` ❀ 𝓣 he equation of love . ݁ ꒱

— The room was bathed in the soft light of a lazy afternoon. Rays of sunlight filtered through the half-open curtains, drawing golden patterns on the soft carpet. The air carried the familiar scent of the books stacked on the shelf, mixed with the soft perfume you always wore. The room was cozy, with the walls adorned with paintings and photos, a reflection of your creative and detail-oriented personality.

You and Jason Todd were sitting on the bed, surrounded by open notebooks, textbooks, and some random scribbles of equations. He was visibly frustrated, his brow furrowed, his eyebrows knitted in a concentrated look that seemed both determined and discouraged. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and he wore a black T-shirt that molded his broad shoulders, with the typical leather jacket thrown aside on the floor.

— "I swear this doesn't make any sense." — Jason muttered, tossing the pen on the open notebook and crossing his arms. He looked at you with those intense eyes that always seemed to hold a mix of defiance and vulnerability, a combination so unique to him. You smiled softly, leaning a little closer to look at the algebra problem he was trying to solve.

— "It's not that hard. You're overthinking it. Let me show you again." — You say and he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, messing it up even more.

— "I don't know why the teacher asked you to help me. Maybe she thinks you can do magic or something." — He said and you chuckled softly, amused by the way he always tried to turn everything into a joke, even when he was clearly upset.

— "It's not magic, it's just practice, Jason. You've improved a lot." — He rolled his eyes with your speech, but one corner of his mouth curved into a slight smile.

— "If you say so..." — You pulled the notebook closer, quickly scribbling an example on the paper.