Chapter Text
“My fingers are numb and cold again. I guess it’s another bad day, don’t you agree, Doctor?”
Aventurine’s brush with Nihility had left him with more than just a pale scar across his torso; chronic phantom pains, dullness of the senses, and, on the worst days, a lack of ability or desire to do anything but sleep. The multiple Doctors of Chaos Ratio had consulted said this was an unusual case, and they couldn’t say when he would return back to full health.
On this day, the last day Ratio saw him, Aventurine was holding his hand.
“It feels so warm like this,” Aventurine would lie. “I could do this forever.”
They both knew that there wasn’t a point; no amount of external heat could warm the bone-chilling cold of Nihility. It was more of an anchor, keeping Aventurine tethered to reality, away from THEIR grasp.
Ratio squeezed Aventurine’s hand, each squeeze sending the same message: “I’m here, I’m here.”
Aventurine looked over at Ratio and smiled a lopsided and clumsy smile. “I’m sorry you have to keep doing this.”
Ratio wanted to say something, but his voice was stuck in his throat.
“They want me to go to Penacony again. Maybe they think I have some sort of leverage because I was injured in the Dreamscape?” Aventurine laughed. “Even though I took Penacony hostage.”
“Turn them down,” Ratio blurted out. “You are not going back there.” He squeezed Aventurine’s hand tightly.
Aventurine looked down and smiled sadly. “I don’t have a choice.”
Ratio wanted to argue back, but he knew he couldn’t.
“It should be quick though. They want to film a commercial for a new SoulGlad flavor. Low stakes stuff.” Aventurine squeezed back. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
That was a month and a half ago.
-Act I Scene II-
“If we’re eating in a dream, are we actually eating in reality? Have you ever thought about that?”
Ratio watched, his eyes narrowed as Aventurine took a big bite of his triple tiered burger, meat juice and sauce running down his face as he did so.
Ratio cleared his throat, picking at his grilled chicken wrap. “I expected something a little more… refined for a first date.”
“It’s popular with college students, I don’t know what you expected, Doctor,” Aventurine said. “Besides, we go to high end places a lot for work. I wanted to do something new.” He smiled, his face a mess.
Ratio felt his heart squeeze in his chest. Aventurine was so cute, he would do anything to see that smile.
The sound of pumping music and five televisions all showing different sports broadcasts practically overpowered every other noise. In a sea of people, all absorbed in their own meals and drinks, it was as if they were in a cloistered space for just the two of them. If it wasn’t a sensory nightmare, it might have been romantic.
“I heard there’s a movie theater nearby,” Aventurine mentioned offhandedly as he wiped his face clean. “Isn’t that a classic first date?”
“It is, but I’d rather have a rest. Leave the Dreamscape for a while and rest in a real bed, not a Dreampool.”
“We could always go to my place on campus.” Aventurine nudged his foot against Ratio’s leg. “It’s got a bed.”
Ratio begged his heart to calm down just this once and let his upstairs brain do the driving. “I’m aware, but I just don’t think staying in this dream is good for you.”
“Stop with the nagging! You sound like big sis, always concerned about what I’m doing and where I’m going. I can take care of myself!”
Big sis?
Aventurine had never mentioned his family, nor did Ratio ever inquire about them. Based on Aventurine’s obvious background and what little he shared freely about his origins, he already knew where his family was. There was no need to open old wounds like that.
But now, Aventurine was speaking as if they were alive.
Ratio could feel his skin cover with goosebumps. Something was not right with Aventurine. He braced himself and opened his mouth.
“Forgive me for asking, but isn’t your family…dead? You’ve never mentioned them before so I just assumed…”
Aventurine’s expression turned blank. He stared right through Ratio, as if he couldn’t even comprehend the words he had said. Then, as suddenly as it happened, it was gone.
Aventurine laughed. “That’s dark, even for you! Your face is so serious, I almost believed you for a second!”
Ratio felt as if he was going to be sick. Large swaths of Aventurine’s memory had been stolen from him, to the point he couldn’t even remember the deaths of his entire family and people. Whichever Memokeeper did this was a sick and twisted individual, and he would hunt them down if it was the last thing he did.
“Back to our previous discussion…” Aventurine looked down at his drink, tracing his finger around the rim. His cheeks flushed pink, maybe from the alcohol, maybe from something else. “Let’s go back to my place. This place is too noisy for you, isn’t it?”
Ratio cleared his throat. “I won’t deny that, but you haven’t finished your meal.”
“We can get it to go.” Aventurine looked over at Ratio, his eyes half lidded, burning with desire. He pushed his leg against Ratio’s with more insistence, slowly trailing as far up as he could reach.
Ratio swallowed thickly. “Gambler…”
“Hmm? What’s wrong?”
“Your attempts to distract me are not working.”
“Distract you? Why would I want that?” Aventurine licked his lips. “I want you to keep your eyes on me…and only me.”
Ratio didn’t want to give in to the obvious seduction; getting to the bottom of Aventurine’s disappearance and memory loss was much more important than indulging his base desires. However, the months he spent coming to terms with his feelings, the yearning that came along with that realization, and now, Aventurine’s enthusiastic consent scratched something deep in Ratio’s heart. Why not? Even if he was missing large chunks of his memory, it was still Aventurine. He was giving him every signal, and what kind of future boyfriend (or perhaps husband?) would ignore such requests?
Still in the midst of convincing himself that a single tryst would not hurt the overall investigation, Ratio quickly got up and paid for their meals, returning to pack them both haphazardly in to-go boxes.
Running through the golden tinted roads of Moment of Sol, Ratio couldn’t help but think about how perfect this all seemed. It had been so long since he’d seen Aventurine smile, and much longer since he’d seen his real smile. Yet, here he was, laughing and smiling while dragging him along, his cheeks a rosy red. It was like a scene from a movie.
It was all too good to be real.
Even as they made their way into Aventurine’s rather bare room, throwing their leftovers onto the kitchen counter, and crashing into each other with fervor and passion, Ratio remained stuck in his thoughts. This was Aventurine. This was him, kissing Aventurine. This was everything he had ever wanted and more, but it was tainted by the knowledge that Aventurine was not his full self.
Ratio ripped his lips away from Aventurine, who stumbled and fell back on his bed, his face flushed red and breathing heavily. The sight of the usually perfectly put together gambler reduced to a mess with just a few kisses made something in Ratio flare with even more need.
He leaned over Aventurine, his face burning, logic and desire fighting within him.
Aventurine smiled, tilting his head back to bare his tattooed neck. “What’s wrong, Ratio? Stunned by my beauty?”
“I am,” Ratio said, his voice low and thick, his brain short circuiting and unable to say more.
Aventurine’s eyes widened, then averted, his arm covering his face. “Really? You’re not just saying that, are you?”
“Would I ever lie to you?” Ratio slowly leaned down, placing a chaste kiss on Aventurine’s neck, just over his brand.
Aventurine let out a short gasp as the kiss deepened, breaking skin.
“No…” Aventurine whined breathlessly. “You’ve always…been so infuriatingly kind to me…”
Ratio pulled away to unbutton Aventurine’s shirt. Whatever self control he’d had before, it was gone. He loved Aventurine’s confidence, but seeing his vulnerability fueled the flames of desire within him even more. He wanted to see more, be the only person allowed to see him in this state.
He poked at Aventurine’s face, earning an annoyed noise.
“Why aren’t you kissing me more?” Aventurine said.
“I want to see you.”
Aventurine hesitated, but eventually lifted his arm, his face even redder than before. He pouted, sitting up and taking off his shirt the rest of the way. “You can be rough, you know. I can take more than one little hickey.”
“I don’t want to be rough.” Ratio stood up, taking off his own clothes. “I want to savor every moment we share together, and I want you to enjoy it just as much as I do.” He kissed Aventurine on the forehead gently. “I’m sorry for my selfishness.”
Aventurine wrapped his arms around Ratio’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss. “Stubborn.”
With little effort, Aventurine pulled Ratio down onto the bed, running his fingers through his hair as the kiss deepened. It tasted like salt and condiments, but at the same time, it was rich with the unspoken longing they’d both shared. Even when neither could name it or didn’t want to acknowledge it, it was still there. Ratio gripped onto Aventurine’s slim frame, tracing the old scars that littered it, as if the gambler would disappear.
Aventurine pulled away to breathe and squirmed. “That feels strange…”
“It’s common for old scars to still hurt from time to time,” Ratio mumbled, his attention still on feeling every inch of Aventurine’s body. “Do you want me to stop?”
“Scars?” Aventurine seemed to freeze. “I would remember if I had scars.”
Aventurine got up, walking quickly over to the bathroom mirror and inspecting himself. Ratio followed after, a sinking feeling forming in his chest.
As expected, Aventurine’s body was a patchwork of old scars, some of which Ratio could identify, most of which he couldn’t. Aventurine seemed to become more and more panicked the longer he inspected himself.
“I don’t remember…I don’t remember getting any of these!!” He screamed, then turned to Ratio. “What happened to me? Why can’t I remember? What are these? What is this!?” He tilted his head back to show the tattoo on his neck. “Do you know something? Is there something you’re not telling me!?”
“I haven’t lied to you,” Ratio said, firmly holding Aventurine by the shoulders. “Your memory has been tampered with, most likely by a Memokeeper. They’ve taken large swaths of your memory, including the deaths of your immediate family and clan, your time as a slave, and-”
Aventurine pushed Ratio away. “Why do you know all this? And my family- how dare you say that about them! I was just talking to them the other day!”
“What do they look like?”
“Huh?”
“Can you give me an accurate description of your family members?”
Aventurine’s expression turned from angry, to puzzled, back to angry, eventually slipping into pure despair. He brought his hands to his head. “I don’t remember,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I can’t remember their faces.”
Ratio could only stand and watch as Aventurine sunk to the floor, his entire body trembling. He wanted desperately to hold him and reassure him, but what could he even say? That he was sorry for destroying his entire perception of himself and the world? Sorry for ripping away the illusion of a happy family? It was all for Aventurine’s sake, but was forcing him into an existential crisis really the best thing?
Ratio reached out, maybe to apologize, maybe to reassure, maybe just to connect. His body was moving before his mind could stop it.
Aventurine flinched back and stared at him, eyes wide, like an animal cornered. His arms flew up to protect his face, manifesting one of his shields and knocking Ratio into the glass mirror. As the scared gambler scrambled out of the small bathroom, Ratio brushed shards of glass off himself, one of them nicking his finger.
He stared at the blood beads forming on the cut, running down his finger, then rushed to put on his clothes and follow.
Outside the unassuming second story apartment was a storefront, a road, and a couple of late night stragglers, stumbling away from the epicenters of college life. Rain poured down from the skies, limiting visibility. Ratio found it strange, but had no time to ponder anything. He needed to find Aventurine, fast.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of tires screeching, then, a car hitting something, and finally crashing into a pole.
His heart sank.
His eyes drifted to the scene of the accident, where people were starting to gather. It wasn’t Aventurine. He had to tell himself that, to grip onto the last shreds of his sanity. However, a second problem arose; there was at least one, maybe more, people potentially hurt and in need of medical attention at the site of the accident. He gripped his bleeding hand into a fist. Aventurine needed him, but he couldn’t avert his eyes from the suffering of innocents either. Muttering apologies under his breath, he ran towards the crowd.
Pushing onlookers aside, he stumbled out into the fray to find his worst fears realized.
Aventurine was in the middle of the street, lying in a rapidly expanding pool of blood.
Against his better judgement, he fell to his knees and held Aventurine close. Given he had nothing more than his underwear on, it was easy to tell where he was bleeding from. Ratio’s mind kept telling him to put pressure on the wound, or even just to find a pulse, but his body wouldn’t move. The sound of rain in his ears was overwhelming his senses, his eyes searching rapidly for someone that could help.
A thought finally crossed his mind. This was Penacony! It was all a dream! Soon enough, Aventurine would explode into a pool of aquamarine goop and simply wake up in the Reverie Hotel. That’s how it went when he was “testing out” the protection of the Family.
That was when he remembered. After the intervention of the Astral Express against the former head of the Oak Family, Sunday, the Harmony’s protection was lifted from the Dreamscape. While this meant the lingering corruption of the Order no longer had a way to mask itself, it also meant that “Death” was still very real, just as it was in reality.
A member of the Bloodhound Family walked in front of him, an eerie sense of familiarity washing over him, but when he looked at them, he saw only the face of a stranger.
“‘Death’ doesn’t exist in dreams, right?” Ratio practically begged, despite knowing the truth. “He’ll wake up and be fine, won’t he?”
The brief flash of pity across the Bloodhound’s face told him all he needed to know. Ratio cradled Aventurine’s rapidly cooling body close, his tears mixing with the rain.
He closed his eyes, the sounds of his own screams and a projector whirring to life overtook his senses.
-Act I Scene III-
Ratio opened his eyes to the blinding light of a film being projected on a screen. As uproarious applause assaulted his eardrums, memory penetrated his mind, rapidly playing what had happened in his mind.
The date.
Going back to Aventurine’s place.
Aventurine realizing the truth.
The accident.
The accident.
Aventurine was dead in his arms.
He stood up, looking around frantically to find Aventurine in the seat right next to him, confused.
“Did you really like the movie that much?” He teased. “The ending was a little trite for my taste.”
“Movie?” Ratio said dumbly.
“Yeah, that was the plan, remember? Dinner and a movie.”
“But you…and I was…and we…” Images of Aventurine’s broken and bloodied corpse flashed through Ratio’s mind. His stomach turned. “I need to go to the restroom.”
“Hey, you never said if you were interested in the director Q&A!” Aventurine called after him, but Ratio was already halfway down to the steps.
Making his way into the lobby, he looked frantically for the men’s restroom. Running towards the sign, through a narrow path, and finally to the white and red tiled room, mirrors and sinks on one side, toilets on the other. The air smelled vaguely of stale popcorn and powerful cleaning products. Ratio found his way in front of a sink and mirror, gripping the edges like a lifeline.
Running the water and splashing his face, he looked at himself. His reflection stared back, haggard. A cold sweat accompanied his nausea, skin becoming cold and clammy. Someone…whoever had taken Aventurine’s memory was not keen on their schemes being revealed. Was this a threat? A show of how much power this Memokeeper wielded?
A toilet door swung open, making Ratio jump. One sink away from him, a man with dark brown hair and red eyes washed his hands, humming to himself.
Ratio tried to ignore the sudden intrusive presence, but his intuition told him to keep his attention on him. The sheer smugness that radiated from his smile was already setting off alarm bells in his mind.
“Dear Dreamchaser, I have a question to pose for you,” the stranger said, smiling. “What’s more valuable; a life marked by tragedy or a life defined by failure?”
Ratio scoffed. “Ridiculous. There’s no such thing as a life having any more value than another.”
“Do you say that because you believe it or because you know which category you fall in?”
Ratio stood up straight. The alarms were blaring loudly in his mind. This strange man knew way more than he should, his wide smile giving away how much he was relishing every moment. Ratio’s eyes narrowed. If this was a game, it was advisable to play along and gather information.
“I don’t believe I caught your name,” Ratio said, his voice tense.
“Oh, how rude of me.” With a flourish, the man bowed. “The esteemed, the great artist, the premier director of this system…! Mr. Reca, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Doctor Veritas Ratio.”
Ratio felt an odd sense of familiarity. He thought back a couple minutes, remembering the letters MR RECA in big, bold, gaudy letters at the beginning of the film, which conflicted with his previous memories of Aventurine dying. “Ah yes, you’re here for the Q&A after your film.”
Before Mr. Reca could respond, Ratio closed the distance between them, grabbing the director by the coat.
“What did you do to Aventurine?” He said, his tone hostile.
Mr. Reca grinned manically, any pretense of innocence immediately dropped. “As expected from someone of your pedigree. A genius, however, would not react the same way. In fact, they’d understand my position!”
Ratio summoned his heavy tome. “I’m giving you a chance to explain yourself.”
“In its base state, memory is fundamentally useless. Yes, it forms a key component of what you would call a sense of identity, but who else does that benefit? No one.”
Ratio held his tome up high. “Get to the point.”
Mr. Reca began to stammer. “I- I- I- mean, trauma is just- memories like the ones your friend held are simply too valuable to ignore. If it wasn’t me, another Memokeeper would take them!” He rummaged around in his breast pocket before taking out a Light Cone.
Before Ratio could react, a memory was forced into his mind.
Pain. The smell of flesh burning. The clinking of iron chains. The screams of an innocent child. The sneer of a strange man. Pain. Sheer, burning pain.
Ratio stumbled back, letting go of Mr. Reca to hold the side of his neck, the memory of pain still tingling on his skin.
“Do you understand?” Mr. Reca said, straightening his jacket. “This is a mere fraction of the trauma your friend was carrying in his mind.” He pocketed the Light Cone once more. “He’s happier, isn’t he? Probably bolder as well. More willing to explore a relationship without all of the trust issues his trauma left him with. Of course, that’s because I cut around his memories of you.”
“He’s not some toy! You’ve made him into a husk of himself!” Ratio said. “Why leave only memories of me?”
“Because you aren’t a compelling character,” Mr. Reca began to pace around. “Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. You’ve achieved so much, and yet, none of it matters because THEY don’t deem you worthy of even the slightest look. You’ve tried everything, you’ve even gone against your own morals because that’s what you thought would make you a genius. What did it get you? A consolation prize. So I wrote you out of the script. My film will be much more compelling without your mediocrity.”
Ratio readied a piece of chalk, but before he could throw it, someone walked in to the bathroom.
Aventurine stood before the both of them, breathing heavily. His eyes were wide with fear.
“Ratio…” he managed to gasp out. “Something isn’t right.”
Blood began to seep from his nose, his eyes rolling back. Ratio lunged after him as his body began to fall limp. Mr. Reca watched the scene unfold, his eyes wide.
“He hasn’t taken his medication…because he doesn’t remember what happened,” Ratio said, his voice quivering with anger. “He was hit by the blade of a Self-Annihilator, which you would know if you read his most recent memories.” He locked eyes with the director. “This is your fault!”
Mr. Reca stepped back. “I never meant to- I’m merely an observer, I-”
“Don’t just stand there! Return his memory!”
Ratio watched in despair as Mr. Reca bolted past him. He knew he had to give chase, but his legs wouldn’t move. Just like the accident, he found himself frozen, unable to tear himself away from Aventurine.
He held the gambler gently, wishing for this nightmare to end.