Work Text:
Ratio tapped his fingers on his wooden desk and glared at his students. Ivan, Amir, and Yuina sat in front of him, books open in their lap. Yuina was speaking, but her soft voice was merely a distant buzz to his ears. She was one of his best students, but she was prone to long and clumsy monologues. The sole reason why Ratio allowed her to speak at length was because he knew this was how she processed information.
Ratio was only half-listening. He had already written down the book name and chapter number she was to review, and he was simply waiting for her to finish her speech. Right next to her, Ivan was staring into the distance and Amir played games on his phone, which was barely concealed underneath his book. Ratio’s eyes darted to the clock on the wall, which read 5:05PM, signalling that the end of his office hours was five minutes ago.
In general, Ratio clocked in and out of work on time. While he considered it his mission to cure the world of idiocy, he acknowledged the benefits of a work-life balance. After all, there was only so much stupidity that Ratio could take in one day. This did not mean that he wouldn’t allow exceptions. On occasion, Ratio was willing to help his students beyond their allotted time. Unfortunately for them, this wasn’t one of those times.
It had been some time since he had seen his lover, Aventurine. The gambler left for work one month ago. He kissed Ratio on the lips, merrily waved goodbye, then boarded a ship to a distant planet. Though he texted frequently—almost too frequently, in fact—it wasn’t the same as having the man within his reach. It was difficult for Ratio to become accustomed to waking up to an empty bed. He longed for arms around his waist, for the warmth of another body against his. Ratio had even begun to miss Aventurine’s inane chatter. Sometimes he began to resent the silence. It was new for him, since he was a man who revelled in quietude.
Thankfully, Aventurine’s work had finally come to an end. Instead of returning home immediately, Aventurine opted to stop by Veritas Prime first. He wanted them to go home together, and Ratio did not refuse. The doctor told him that his office hours ended at 5PM, which meant that Aventurine could barge in at any moment. The blond man had a habit of arriving early whenever they met up, whether it may be for work or for dates, so it was unusual that he was running late. His current lateness was most likely attributed to the unpredictability of international travel, and not for a lack of effort on his part.
Ratio didn’t understand why Aventurine would put so much effort to meet him now when it was inevitable that they’d see each other within the day. Undoubtedly, Aventurine would be tired from his travels, but he still insisted on meeting Ratio at his workplace. It would be more efficient for Aventurine to meet him at the house, but Ratio did not correct him. He was beginning to adapt to Aventurine’s brand of foolishness. As long as Aventurine was happy, Ratio did not dwell on it further.
Unconsciously, a small smile formed on his lips. That smile remained in place until he noticed that Amir was staring at him oddly, so he twisted his mouth back into a scowl. Amir hurriedly looked away.
Ratio’s tapping quickened impatiently. Yuina stumbled over her words, speaking faster and faster almost to the point of incomprehensibility. Ratio’s eyes flickered to the clock yet again. It was now 5:08PM, eight minutes past his office hours. He would give the girl two more minutes before he ended her drivel.
Before that time had passed, the door to his office swung open.
“Darling, I’m here~” Aventurine sang. He froze when he realised that Ratio wasn’t alone in his office. His eyes drifted from side to side, observing the three interlopers in the room, before his gaze finally settled on Ratio. Aventurine smiled, walked a few steps inside, and leaned against the wall nonchalantly. He was the perfect picture of placidness. Ratio, as one of the few who had seen Aventurine’s true smiles, was not fooled. It was not the usual radiant smile Ratio received when they were alone, but rather the one he donned when he was gambling—a predator lying in wait.
“Oh?” Aventurine gasped in faux-surprise, “I believe we’ve never met. Won’t you guys introduce yourselves…?”
Ratio’s students did not answer, likely too shell-shocked to encounter someone that would address their professor so intimately. They looked at Aventurine as if he was a foreign creature. Aventurine stared back at them sharply. A strange tension stretched out between them.
“It seems your time has run out,” Ratio said, cutting the awkward moment short. He stood up and walked around his desk, placing the sticky note with instructions on top of Yuina’s open book. There. Now his role as professor was done for the day. “Get out.”
No one in the room moved.
Ratio narrowed his eyes.
“In the hour that you’ve been here, has your brain devolved so far that I need to repeat myself for such simple instructions?”
His students glanced at each other, their eyes expressive beyond words. It was as if they spoke a language that only the three of them knew. Yuina looked at Ivan, who in turn looked at Amir. When Amir looked at them both, fear in his eyes, they turned their heads away. Amir deflated. It seemed that a common consensus was reached.
Tentatively, Amir began to speak.
“Dr. Ratio… who's this?”
Ratio found it quite rude that they addressed him instead of Aventurine himself, but even he had to admit that Aventurine’s piercing stare could be a little intimidating. He was willing to let it slide.
“My boyfriend,” Ratio said blandly. He gestured at the door and waited for his students to exit promptly. They did not.
Ratio expected them to leave after they heard their answer, but still, they continued to sit in their seats and twiddle their thumbs. They looked dazed, as if they had received a blow to the back of the head.
Ratio wasn’t oblivious; he knew that his dating life (or lack thereof) was a hot topic among the students. For someone as renowned as he, it was natural for gossip to follow him, and yet rumours of his romantic entanglements had always been suspiciously absent. Many assumed that Ratio himself pulled a few strings to hide his supposed lover, but the truth was so mundane that no one had speculated it in the first place. There were no rumours because there were no lovers to speak of, and when Aventurine came into the picture, their proximity could be explained by their occasional collaboration through the IPC.
It likely helped that they had a reputation of bickering when they were on missions together. Most people didn’t see beyond their arguments: the teasing that bordered on flirtation, the entwining of hands underneath the table, the moans behind closed doors. There was no reason to divulge his personal life to anyone, but it didn’t mean that Ratio would lie about it, either. From Aventurine’s pet name and his presence in Ratio’s office, it was not difficult to infer the relationship they had, so Ratio decided to be upfront.
“Since when have you two been dating?” Yuina exclaimed. She spoke with such clarity and excitement that she was hardly recognisable from the rambling, soft-spoken student moments ago.
“My personal relationships are none of your concern,” Ratio said, his tone clipped. “Now, do I need to repeat myself once more, or must I resort to using other means of persuasion?”
Unfortunately, his implicit threat fell on deaf ears. The confirmation of his relationship status did not diminish their curiosity, but instead heightened it. With bent backs and wide, eager eyes, they looked like puppies waiting for a treat. Even Ivan, notorious for his inattentiveness in class, seemed somewhat interested. But Ratio refused to elaborate further. He threw chalk at the wall, aiming between Yuina and Amir’s heads. It flew through the air like a bullet. The sound of the chalk colliding with the wall was deafening—an appetiser for future pain. Immediately, they scrambled. Books closed and jackets were hastily put on. They gave Aventurine a wide berth as they exited the office.
As the students left the room, Ratio’s eyes fell upon Aventurine, who was leaning on the wall with the air of a spectator watching a show. He was handsome as always, with a slim yet muscular frame and beautiful eyes, but he looked a little thinner and paler than Ratio remembered. He also seemed less energetic. Perhaps his work was more taxing than expected.
“Wait for a moment, Aventurine,” Ratio appeased, his voice softening considerably. “Let me put away these papers and then we can go.”
“For you, I’d wait forever,” Aventurine quipped. Ratio huffed, used to the kind of nonsense Aventurine spouted, so he did not say anything more and proceeded to organise his papers.
The walk to the car and the drive back home was quiet. There was something unnerving about the absence of noise, when the silence became so unbearable that Ratio began to hear a phantom ringing in his ears. He glanced at Aventurine with the intention to fill the silence, but the gambler seemed absentminded, far away. He would have liked to blame it on Aventurine’s exhaustion, but Ratio knew in his soul that it was more than that.
The ominous feeling followed them as they arrived home. Ratio sat down on the couch and took out his papers, pretending to busy himself with them. He fetched his red pen, uncapped it, but did not write anything. He knew that it was impossible for him to grade anything right now—he couldn’t focus, he wasn’t in the right state of mind at all —and yet Ratio continued to hold them in his hands. With his back turned to Aventurine, Ratio steeled himself and took a deep breath.
“Are you tired, Aventurine?” Ratio asked. “If you’re amenable, you may take a bath first.”
“...maybe later,” Aventurine mumbled distantly. The sound of his footsteps approached closer, sluggish, before Ratio felt a dip in the couch and a weight on his shoulder.
“...Ratio,” Aventurine said slowly, “is it okay that everyone knows?”
There was only one thing that Aventurine could possibly refer to. The papers Ratio held wrinkled in his hands.
Was Aventurine uncomfortable with other people knowing about their relationship? If that were true, then it would admittedly sting a little, but it wasn’t something to cause a huge fuss over. Logically speaking, he could admit that there were some advantages to hiding their relationship, but all the reasons in the world would not abate the bitterness in his heart.
“I was under the impression that our relationship was never a secret in the first place,” Ratio stated. “If you believe otherwise, you have not expressed it to me.”
“I don’t mind it. I like it, actually. I mean, who wouldn’t want to brag that their boyfriend is the great Veritas Ratio?” Aventurine declared. He tried his best, but the cheer in his voice didn’t quite ring true. Ratio’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. He waited for the other shoe to drop. “It’s just… are we dating?”
Ratio looked at him as if he was an idiot.
“Of course.”
“Since when?!” Aventurine shouted, head whipping to the side.
Their eyes met. Ratio finally put away the papers he was grading; his guise of working was a failure, anyway.
Aventurine’s question gave Ratio some pause. He knew that in typical romantic relationships, one party would confess and the other either accepted or rejected the confession. He realised that neither of those things transpired between them, but Ratio would have been blind not to see Aventurine’s affection for him. Though they had forgone the confession, all the parts of a proper romance were there.
“I suppose there is no specific start date to our relationship…” Ratio trailed off. He paused. If Aventurine didn’t know they were dating, then was it possible that he had seen someone else during their time together? Suddenly, his face scrunched up, as if stricken. Ratio balled his hand into a fist. He gritted his teeth. “Are we, or are we not in an exclusive relationship?”
Aventurine sputtered unintelligibly.
“We are,” Aventurine said, putting his hand on top of Ratio’s. “Of course we are.”
Ratio’s fist relaxed underneath Aventurine’s warmth. Aventurine entwined their fingers together and squeezed. Ratio squeezed back.
“If you know that, then I fail to see how you’re surprised by this information.”
Aventurine turned his head away.
“It’s just not the type of ‘exclusive relationship’ I thought…”
Other than dating and marriage, Ratio wondered if there was another type of ‘exclusive relationship’ he didn’t know about. If there was, then the scope was beyond any research Ratio had done. To him, commitment naturally meant exclusivity. He knew of the ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement, but that didn’t apply to their situation, did it? Such a relationship was not necessarily exclusive…
Ah. ‘Not necessarily’.
Ratio looked at Aventurine carefully.
“You thought this relationship was purely for sex.”
When Aventurine didn’t answer, Ratio sighed. Aventurine was undeniably clever; he was a master at gauging others’ feelings and manipulating them accordingly, so how was it that he missed such obvious tells?
It seemed that Ratio wasn’t done teaching for the day quite yet.
“Aventurine,” Ratio began, gently and patiently, “do we not care for each other’s well-being?”
Finally, Aventurine looked back at him. He looked at Ratio the way he looked at danger—right in the eye, unflinchingly, as if he was ready to gamble his very soul.
“We do,” Aventurine answered quietly.
“Do we not spend time together as couples do?”
“We do.”
“Do we not have access to each other’s houses?”
“We do.”
“Do we not share custody of three pets together?”
“We do.”
“And therein lies your answer,” Ratio said with an indisputable finality.
“B-but that’s not how these things usually go!” Aventurine complained. “Where’s the confession? When is our anniversary date? We’ve missed out on two years of this!”
“That’s…”
In the articles Ratio read, celebrating anniversaries was listed as a matter of great importance. Not only was it a measure of a couple’s commitment, but it also served as a reaffirmation of their love.
“...it can be today, then,” Ratio decided.
Aventurine sighed and slumped down on Ratio’s shoulder. He buried his face in the crook of Ratio’s neck and breathed in deeply.
“All this time, I thought…”
Aventurine never finished his sentence. His voice was as feeble as ripened wheat, golden and crackling, and Ratio’s heart wrenched in his chest at the sound. He had seen glimpses of Aventurine’s vulnerability, the rust beneath his gilded sheen. There had been other times where he had tempered himself, left words unspoken, the words dying in his throat. Was it the vulnerability that Aventurine loathed, or was it something else?
Between the two of them, Aventurine had always been more likely to initiate. He’d ask for time, he’d ask for attention, he’d ask for sex. But everything he asked for, he gave back tenfold. He invited Ratio out on carefully planned dates. He’d text Ratio frequently, regardless of whether Ratio replied or not. Whenever Aventurine went out shopping, he always bought something for Ratio, expensive and fanciful items that often got him scolded from how excessive they were. When they had sex, Aventurine preferred to bring Ratio to completion first before taking pleasure for himself. Aventurine would ask for many things, but the one thing he did not ask for was reciprocity. He knew how to take and to give, but never to receive.
Nowhere was this more apparent than in Penacony, where his feathers had been plucked and his treasure stolen. They were partners, and Ratio had full faith in Aventurine’s plans. Despite this, Ratio couldn’t help but notice the inkling of distrust hidden behind Aventurine’s cunning smile. Ratio saw it in his eyes, filled with both love and doubt, and in his arms, open for the embrace of betrayal. Was this genuine distrust or simply a way to appear distant in the face of scrutiny? Perhaps it was a combination of them both. The human heart was fickle and contradictory, but Ratio would believe in it regardless. Thus, he played his part perfectly: both as a traitor and as a doctor.
Ratio remembered Aventurine’s prone form lying in the dreampool. His blond hair was haloed by the lights, fanning out in the water like golden threads, their ends dyed with an ethereal blue. Ratio likened him to a mythical creature—the sight of him too beautiful and too sacred to be considered human. He looked peaceful. When Aventurine slept, he usually moved about, twisting his body in various positions. Ratio himself had been a victim of Aventurine’s restlessness. Sometimes, Ratio woke up with an arm and a leg wrapped tightly around him; other times, Ratio was pushed to the edge of the bed and missing a blanket. The serenity of Aventurine’s expression was unsettling.
At the time, there was nothing Ratio could do but to wait until the crisis in Penacony had ended. He checked up on Aventurine periodically. Each time, he found the man in the same position as he left him, unmoving and tranquil. Ratio would put his fingers underneath Aventurine’s wrist to feel the steady pulse of his blood. His skin was cold. Ratio wanted to ascertain for himself that Aventurine was still alive, but it was a useless endeavour; all his vitals were monitored, so Ratio would know if anything changed. He did it regardless.
As soon as he heard word of Aventurine waking, Ratio rushed back. He found Aventurine half up in the dreampool, staring blankly at nothing. He showed no sign of physical injury, but his eyes carried an unspeakable haunting. When Aventurine caught sight of him, that look disappeared. He smiled, gentle and brittle, and his relief was palpable. He pleaded for Ratio’s hand and, upon receiving it, kissed his knuckles one by one. He looked at Ratio in awe, as if he was surprised to have the luxury of Ratio's presence. But wherever else would Ratio be?
With a heavy heart, Ratio realised then that there was one crucial part that he had forgotten to play, and it was the role of a lover.
Perhaps the misunderstanding regarding their relationship was another case of Ratio’s inadequacy. First it was the incident with the spare key, then it was his negligence in Penacony, and now it was this. Ratio was familiar with cause and effect. His brain followed the rhyme of logic and reason, in the accuracy of numbers and the keen eye of observation. It did not occur to him that Aventurine would think differently. Unlike him, Aventurine was built upon contracts, in the solemnity of verbal vows and written words.
“...it was my mistake,” Ratio offered. "I should have clarified.”
“No, no,” Aventurine said, shaking his head. “I should’ve seen it. Aeons, I’m an idiot .”
If Aventurine was an idiot, then Ratio was a fool.
Ratio had always prided himself as an educated person, and his slew of achievements only added to his arrogance. It was not often, if at all, that he was out of his depth. However, his romance with Aventurine was the exception. Ratio found himself struggling like a newborn fawn, fresh out of the womb. An intrinsic part of him knew how to walk, but his legs were clumsy and weak. With each step, he stumbled. With each step, he acted the fool. While a fool he may be, he had always strived to better himself, for he desired not only to walk, but to run with Aventurine alongside him. So even when he trembled, he asked Aventurine the question that was buried deep within his heart.
“...am I lacking in any way?” Ratio’s voice wobbled as he spoke. “It is my first relationship—I admit I have no idea how to act as a lover. I’m well aware of the shortcomings of my personality.”
A great scholar was aware of his own limitations, and Ratio was one such scholar. Although the situations were completely different, Ratio’s thoughts wandered to Nous and how Their gaze had never reached him. Ratio was a genius in everything but name, and many times he had questioned what he was lacking. It wasn’t as if he didn’t see his own merit, whether it may be in intelligence, appearance, or kindness. But his lack of flaw only made the absence of Their acknowledgement more damning.
Fortunately, unlike Nous, Aventurine would respond to him.
“Well, I’d like it if you were a little softer on me—”
Ratio flinched. He expected as much.
“—but I’m happy with the way things are now. Your honesty is part of why I like you, doc. You say what you mean, whether it’s good or bad. I don’t have to try and figure out any deeper meaning. It’s refreshing.”
“Is that so…” Ratio muttered, taken aback. ‘Refreshing’ was certainly not a word he’d use to describe the blunt manner in which he spoke. One of the many reasons that dissuaded him from pursuing relationships in the past was the idea that he’d have to change any part of himself. It wasn’t until he met Aventurine that he understood the desire to change oneself for a loved one, if only to make them happy. With Aventurine, he found that he was willing to try, but the man had rejected the notion.
“You say you don’t know how to act like a lover, but frankly, I think you’re doing great.” Aventurine smiled and cupped Ratio’s cheek with his hand, tracing Ratio’s cheekbone with his thumb.
“I do not believe I have,” Ratio said, frowning. He closed his eyes and leaned into Aventurine’s touch. ‘Great’ implied well above average, but Ratio was still struggling to return the easy sort of affection Aventurine gave. “I’ve only been acting as I should.”
“That’s the thing! You think that’s the baseline when it comes to relationships, but it’s not,” Aventurine said bitterly. His hand fell from Ratio’s cheek. Ratio missed it already. “And me? I take what I can get.”
Ratio’s entire body thrummed with the desire to argue, to tell Aventurine he deserved more, but he did not want to break Aventurine’s stride. He was unusually candid. Words flowed freely from his mouth and his expression was unabashedly open. Ratio sat enraptured at the sight. He didn’t know when another chance like this would occur. As a doctor and member of the Intelligentsia Guild, he had taken the role of lecturer more often than not. Only in the presence of knowledge was he rendered speechless. He would rather observe and question until his hunger for information was finally sated.
How long ago did they begin to truly love one another? At what exact moment did Aventurine fall for him? He wondered what it was that Aventurine saw in Ratio, which of his behaviours or features transformed his ‘like’ into ‘love’. Ratio had never speculated on this before, but now his mind was brimming with questions. He wanted to know everything .
“After sex, I thought you would leave immediately. And you did, for a while,” Aventurine said, an undercurrent of melancholy in his voice. “But one day, you stayed and offered me coffee. You don’t know how that made me feel.”
It was true; Ratio did not know what Aventurine felt at the time, nor did he understand why he brought up coffee of all things. He’d spoken about it like it was some grand gesture, but it was merely a drink, grounded beans in hot water. Though the coffee was Aventurine’s focal point, Ratio’s mind instead lingered on the fact that Aventurine wanted him to stay, perhaps since the very first time they slept together. Had Aventurine loved him all this time…? Ratio’s heart ached, fond and apologetic in equal measure.
“That’s… I apologise, I did not know that you wanted me to stay,” Ratio said, throat dry.
Ratio himself wondered if he would’ve stayed, had Aventurine asked. His feelings for Aventurine had budded then, but it was still in its infancy; he had yet to understand the complexities of romance. Ratio was unable to undo his actions in the past, but at the very least, he could apologise for the harm he had caused.
But Aventurine waved off his apology as if it was nothing.
“I didn’t ask you to.”
Appalled, Ratio asked, “Why didn’t you?”
Aventurine could have persuaded him if he truly wanted to. Ratio could imagine it easily: a kiss to the cheek, a hand at the waist. Aventurine would beckon him like sirens would sailors, dragging him down to the ocean and only letting up when dawn arrived. But again, there was this strange shyness, this hesitance.
“I didn’t have to, because eventually you kept staying, ” Aventurine deflected. He paused for a moment, eyes widening, as something akin to realisation dawned on his face.“Ratio, you’re a logical person. Every word you say and every action you take is dictated by reason. Sometimes you end up missing social cues because of it—I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, really. I find it adorable.”
Aventurine’s words came out in a rush. He took a deep breath before he continued speaking.
“I think it’s because of that logic that you refuse to compromise in the way you live your life. You tell the truth even if it hurts other people’s feelings because you want them to improve. When you don’t want to see someone, you wear that plaster bust. When you don’t want to be somewhere, you walk away. Even as your boyfriend, I’m no exception to that. Isn’t that right? ”
Ratio’s heart rate picked up. Aventurine’s voice turned sharp at the end, accusatory. How often did a scientist experience the reversal of roles, to suddenly become the subject of their own experiment? When the hunter became the prey? Ratio felt like a lab animal strapped to a table while Aventurine looked down at him from above, scalpel in hand.
“Yes,” Ratio said, matter-of-fact. He had no shame admitting so, but a part of him reeled at the intensity directed towards him.
“When you cooked for me and when we adopted our pets, it’s because you wanted to.”
“Naturally,” Ratio confirmed. Had that not been obvious? “What is the point of these questions?”
Aventurine laughed. It was not a happy laugh, but a fragile, broken thing. When Aventurine spoke again, his voice was raw.
“Ratio, you… you’re already good enough as you are.”
It took a moment for him to process those words. Since he was a child, Ratio had never been told he was merely ‘good enough’. Ratio was often praised for his intelligence, and growing up, he was awarded with trophies and invited to galas. At the end of the night, without fail, he was asked: what was next for Veritas Ratio? Objectively, Ratio knew that Aventurine meant for his words to be complimentary; he accepted Ratio as he was and did not ask for more. So why did it feel as if Aventurine reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart with his bare hands?
His emotions were a jumbled mess. Joy and sorrow mingled together, so inextricably mixed that he couldn’t tell one from the other. There was a little shock, too. Then the anger came, unbidden. Questions swarmed in his mind. Why didn’t Aventurine ask for more? Did he not feel like he deserved it? Did he believe that Ratio was incapable of improving? Aventurine was his lover; from the people who had expectations of him, shouldn’t he expect the most out of them all?
“Unfortunately, I am not satisfied with ‘good enough’,” Ratio said loftily. “I aspire to be much better than that. I intend to be the best.”
Aventurine’s eyes gleamed with challenge.
“Oh? And what will you do to reach those heights, Ratio?”
“That is for you to experience later on. Look forward to it, Aventurine.”
“Hmm…” the gambler pondered. He leaned his head a little to the side, considering. “I’m not convinced.”
“Who do you take me for?” Ratio said, chin tilted up. Aventurine smiled at him playfully. The answer came easily to him.
“My lovely boyfriend, Veritas Ratio, of course.”
Ratio smiled back at him.
“Correct. Ten points.”
Once those words were uttered, the tension in the room dissipated. Aventurine let out a breath and sagged down into the couch. Ratio looked at him fondly.
“It seems that we’ve both been made fools,” Ratio noted. Aventurine hummed in agreement.
“We have, haven’t we?”
Love was not foolish in itself, but merely a catalyst that inspired foolishness in others. In its pursuit, people became blinded; they stumbled and fell to their knees. Against all logic, against one’s innate instinct of self-preservation and self-interest, love prompted individuals to prioritise another over themselves. Love nudged in the direction of kindness, of togetherness, of humanity. To lend a hand when others had fallen.
A fool, Ratio decided, was not the same as an idiot. There were times where even geniuses acted foolish, but as a mundanite, Ratio was given more leniency.
I am a fool for you , Ratio thought. He wanted to say it out loud, but his heart was so full that the words were lodged in his throat.
The air was heavy around them, weighed down by emotion, but it was not uncomfortable. Rather, it settled between them like a blanket, warm and familiar. There was sanctity in the silence, in words unspoken yet understood.
“Hey, Ratio?” Aventurine murmured, whisper-quiet.
“What is it?” Ratio asked, voice equally soft.
“Kiss me.”
Ratio was unable to say no, nor did he want to. His fate had already been sealed the moment he gazed into those bewitching eyes.
Aventurine and Ratio leaned in.
Their lips met, chaste and sweet.