Work Text:
Storms.
The endless noise outside the office, the footsteps of the IPC servants, the irritating sound of notifications ringing every other second—everything is blanketed by the wind's song. Aventurine can change the background of his window to a holographic view, making it visualize a warm evening day without any precipitation, but that won't block out the deafening downpour of rain.
It's warm in his office, the new air conditioner is flashing green light, and his chair is made of the highest quality faux leather, the definition of comfort and perfection. He runs his fingers over the covering of his chair, imagining, no, forcing himself to imagine a warm, breezy evening. Not the relentless frigid air, the skin scratched bloody by sharp particles of sand, and one ragged, thin shirt frayed at the edges.
It was so easy for him to die on nights like this. He didn't.
What a pity. He doesn't stop shaking.
His eyes are closed shut, and his mind is elsewhere. He can still hear the noisy chatter of his guards outside his office—the fools are discussing Diamond as if his ears and eyes weren't in every corner of even this damned office, and he can almost feel that stare even on himself. There's no surprise at how much noise goes on in IPC every time, but today, Aventurine can't find a space for himself.
He just wondered if he were back on his planet again, would he be able to withstand another storm and arid winds? Would his eyes tear from the sand tangling right through his eyelashes? Would his fingers freeze from the cold, even with those thin, expensive gloves on his hands? Would he have died there?
What a pity. There will never be a chance to know the answers to those questions again.
He hears the familiar footsteps of booted heels down the hallway and immediately picks up his glasses from his desk. As much as his colleagues at IPC like to shit-talking, Topaz has the same keen eye and sensitive attention, almost on the same level as her favorite piggy. She has a kind heart, but to survive here you tend to notice others weaknesses first. But if most of IPC are using it on purpose, in Topaz's case It's a trait she almost unconsciously uses, and Aventurine sometimes has fun playing these kinds of games with her. The simplest type of rule—if she doesn't notice anything, he stays on the winning side.
But today is not that day or hour, or perhaps he's just tired of playing every other lottery game he sees. He'd rather not have to listen to her questions and catch curious looks at himself for an extra time—after all, it is more pleasing for people to look at him when there's nothing of him.
Aventurine only has time to fix his glasses on the bridge of his nose before the door to the office opens.
"Hey, Aven, did you hear what those idiots were talking 'bout outside your door? Diamond must be dying of laughter," Topaz snorts, entering his office. It's no surprise how suddenly and invitation-free Topaz enters his office—many have told he's giving her too many indulgences, but Aventurine would disagree. It's a common belief in IPC that even a hint of concern for others can lead to one's own doom, but at the end of the day, Aventurine is living for risks.
He pulls on smile on his face and leans back in his chair lazily.
"Hmm, really? I'll have to admit, I didn't even notice their noise," he scoffs, pulling a coin from his pocket. "Guess I'll have to downgrade their rating again for such antics."
"Yeah, yeah, of course, you'll downgrade them," Topaz rolls her eyes. "You said the same thing the last two times, and somehow those idiots keep standing outside the door. What, are you practicing virtue now?"
"Just blame it on my bad memory," he answers delicately. The coin in his right hand flips lightly into the air and disappears just as smoothly in the fast motions of his fingers. "Did you want something? Or did you just miss my company?"
Topaz is distracted by the gleaming coin in his hands for a second, and Aventurine silently hopes that the trembling of his hands is unnoticeable behind his tricks. After all, tricks are not only good for distracting others but also for himself.
"Yeah, dream on," she wrinkles her nose, then places a couple of sheets of paper on his desk. "I sent the full report on the last mission as usual to the email, but here's a list of all the debtors who cannot be contacted. My subordinates were unable to find their whereabouts."
By that, for sure, means all the dirty work was handed over to him. Not that he minds, after all, one of his prior duties at IPC as a manager was to negotiate contracts with... quite unpleasant clients who do not lack a tendency towards questionable behavior. Sometimes, it's just some boring missions, in which most time is dedicated to planning and researching rather than doing anything exciting. And sometimes some missions provide a welcome sense of adrenaline, something searing and almost overpowering, his favorite kind of bet—who will be under the gun at the last second, him or his client? So exciting. A fleeting sense of freedom.
A feeling so addictive that it makes it impossible to desire anything else anymore.
Well, whatever. A job's a job, after all.
"Mm, good work. I'll look at the list as soon as I clear my very full and important schedule," Aventurine smirks. His left hand disappears under the table, and the tinkling sound of a coin flip dilutes the fake tone of his voice. Ah, the Aeon of Harmony would've obviously laughed at him at this point. "Is there something else?"
Topaz's silence lingers for a few seconds, and Aventurine doesn't even need to look up to feel her watchful gaze on him. A spin, a toss, another spin, and the coin hides in his glove, a small farewell show. No flinching, trembling, or sharp movement, just pure flexibility and quickness—it's a game he's a true professional at.
Topaz turns her gaze away.
"Yeah, that's it," she nods, then tilts her head toward the window. "Are you going home now? The weather outside is just disgusting. Even Numby doesn't want to go out in this downpour."
Aventurine would rather have unquenchable heat and dazzling sunshine than even some raindrops. He can't remember any warm and good rainy day in his life—it's always freezing rain, the kind of rain that wraps around your body as if the bones of the deceased are clawing at the last shreds of human warmth. The rain awakens all his muffled emotions, washes away all the expensive jewelry, suits, and fake smiles from his own self; it leaves him alone and vulnerable, miserable in his good fortune and speechless in his never-ending grief. The rain comes back as endless circles of samsara, just to remind him of his nature, his destiny. He meets each rain as his executioner, facing it with only one wish, with only one question—will this be the day he hears the gentle chant of Gaiathra Triclops calling her most beloved child to go back to her? He wonders, will that rain this very time wash away all his sins, all the sins of his family, all the sins of his nation? He's curious, does Gaiathra Triclops look for him right now, in this moment? Is she... disappointed in what he become?
Topaz clears her throat briefly, and he flinches a little, and, ah, his left hand was on the table. Unlucky. Topaz had already noticed his trembling hands.
"What a poor thing, dear Numby. I hope it won't catch a cold from all this rain then," Aventurine responds, smiling. The clenched fist of his left hand hides in the pocket of his white pants, and he picks up his hat from the table. "It's a shame to get such a beautiful and expensive suit wet, but maybe I'll get lucky and catch a cab on the way."
He gets up from the table, slowly counting down to four—one, two, and Topaz is still watching, pursing her lips in doubt. They look at each other, and Aventurine raises an eyebrow in question. Do you accept your victory, my dear colleague, or will this wager go to nothing as the rest of them did?
Three. Topaz keeps silent. Four.
So it's still a win for him.
"I wish you a marvelous evening even on such a rainy and sad day, Topaz. Pass my greetings to Numby," he adds as he puts on his hat and walks away. Topaz keeps staring after him but nods in response and briefly wishes him to get back home safely, and Aventurine restrains the urge to laugh before leaving the headquarters.
To get safely back home. What a precise and unknowable wish. Aventurine can't even force himself to act. After all, it would be so wonderful just to go back home. He looks through the transparent door at the exit, watching the raindrops crash endlessly against the ground like those little fragments of fallen meteorites that crashed on his planet long before. An equally fragile but death-defying thought slips into his mind too.
Have you come here again to set me free, bless me once more, or finally take me far away with you, Mother Goddess?
Gaiathra Triclops is silent and humble, and she is neither deaf nor ruthless; she hears every question he asks.
She always answers with a quiet refusal.
There is nothing Aventurine can do about it. He keeps on facing the rain onward.
Pier Point is lively at any system hours, and Ratio can say it with confidence—it is more difficult to find a quiet, desolate place here than to penetrate the mind of any Aeon.
Usually, it's annoying. He always keeps improving the ability to focus and concentrate even in the loudest places—after all, he is an educator, and students can be no better than wild animals. Any activity requires awareness and constant improvement, and even in maintaining his own concentration, he is ready to test his limits repeatedly. And apparently, Pier Point decides to assist him in this regard, irritating him with its noise every damned day.
But to his mild surprise, Pier Point is pretty peaceful today.
He walks home after work. A walk always keeps him toned, and perhaps it does not work as effectively for him as taking a hot bath, but it is also a good option for cleansing his mind. Even the rain did not ruin Ratio's impression—it is very pleasant to observe how unusually quiet it is even on the most popular streets of Pier Point, and he could calmly walk without a mask on his face.
If Pier Point were like this every day, perhaps he would be a bit more tolerant of this place.
Although wet shoes are a very troublesome thing, his mind feels much lighter than before. Having a cool mind is an important priority to keep oneself away from the ignorance that all humans and intelligent beings are prone to. Ratio is a human too. Ignorance will not pass him by just because of some innate brilliance, fate, or destiny, no matter how much those around him like to invent it and state it as a fact. He maintains strict discipline and a constant process of improvement to not let ignorance mess with his mind and body.
It is a regular work on yourself.
Awareness and honesty with oneself are the traits he's been internalizing since he was a child because who else could ever fully recognize oneself except one's own self? One must be able to see clearly in oneself both idiocy and intelligence to attain the goals and knowledge one desires, to be cured of such a disease as ignorance, and to not lose one's rationality and humanity.
But alas, not everyone understands things and concepts as simple as this. Sometimes, these are cases where people never had a chance to even get an education or any knowledge, and Ratio would never dare to blame them for their ignorance—after all, he is a doctor and a scholar, not a judge. Sometimes, it is people's own pride and vanity that speaks in them, their own desire for everything that causes them to lose any ability to think in any other way than a primitive one.
And sometimes, it's people so unique in their own right that Ratio asks himself about them in wonder. Take, for example, his damned gambler and always-so-lucky partner, Aventurine, whose presence causes him both an irritating headache and a strange relief in his chest.
Looking at how professionally the lock of his door has been picked, and the footprints of someone else's shoes are still fresh on his doorstep, he feels more of an irritating headache.
"Was the "picking other people's locks," including my property, a mandatory clause in our contract, or do you drastically start changing your line of work, gambler?" Ratio asks grumpy as he enters the house. Although the lock is picked indeed, thankfully, it isn't broken and works as it did before. Slightly wet leather shoes are neatly folded near the door, and the owner of the shoes himself messes up the floor of his hallway, standing motionless in his soaked clothes. "I'll do you a little favor and tell you one piece of advice—do not even try to keep doing this."
Aventurine is completely drenched, drops of water are still dripping from his hair, and his once expensive, defiant clothes have become heavy and faded. His eyes look even emptier and duller than usual, and he's trembling all over yet still stubbornly stands near the entrance, pulling a delicate smile on his face and crossing his arms. "Why's that, Doctor? I thought I did a pretty good job."
Ratio doesn't even need to look twice to know that it's not just the rain that makes him tremble.
"You did it. It was an impeccable job," he agrees. "It is a reason to stop even trying to do it."
Aventurine laughs hoarsely, but it's a very brief sound. Even his voice breaks a little. "Ah, and then I thought you were worried about the level of my natural abilities, Doc. You've heard about it, right? The fame of Avgins always originates with their talent at thievery."
Ratio hums back, nodding his head. Of course, he knows about it. Ratio didn't even need to find all the information about Aventurine the first time they were sent on a mission together—every day he was approached by all sorts of strangers, all with the same opinion about: how dangerous it is to get involved with Aventurine, the Sigonian blood of his says more about him than his own actions, and he is a cruel manipulator and a pathological liar who is only after resources of IPC. Ratio would've even laughed at that if these idiots hadn't come to him thinking that of all people Veritas Ratio would believe in this utter stupidity, as if their words would somehow be taken in the slightest bit seriously by him.
In fact, he doesn't even know Aventurine as well as it seems to. No one knows Aventurine completely, not even he himself, and in any other case, it would have already provoked the scholarly side of Ratio, but, as he said, Aventurine is such a unique person.
Despite all his provocative, flashy facade and heavy past, the little peacock is very smart at what he does. Everyone in IPC knows what an impeccable businessman Aventurine is, even if they always look down on him through their prejudices. This is another irony—while the highest ranks of IPC executives and directors are clutching each other throats and drowning in their greed and overpowering, Aventurine doesn't even care about the job itself.
His mind is very flexible but practical, his strategic work has one of the highest efficiency percentages in IPC, and all his missions have been closed out in his favor no matter what; a perfect epitome of endless winnings and sheer luck. It could already answer the long-asked question of why Ratio continues to work with him at all, but others won't ever know that it was never the case.
"Then I'm sure you can demonstrate your talent again in the bathroom—or do you want to continue standing here, ruining my marble tiles?" he huffs, pointing his fingers toward the bathroom without even looking as he spreads the umbrella out to dry. Yet Ratio can already feel Aventurine's grin on himself.
"Oh, wow, who would know? If you wanted to see me naked this bad, all you needed to do is ask," Aventurine says. His flirty cocky tone might even be believable if it weren't for the way he tiptoes up slightly and then carefully walk to the bathroom, trying not to get the floor wet. "It's very easy to execute, Doc!"
"I wouldn't even dream of it," Ratio rolls his eyes but still involuntarily smirks at the Aventurine's walking. "Trying to get to the bathroom that way, my dear gambler, you've ruined my floor even more."
Aventurine's voice sounds muffled behind the bathroom door. "That was the plan, my dear Ratio, that was the plan!"
And as soon as the door closes, Ratio sighs.
He is not annoyed with Aventurine, no, this is not the first time he has broken into his house in this way, and, as unfortunate as it may sound, Ratio is already used to it. However, this never-ending show, the eternal farce in his behavior, unnerves something inside Ratio, wanting to finally end it, and let all the masks fall off.
But trust has always been a difficult thing in their relationship.
He does not consider his own trust in Aventurine to be something unreasonable, but he will not call it rational enough either. However, the fact is, there is trust. It's always there. This is not something easy to explain in words, despite his outstanding oratory skills and voluminous vocabulary. Everything related to Aventurine gets questioned and pondered sooner or later, but after each such analysis, he always comes to the same conclusion—he still wants willingly to trust him.
Their partnership has been going on for several years, and even though they had many conflicts at the beginning of their partnership, they have created their own language for each other. They cannot be called close people, but they cannot be called strangers either—they are not lovers, but they always return only to each other. They could be called friends to some extent, but that's not really who they are. They don't discuss how their day went at the dinner, they don't plan special meetings just to spend time, and they don't look for each other when they don't need to, but at the same time, they are the only thing that remains with them after the sun goes down and another epilogue comes.
Somehow, Aventurine had become a constant in his life. Such a changeable and flexible person, able to improvise in any situation and at any time, a person unable to move any further than his past and yet hiding from it in any of his addictions. A nimble and graceful bird who always has their wings taken away—and Ratio is just a simple passerby, allowing them to bandage their wounds and grieve for their wings on his hands.
This is the hidden contradiction of his unique personality. He is ready to greet every day as a new one, always does, but he never wishes for the day to even come. He craves every risk, every chance of being on the edge, every new wager, but he fears every possibility that things won't go according to plan, that his first major loss will come any soon, and that it will be the last chip he puts on the table. He doesn't think about his future and he doesn't want it, but he cannot leave until he hears the final call. He's tired of this life, he's tired of his own luck, he's tired of other people's mistrust, but he still holds out a little hope that maybe one day things will go differently.
And with each new time they see each other, there is but one tiny thought always swirling in Ratio's mind—will that one day ever come, and where will it lead? Will it be the day his little bird gets their longed-for freedom, and in what kind of place will they find it? Is it here or somewhere very far away, where he will no longer be able even to send letters?
"Veritas?"
Ratio flinches, realizing that he has zoned out again, and heads straight to the bathroom. Thanks to the umbrella, he is not particularly wet, but he still feels quite heavy physically after a walk, even though his thoughts are relaxed and flow freely.
Just as he thinks about how nice it would be to have a hot bath, he is greeted by Aventurine, hidden in his wide tub under a pile of bubbles. The whole room smells like his neutrally scented shower gel with light notes of citrus and mint, and Ratio hopes Aventurine did not pour half a bottle into the bathroom just to be a little bratty shit (he did it once. And yes, Aventurine bought a whole set of the same gel in return right the next day).
"You know, I've been wondering for fifteen minutes now—how do you even manage to look so good even after the rain? I probably look like a drenched parrot right now," Aventurine huffs, and a bubble accidentally gets on his nose. He squints his eyes at it and then turns his gaze to the doctor. "How long are you going to just stand there?"
Aventurine is very beautiful. Everyone recognizes his stunning appearance, but not everyone can see what Aventurine looks like now—his hair is untidily tossed over his right shoulder, and it looks messy after the rain, while his kaleidoscopic fuchsia shade eyes are squinting tiredly, and all the stress is slowly draining from his shoulders and body.
Vulnerability is something that Aventurine has stopped allowing himself to even have since he was a child, and those rare moments when he allows himself to let go of all the bravado seem to Ratio the most beautiful ones. Such rare, but precious and human moments that Ratio always cherishes in his memory, and he can't help but pull his hands closer to him.
"Come here. Tilt your head," he says, kneeling down behind the tub. Aventurine tilts his head a little, and Ratio's fingers gently run through his hair, moistening it with warm water. They are still soft to the touch, and he gently smoothes out all the tangled knots in the strands. "Hand me the shampoo."
He is served Veritas' own shampoo afterward—doctor raises an eyebrow at this, knowing that Aventurine will not see him behind himself anyway, but somehow he still shrugs in response. He has his own shampoos in the Veritas' bathroom after he spent nights here for the millionth time, but the number of shampoos over all the years eventually decreases Ratio's own only.
"A spoiled brat," Ratio grumbles, but picks up the shampoo anyway. Aventurine chuckles softly, and then trustingly moves even closer to his hands, allowing him to gently massage his scalp with shampoo. "Is it good?"
"Doctor, your hands are just wonderful. That's very good, thank you," Aventurine purrs in response. His body relaxes more and more, and he tilts his head back while Ratio carefully grabs the strands covering his face and tucks them back.
"Mm."
His blond hair is foamy from shampoo and Veritas tenderly brushes it with his fingers, slowly removing the foam from his hair. A little of the foam gets right on Aventurine's face, and Ratio wipes his hands with a towel to carefully clean away the residue. He strokes his cheeks, running his fingers gently over the soft skin, and tracing the contour of his face with his fingers. Almost insensibly caressing him under the eyes and further down the cheekbones, silently observing how beautifully expressive his little peacock's facial features are and how tired he actually looks. It's easy to see how dark the circles under his eyes are and how tired his face looks without any makeup, glasses, or hat; without anything to hide all of who he really is.
"You haven't come in a while," Veritas says quietly as he continues to stroke his face. Aventurine slowly opens his eyes and their gazes collide in slight tension. Why did you come here today?
Ratio does not ask any of this, but he knows that Aventurine heard him anyway.
Meteorites and asteroids crumble into pieces in his eyes, turning into a multicolored explosion of cosmic dust, and Ratio falls silent in admiring silence. His eyes stare back at him, considering and silently trying to catch his mood and emotions, and then he closes his eyes again. Ratio is reminded that he has stopped massaging.
Aventurine stops him with his hand. "Come here. Take a bath with me, Veritas."
His hands slowly vanish from the soft skin and Ratio begins to undress slowly, leisurely, and relaxed, allowing time to flow at his own pace. Aventurine is still lying with his eyes closed, but he has moved a bit away, sharing a place next to him.
The water is still warm and Veritas sighs contentedly. As soon as he leans against the back of the tub, Aventurine immediately moves over and sits between his legs, curling up and burying his face in his chest. Ratio's arms automatically wrapped around him, keeping him balanced and holding him closer to himself.
Aventurine actually doesn't even remember how he got here. After he left the IPC headquarters, his mind was in a foggy state—he only remembers how long he stood in the rain, how badly he was shaking from the cold, how he looked at the evening sky and didn't even know if he had anywhere to go at all.
He thought about his home, he thought about what awaited him. He thought about Diamond's mission he gave him recently, he thought about Opal's words he said to him this past week. He thought about Ratio and how he would explain their future mission, how he would explain anything from that. He thought about all of this and nothing at all, and eventually, his body and subconscious found their way back on their own, even if Aventurine didn’t remember any of it.
Somehow, he found himself on the threshold of Ratio's house, and his mind cleared. It became easier to breathe.
And now, Aventurine listens to the steady heartbeat, leaning on Ratio's chest until he decides to break the peaceful silence. "It was raining today."
"Indeed, it was."
"Someone told me to get home safely. I didn't know where else to go," he whispers, hiding his face against the other's chest, and Ratio hums knowingly, only lifting his hands and beginning to caress his head. Aventurine does not express any emotions and his face is hidden by his hair, but they both know that he is grateful that Ratio does not focus on this topic anymore. "Do you like the rain, Veritas?"
"This is a common natural phenomenon. I may not have a definite opinion about it, but aesthetically speaking, rain is as marvelous as a late sunset or any other ordinary natural phenomenon we witness every day," he answers gently, playing with the ends of Aventurine's hair. They begin to split a little but they still are comfortable and soft to the touch. He thinks about the rain a little more, and then he remembers his completely soaked shoes stand in the hallway, and almost shudder. "However, I guess, none of my shoes are suitable for rainy weather."
Aventurine stood for a little, then snorted and started laughing loudly. "Ahahaha, Doc. Geez," he's laughing even more now. "And you were the one who mocked the fact that my clothes have no use in bad weather? At least my leather shoes don't leak from the rain."
Aventurine's laughter echoes brightly through the bathroom walls, like the playful ringing of bells, and Veritas doesn't even notice as he himself begins to smile back. With that, any tension seemingly gone out of Aventurine's body, he laughs and relaxes in the arms of Ratio, almost using him as a personal pillow.
"Mm, I did not allow such a possibility that my shoes do not fit the standards of any weather with precipitation. I suppose my ignorance has revealed itself in a most ridiculous area indeed," Ratio mumbles, placing his chin on the top of Aventurine's head, who is still shaking a little, but, fortunately, from laughter at this time.
"You surely are something else, Ratio," Aventurine huffs, and he tickles him on the collarbone making Ratio shudder. "You actually should get new shoes."
"And you actually should take care of my marble tiles, dear gambler. So I assume we're going to be very busy tomorrow with it," he replies, covering his eyes and letting the silence take over their conversation again. It's a comfortable silence, so familiar as they both allow themselves to sigh tiredly in the warm solitude.
"Mm, I suppose so," Aventurine mumbles sleepily in response, feeling relief in his soul and body, and hugs Ratio tighter around the waist, trying to almost merge with him into one mass. "We're going to be."
We're going to be.
And even if they don't say it out loud, both of them feel relieved in some way—as someone who does not look into the future and prefers to not have high hopes, they still have a tomorrow, they have a tomorrow.
They have a tomorrow together, and it's enough. It will be enough.