad," Anthony replied without hesitation.
The man gave a small nod, his smile lingering for a second longer as his gaze flicked briefly toward Blake.
"Make yourself at ho," he added.
Then he stepped out, closing the door gently behind him.
It was silent again.
Blake’s eyes followed the door for a mont before drifting back into the room.
Even with the added distraction of snacks, the atmosphere hadn’t changed much. It was still pretty cluttered.
Still very... them.
It was almost funny, in a way, because the room truly did scream their personalities.
Obsessive and curious. Focused on things most people wouldn’t even bother trying to understand.
Blake tilted his head slightly, letting his gaze linger on one particular section of the wall.
AL-TECH.
The na showed up more than once.
Posters, printed articles and even handwritten notes referencing it.
And, of course, Alfred Hicth.
Blake sighed slightly at the re sight. That smile was truly fake.
"So," he said, shifting slightly on the bed, "which one of you got into AL-TECH first?"
Anthony blinked, caught off guard by the question.
"Ah?" He tilted his head. "I think Asher did. I an, I was more into the tech itself. I didn’t really care about the companies behind it at first."
Asher shook his head lightly.
"Not really," he said. "We got interested in it around the sa ti. Maybe a month apart."
Blake nodded slowly.
So it wasn’t influence, or not directly, at least.
They hadn’t dragged each other into it, it had happened independently, which made it more natural and genuine.
And a bit scarier, since that ans there were two geniuses in the family.
"I see," Blake murmured. "I never really cared that much about AL-TECH itself. More like... the visuals. That kind of thing."
Asher chuckled softly.
"That explains what you said," he said.
Blake raised an eyebrow.
"Ah?"
"You said earlier you didn’t understand much of what I said," Asher continued, a faint teasing edge in his tone. "So I guess your research wasn’t really about technical systems, right? Or am I wrong?"
Blake let out a short laugh, shaking his head.
"No, you’re right."
His gaze flickered briefly, sothing sharper passing through it.
’Woukd you look at that. Does he think that I don’t know he knows?’
There was no doubt about that.
He knew, or at least had a very good idea, what Blake had written in that research.
And yet he was still playing it down, still acting like he didn’t.
A bit naive with people? Sure. But not entirely honest.
Anthony nodded, leaning forward slightly.
"Yeah, I never actually asked," he admitted. "I just assud you wrote sothing about tech. I an, you’re smart."
Blake snorted.
"What’s that supposed to an?" he said with a laugh. "Compared to you two?"
"You’re consistent," he said. "You don’t ss up. Everyti you complain, it’s about a 90. That’s more than enough."
Blake humd.
He couldn’t argue with that but...
’I an, I just need to be as average as possible to match with Myles, since I kinda ruined our... averageness.’
But even then, the reason why he got good grades wasn’t exactly... impressive.
In his previous life, he’d already been through most of this. He was was basically almost done with senior year, the foundation was there.
So even if things here were presented differently, completely different approaches to math, variations in how physics problems were frad, the concepts themselves hadn’t changed.
It was just a matter of adjusting, and he’d done that quickly.
Asher tilted his head, watching him.
"Do you want to share what you wrote?" he asked. "It’s not that common to get a tour at SSRT Tower without your research being heavily technical."
Blake exhaled quietly. There was no point in dodging.
Even if Asher wasn’t pretending, he could always ask a certain soone who did know about his research.
"It wasn’t about tech," Blake said. "I analyzed Trail-X."
Anthony’s eyes widened instantly.
"Trail-X?"
"Yeah," Blake nodded. "More like their persona. Behavior patterns. Public presence. I tried to build a profile."
Asher’s reaction was subtle, maybe a little too subtle.
His eyes widened just enough to suggest surprise, but it didn’t quite reach the rest of his expression.
"I didn’t even think I’d get anything out of it," Blake added casually. "I submitted it late. Like, two days before the deadline."
Anthony frowned slightly.
"Why so late?"
Blake shrugged.
"Got stuck," he said. "I couldn’t make it coherent. It felt off."
That part, at least, wasn’t entirely a lie.
"What made you finish it then?" Anthony asked.
Blake paused.
"Alfred Hicth, I happened to see him in person."
Anthony’s reaction was imdiate.
"No way, you’ve seen him in person?!"
Asher, anwhile was still not convincingly surprised.
Blake almost smiled.
’Go ahead,’ he thought. ’Ask about it. I won’t slip.’
"I just saw him from afar," Blake added.
It was a lie, of course, and a pretty ignorable one, at that.
But a reasonable one and, more importantly, a safe one. It’s not like he could just say he was the bastard child of an affluent family and that he casually spoke with one of the most important n in the world. It was supposed to be a secret, basically.
Anthony nodded anyway, clearly impressed.
"That’s still impressive," he said.
Then he glanced at Asher.
"Hey, want to grab so chips?"
Asher nodded.
"Sure."
The two of them stood, heading toward the door.
The mont it closed behind them, Blake moved.
The shift was imdiate, the relaxed posture was gone. He stood up, scanning the room again, this ti more intently.
He moved to the nearest stack of books, flipping one open.
Notes.
Another had equations.
Another had draft sketches, truly nothing useful. But even if they were, he couldn’t understand half of it.
He clicked his tongue quietly, moving on.
One drawer was empty.
Another had so tools and looked ssy.
Then, an album.
Blake paused, that stood out.
He picked it up, flipping it open.
There were normal childhood photos of Anthony, mostly.
Then, he stopped.
Two babies held by the sa man, maybe Anthony and Asher.
Blake frowned slightly, he didn’t recognize him.
Not from anything he’d seen so far.
’Strange.’
For a mont, he just looked at it.
Then, he closed the album and placed it back exactly where it had been.
He stepped back, lowering himself into the chair Asher had been sitting in earlier.
From here, everything was visible: from the door to the windows, the shelves and angles.
If sothing moved, he’d know.
Blake leaned back slightly, stretching his neck as his gaze drifted upward towards the lightbulb.
He squinted his eyes slightly.
There were no visible cara or lens.
Either way, nothing obvious really.
Still, sothing caught his attention inside the fixture. It was thin and barely noticeable.
Like... a strip of paper.
Blake’s eyes narrowed.
’Ah, so there was sothing.’
Before he could investigate further the door opened, so he shifted instantly, posture relaxing as he moved back onto the bed.
Anthony and Asher walked in, carrying a bowl of chips.
"Got the good ones," Anthony said proudly.
Blake smirked faintly, leaning back.
’Well,’ he thought, glancing briefly toward the light before looking back at them.
’For sothing that cos with a coin reward...’
He picked up a chip, crunching it thoughtfully.
’...this isn’t too bad.’
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