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When he was gone, that hate latched onto me.
It was fucking exhausting.
“Look, Aslan...” He reached to squeeze my shoulder.
I shrugged him off with a growl. “Don’t.”
Dropping his hand, he muttered, “I know the past few months have been hard on you. I know you’re not sleeping, and I understand why you’re choosing to fade from this life instead of learning to accept it. But I need you to make an effort.”
Effort?
Would killing him be defined as making an effort?
“You need something to take your mind off recent events. Obviously, I don’t know what you used to do for fun or what your hobbies have been, but...if you’re anything like me, I’m guessing this might spark some interest.” Rummaging in the box, he pulled out a stack of workbooks and tossed them into my lap. “If you are like me, numbers are your outlet. Ironically, it was through my love of numbers that I lost you. I hired Burak Avci because I liked how his brain worked with sums. His accountancy firm was second to none, and I appreciated that his brother was a math professor.”
“Emre was more than just a math professor,” I hissed. “He was a man ten times your worth.”
Cem ignored me. “Until Burak stole you from me and gave you to Emre, I was friendly with him. He didn’t have synesthesia, but he did have talent. Did you know only four percent of the population has synesthesia?” He studied me closely. “It’s a genetic trait where the most common type is grapheme colour.”
Fuck.
I dug my thumbs into my eyes.
He does have it.
“Do you see numbers in colours too, Aslan?” he asked softly. “Sometimes I can even taste them or a particular sum will smell sweet and sharp.”
He can taste a number?
I’d never had that.
Figures felt like ivory and silk in my mind and glowed with pigment, but I’d never smelled an equation before.
Gritting my teeth, I ignored his questions like I always did.
“If you do...then numbers can become a bit of an escapism. I can’t remember how many times I zoned out when doing puzzles and math quizzes when I was a boy. I preferred them over TV or sports or even girls to a certain extent.” He chuckled. “In this box are samples of accounts from my companies over the past few years. I never did hire another accountant after Burak stole you. In fact, I fired a lot of my workforce because I lost trust in those I believed I could count on. I run my own books now. It takes me hours a day. And if I’m honest, I’m running behind and need help.”
Pausing, he cleared his throat. “I will make you a promise. For now, I don’t expect anything from you but to heal. Physically and mentally. You have my word that you will not be ‘persuaded’ again until you have gained back your strength. There’s absolutely no point in me training you in this current state. You’ll just shut down further, and I refuse to lose you again. You have my permission to do whatever you want...within this room, of course. If you want to run my books, then I will bring you every ledger and trade. If you want to know more, I will gladly tell you. This is my compromise, Aslan. I hope you will be willing to meet me halfway.”
Grabbing more books from the box, he placed them gently beside me.
I didn’t look up.
This was eerily similar to Griffen Yule offering me a job looking after his rentals. Only difference was Griffen’s business was legal...and this was most definitely not.
“These are the latest accounts I haven’t had time to tally. Follow how I’ve done it in the other books. Learn my system or make up your own. I trust you.” He sighed heavily. “Fuck, how long I’ve waited to be able to say that.” His hand landed on my shoulder and squeezed. “I trust you, Son.”
I went to shrug him off again, but he dropped his hand before I could revoke him. “You are my son, Aslan. You might not be whole at the moment—in body and mind—but you will be. Run my books, heal yourself, and then we shall see where we go to from here.”
Standing, he loomed over me for a moment before adding, “Seni seviyorum, oglum.” (I love you, Son).
He left me.
He left his books on my bed.
And despite myself, the allure to open them overwhelmed me.
With shaky desperation like an addict needing a fix, I grabbed a freshly sharpened pencil from the case full of rulers, erasers, pens, and notepads, then sank into the orderly world where fractions became whole and divisions always yielded a perfect number. Colours exploded in my head, casting light on the darkness inside me, giving me a much-needed reminder of brightness.
