Chapter Text
“Why are you calling me?”
The disbelief in the woman’s voice is obvious—and who could blame her? Most people would be thrown into a panic if Senior Manager Aventurine suddenly rang them up on a random Wednesday afternoon and sweetened their lunch break with an unexpected dose of alarm. This call is no different.
However, the woman’s tone carries not panic, but outright incredulity, mixed with a familiar note of annoyance Aventurine knows all too well.
“Why the hostility, Topaz?” Aventurine replies, a grin creeping onto his face. “I just wanted to check in and see how my favorite subordinate is faring without me.”
“Just fine, thanks. But don’t hold your breath about keeping your rank after everything that happened.” He hears some papers rustling on the other end. “Seriously, why are you calling? I thought you were at some fancy resort. It can’t be that boring, can it?”
Boring? Far from it.
Not when Aventurine finds himself lounging by the pool, his phone wedged between his shoulder and cheek as he sips a virgin mojito in the early afternoon sun. A fashion magazine lies open on his lap with a half-finished crossword puzzle (where several of his words have been crossed out and neatly replaced with new, correct entries in tidy handwriting, accompanied by some scribbled notes for him to refer to later). A smile tugs at his lips.
“It’s alright,” he shrugs, his gaze drifting over the numerous guests occupying the pool. “I’m just sitting by the pool with a cocktail in hand—”
He spots Ratio effortlessly swimming a lap, the sunlight glistening off the surface of the water as it cascades down his form. Aventurine lowers his shades.
“—and an incredible view,” he adds with a purr.
“Anything else?” Topaz mutters. “If not, I’m hanging up.”
“Alright, alright, I’ll cut to the chase,” Aventurine says, his tone shifting into something more serious. “I need a favor.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” she replies. There’s a quiet squeak in the background—presumably from Numby. “What could the great Aventurine possibly need?”
“Jade kicked me out of the databank system for a week, so I need you to look up someone for me,” he explains, rattling off the details quickly. “Weiss, Johnny. Try Jonathan or John too. He’s a marine scientist, has a sister, and should have some kind of connection to Marketing Development.”
Silence stretches on the other end of the line before Topaz lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Aventurine, what are you up to?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters,” she insists. “Look, Madam Jade explicitly forbade me from enabling you to work remotely. She said you were to be stripped of all access until you returned. You’re on timeout.”
“Sure, but this isn't about work,” Aventurine replies smoothly. “It’s… well, let’s just say it’s personal curiosity.”
“Yeah, right,” she retorts, the skepticism dripping from her words.
Aventurine’s tone sharpens, irritation slowly creeping in. “Topaz, I’m a grown man. And I’m a bit tired of others deciding what’s good for me.”
There is a longer pause this time as Topaz contemplates it. Finally, a resigned sigh drifts through the speaker. “What exactly do you want to know?”
“I need an update on Weiss’ current status and the last projects he worked on,” he explains, idly twirling the pen for his crossword puzzle between his fingers. “Anything that might explain why someone could be after him.”
Another loud exhale fills the silence. “I swear to Qlipoth, if you get into any trouble and Madam Jade finds out I helped you—”
“No one will find out because we will tell no one,” Aventurine interjects. “This stays between us, alright?”
He knows this isn’t one of his smartest decisions to date. But as he lay on the divan last night, unable to fall asleep after the eventful day with Ratio, his mind inevitably drifted back to his conversation with Nina, and the unsettling sight of that huge ship. Maybe it’s curiosity, lingering sentimentality, or his relentless need to stay busy—whatever it is, it keeps pushing him to dig deeper. Anything to silence that unease in his gut and have something to distract him from the onslaught of thoughts and feelings while he’s with Ratio.
But to do that, he needs access to the IPC’s database. And that leaves Topaz as his best shot.
“Fine,” she huffs. “But I expect some kind of compensation. I’ve been covering your paperwork since you left, and it’s been a nightmare.”
“Anything you want, Paz,” he grins. “How about a souvenir or postcard? I’ll grab something for Numby too.”
A groan resonates through the line, and Aventurine can almost picture her rolling her eyes, likely sending him an imaginary finger from a few star systems away.
“Another thing,” he continues, glancing over to ensure Ratio is still busy with his morning swim. “Any idea what Marketing Development might be doing here with big fishing boats?”
A brief silence follows, before the sound of her keyboard fills the air. “You’re on Azur-II, right? The planet where the resort was built not too long ago?”
Aventurine nods, even though she can’t see him. “That’s the one.”
“Interesting. I’ve heard bits and pieces about the construction process,” she murmurs, as if lost in thought. “But from what I remember, the IPC’s Planet Peace Protection Program—P4, in short—was involved. It guarantees that planets included in the credit system either retain or enhance their original form and value and—”
“I remember the clauses well,” Aventurine replies, stifling a yawn. It’s just one of the many things he had to memorize before ascending to the position of a Stoneheart.
A P4 agreement is typically signed when third-party specialists determine that a planet’s ecosystem is at risk—its unique minerals, flora, or fauna deemed too precious to jeopardize. These agreements come with strict regulations, limiting the extraction of materials to preserve the planet's integrity, all in the name of ensuring long-term, sustainable benefits.
It’s a self-imposed handicap, if you will, meant to enforce ethical behavior across the IPC’s vast projects. (The success rate, of course, is debatable.)
“What about it?” Aventurine asks.
“Well, there were some unique clauses specific to Azur-II. Just a moment…Ah, here it is,” she says, her mouse clicking decisively. “Apparently, the aquatic races in the planet’s waters were struggling with an invasive species and temperature shifts disrupting their habitats.”
She pauses, likely scanning the article. “A P4 agreement was enacted to protect these species. It was signed by Mr. Feinman from Marketing Development’s Tourism Business Team—he’s been eyeing the planet for his resort for quite a while."
Feinman is just another lackey from Marketing Development, playing by Oswaldo’s rules. Although Aventurine has never met the man, he’s heard stories about the projects Feinman has overseen on other planets, as well as his brutal rejections of several business proposals from subordinates. He typically works alone but has a keen eye for tourism opportunities—Aventurine will give him that. His ambitious projects have already earned Marketing Development a fortune.
“An exorbitant amount of credits and supplies were allocated to the inhabitants,” Topaz continues,“ and in return, Mr. Feinman secured the only available piece of land for the resort—provided he doesn’t breach the agreed-upon borders specified in the P4 agreement.”
“So what you’re saying is: Feinman didn’t get the deal for the whole planet, just the piece of land the resort sits on,” Aventurine summarizes. “And he’s expected to stay put in his little bubble and not bother anyone?”
“Pretty much.”
“Huh.” Aventurine furrows his brow in thought. “Doesn’t sound like a very lucrative deal for him… It’s not like the IPC to settle for less than the whole package.”
“That’s what the public records say, at least,” Topaz adds. “But what you mentioned about fishing boats raises some red flags. The contract clearly prohibits any large aquatic vessels beyond the border, as they would disrupt the ecosystem. If you really spotted a ship… that’s concerning.”
“Alright, thanks for the intel,” Aventurine murmurs, noticing that Ratio is on his way out of the pool. “I’m gonna have to hang up now. Keep me posted on what you find on Weiss.”
“I will.” Topaz lets out a reluctant sight. “Enjoy your honeymoon, then.”
“Huh?” Aventurine deadpans, caught completely off guard. “Honeymoon?”
“Tell Dr. Ratio I said hello,” she quips.
With that, the line goes silent.
Aventurine stares at his phone in disbelief, heat creeping into his cheeks. He wonders if this is Jade’s doing, too. He can only hope she’s kept the honeymoon suite incident under wraps. The last thing he needs is a round of wedding congratulations when he returns to work.
Before he can compose himself, Ratio approaches, casually picking up the towel from the chair beside him.
“Topaz says hi,” Aventurine manages to say.
Ratio nods, unfazed as ever. "Mm."
Before this week, Aventurine never thought he could fear anything more than an annoyed Dr. Veritas Ratio. But it was only after experiencing a severely hungover Ratio, that he learned what true fear really was.
He wasn’t surprised to find he’d slept in after their long and exhausting night out. What did surprise him was discovering Ratio still passed out on the bed at ten in the morning, especially after his passionate lecture the day before about the importance of waking early to secure pool chairs.
Waking the doctor felt like rousing an ancient dragon from its slumber. Aventurine could almost feel the heat of Ratio’s amber glare, as if he might eat him alive.
The lecture Aventurine received was milder than expected, with no incidents involving flying pieces of chalk, but including a few stern words about overindulgence in alcohol and the dangers of drinking irresponsibly. Though, Aventurine couldn’t shake the feeling that the lecture was more for Ratio himself rather than for him.
Once Ratio finished scolding him, he apologized for any inconvenience, including hogging the bed, before gulping down some headache medication.
Then they went about their day as if nothing happened.
So, Ratio’s current, quiet demeanor comes as no shock, given the pounding headache the doctor must be nursing. The wine had knocked the poor man out last night, and Aventurine still feels a bit guilty about it. If only he’d known Ratio to be such a lightweight, he wouldn’t have insisted on such a large bottle.
But other, more vivid memories resurface as well. Aventurine shudders at the thought of Ratio nestled against his neck, murmuring how good he smelled, one warm hand resting on his shoulder while the other gently pulled him closer by the waist.
In that moment, Aventurine had felt too hot, his entire body thrumming with desire as Ratio’s voice reverberated against his skin. The intensity of it left him needing a cold shower afterward to pull himself together.
It was a natural reaction to being held close by an attractive man in a dark room after a comfortable night of drinking, wasn’t it? At least, that’s what Aventurine has been desperately telling himself.
But does Ratio remember any of it? The silence between them only deepens his doubts. Now, as they spend their hours with the same casual normalcy, Aventurine feels an unsettling mix of relief and disappointment.
Shouldn’t he be grateful that Ratio doesn’t remember? It certainly spares them both the awkwardness of dealing with the aftermath… But the uncertainty of it settles like a weight in his chest. Part of him is desperate to know what it meant, while the other dreads the answer.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” Aventurine asks, trying to keep his tone light.
“The main part of the beach is closed off for now,” Ratio informs him. “We could take a shuttle and visit a more remote area, if you are up for it.”
“Closed off?” Aventurine echoes. No wonder the lobby and pool seemed so crowded, and even more surprising that they were able to find chairs. Aventurine’s luck truly came in handy this time around.
Ratio hums, but doesn’t elaborate further. “Either way, I believe a change of scenery might benefit us.”
“Oh?”
Ratio hesitates, his brow furrowed in contemplation. “Unless I’m mistaken, you… appeared more at ease when there were fewer people around.”
Aventurine blinks in surprise, caught off guard by Ratio’s perceptiveness.
The thought of escaping prying eyes is a welcome one. Despite being several warp jumps away from Pier Point, this planet still maintains a strong connection to the IPC and the wider cosmos. While most people at the resort mind their own business, Aventurine is all too familiar with the lingering gazes—whether they’re admiring him or fixated on him in curiosity, it never fails to make him feel like he’s on display.
Such attention makes him revert to old habits, slipping on a mask instead of allowing himself to fully relax. He hasn’t removed his shades once while out in public, wanting to avoid any unnecessary confrontation if someone connects the dots with his distinctly Avgin eyes.
“That’s actually a good idea,” Aventurine replies, quickly warming to the plan. “Let’s do it.”
***
After enjoying some more time at the pool and a light snack, they make their way down to the main promenade where they were dropped off on arrival.
Aventurine glances down the slope toward the beach, noting the closed-off set of stairs. A digital sign is posted right up front, warning guests to refrain from swimming until the cleaning team has completed their work.
Last night’s tides have apparently washed up a swarm of algae and jellyfish, rendering the area unpresentable—and potentially dangerous—for now. They apologize for any inconvenience caused.
“They can’t keep the water entirely clean, can they?” Aventurine muses aloud as he reads the sign. “I mean, you can’t swim in an ocean and expect it to be empty.”
“While I also find it rather absurd, they aim to provide guests with clean waters,” Ratio murmurs. “The barrier regulates the weather but cannot entirely keep out marine creatures.”
Or ships, Aventurine thinks. If something as huge as that can pass through without an issue, then surely larger animals can as well.
“So how do they keep out anything dangerous?” Aventurine wonders. “A planet covered in water must have its share of dangers lurking in the depths.”
“Before dawn, any potentially dangerous wildlife is ‘removed’ by pushing it back behind the barrier,” Ratio explains. “I’m not entirely sure of the specifics, but I suspect tonight’s tides have created more work for them than usual.”
Aventurine can’t help but wonder if his encounter with that jellyfish was also a result of such issues. Though, he can’t blame the animals for wanting to occupy an area that is rightfully theirs. If anything, he feels sorry for the poor creatures.
“Shall we?” Ratio asks, gesturing towards the shuttle parking area.
The stretch of coastline they’re heading to is only a five-minute drive from the hotel. As they board the shuttle, Aventurine takes the opportunity to stow his beach gear in the trunk, with Duckie the pool float squeezed snugly between him and Ratio in the back seat. Ratio spends the entire ride complaining about it, of course. But at least this time, he can’t complain about having to carry the bags.
As the automated shuttle drives down the coastal road, Aventurine gazes out of the window, enjoying the sight of the shimmering ocean and swaying palm trees. The air conditioning offers a relief from the sun, which has already passed its highest point and is beginning its descent.
Once they arrive, Aventurine is forced to carry his own heavy bag across the sand. The consequences of one’s own actions, as Ratio would say. There are no loungers or beach umbrellas in sight, so they’ll have to make due with what they have.
They pick a spot close to the palm trees lining the edge of the sand for some shade and spread their towel there. The trek to the water is a bit of a journey, but the sand is gradually cooling off in the late afternoon. A few other guests are scattered across the beach, likely seeking the same solitude—driving farther out for a little peace and quiet away from the crowd.
As Aventurine watches Ratio take off his shirt once again, he comes to a decision.
He hesitates for a moment, before deciding to throw caution to the wind and tug off his own shirt as well.
It’s a small gesture, but one that feels important to him. He’s on vacation, after all, and there’s barely anyone around. He trusts that he can share this part of himself with Ratio, though a flicker of anxiety still lingers, wondering how the doctor might react.
But that anxiety fades when their eyes meet. Ratio’s gaze is soft and thoughtful as he takes in the atrocious scars that line Aventurine's back.
Aventurine opens his mouth, ready to say something to deflect his discomfort—a witty comment about not wanting tan lines should do the trick. But the words die in his throat. Instead, he holds his breath, waiting.
There’s no judgement in Ratio’s expression, only a slow, silent understanding, as if he’s slowly piecing together something deeper about Aventurine.
“Shall I apply sunscreen to your back?” Ratio offers, and Aventurine realizes, with a quiet sense of relief, that he had nothing to fear after all.
***
Veritas Ratio finds himself in an unusual mood today. After all, it’s hard to feel entirely at ease when he’s nursing a persistent hangover and grappling with the unsettling realization that he may have made a fool out of himself.
Just last night, they engaged in easy, comfortable conversation at the bar, and Ratio had felt a sense of relief as Aventurine began to open up about his experiences on Penacony. But now, it’s as though that charming honesty—that hard-won vulnerability—has entirely evaporated. Aventurine avoids his gaze, looking away whenever he thinks Ratio isn’t watching. He deflects with jokes, skirting around topics he might have opened up about the night before.
What had felt like a step forward now seems like a step back, and Ratio can’t shake the feeling that his own careless slip-up is to blame for this sudden retreat.
Fragments of last night replay in Ratio’s mind, each memory hazy and disjointed. He barely recalls how Aventurine had supported most of his weight on the way back to the hotel. Then, there was only the scent of Aventurine and the warmth of his body pressed against his own. In that moment of closeness, Ratio had yearned to express so much, to cling to that warmth only a bit longer, but he’d restrained himself with every ounce of clarity he could muster.
What a fool he’d been. What reckless, ill-considered behavior. For a man who prides himself on precision and restraint, to indulge so freely... It’s not like him, not at all. The very thought of his uncharacteristic lapse in judgment makes him wince in shame.
He fears he might have crossed a line he never intended to. The last thing he wants is for his straightforwardness to make Aventurine uncomfortable and spoil the week they are meant to spend together.
As the days at the resort pass, Ratio senses his own defenses starting to crumble. Though he senses a certain… interest from Aventurine—something he’s noticed even before this vacation—he cannot discern its true nature. Ratio can’t bring himself to ask directly; he knows exactly how that conversation would play out, especially given Aventurine’s talent for dodging topics he doesn’t want to discuss, like Penacony, for example.
The weight of unspoken words grows heavier each day, and he wants to understand what was going through Aventurine’s mind during those tense moments. Did he read the note? Did he grasp what Ratio wanted to convey? And if so, why remain silent? The uncertainty gnaws at him, leaving him confused about the Aventurine’s intentions.
There is still too much left unsaid and too little time before they return to their regular lives. Ratio isn’t sure when the next opportunity to have an honest conversation with Aventurine might arise, but he doesn’t want to rush things either, since the gambler is finally starting to relax and let his guard down.
Lost in thought, Ratio barely notices a silhouette approaching him until a sudden splash of water hits his leg, jolting him back to the present.
He looks up to find Aventurine standing there with a smug grin, holding a water gun which was surely pulled out from his seemingly endless stash of beach toys.
“Don’t,” Ratio warns, already aware of the potential annoyance this new toy could become.
“What if I do?” Aventurine’s finger remains poised on the trigger. “You should have seen this coming.”
“A lack of foresight on my part.”
Aventurine chuckles. “Are you really not going to fight back, Doc?”
Another spray of water hits Ratio’s leg, and he feels another thread of his patience snap.
“Aventurine.”
“Ratio.”
The gambler seems in a mood to play, so Ratio reluctantly puts his book aside, worried that the next shot might stray from his leg.
“What are you trying to achieve?” Ratio asks.
“Who knows? Maybe I’m just bored.”
“Then take that boredom elsewhere.”
The trigger is pressed again and water splatters across Ratio’s chest, finally severing the leash of his self-control.
He rises from the towel and stalks over to the blond, who instantly retreats backwards with a nervous laugh. Aventurine makes an act out of raising his hands in mock surrender while waving the water gun as though he hadn’t just sprayed Ratio thrice and is laughing about it. Ratio thinks there is nothing remotely funny going on here.
“You are provoking me on purpose,” he frowns.
“Not at all!” Aventurine replies, still chuckling.
Ratio follows him slowly as he backs away, which only seems to make the gambler laugh even more. The smaller man suddenly darts back, and before Ratio can react, the trigger is pulled again. Ratio turns his face just in time for the water to splash against the side of his face, soaking his hair.
He stops dead in his tracks, very slowly lifting a hand to wipe his face with a look of disgust. The saltwater is clinging to his hair—exactly what he’d hoped to avoid today.
It is unacceptable.
Aventurine’s laughter fades, and when their eyes lock across the beach, the gambler’s grin falters—before he turns, and then bolts.
There is only so much Ratio can tolerate before his patience wears thin. He thinks Aventurine crossed that threshold with all his antics on their first day already, but it is something Ratio is willing to overlook, considering this is Aventurine’s first vacation. Watching the gambler experience it all with an almost childlike wonder had softened even the stoic doctor’s heart.
However, Ratio does not take kindly to being constantly pestered and sprayed with water while trying to enjoy a book. He won’t stand idly by when there is a threat to his peace.
It takes him only a few swift strides to catch up to Aventurine, who laughs even harder as Ratio attempts to twist the water gun from his hand.
First, Ratio will empty the remaining water by spraying the gambler back, and then, he will demolish that annoying piece of plastic for good. Aventurine can find something else to play with, considering he has brought an entire repertoire of beach activities to torment Ratio with.
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” Aventurine claims, his laughter still lingering.
“You expect me to believe you?”
Aventurine stirs at his words. His grip on the water gun slackens, allowing Ratio to snatch it from his grasp and aim it back at him.
The gambler’s lips curl into a mischievous smile as he steps closer, allowing the barrel to bump against his chest. Then, he places his hand over Ratio’s, their fingers overlapping on the trigger. Perhaps that unexpected touch surprises Ratio enough to delay the impulse to press down and get his revenge.
A strange sense of nostalgia takes root in Ratio’s mind, only deepening when he finds Aventurine looking up at him with an intense gaze. The annoyance he felt moments ago dissipates, replaced by gradual realization.
This is familiar—the two of them standing like this.
Ratio knows the feeling of slender, dexterous fingers covering his own on a trigger. He recognizes that look and the way it made him feel—the way it still makes him feel. He knows the feeling of his own treacherous heart thumping against his chest like he knows himself.
“Why not, Doctor?” Aventurine asks, echoing the very words that once set everything in motion. “Life is a big gamble…” He tilts his head back, flashing Ratio a wide, confident grin. “And I’m always the final victor.”
Ratio’s eyes soften. “You—“
He hadn’t expected this from Aventurine. Nor had he expected the sudden wave of fondness that washes over him at the memory of their first meeting.
“Do you remember that day?”
Ratio pauses, taking in the gambler’s gentle smile. “Of course.”
How could he not remember? It was the day they first met, after all.
“So, you remember what I did next?”
“Something incredibly reckless,” Ratio mutters, half-smiling despite himself.
“I’ll allow you the honor,” Aventurine offers, a playful glint in his eye. “You’ve earned your revenge.”
Ratio can’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. Their relationship was entirely different then—both younger and forced into a situation where they had no choice but to learn to trust each other quickly. Ratio had kept everyone at arm’s length, skeptical and reserved, whereas Aventurine teetered on the edge of life with every reckless gamble he took.
Though still reckless, Aventurine no longer carries that lifeless, crazed look in his eyes. The events on Penacony have changed him, but Ratio can’t quite pinpoint how. He only senses that it was a positive development.
He vividly recalls that look Aventurine gave him back then, as if begging him to pull the trigger, yearning to tempt fate. He remembers how sad and empty those vibrant eyes seemed, luring him in while simultaneously pushing him away.
Back then, Aventurine was a mystery—devoid of any logic and beyond reason. Yet, he would have willingly put his life on the line for the success of a mission, a fact proven with those empty shots. Ratio recalls the horror that gripped him when those three clicks echoed through the room. How shaken he felt as he walked away.
It took only one simple glance, one brush of fingers against his, three clicks, three beats of his heart—and in that moment, Veritas Ratio became a doomed man, utterly captivated by a beautiful, reckless, blond gambler.
That moment also marked the beginning of their collaboration, which has now brought them here: Standing here in the same pose, but in an entirely different situation. Years of collaboration have changed them both.
The gaze Aventurine offers him now draws him in just the same, but his eyes are clear. There is no sadness in them, no void. Instead, they sparkle with mischief and humor. Aventurine is teasing him, and Ratio intends to rise to the challenge.
He pauses, letting Aventurine think he won’t retaliate, before rapidly firing three sprays of water. When it hits his chest, Aventurine gasps in surprise, then bursts into laughter.
“I didn’t think you had it in you,” Aventurine chuckles, wiping at his skin. “You know, you’re actually really fun to be around, Ratio.”
Something about that doesn’t sit right with him.
Is Ratio not pleasant to be around otherwise? Has he not been perfectly amicable and cooperative since the start of their vacation? Has he not indulged in every single one of Aventurine’s whims and requests so far, despite his own reluctance?
Very well. Ratio can prove that he is, in fact, very fun to be around.
Perhaps it is the lingering annoyance, or the desire to prove a point to the gambler, but Ratio has had enough.
Without warning, he tackles Aventurine, lifting him effortlessly and swinging him over his shoulder. Aventurine lets out a surprised shout, quickly grabbing hold of Ratio to steady himself.
“What— what are you doing?” Aventurine stammers, his tone a mix of surprise and amusement.
Ratio’s lips curl into a smirk. “Do you believe that to be sufficient compensation for spraying me in the face, gambler?”
He strides toward the water, feeling Aventurine squirm in his hold as the realization dawns.
“Haha! Ratio, wait!” Aventurine laughs nervously. “Come on, let’s talk about this.”
“You had your chance to back off when I told you to stop.”
“Look, I’m sorry!” Aventurine exclaims, his tone shifting. “Ratio—“
Ratio wanders deeper until the water rises above his hips. He adjusts his grip, noting that Aventurine is still squirming.
“Ratio, wait—“ Aventurine breathes, an urgency creeping into his voice that makes alarm bells go off in Ratio’s mind. “Please, don’t!”
Suddenly, Ratio feels the gambler’s hands tighten around his shoulders, forming a death grip. Aventurine’s entire body shakes, his limbs desperately clinging to Ratio as if his very life depends on it.
That is when Ratio realizes Aventurine is genuinely panicking.
“Aventurine?“
“Don’t let me go,” he pleads, burying his face in Ratio’s shoulder. He sounds so uncharacteristically fragile that it causes the doctor’s chest to tighten with an unexpected ache.
“I won’t,” Ratio quickly assures him, wrapping his arms securely around the smaller body.
A wave of unease washes over him. Has he overstepped? Why is Aventurine so afraid? He recalls the gambler mentioning his dislike for water, but Ratio hadn’t interpreted that as a fear of it. After all, he’s seen Aventurine wade into the ocean before without hesitation.
“Did you not want to go in the water today?” he gently asks, attempting to understand.
“No, I—“ Aventurine’s voice is barely audible, each word cut off. “I... don’t...”
“Could you repeat that?”
Aventurine takes a shaky breath before blurting out, “I don’t know how to swim.”
Oh.
Ratio is a fool.
He realizes now that he’s never actually seen Aventurine swim in the days they’ve spent together. The gambler has only ventured into shallows where he could stand or has been on the pool float.
Thinking back on it, when would Aventurine have learned to swim? He hails from a barren planet, after all. Hadn’t they discussed this very thing just a few days ago? He should have known. How had he not noticed? The full weight of his own ignorance nearly crushes him.
Aventurine hides his face in embarrassment, and Ratio feels like the greatest idiot known to man.
“I am truly sorry,” Ratio murmurs, instinctively holding Aventurine closer. He doesn’t take the time to reflect on the fact that this is the first time he gets to properly hold Aventurine, and it is only because of his own blunder. His fingers brush over the uneven ridges of Aventurine’s scars, and he tentatively runs a thumb across one in an unconscious gesture of comfort. “I did not know.”
Aventurine lets out an embarrassed, halfhearted laugh. “It’s not like you could have.”
Ratio thinks that isn’t entirely true, but he does not want to argue about it now. Instead, he adjusts his hold and starts making his way back toward the beach. “May I set you down? It is shallow enough for you to stand.”
Aventurine nods against his shoulder, and Ratio carefully lowers him into the water.
“Forgive me. It was never my intention to cause you any distress,” Ratio adds, simply because he feels like it needs to be said again—what a fool he’s been. “I didn’t realize…”
“Such a formal apology,” Aventurine chuckles, waving a hand as if swatting away a fly. “Don’t worry about it, Doc.”
Ratio’s gaze falls to the water lapping at their calves, the gentle waves soothing against his skin. He feels the rift between them—one that always existed but feels even wider now, deepened by yet another thing he hadn’t known about Aventurine.
It’s maddening how he can misjudge someone he considers so close—someone he trusts—yet nearly tossed him into the water without a thought to his safety. It shames him how it hadn’t crossed his mind once, that Aventurine might not be able to swim.
Aventurine had trusted him from the start, had even shown him the scars that marked his body. And Ratio had nearly shattered that trust—nearly caused Aventurine distress in a moment that should have been light and carefree.
Upon noticing his defeated expression, Aventurine meets his eyes, tentative but soft. “Come on, Ratio,” he says, his voice light. “It’s okay. We were having fun, right? I know I was.”
It feels as if Aventurine is trying to mend the situation and cheer Ratio up, but the doctor cannot allow that. None of this is Aventurine’s fault.
He watches as the gambler’s playful mask slips for a moment, replaced by a subtle blush creeping across his cheeks. “I just meant… it was refreshing to see you being a bit more playful, is all,” Aventurine admits quietly. “You looked relaxed. It was… nice.”
Ratio feels his own face warm in response. He struggles to read whether Aventurine truly means it. He is used to the gambler deflecting serious matters, downplaying them to keep things light. But this feels different. Aventurine’s words seem genuine despite the earlier shock. He even looks a bit embarrassed at having shown this vulnerability.
Ratio feels a strong urge to mend things, to bridge the gap between them and return to the moment of fun and laughter.
“Do you have a second gun, then?” he finds himself asking.
Aventurine blinks in surprise. “I— what?”
“Did you purchase a second water gun?”
Aventurine’s eyes widen, suddenly glowing with amusement. “Oh, Doctor,” he purrs, a playful grin spreading across his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”
And so, Ratio finds himself racing across the surf with a water gun in hand, chasing a laughing, blond gambler. INormally, such a frivolous activity wouldn’t appeal to him, but there is something about Aventurine’s infectious excitement that makes it… bearable, even enjoyable. The sight of Aventurine laughing—more freely than Ratio has ever seen—fills him with warmth, making any tension fade away like their footprints in the wet sand.
Later, as they settle down on the towel to catch their breath, Ratio realizes he’s finally discovered a toy from Aventurine’s beach repertoire that he actually enjoys.
While he may not fully embrace the carefree spirit of the moment, he takes pleasure in playfully issuing warnings whenever his reading is interrupted, his lips curling into a teasing smile.
***
As Aventurine stands under the cascade of warm water some hours later, he can only feel grateful to wash away all the sunscreen, sand, and salt clinging to him like a second skin. He feels even more exhausted now that he has spent more time running around the beach with Ratio. He smiles at the memory of it—of how relaxed and unguarded Ratio had seemed for once.
Lost in thought, he runs a tentative hand across one of the scars littering his back.
Ratio hadn’t even batted an eye at the sight of his back. It was almost as though he’d expected it, or silently understood the burden Aventurine carries without needing to be told. If anything, Ratio seemed almost… fond. There wasn’t an ounce of disgust present as he’d applied sunscreen to Aventurine’s back, running those deft fingers across each ridge and scar, not at all repulsed by the feeling.
The touch had been so tender, so soft.
After something like that, Aventurine can’t help but wonder—does the doctor extend that same gentleness to a partner in a more intimate setting? Would he run his fingers across someone else’s skin with such care and consideration?
Aventurine inhales sharply as he feels sudden arousal stirring in a very unwelcome wave.
This is wrong.
But Aeons, how can he not indulge in such thoughts when Ratio looks the way he does? When, just the night before, he was so close, whispering praise into his neck, his breath warm against Aventurine’s skin. Then there is the memory of today—how effortlessly Ratio lifted him at the beach, the heat of his bare skin almost scalding against Aventurine’s.
Would Veritas Ratio be a gentle lover? Would he hold his partner close and kiss hushed praise into the curve of their neck while taking them slow and deep? Or would he be relentless and passionate, chasing that sweet release by drawing them in with a bruising grip?
The steam wraps around him, and the comforting warmth of the water pulls him deeper into this uncharted territory of his repressed longing.
Before Aventurine knows it, he’s conjuring images of Ratio and himself lost in those very vivid scenarios instead of a faceless lover.
In a panic, he twists the handle to allow ice-cold water to wash over him in a desperate attempt to drown out the heat pooling under his skin.
He knows it’s not just the way Ratio had looked at him last night at the beach—soft, intimate in ways he hasn’t experienced before—or the way he’d effortlessly manhandled Aventurine today. It’s not just the frequent sight of Ratio bare-chested and relaxed, or the way those wet swim trunks cling to him, framing every sinful detail that should be deemed inappropriate for public display.
No, this has started long before this vacation, though these past few days have done nothing but mess with Aventurine’s brain and his already fragile desires.
His head thuds back against the tiles with a resigned thud, and he lets out a bitter laugh at his own foolishness.
It’s funny, really. This is the third time in four days he’s had to endure an icy cold shower just to drown out his thoughts of an infuriatingly handsome doctor. The first instance was the night of their arrival, when Ratio paraded around the room in nothing but a bath towel. The second was last night after leaving Aventurine all shaken and hot. And now, here he is again, desperate to release some of that tension as it all begins to feel like too much.
He was right in assuming that he was gloriously fucked on their first day here.
He cannot, and will not, allow himself these thoughts. If he was in the privacy of his home, he might have entertained the thought of rubbing one out while thinking of anything but Ratio (and failing miserably) just for the sake of clearing his mind. But deep down, he knows he would only end up wallowing in shame and self-loathing for days afterward.
He can’t do this here. Not with Ratio just on the other side of the wall. He refuses to be that depraved, nor will he give in.
With a shaky gasp, he turns off the shower and takes one deep, steadying breath.
His eyes drift to the welts on his left arm—still red and irritated from the jellyfish sting—and the memory of how gently Ratio had tended to him resurfaces, unexpected and almost painful. He also remembers Ratio laughing, yesterday at the bar, and then today at the beach. The heat in his stomach shifts, twisting into something softer, and more complicated.
Aventurine should be grateful for the connection they’ve established so far. This is more than he could have hoped for—to have found a true friend in Ratio.
But, he made a promise to himself on the first night here: He wouldn’t allow himself to feel anything more, because he knows it would lead to disappointment and ultimately, hurt. Someone like him could never interest Veritas Ratio in any way other than as a dependable companion—maybe even a trusted friend, once this vacation ends.
Aventurine’s chest tightens at the thought, his heart clenching with a quiet ache. He’s too afraid—too terrified, really—to entertain any other possibility. Because if he allows himself to hope, to feel, he knows that eventually losing yet another person who meant something to him would break him beyond repair.
So, he shuts off his mind, allowing a practiced smile to grace his reflection in the mirror.
He’s survived worse. Surely, he can walk away from this vacation with a smile and his heart still intact.
Relief washes over him when he steps into the living area and finds Ratio preoccupied on the balcony, a phone pressed to his ear—probably a call from work again. Ratio paces back and forth, looking agitated, still bare-chested from his own shower. His brow furrows in frustration as he mutters something into the phone, but when their eyes meet through the glass, his expression shifts, and he wraps up his conversation quickly, ending the call with a sharp gesture before stepping back inside.
Aventurine can barely muster the courage to look at him, but that single glance is enough to spark his curiosity about the deep flush of red across the doctor’s neck and shoulders as he turns to close the balcony door behind him.
“Hey, Doc…?”
Ratio responds with a noncommittal hum.
“Why is your skin so red here?”
Before Ratio can react or question it, Aventurine steps closer and places a finger against the back of his neck. The doctor flinches away, instinctively raising a hand to protectively cover his nape, only to recoil from his own touch as well.
He quickly bypasses Aventurine and heads to the bathroom, twisting and turning in front of the mirror to examine his back, only to curse under his breath at the sight.
Aventurine leans against the doorframe, a mix of concern and curiosity on his face. “You okay?”
Ratio mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “Sunburn.”
Aventurine’s eyes flicker with understanding before his lips curl into a knowing smile. “Heh…”
Ratio brushes past him and drops onto the bed in exhaustion, a quiet resignation settling over him. He seems to only need a moment to stretch and bury his face into the fresh sheets before he’s banished to the divan again. Aventurine finds the display oddly domestic, wondering if Ratio indulges in the same relief after long days at work.
“Don’t tell me you forgot your sunscreen, Doctor?” Aventurine coos.
“Be quiet,” Ratio grumbles, his face still buried in the mattress.
“Weren’t you the one who scolded me on the risks of sun exposure?”
Without waiting for an answer, Aventurine slips onto the bed next to Ratio, settling cross-legged. Ratio remains motionless, his reddened neck exposed.
“You distracted me,” Ratio replies, muffled. “Your antics today are why I forgot to reapply.”
Aventurine snorts. “Fine, I can take responsibility,” he says, feigning seriousness. “But, seriously, who knew you’d burn that quickly?” He glances down at his own arms and legs, already well-tanned from the past few days of sun, but completely unscathed. “I don’t have any sunburn at all.”
“I’ve always had sensitive skin, even as a child,” Ratio murmurs, turning his head slightly to avoid Aventurine’s gaze. “And it’s… rather difficult to apply sunscreen to your own back.”
“Is there any way I can redeem myself?” Aventurine teases, feeling a bit sorry for the doctor’s pitiful state.
Ratio hums, still looking away. “There is some lotion in the bathroom. It says ‘cooling gel’ on the package.”
Aventurine hops off the bed and shuffles to the bathroom. He returns moments later, bottle in hand and already twisting it open.
Ratio instinctively reaches for it, but Aventurine gently slaps his hand away. “Let me do it.” He notices Ratio’s surprised stare and quickly corrects himself, not wanting to seem too eager. “Ah… You won’t reach it properly if you do it yourself, right?”
Ratio doesn’t complain, simply turning his head to face the other wall as Aventurine positions himself close, his knees nearly brushing Ratio’s torso as he leans over the other man’s wide back. He’s already taken care of Ratio’s hair once, so why should this be any different?
It feels only right after Ratio spent a large part of today indulging in Aventurine’s whims.
Aventurine pours some of the lotion onto his palm, hovering just above Ratio’s reddened skin.
“I’ll lift your hair out of the way,” he murmurs, his clean fingers gently raking through the strands at Ratio’s nape. Ratio inhales sharply. “This might feel cold.”
Despite the warning, Ratio tenses at the touch. Aventurine gives him a moment before he begins to spread the gel across the burn.
Ratio’s skin feels hot under the cooling lotion, and he lets out a soft grumble when Aventurine spreads it over his shoulders and shoulder blades, trying to cover all the red patches. Though, suddenly, it seems that even more skin is flushed than he initially thought.
“You mentioned you burned easily, even as a child,” Aventurine recalls, feeling the need to fill the tense silence. “Does that mean you've been to a beach before?”
Ratio hums thoughtfully. “Yes, I… spent a few holidays with my parents.”
For a moment, Aventurine’s hands still. “Your parents?”
Ratio lets out a deep sigh, and Aventurine feels a knot form in his chest—a quiet, nagging sense that he’s stumbled into a conversation Ratio doesn’t want to have. But with Ratio still turned away, there’s no way to know for sure.
“Sorry,” Aventurine brushes it off. “Looks like I hit a nerve, huh?”
“It is quite alright,” Ratio quickly reassures him, though his voice is a bit too clipped. “They are not bad memories, per se.”
Aventurine presses a bit further, unable to suppress his curiosity. “Then why the sigh?” He hesitates, watching Ratio carefully. “Do you not get along with your family?”
Ratio’s voice is muffled against the mattress. “To explain that, I’d have to delve into the nature of my relationship with my parents, which would bore you to no end, I presume.”
“It wouldn’t, actually,” Aventurine insists, genuinely meaning it. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t know that much about Ratio’s personal life and is more than curious to find out. “Besides, we have some time to kill until this lotion does its magic.”
Ratio lets out another small, almost imperceptible sigh before responding with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Very well. I will keep it brief.”
His response is slower this time, quieter, as though he’s carefully selecting his words. “My parents were researchers, deeply invested in their work. They had high expectations for me to follow in their footsteps. The holidays we spent together were… a rare reprieve from the rigorous study schedule I was subjected to.” His tone softens and he continues, “Those few vacations felt like anomalies in a world defined by constant academic pressure and a rather… strict upbringing.”
Ratio pauses in a quiet contemplation. “But upon returning home, it was as if those moments of reprieve had never existed.”
“Oh,” Aventurine hums, surprised by the vulnerability in Ratio’s voice, as well as the glimpse into his childhood.
He’d never considered the kind of relationship a genius like Ratio might have with his parents. Aventurine doesn’t need to see his face to tell. Ratio speaks of his parents with no hint of affection, and it leaves a bitter aftertaste. He can only assume that love had been absent in that household.
It seems profoundly unjust to rob someone of their childhood like that. But Aventurine can relate in his own way. After losing his family and facing a harsh, unforgiving world, he too learned to mature far too quickly—to adapt to a world that didn’t care about the innocence of youth.
“They chose the name Veritas,” Ratio continues, “hoping I might one day uncover the truth behind all existence and earn Nous’ gaze—something they never achieved themselves.” He laughs softly, though there is no real humor in it. “It is quite foolish to place such monumental hopes on a child who hasn’t even been born yet. You are essentially setting it up for disappointment.”
Aventurine listens closely, his hands stilling for a moment as he works the lotion into Ratio’s skin. “Are you still in touch with them?”
“No,” Ratio simply replies. “I have learned to make my peace with it.” He pauses, as if weighing his thoughts. “Though my upbringing had its flaws, they did provide me with a solid education, so I suppose I owe them that.”
“That’s… I’m sorry,” Aventurine offers quietly.
“It is of no significance,” Ratio murmurs. “I have decided to carve my own path forward and encourage others to do the same.”
Aventurine feels for the man before him, envisioning a young boy with dreams and aspirations crushed by the weight of parental expectations. He feels like he understands Ratio better now. He understands why the man before him used to be filled with some sort of unspoken dissatisfaction with the world. Why Ratio had repeatedly thrown himself into challenging projects in his younger years, pushing his limits to prove himself, only to be overlooked by the Genius Society. Aventurine had assumed it stemmed from a personal agenda—an arrogant, youthful pride or desperate need for acknowledgement by an Aeon.
But now he realizes that this man had once yearned for something simpler: That Nous’ gaze would ultimately draw his parents’ attention to him as well.
“You don’t need them. Or Nous,” Aventurine says softly, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re far more brilliant without them.”
A quiet sigh escapes Ratio—a blend of resignation and relief. Finally, he shifts, turning his face back toward Aventurine. “I came to understand that, eventually. But… thank you, gambler.”
For a moment, there’s silence. Aventurine considers his words carefully, his gaze never leaving Ratio.
“I hope…” he begins, his voice uncertain, “that this vacation can replace those old memories.”
Ratio’s eyes widen slightly, lips parting in gentle surprise. In the soft glow of the sunset, its orange light dances across his face, making his eyes shimmer with something unreadable. There is an intensity there—perhaps irritation from the sun, or exhaustion, or something deeper. His tousled hair looks impossibly soft, and Aventurine feels an overwhelming need to reach out and touch him.
But he holds back, unsure of the line he’s about to cross.
“Oh,” Aventurine murmurs, noticing the flush across Ratio’s cheeks and ears. His voice drops to a whisper as he leans in to check. “I think you’ve got a sunburn here too.”
Immediately, Ratio pulls away, and for a fleeting moment, Aventurine can almost swear his face flushes an even deeper shade of red. “I am fine,” Ratio mutters.
Aventurine hesitates. Did he say something wrong? He wonders if it’s the earlier conversation about his childhood that dampened the mood, or if something else weighs on Ratio’s mind.
As the sun slowly sets over the resort, it begins to feel increasingly absurd for Ratio to spend another night on the divan. He is already here, sprawled out comfortably, and has spent last night on the bed. They’ve already established a certain level of comfort sharing a space throughout the last few days. A little physical closeness doesn’t seem too strange anymore, given everything they’ve been through.
What difference would it make, really, to sleep next to each other?
(It will make a great difference, Aventurine will come to realize.)
“Hey, Ratio?” Aventurine murmurs, prompting Ratio to turn back to him. He swallows thickly, unsure whether he’s making a bigger deal of this than he should. “Do you… want to sleep on the bed from now on?”
Ratio blinks, clearly caught off guard. “The both of us?”
Aventurine quickly backpedals, trying to brush off the tension. “I mean, just for comfort,” he quickly clarifies. “I’m so tired after spending the whole day out in the sun. I’ll probably pass out the second my head hits the pillow anyway,” he adds, though it feels hollow. It’s not entirely a lie—he is exhausted.
But the thought of Ratio sleeping beside him makes it hard to imagine closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep just like that.
But maybe he wants to prove to himself that he can do this.
Sharing a bed is something he hasn’t done since childhood, when he’d shared bedrolls with his sister or mother. And despite having had numerous sexual partners over the years, he’s never stayed the night, never feeling safe enough to let himself be so open and vulnerable to a stranger. Though he and Ratio don’t share that kind of relationship, he trusts that Ratio wouldn’t take his trust for granted.
The good doctor has likely already seen him drooling on his pillow on their first day here, so there is no pretense between them. Even so, Aventurine still harbors an underlying fear of what this could change.
Sharing a bed, with their legs brushing beneath the covers and the potential for unconscious closeness, feels too intimate for where they currently stand. But a part of him is curious about what this kind of intimacy with someone might feel like. Maybe it’s just his selfish desire to have Ratio close while he can, or maybe it’s his loneliness urging him to take this step.
“Only if you are sure,” Ratio carefully replies. “I would not mind.”
“Okay,” Aventurine breathes, settling on the right side of the bed. “I’ll take this side, then.”
Ratio watches as he carefully lies down, tucking his limbs close to take up as little space as possible. Aventurine stares up at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything other than the palpable presence beside him.
Ratio quietly rises to change, his movements deliberate as he pulls on his sleeping shirt. The soft rustle of fabric fills the silence, and he grabs the fresh pillow and blanket from the divan before returning to the bed.
Aventurine’s heart races as the mattress dips beside him and he feels the warmth already radiating off the other man. He begins to reconsider his choices as the scent of Ratio’s shampoo hits his nose, and Aventurine can’t help but wonder how it would feel to be even closer.
Closing his eyes, he hopes that Ratio will fall asleep first to spare them the awkwardness of lying in silence. But of course, it’s never that simple.
“Aventurine.”
He turns his head to find Ratio propped on his side, watching him intently.
“Is this arrangement truly acceptable to you?” Ratio asks.
“What arrangement?”
Ratio frowns. “Sharing the bed.”
“It’s fine. Why would it not be fine?” Aventurine takes a breath to steady himself. “Does it not seem fine?”
“Quite frankly, no,” Ratio sighs. “There is no need to force yourself. I will not be offended if you are uncomfortable.” He hesitates before continuing, “If I am honest… I do not recall everything from last night, so if I have done something to cause this unease—”
Great, now Ratio thinks Aventurine is uncomfortable with the idea of sharing a bed. Not only that, but Ratio doesn’t even remember the near heart attack he’d given Aventurine in his inebriated state. Why does that disappoint him only a little?
“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable,” Aventurine assures him. “It’s just… sharing a bed is not something I’m used to.”
“If it offers any comfort, I am not either,” Ratio admits and surprisingly, that does bring Aventurine some relief.
“Alright, this is strange.” He can’t help but chuckle. “Anything else in the contract I need to check and sign before we head to sleep?”
Ratio’s lips twitch in amusement. “Only if you wish to include a defined border in the middle of the bed. Though I’d advise considering our difference in stature and thus, the varying spatial needs.”
"Whatever,” Aventurine replies, a smile creeping on his face. “Just don’t push me in your sleep, or I will elbow you.”
“Noted.” Ratio holds his gaze for longer than Aventurine would deem comfortable. He clears his throat. “May I turn off the light?”
“Go ahead,” Aventurine replies, his voice softer now, feeling the weight of the moment as the room fades into darkness and they murmur their goodnights.
It goes without saying that Aventurine can’t fall asleep.
He twists and turns, searching for a comfortable position. It’s strange having to consider someone else occupying his space. It’s not necessarily an unwelcome change. If anything, it feels… nice, to have someone so close.
Perhaps Veritas Ratio could indeed be the first to somehow bypass Aventurine’s aversion to bed-sharing, due to the sheer amount of body heat he radiates. That would be nice to have in winter. The idea of inching closer to that warmth is intoxicating, but he knows the implications that would bring. He suspects the doctor would toss him off the bed if he tried such a thing.
“I can hear you thinking.” Ratio’s rough voice stirs him from his chaotic thoughts. “Go to sleep.”
“I’m trying,” Aventurine sighs.
Sleepless nights are also an effect of the Nihility, but Aventurine suspects his current restlessness is tied to something else. For one, there is a familiar dread that comes with anticipating more chaotic dreams and nightmares. The one from last night still lingers in his mind.
The disappearance of Nina’s brother, the information Topaz gave him about the resort—his mind won’t stop circling back to those, wondering what the connection might be. He feels for Nina, more than he would like to admit, and at the same time, he can’t shake the need to get back at Marketing Development any chance he gets. He also feels guilty for pursuing the matter further, despite promising he would leave it be.
And then there is the one thing he can’t ignore, no matter how much he tries: Veritas Ratio. His scent, his warmth—so close, yet still out of reach.
Aventurine knows asking Ratio to share the bed—to sleep beside him—is selfish, born of a quiet ache that runs deeper than he’s willing to admit. But this might be all he will ever have, and Aventurine has never been one to settle for less. Still, Ratio is no fleeting prize, no game to win. He’s so much more than that. More than Aventurine deserves.
The blanket rustles behind him, and he turns to find Ratio watching him curiously. “Is something the matter?”
Aventurine shifts on the pillow, trying to find a comfortable position. “I can’t sleep.”
“Evidently,” Ratio murmurs. “Would it be more comfortable if you had more space? I can—”
“None of that, Doc,” Aventurine chuckles lightly. “I won’t go back on my word now. Not when you’ve finally decided to grace my bed with your presence.”
Ratio clears his throat. “Why must you phrase it like that?”
Because it’s easier to joke about it than to admit that he’s terrified—that he hadn’t fully considered how tempting it would be to have Ratio right there beside him.
Not only that, but what truly perplexes him is how easy it is for Ratio to be here—agreeing to this strange new proximity, bending to his whims. Aventurine doesn’t understand why Ratio has been so agreeable these past few days. There is something about it that feels too good to be true.
Ratio has been different—softer, more considerate. Aventurine struggles to decide whether this change is genuine, or just a temporary indulgence to keep the peace while they are stuck here together. Is Ratio humoring him, only to revert to the same cold, stoic doctor once they return home? Will this new connection between them outlast the sandy beaches and endless ocean of this planet?
He doesn’t know.
Maybe it’s just that he’s tired and vulnerable, but the fear of this vacation ending—of losing whatever closeness they’ve begun to build—is gnawing at him, as if time is slipping through his fingers and he can’t stop it.
The weight of those thoughts feel suffocating. Aventurine shifts slightly, then asks, his voice quieter than usual, “Have you… been enjoying this vacation so far?”
There is a brief silence, making Aventurine wonder if he’s asked the wrong thing. When Ratio responds, his voice is low and thick with exhaustion, as if he’s already drifting into sleep. “I have. More than I anticipated.”
Aventurine hums thoughtfully, relieved by the answer. He almost thinks the other man has already fallen asleep, until he speaks again.
“And you?”
“Hm?”
“Are you happy here, Aventurine?” Ratio asks quietly.
Aventurine hesitates, grappling with his thoughts. His mind feels sluggish, tangled in a web of emotions he’s not ready to unpack.
Is he happy?
He isn’t sure. But at this moment, with Ratio beside him, and the weight of the world feeling not so heavy to bear, Aventurine feels a strange peace settle in his chest. For the first time in a while, he feels… content. It’s enough. Maybe more than enough.
“Yeah,” he finally replies, putting on a smile. “I’m glad I have a good travel partner.”
A flicker of emotion crosses Ratio’s face—happiness intertwined with relief, yet a shadow seems to pass over him, making Aventurine wonder if he’s said something upsetting.
“I am glad as well,” Ratio says, his voice quieter.
Before Aventurine can respond, Ratio places a hand gently over his mouth, silencing him. “Now sleep,” he murmurs.
Whatever Aventurine had wanted to say dies down in his throat. Ratio’s warm palm lingers on his lips before it retreats, brushing against his cheek as he withdraws. Aventurine shudders.
Were he a bolder man, he might have taken Ratio’s hand and kept it there. He would have pressed forward, closing the distance between them to claim this fleeting moment of happiness and perhaps allowing it to become something more.
But Aventurine is a coward. So, he doesn’t.
Instead, they eventually drift off to sleep like this—closer than they’ve ever been—but the space between them remains too wide in ways neither of them is ready to bridge.
***