Koschei liked to watch Theta. He liked to watch Theta a lot. He liked to watch the soft curve of his ear as he wiggled it in thought, he liked to glance at the sun as it radiated off his hair, liked to see the cogs turning audibly in his head and mix in with the drums. Everything about Theta Sigma made him amazed and lightheaded, and their close quarters in most respects of the word (except, of course, the respect that Kos would most like) made him even more so. He couldn't explain it, not at first, why he felt the need to run his fingers through the sharp wisps and touch the tender skin beneath. It occurred to him, this great discovery, one late night, as he sat with charcoal, drawing Theta as he slept. In two heartbeats, he dropped the stick and nearly let out a gasp. What a fool he was! What a fool he had been! He was in love with Theta! Theta Sigma, his nearest and dearest friend, the only one who could help chase the drums away or convince Koschei that life was worth living. Settling back onto his pillows and letting the light leave the lamp, Koschei made himself a promise: whatever it took, he would win Theta as a partner and equal in every manner.
He didn't quite know that it would take him all his lifetimes (and, in some ways, more)