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Aventurine didn’t usually drink. Not to excess, if at all. He was far too aware of how precarious his position was. He wouldn’t risk it by having an unclear head. He may have been a gambler, but even he knew some risks just weren’t worth taking. He had other unhealthy coping mechanisms that didn’t affect his job performance; thank you very much.
But it had been a rough week, and he was exhausted, mentally and physically. Aventurine’s promotion may have meant a cushy new office and a hefty pay raise, but it also meant more work. And Jade hadn’t exactly given him as much time to recover from Penacony as he expected. And there he was, excited about some time off. When he had even a moment of free time, he tried to sleep but.
His sister was beside him. Play dead, she said. Like it was a game, but it wasn’t fun. He was on the ground. The blood soaked through his father’s shirt. Ruined, just like everything else in his life. He felt it pass through the fabric, staining his skin. It wasn’t his blood. Did he wish it was?
Alone. Blessed. Loser. Coward. Lucky. Useless.
He couldn’t. Not with his dreams the way they were.
It happened to him every once in a while. He repressed and suppressed until, eventually, like a rubber band, he snapped. Whatever wall he built in his subconscious crumbled, and memories disguised as dreams threatened to overwhelm him. It would pass. It always did. He would take his trauma and forge it into another, stronger barrier as many times as it took.
But the wheel of capitalism kept turning, and he had work to do. There was no time to wallow.
He had been on a planet he couldn’t even remember the name of. Some businessman had been salivating for the IPC’s attention like a lost dog for some time. It was pathetic, really. But like Topaz said, all capital was good capital, and the man was rich enough that it was worth Jade sending Aventurine to deal with him. The deal he negotiated was an insult to the man. But the IPC’s name was shiny, and he was clearly too starstruck to care.
Even with Aventurine’s new station, the busywork never stopped. He needed a break—a release. And sleep certainly wasn’t an option.
So after (and only after) Aventurine finished the business deal at the bar, he indulged a bit. He drank drink after drink and delighted in the warm feeling that spread through his body. And hey, what was wrong with letting loose once in a while? Absolutely nothing, right? Right.
He didn’t know how long he stayed before the bar began to close for the night. Aventurine was pretty sure it was closing anyway. He was having difficulty telling the time but people were steadily filtering out. It only made sense for him to do the same. He needed to get a car back to his hotel room. It was only a ten-minute walk or so, but he couldn’t remember which direction to go. But then, he didn’t remember the name of the hotel either. And for such a no-name planet, there were too many hotels to count. Maybe he could…
His train of thought was cut off abruptly as a voice rang through the air, “Gambler.”
Aventurine turned around. Just his luck.
Veritas Ratio was standing before him, looking none too pleased. Then again, when did he look pleased?
“Ratio!” Aventurine said with a cheer he didn’t feel, “Bustless yet again? When will I see him again?”
“What are you on about?” Ratio asked.
“I…don’t know, actually.”
Aventurine barely remembered how it happened. One moment he was stumbling out of the bar; the next, Ratio was grabbing his arm and insisting on escorting him back.
Aventurine asked what Ratio was even doing there and got an exceptionally vague answer about him having work to do. Then he asked how Ratio knew the name of his hotel, but he remained silent. It quickly became clear Ratio had no intention of elaborating. Still, he looked rather guilty when Aventurine asked if Topaz had disclosed his location.
Although, if Ratio wanted to talk to him, Aventurine understood why he didn’t reach out directly.
Their relationship had been strained ever since the events of Penacony, to say the least. Aventurine wasn’t too proud to admit he was avoiding Ratio. He had overexposed himself on that mission, and Ratio’s letter had made it all the worse. He couldn’t be around Ratio and discuss those false assurances that Aventurine was desperate to believe. The idea that Ratio really wanted him alive was too scary to confront. So, no more lunches between meetings (which were not dates, no matter what Topaz said). No more messaging each other as Aventurine relayed gossip Ratio pretended he couldn’t care less about. Certainly, no more taking each other back to their hotel rooms on business trips. Or, well, there hadn’t been for some time at least.
And yet there Ratio was, escorting him back to his room. But there didn’t seem to be anything untoward on his mind. The issue was Aventurine couldn’t tell what was.
“Ratio,” Aventurine said; it was difficult to keep his voice steady, “I’m fine. How ‘bout we get you a cab home, and I’ll—”
“Pass out in the street?” Ratio interrupted, “Suffocate in a puddle of your own vomit? Please enlighten me as to how you see the rest of your night going in your state.”
“Hey! How come I die whenever you have a hypothetical involving me?” Aventurine pouted and delighted in how Ratio’s lips pulled into a frown. And what lovely lips they were, “I’ve looked death in the eye to no avail. You know that as well as I do. I doubt a bit of alcohol will be what finally gets me.”
Although, even he would have to laugh if, after everything, that was what finally did him in. His people were massacred. He had shot a gun at his chest, three clicks to earn the trust of the most beautiful man he had ever seen. He had attempted death in the dreamscape time and time again. He had been struck by an Emanator's blade. But no, one too many martinis would be what did him in. Aventurine wasn’t sure if it would be a sick joke or a blessing, but he would welcome it all the same.
“A bit of alcohol?” Ratio repeated disbelievingly, “Do you even remember how much you drank?”
“Sure I do!” Aventurine said with confidence he didn’t feel, “Two…um, three? Four!”
“No less than five by my count, one after the other, and I only began to observe you partway through the night. I’m sure you had more before I arrived,” Ratio spoke plainly, but something about hearing that Ratio had observed him sent a pleasant warmth to Aventurine’s face, “Honestly, the irresponsibility of those bartenders.”
“Aw, don't blame them, Ratio. I’m quite persuasive,” Aventurine said, “Besides, I give really good tips. And money…money…speaks?”
“Talks. And that is no excuse. If I hadn’t been there—” Ratio cut himself off abruptly, taking a deep breath, “You’re drunk. Arguing with you is a losing endeavor and a waste of our time. Come.”
“I don’t wanna,’” Aventurine pushed himself off of Ratio, collapsing on a nearby bench. He put the back of his hand over his eyes.
Ratio just sighed long and hard, “You are being impressively childish. What is it going to take to convince you to cooperate?”
“Convince? Doctor, you seem plenty strong enough to lift me away,” Aventurine said, lifting his hand to sneak a glance at Ratio, “Those arms…did I say that out loud?”
“I am, and you did,” Ratio said, not perturbed in the slightest, “I merely assumed you would not want to be seen thrown over my shoulder as I dragged you about. It appears I was wrong. I will give you to the count of three. One.”
“Oh, haha. You’re so funny,” Aventurine stalled at the look on Ratio’s face, “W-Wait, you’re not kidding? Ratio, c’mon.”
Ratio ignored him, “Two.”
Oh. He was serious. Just when he thought Ratio couldn’t get any more surprising.
Aventurine grinned and patted the space beside him, “How about this? Sit with me a while, and we can get going once I’m feeling a bit better.”
Not his smoothest or most thought out gamble, but his head was so cloudy that he was surprised he made any sense at all.
Besides, it would give him time to think about how to convince Ratio he was fine. Or he could annoy Ratio into finally giving up on him. Ratio may have been stubborn, but everyone eventually got fed up with Aventurine. Even pompous, genius doctors who told him they wanted him to stay alive.
Either way, when Aventurine tossed the coin, it would land in his favor. Not the most fair way to play, but since when had the world—any world—ever been fair to him?
Since when had Ratio?
Ratio grimaced, staying quiet a moment before relenting, “Fine. Perhaps you will sober up if we take a short break.”
Aventurine shrugged, “Who knows? Only one way to find out, right?”
Ratio didn’t respond, instead settling in next to him. Aventurine was far gone enough to admit that Ratio’s presence was soothing. Far gone enough to lean in slightly closer.
Just conscious enough to berate himself for wanting Ratio to do the same.
Damnit, that was a dangerous thought to acknowledge. So, instead, Aventurine looked out at the street to distract himself. Some people were still out and about, but not many. Still, Aventurine could hear music from clubs and see the lights on in apartments.
“What a planet,” Aventurine mused aloud, “I won’t remember it in a week from now, but there’s so much life. So much everything. Makes you feel small, doesn’t it, Doctor?”
He expected Ratio to scoff or roll his eyes. Instead, Ratio smiled slightly, “So the gambler fancies himself a poet now? Then again, you aren’t wrong.”
“Is that praise? Ratio, I’m flattered,” Aventurine said, “Have you had any time to explore? I could’ve sworn I saw a casino somewhere. I should take you gambling...”
Ratio’s face drew into a scowl, “Absolutely not.”
“Doctor, quit being such a killjoy,” but if he were honest with himself, maybe Aventurine liked that about him too, “It isn’t all luck, you know. There’s skill to it, too. In knowing what bets to take.”
“I suppose that is not entirely inaccurate,” Ratio said begrudgingly.
“Sounds like the idea is growing on you,” Aventurine let out a breathy laugh, “I bet you would be pretty good with that big brain of yours. Hey, I’ve got some cards on me—“
“Of course you do.”
“How about a game? I’ll play whatever you like. Tycoon? War? Golf? Go Fish?” Aventurine tried to shuffle the cards smoothly, but his hands lacked their usual deftness. Aventurine sighed and began to split the deck repeatedly.
“And the wager?” Ration prompted.
“Come now, Doctor. Who said anything about a wager?”
Ratio scoffed, “Don’t play coy. It’s unbecoming.”
“Me? Coy?” Aventurine batted his eyelashes and laughed as Ratio’s face drew into a grimace.
Somehow, Ratio managed to look even more displeased, “And don’t deflect either.”
Aventurine clicked his tongue, “Perceptive as ever. It’s just a little, tiny, uh, small bet. Barely anything. If I win, you leave me alone. You win, and I’ll quit complaining and let you take me home.”
Ratio didn’t miss a beat, “I am not going to barter with your safety. Pick something else.”
“But I’m drunk, right? I should be so easy to beat,” Aventurine gave his most winning smile.
“Should being the operative word,” Ratio said, “Impaired as you are, I would be a fool to deny your luck and skill. I repeat. Pick something else.”
Annoying but to be expected. Maybe Aventurine could admit he was even sort of pleased with the irritated praise, “Fine, fine. If you win, I’ll, hm, I’ll buy you that new bubble bath set Robin’s been promoting.”
Ratio quirked a brow, “How did you know I wanted it?”
Aventurine snorted, “You’ve mentioned it a bunch. If I didn’t know you better, I would assume you were trying to get me to buy it.”
“…Fine. And if you win?” Ratio was adorably flushed, and Aventurine reached out to grab his face to see if it was as warm as it looked.
Ratio swatted his hand away. If it were anyone else, Aventurine would say he was pouting.
But it was a good question. What did Aventurine want from Ratio? Since Ratio obviously wasn’t going to get off his high horse and abandon him.
“If I win…you give me a hug,” Aventurine said and watched as Ratio’s mouth dropped in surprise.
He didn’t know why he said it. Lower inhibitions, maybe. He knew Ratio would say no. But then, perhaps that was why. Perhaps Aventurine wanted to hear the rejection, to kill the hope that stupid doctor’s note brought. The hope that Ratio truly cared about him.
Ratio fumbled, opening and closing his mouth in shock, “That—”
Aventurine had never seen Ratio caught so off guard. It made him furious. It was a relief. He had to bite his cheeks to keep from laughing.
“What, so you’ll sleep with me, but you won’t hug me?” Not that Aventurine was bothered by it. Not that it came as a surprise. Not that he cared. No, this was a good thing. A way to snap himself back to reality and kill his delusions of a real relationship.
(Then why didn’t it feel like relief?)
Ratio didn’t quite recoil, but he stilled forcibly. His hands clenched into fists. He opened his mouth to say something. Aventurine wasn’t sure if it would be a scolding or a reassurance. He didn’t want to hear it regardless.
“Kidding,” Aventurine said, drawing out the word. Yet, the look on Ratio’s face burned itself into his memory. Raw. Disgustingly honest.
“Somehow, I don’t think you are,” Ratio stood up and began to speak slowly, like he was talking to the child Aventurine hadn’t been for a long time, “I think that is enough of a break. You may be arguing with me now, but you’ll thank me come morning. Likely with some excessive amount of credits that I will not accept.”
“How well you know me,” Aventurine smiled, but his patience waned. Usually, he found Ratio’s stubbornness charming. But the alcohol had dulled his resolve, and he was fed up.
Ratio shook his head, “It is clear you are trying to antagonize me into abandoning you. I am not so daft as to ignore this. Should you really find me so intolerable, I am more than willing to contact Topaz to ensure you return safely.”
Aventurine paused. He didn’t think Ratio would see through him so easily. He definitely didn’t expect him to offer to get Topaz’s help. Could Ratio be any more confusing?
“I guess…I guess I don’t mind you taking me home,” Aventurine could even admit he liked the idea, that it made his chest feel fuzzy and warm, completely separate from the alcohol, “I just hate that I don’t know why. You can understand that, can’t you, Doctor?”
“I can,” Ratio sighed, “I take it you wouldn’t believe me if I told you I wanted you to be safe?”
“Of course not,” Aventurine said easily. No one did. The only people who ever had were long gone, “And even if—even if that was what this was about. I can handle myself just fine.”
“You’re stumbling—”
“I’ve dealt with worse!” Aventurine snapped. It was an embarrassing loss of composure, but he couldn’t help it, “Tell me, Ratio, is this some sort of savior complex? Wanna’ put on your suit of armor? Rescue me from the IPC’s tower? I bet you’ve got another genius letter in your pocket you’ll use to talk me off the ledge. Maybe the poor damsel in distress will give you a kiss for your troubles? Is that it?”
Aventurine waited for Ratio to reply. He needed Ratio’s harsh words to bring him back to reality.
But that condemnation never came. Ratio stayed quiet, eyes fixed on him. Aventurine could see Ratio taking in his words, mulling over them. Whatever conclusion he came to, he wasn’t happy. Worse still, he didn’t seem hurt. Such a brilliant man. Such an annoyingly, infuriatingly brilliant man.
Ratio nodded as if something had just been confirmed. Since when was one of Ratio’s degrees in psychology?
“You cannot believe that I truly want to help you because I care,” Ratio said, “Even after everything.”
“Of course not. You must be happy. Your hypothesis was right on the money,” Aventurine replied, standing up from the bench to look Ratio in the eye, wobbling only slightly, “And I don’t need you anyway.”
“I am sure you could manage without me,” Ratio said, annoyingly mild, “However, there is nothing to be gained by going at something alone simply for the sake of it. Especially when you have people willing to help you.”
“I’m fine,” Aventurine snapped—okay, okay—slurred, “And why do you care about offering me support? Look, your letter was appreciated, but I’m back in one piece now. Alive. You’ve done enough. No reason to keep concerning yourself over me.”
“But I am concerned, and not merely as a doctor,” Ratio said as if it could be that simple.
Ratio was lying or faking it. He had to be. Because the alternative, that Ratio cared about him, saw him, was too terrifying to face.
Aventurine would have laughed if he weren’t so scared, “Stop it.”
Ratio had the nerve to sound confused, “Stop what?”
“You keep talking to me, acting like I’m worth helping—“
“Aventurine—“
“And—And I’m not,” Aventurine had to pause, taking deep breaths. He felt awful. Still, he refused to puke all over himself and Ratio. He deserved to keep the barest scraps of his dignity, at least.
“What you are is drunk. That much is quite clear,” Ratio said, matter of fact as always. Still, he held Aventurine steady through his criticism, “Will you just listen to me? You are—“
“Please, Doctor. I know what you think of me, no need to rub it in,” And Aventurine shouldn’t have leaned in, not when he felt so vulnerable and warm and his heart was so very bare, but he did.
“Ah, so you have progressed to assuming what I will say. And here I thought you couldn’t be more gauche. Are you listening?” Ratio’s eyebrows knitted together. As if he had ever cared about something as trivial as manners. Aventurine fought a bitter grin, instead staring into those intelligent eyes.
“I thought I was the lucky one,” Aventurine mused. He would have found it funny if it weren’t so pathetic, “Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. I find someone—haha—someone I actually like, and they hate me.”
But maybe that’s why Aventurine liked Ratio so much. His words, looks, and actions had swayed many men and women alike. But not Ratio. Ratio saw through him like he was made of glass. Transparent and fragile.
He was going to be so embarrassed when he sobered up in the morning.
Ratio made a great show of astonishment. The bastard, “Is that really what you think?”
“Obviously. I’m not an idiot, no matter what you say. You helped me out, and I appreciate it. That’s all. There’s no way you actually want to keep trying,” Aventurine couldn’t help but smile at the look on Ratio’s face, “I’m a gambler, a shell of a person bargaining for scraps. You couldn’t really like a person like me. Not you. Oh, unless? Are you into fixer-uppers, Ratio?”
“Aventurine,” Ratio said his name like a warning. Perfect, Aventurine needed the scorn.
“Am I your new project?” Aventurine asked, “I don’t mind. But you really should clue me in. How else will I know to play along?”
Aventurine didn’t know what he expected in response to his provocations. Still, he didn’t anticipate Ratio lunging forward as if to strike him.
Aventurine flinched forcibly, preparing himself to be struck. He felt so stupid for it. It was the kind of instinct he had learned to control, lest he appear weak, but then—
Ratio was hugging him.
He was warm and solid. Grounding even. Aventurine didn’t know what to do with his hands. Eventually, they settled on Ratio’s back. He could feel Ratio’s breathing, steady and deep.
Aventurine couldn’t see Ratio’s face, but his voice was heavy with emotion as he spoke, “You are not a fixer-upper, or a waste of time, or whatever other awful, incorrect things you think about yourself. I’m here with you because I care for you. Even if you don’t care for yourself,”
Aventurine was breathless, “I don’t—“
“Quiet,” Ratio hushed him, kind but firm, “You don’t have to say anything. I just need you to know.”
So Aventurine didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what he could say to that.
When Ratio pulled away, it took Aventurine everything he had to meet his eyes. He felt exposed.
Ratio looked at him for a long moment before grabbing Aventurine’s hand, “We are going to take you back to your hotel room. Do you understand?”
Aventurine wanted to scream. He still didn’t understand why Ratio was acting this way. But he didn’t have the energy to ask, not after Ratio had held him like the precious jewel that was his namesake.
Aventurine felt the fight leave his body. Silently, he nodded before leaning into Ratio’s shoulder. He was tired, but he felt protected. Safe. Shit, how long had it been since he felt safe?
“And then,” Ratio continued, hand on Aventurine’s back, grounding him, “when you sober up in the morning, we are going to talk.”
Must we, he went to say, but the remark died on his tongue. Ratio was looking at him with an expression Aventurine could not read. He suddenly felt very small, “Yes.”
Ratio held Aventurine close as they walked. Aventurine felt unsteady, and he didn’t think it was the alcohol.
They didn’t talk after that.
Honestly, Aventurine was glad for it. Instead, Ratio walked him home efficiently but patiently. He didn’t complain when Aventurine tripped over his own feet or needed to take a breath. When they got to the hotel, Ratio took him up in the elevator and into his room.
Aventurine ignored the receptionist and her self-satisfied smile.
Aventurine vaguely remembered Ratio helping him out of his jacket and into bed, muttering something under his breath about how unhygienic it was to lay in bed while still in street clothes. Ratio carried out the actions methodically and efficiently, but also so softly. Aventurine couldn’t understand it.
But as soon as his head hit the pillow, he felt the hazy thoughts subside, and his body immediately relaxed. He knew then that he didn’t have the energy to change and probably couldn't get back up even if he tried.
“Ratio,” Aventurine said, struggling to keep his eyes open. Stupid IPC and their stupidly cozy hotel rooms with even more stupidly comfortable beds, “You can sleep—“
“On the couch,” Ratio finished, dusting himself off lightly. Ratio’s tone was definite, and he would not listen to any rebuttals.
“S’ not like we haven’t shared a bed before,” Aventurine mumbled.
“You’re hardly conscious, and you need the space. Besides, the couch is a pullout mattress,” Ratio countered, and how Aventurine hated it when he was right.
Aventurine wanted to keep up their banter, but he couldn’t. The same way he couldn’t hold back his desperation as he spoke, “Don’t leave. Please.”
He needed someone to stay with him, just once. No, that was wrong. He needed Ratio, the ever-present pain in his neck and light of his life, to stay with him.
How pathetic was that?
Ratio’s voice was patient. Aventurine had never heard him sound so soft, “I won’t. I promise you I will be here come morning.”
Aventurine huffed, “So it’s a promise, huh?”
“It is,” Ratio said, placing a pleasantly warm hand on Aventurine’s cheek.
Aventurine had been given a lot of empty promises throughout his life, but the way Ratio said it and touched him so gently made Aventurine want to believe him.
“Alright,” Aventurine said, closing his eyes and leaning into Ratio’s touch.
Ratio turned to leave, taking his hand off of Aventurine’s face. Aventurine suddenly felt very cold.
“Goodnight, Aventurine. Get some rest.”
“Night,” Aventurine replied.
He listened to Ratio’s footsteps echo in the dark. Only when he was completely sure Ratio was gone did he speak again.
He had something of a ritual before he went to sleep. It was stupid and sentimental. Yet he did it every night.
Aventurine closed his eyes and tried to picture his family. Shakily, he held his palm out.
“Goodnight, Mama. Goodnight, Big Sis. Goodnight, Papa.”
As he started to drift off, he could almost feel a hand pressed against his own.
For the first time in weeks, Aventurine slept through the night.
Aventurine woke up with only a slight headache and an ache in his muscles.
He stretched luxuriously, knocking over a pillow. Not the worst hangover he had ever had, but it still wasn’t a pleasant thing to wake up to. Never again, he promised himself.
It was the best kind of promise: one he had no intention of fulfilling.
But he didn’t have time to think about that. He needed to find his phone. Light was already streaming through the windows, and he was sure Jade already had a new assignment for him. She had seemed pleased when he messaged her that he had secured the deal, but she wasn’t the type to be easily satisfied.
“Gambler. I’m glad to see you are awake and haven’t suffocated in your sleep.”
The voice caught Aventurine off guard and he all but jumped up out of bed. He grasped desperately under his pillow. Surely he had a knife or some kind of—
He blinked as the owner of the voice came into focus. Ratio?
Oh. Right. The previous night began to come back to him in flashes. Ratio had escorted him back to his room. Ratio had hugged him and told him he cared.
Somehow, Aventurine’s panic didn’t subside.
“Can you stop mentioning me dying?” Aventurine said, rubbing his eyes, “It’s a real mood killer, and I just woke up.”
Ratio didn’t miss a beat, “It’s better for the mood to be dead than you. Hopefully, you will be more mindful next time.”
“I can’t believe you stayed just to lecture me,” Aventurine groaned.
Ratio cocked his head, “You asked me to stay, did you not? Surely, you know me well enough to understand that the lecture is a given.”
The way he had all but begged Ratio to stay came back to him suddenly.
Aventurine shot out of bed, face red, “I’m going to go brush my teeth!”
“I—“
“Brushing my teeth!”
Aventurine closed the bathroom door behind him with a loud bang. He needed to calm down. And brush his teeth. His mouth felt absolutely awful. But mostly, he needed to calm down.
He splashed water on his face. He could navigate this calmly. He would navigate this calmly.
By the time Aventurine finished getting ready, Ratio was setting the dining room table. There was a cup of coffee and a sickly bright orange drink on the table. An energy drink that early? Aventurine had to laugh.
“Seriously, Ratio? Coffee and an energy drink?” Aventurine knew that Ratio used caffeine to function occasionally, but this was just ridiculous. Usually, Ratio was the one lecturing him about the dangers of relying too much on caffeine.
Ugh, why did that thought have to feel so affectionate?
Ratio just scoffed as if the answer was boringly obvious, “Of course, dear gambler. You should hardly be having coffee.”
Aventurine’s brain briefly short-circuited, “Wait, what?”
Ratio continued on as if he hadn’t heard a word, “And this isn’t an energy drink. Caffeine would only slow down your rehydration. Rather, I have bought a drink heavy in electrolytes but without caffeine. I hope you can tolerate the flavor. I personally find it rather sickening, but it should help you.”
“Sorry, I think I’m misunderstanding you,” Aventurine said because there was no way Ratio had actually prepared this for him.
“What is there to be confused about? Of course, you will need plenty of water as well. I will ensure you stay properly hydrated,” Ratio explained.
Aventurine laughed. It was the only way to keep his panic from spreading, “What? Are you going to get me honey for my sore throat, too?”
Ratio went to get up from his chair, “If you have a sore throat, I can—“
“I was joking, Doctor,” Aventurine said.
Ratio’s mouth twisted, “Don’t. Not with your well-being.”
Aventurine didn’t know what to say to that, so he just sat down and sipped the drink. It was ridiculously sweet, but not unbearable.
“Now then,” Ratio said, “I know it is early, but we did agree to talk about last night’s…events. Are you still willing?”
Aventurine did distinctly remember that. But to be fair, Ratio had just hugged him and he was in a weird place emotionally, “Talk?”
“Perhaps you were too drunk and do not remember. I’ll drop the matter if so,” Ratio said, “It would be unfair to pry if you were unaware of what you were agreeing to.”
Ratio knew he remembered. Aventurine could see it in the look on his face. For all his bravado, Ratio wasn’t a good liar. But he was doing Aventurine a favor by offering him an out. Aventurine could admit he appreciated the chance and almost took it, but he was done running.
When it all inevitably blew up in his face, at least he could say he tried, “No. I remember. What is it?”
Ratio cleared his throat and then, with no fanfare, “I love you.”
Aventurine felt the floor fall out from under him. When they had been fooling Sunday, Ratio’s harsh words and insults had cut deep. Aventurine knew he was just acting, yet hearing Ratio’s disdain for him hurt. He feared that perhaps Ratio wasn’t pretending at all. None of it compared to the absolute dread of hearing Ratio loved him. Aventurine forced himself to swallow the bile that he suddenly found in his mouth.
Aventurine kept his gaze downcast, but he could feel Ratio’s intense eyes on him, “Hm. Ah. I see. Uh, no. You don’t. Please don’t?”
“I do,” Ratio said, as if it were a simple fact, as if Aventurine’s world wasn’t crumbling around him, “But I can see I’m upsetting you.”
Wasn’t that the understatement of the year? “Why? Why do you think that?”
“That I love you?” And there was that word again.
“Obviously that,” Aventurine hissed.
Ratio shrugged, “Why wouldn’t I? Aventurine, you are exceptional in every sense of the word. You’re kind and giving, even though you pretend it is all for show. Not to mention how smart you are. I never mean to make you feel foolish. You have an amazing strategic mind. And more than anything, I admire your resilience. No matter what, you get back up and devise a plan to succeed. Even if it’s horribly reckless. You are incredible.”
Ratio said it all so easily. He actually believed all of those things. Aventurine’s stomach twisted.
Aventurine squeezed his eyes tightly, pushing his hair out of his eyes, “Damnit. Can you just…not use that word? It would help.”
“It doesn’t change the truth of the matter,” Oh gee, thanks, Ratio, “But if it helps, I can refrain.”
Aventurine should have felt relieved, but he couldn’t, not when Ratio was still being so considerate. Ratio accepted his weird hangups, perhaps begrudgingly but with no judgment. No one was that understanding toward Aventurine. Nothing in his life worked out that well. There had to be a catch somewhere. It was a horrible feeling, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Please do. I’m guessing that wasn’t all you had to say,” Aventurine said.
“It wasn’t. Last night, you said you weren’t worth helping and that I could never like a person like you,” Ratio explained.
Aventurine snorted. He resented that it came out more fond than exasperated, “Were you taking notes?”
Ratio ignored his attempt at redirection, “Drunk words are said to be sober thoughts. Do you really—“
“Look, let’s cut to the chase,” Aventurine said, “I meant every word I said. My tongue may have been looser than normal, but that doesn’t change the facts. I’m a waste, Doctor. That’s what we’re working with here. Take it or leave it.”
“I see,” Ratio said frostily.
Displeased, but not at Aventurine. Certainly not surprised. But that was the thing about Ratio, wasn’t it? He was too perceptive for his own good.
“You may not feel the same about me as I do you,” Ratio said, “Don’t feel as though you have to. I just need you to know that I do. And that you are worth loving. I'm certain I’m not the only one that feels this way. There are people who want you around.”
It was a nice sentiment. It was everything Aventurine had ever wanted to hear from Ratio. It was terrifying.
“Ratio, you’re supposed to be the smart one here,” Aventurine’s smile was a weak thing, “You really should know better.”
“What I know is that you have been given a second chance at life,” Ratio said, “And you’re—you act as if nothing happened. As if risking everything and escaping by the skin of your teeth was just another gamble. You certainly haven’t spoken to me about the matter.”
“What’s there to talk about?” Aventurine asked, “I lived, didn't I?”
“Barely,” Ratio stressed. He was quickly losing his patience. Good.
Aventurine did his best to give an unaffected smile, “Is this about the letter? Or ah, your advice rather? I appreciated it. Really. But I didn’t think you would need to have a conversation about it.”
Ratio sighed, “You’re missing the point—it isn’t just the letter.”
“Then what?”
“I had faith in you,” Ratio said, disturbingly earnest, “As foolish as I thought your plan and as displeased I was that you would gamble with your life, I believed you would survive. I believed you would succeed. I was so illogically certain you would make it back. And then you sent that damn pre-written message.”
Oh, right. Aventurine may have been lucky, but even he could understand the odds he was going up against. So yes, he scheduled a message to be sent to Ratio. It was nothing substantive, really. He had just thanked Ratio for helping him with Penacony and expressed how much he had enjoyed working with him. No grand reveals or flirtations or anything. Aventurine had wanted to say goodbye, that was all. Ratio deserved that much, at least.
Figures it would come back to bite him.
“Oh,” it was all Aventurine could say.
“Oh? Is that all you have to say?” Ratio said, “Don’t you get it? When that message was sent, I realized that for all my confidence in you, you lacked that same surety. You had no idea if you would make it back. Your grandest gamble yet.”
“But I made it back,” Aventurine argued. The rebuttal didn’t sound as severe as Aventurine had been hoping for.
“Exactly. And I am extraordinarily lucky for it. I got you back. Alive. Don’t squander that,” Ratio grabbed Aventurine’s wrist, “Please.”
Aventurine yanked his hand away, “I’m not—I’m not squandering it—”
Ratio was unmoved, “Aren’t you?”
He wasn’t. Or, at least, he didn’t mean to.
It wasn't that Aventurine wanted to die. Or throw away his life carelessly. Maybe he thought he did in his inebriated state. But then he remembered the fear when Acheron moved to strike him with her blade. His sense of dread as he traversed the Nihility. The overwhelming relief when he woke up. He was alive. And he was glad.
But old habits die hard. Just like him.
What did that mean for him to want to be alive? It was easier to act as if nothing had changed. Act long enough, and you can even fool yourself. Maybe that was stupid, the mark of an idiot. But what else could he do?
“I am happy to be alive,” Aventurine said. The words were strange and unfamiliar on his tongue, but they felt right.
“Then why don’t you act like it?” Ratio asked, frustrated.
“Because I don’t know how!” Aventurine snapped.
There it was. The ugly truth laid bare for both of them to see. Cards laid face up on the table.
“Aventurine—“
“I want to, but, well, it’s been a long time since I’ve lived for myself,” Aventurine bit back a laugh, “I don’t even know where to begin.”
But then, maybe he had never lived for himself.
No, Aventurine had never lived at all. He simply survived. Always keep moving. Even when he could see the bodies of his people around him. Prove your worth. Make a bigger gamble for a weak chance at status. Gamble yet again, only for the IPC rather than against it. He had no time to enjoy his life when its stability was always teetering off the edge of a cliff. Jade had taught him as much.
(“Ma’am?” Aventurine questioned, looking at the coat in his hands.
It was the same coat he had been eyeing when Jade took him shopping for the first time. He ran a hand over it, taking it in.
Gaudy. There was no other word for it, and Aventurine loved it. The fabric felt expensive and was adorned with plenty of details and embellishments. A furry collar, shiny gold buttons, and lining.
Aventurine fought the urge to hug the coat to his chest. He could admit he was happy to have it. But he couldn’t understand why Jade would call him into her office just to give it to him.
Jade smiled, pleasantly cold as ever, “You like it, don’t you? Consider it a gift from me to you.”
“Right,” Aventurine grinned, “And what are you expecting me to do as a thank you?”
Jade sighed softly, “Child, could I be any clearer? It is a gift. Nothing is expected in return. Although, I suppose I should applaud you for being so shrewd. Not everyone speaks as plainly as I do. It will serve you well in this line of work.”
Plainly? He didn’t take Jade for the delusional type. She must have been joking.
Jade smiled softly at the look of confusion on his face but otherwise paid him no mind as she continued speaking.
“You live for the IPC now. Our image, the version of ourselves we portray, is one of our most valuable assets. The clothes we wear and the cards we show are who we are. Nothing more, nothing less. Whoever you may have thought you were will fade in time. Consider this a friendly push in the right direction to speed up the process,” Jade’s voice wasn’t sincere—no never sincere—but it was real in a way he had never heard from her, “Do you understand?”
Aventurine’s stomach filled with dread as his appreciation for the coat turned to disgust. He did.
Jade’s smile sharpened, and Aventurine had no idea if it was in delight or resignation.)
“…I could help you if you wanted,” Ratio said quietly, as unsure as Aventurine had ever heard him.
It went straight to his heart.
Aventurine smiled, “Why, Doctor, that almost sounds like a proposal.”
“Do you want it to be?” Ratio asked.
Scary as it was, he really did.
Aventurine sighed, “That’s big talk, Doctor. Think you can do it?”
“All I ask is that you give me a chance to prove I truly care for you,” Ratio said, devastatingly sincere, “Assuming you feel the same, of course.”
“Asshole. You know I do,” Aventurine sighed, long and dramatic. It was all he could do to keep from crying, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Ratio smirked, “If it helps, consider it another gamble.”
“Great, so now I’m betting my heart? This is a new low,” Aventurine said, but he was smiling more genuinely than he had in a long, long time.
Ratio made a noise that could have been a scoff if it weren’t so loving, “I thought you played to win, dearest gambler.”
Aventurine felt his face warm. This infatuation was going to be the death of him.
(Another word lingered below the surface, four letters that were far too genuine for him to acknowledge, even if Ratio would.)
“That I do,” Aventurine said. He took a deep breath. He forced his hands to stay steady as he grabbed Ratio’s, “I guess I have no excuse now.”
“Not a one,” Ratio hummed.
He was so assured. Annoyingly so. Aventurine wanted to disrupt that. So he stood up, moving to sit in Ratio’s lap.
Ratio’s eyes widened slightly but, to his credit, stayed completely still, “Do you need something, Gambler?”
Aventurine played with Ratio’s collar with one hand, using his other hand to tangle into Ratio’s hair.
“Come on, Doctor. You’re smart,” Aventurine said softly, “Take a wild guess.”
Ratio’s eyes widened just a fraction, but he leaned in closer, “Ridiculous.”
“For you? Always.”
And Aventurine couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled Ratio forward until their lips met.
Ratio, like with everything else, was quick on the uptake. He cupped Aventurine’s face and kissed him back like a man starved.
The kiss was delicate yet so filled with care and affection that Aventurine’s heart was about to burst.
When they pulled away, they were both flushed, even though the kiss lasted only a few seconds.
“There. Our first kiss,” Aventurine said, almost giddy. Hell, extremely giddy.
Ratio scoffed, “That was far from our first kiss.”
“Not our first kiss. But, like, a new first kiss,” Aventurine said, “This is the start of something new, right?”
“Sentimental,” Ratio huffed, “But I agree.”
“I’m sentimental?” Aventurine laughed, “You were the one with all the grand declarations.”
Ratio held him closer, “And I meant every word.”
Aventurine fought a flattered smile. Bastard.
Aventurine rested his head against Ratio’s chest, listening to his breathing. To think this all happened because he picked the right time and place to drink too much. He really was lucky.
“You know,” Aventurine said solemnly, “I guess it’s true what they say.”
Ratio raised a sculpted eyebrow. Cautious but willing to hear him out like always. Aventurine’s chest suddenly felt very tight.
“In vino veritas,” and Aventurine couldn’t keep his face straight anymore, “In wine, there’s you!”
Ratio’s lips immediately went into a grimace, but his face was flushed, “That is—Gambler, you are not funny.”
“I really am,” Aventurine sighed contentedly, “Aw, look. You can’t decide whether to give me a long lecture on Latin or take the compliment. Cute.”
He had to stop laughing when Ratio pressed another kiss to his open mouth.
So this was going to be a thing, huh? Aventurine scolded himself internally. It was risky, stupid, likely to lead to disaster.
But he also felt Ratio’s arms around him, his hands so gentle.
Maybe it was stupid and reckless. But he couldn’t care. No, Aventurine quite liked his chances.