( yeah, yeah. aventurine waves the chastising away as if he's hardly bothered by the idea of wasting ratio's time. that he waited three hours is probably more than anyone else he knows would.
that's the last truth he's going to allow hanging around tonight, however, and he slides into something easier for what he's going to ask next. because he's exhausted the list, and is willing to hedge his bets.
luck is always on his side. )
So. ( he says, taking a larger sip from his drink than usual before allowing nonchalance to color his voice. ) Who is it?
( aventurine does not look at ratio. he can't. his own feelings aren't the issue here, when it's ratio who's going to be undergoing surgery to remove the flowers from his lungs. which is so very like him, aventurine concludes, avoiding the obvious answer in favor of one that can have a assured outcome.
he just hopes the other poor sod never finds out. )
He should have counted on this. For all that Aventurine might play the fool, the idle gambler with no wisdom to support his clever little insights, thereโs no denying that he has the intelligence to back it up. To be a few steps ahead of everyone around him, to know what bet to make to get the outcome he most wants. It seems only natural that he would deduce the condition with scarce information.
Very little these days require such a long period of recovery. He has no outward symptoms. Therefore, a conclusion can be drawn - a gamble can be risked. Ratio sighs. ]
Irrelevant.
[ He wishes he had started drinking three hours ago.
He wishes he had left.
He wishes a lot of things that betray his confident mind. ]
( he's not sure if the unspoken conformation is better or worse. aventurine is well aquatinted with the side effects of his luck by now, of losing everything but what keeps him alive, and knowing the way the chips fall there's no point in guessing, is there? ratio won't tell him. that wouldn't mean a damn thing normally.
except aventurine wants to know how long he'll wait for him. if there is something he'll do for him that he won't do for anyone else. if the other man thinks about what aventurine might like the way he does about ratio. if he could spin the time spent with veritas ratio into longer chunks, hour by hour, until one day one of them stays the night.
aventurine is very aware that he loves doctor veritas ratio. he knows his luck. and he knows that the only way for ratio to love him back is if he'd rather cut the damn emotion out instead. )
I mean, I get it. ( the mask cracks with a hard laugh, a twist of aventurine's lips as he finally looks at ratio. ) I wouldn't want to be in love with me, either.
This is not the outcome he wanted. He shouldnโt turned and left hours ago, rather literally, should have raised himself up and found his way back to the tiny clinic with a doctor who wonโt speak his name. Ratio had made a mistake, as rare an offence as that night be, and the anger and irritation he feels burns through him like an inferno.
He never should have organised this.
Finishing his drink, he shakes his head and pushing himself up and away from the stool, brushing his hand absently against the shape of his torso, imaginary dirt on the fabric of his clothes. Expression terse, antsy and angry inside himself, he pushes hair from his face and shakes his head. Remoulding himself back into the cutting figure he had been before his heart had been so painfully laid bare. ]
If thatโs what you believe, then my decision has been proven to be all the more appropriate. Youโve had your one drink, so our appointment is over. Good day.
[ He has to return to that planet for one last set of exams and then the operation that evening anyway, so itโs best to make a hasty retreat. Thereโs no further comment - just Ratio leaving as swiftly as he had arrived, slipping into a crowd to disappear, ready to return to ice cold (both in planet and in feeling). ]
( if that's what you believe. isn't that what he's doing? he doesn't want to be in love with aventurine, he's cutting out every inch of affection in his heart and lungs until not even friendship remains. he wasn't going to tell him. the hurt and anger lingers in his expression as ratio stands, and for a moment he's too stunned to reach out, to call him back until he's too far gone into the crowd for aventurine to catch up to him. )
Fuck.
( aventurine crumples, head in hands for a long moment. when he feels like he can breathe again it's only to look up, settle the bill, and leave. except-- ratio forgot the book. he scowls at it, as if it's the book's fault for the mess his evening's become. he shouldn't have come.
he shouldn't have gotten the book because he thought ratio might like it. he shouldn't have fallen in love with ratio in the first place. what did he expect to happen, really? for the other man to let aventurine exist in his life until he got bored of him? until he saw that he really was clinging to his winning hands with fists and white knuckles and decided he wasn't worth dealing with anymore?
but if that wasn't what ratio wanted, then--
aventurine grabs the book, quickly makes his apologies to the bartender, and darts after ratio. aeons, how much time did he even have left--
not long, it turns out. he'd run into that trailblazer, who'd been most helpful purely by accident -- though he thinks that perhaps if he'd been more direct she still would have helped him in spite of her general... distaste for him. not that he can blame her. there's really only one person who seems to have taken a liking to him, and aventurine really has to catch up with him before he does something incredibly stupid.
which is how he's here, practically panting at ratio's door in the goethe grand hotel on that little planet that threw topaz for a loop, book held in one hand and a foot wedged through the door so that ratio can't close it on him. it would be just his luck to have it run out now of all things and be too late to do anything about it.
first things first. aventurine shoots him a smile, hopeful -- an unevenness to the edges that betray he's not simply pulled one on in order to play to ratio's better senses or the emotions he's clearly intent on ripping out of himself. )
Book. ( very good, adventurine, and he almost kicks himself for it. ) Back at the bar. You forgot it.
This is not a gamble worth playing, as far as Dr Ratio is concerned: he is no prize, to most, and while he prizes himself highly and recognises his merit, time and time again, he is not inclined to allow himself to dwell on what other people think. That doesn't mean he does not end up being completely overwhelmed by it, however - and he has drowned himself in enough simple, plebeian thoughts over the last few weeks that this seems the only solution to his problem.
Logic dictates that an experiment is thus: an idea is put forward, it is tested, examined, and then proven correct or false. Ratio has played through the experiment in his mind and seen the logical conclusion: nothing.
Turning up to Jarilo-VI for his surgery is easy enough, and his hotel room is enough that he does not feel entirely out of place, despite the strange looks he receives from the locals (he is not necessarily well-dressed for the weather, after all, and remains so, attire unchanged).
The door knocks and, expecting dinner, he opens it - and it is good that Aventurine puts his foot in the door, because Ratio is attempting to slam it with all the force of hitting a creature with his book. ]
( it's a damn good thing that, for all his love of finery and foppish fashion that aventurine knows that everything should have a secondary purpose -- his shoes are sturdy enough that he only winces in pain rather than flinching enough to pull back and let the other man slam the door. he's not letting the so-called genius do something so incredibly stupid when there's a simple solution; if the doctor wants it, of course.
and that's what aventurine doesn't know. who would love him? his family did, of course, but they're all dead and aventurine has nothing to offer a perspective partner. who would possibly want to love him? he has nothing to offer, a man who has killed and bartered and gambled his way into his position as a stoneheart -- there's nothing to love anymore.
and yet-- )
You've got quite the upper body strength there, Doc. ( his own teeth grit, and he leans on the door to try and get him to open it at least further enough to talk. ) And you're going to need something to read if you insist on going through with your incredibly stupid plan.
[ He wants to keep pushing against the door, but at the same time it feels vaguely pointless. It's not as if Ratio believes that Aventurine is going to go anywhere now that he's been discovered, and that means there's only so much he can do before his patience runs out. The stupid, idiotic man that he is, he is also stubborn and determined, and Ratio has to accept that.
Isn't that one of the reasons why he is so desperately, sickeningly fond of him?
Gripping at the handle of the door, he stares at the other man before he scowls, shifting and taking a step back. He's not inviting him in - Ratio is no fool - but he's not trying to destroy his foot with the slam of wood any longer. Small mercies indeed.
It doesn't help when he's saying such idiotic things. ]
It was necessary.
[ Pride, arrogance - it curls around him with familiarity, despite his frustration and irritation. ]
I have brought my own texts with me, and therefore your services are not required.
( not having a foot smashed is, in fact, a plus. aventurine doesn't want to be having this conversation in the middle of a hallway on a frozen rock after he just ran to catch the other man in time. he can feel his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, the way his heart hammers against his chest. but it seems like veritas ratio isn't giving him any choice in the matter.
though he still leave his foot in the doorframe, just in case. )
But maybe you can indulge me a little. ( a flash of a sharp, false smile. ) Before you decide that you'd rather feel nothing for me at all.
( there's hurt in his eyes; ratio might be mad at him, but that doesn't change that someone here would rather undergo intensive surgery rather than confess. and, sure, he can't blame him -- he'd meant that when he said that, there are much better people to love in this wide universe of theirs, after all. but it still stings. and unlike most of ratio's barbs, this one lingers, stuck in between his ribs, digging in further. )
Why does he look so desperate? So put out? A gamble is in the making, clearly, but he cannot put his well-learned brain to the test. There is no metric to judge this on - and no world in which he imagines that Aventurine would care to feel the same for him in return. Ergo, a there is a misunderstanding. Perhaps he was here for the Nameless after all.
Waving a hand, he crosses his arms over his chest, irritated and embarrassed. This was supposed to be painless. ]
I will give you precisely five minutes.
[ What could be said in such a short amount of time to change anything between the two of them, after all? And he needs an early night. Surgery beckons on the morrow. ]
( five minutes. he can work with that. aventurine weighs his options for a moment, for the space of a breath, before metaphorically decides to put all of his chips on the table, but keeps his cards close to his chest. best not to give the game away until he knows which way things will fall.
(he wonders, suddenly and like always, if this will be the time his luck fails.)
he has five minutes to find out. )
Why? ( the question seems brittle, hesitant. unlike him, so he pushes forward, shoving that away back under the smile and the mask. ) You... took the idea that I didn't blame you for wanting to cut it out rather poorly. So: why? Besides the fact that you probably hate being in love in general, of course.
( like he said: aventurine is not really the sort of person people love, anymore. he'd hate the dirty, rotten job of being in love with a man who flits through life as if it's a game, throwing himself into dangerous scenarios without a thought and, alright, a view that his life is an acceptable loss. a man who's owned. especially people like ratio. who prides himself on logic, on rational thinking, and seems to barely tolerate him on the best of days.
but he does tolerate him, aventurine reminds himself. will that go, too, with his love? the thought makes something in him twist -- he could live without ratio's love, considering he'd been doing it just fine up until this point. but their friendship? their partnership? he's willing to throw that away along with it, apparently. )
[ It's longer than he ought to give, but less time than his heart can manage to handle.
Ratio knows he should step back into his room and allow Aventurine in, if only for privacy, but it feels like too much. Allowing him to step inside, permitting him entry into his space, it is too close to what he cannot bear to do - to allow him to take total control of his heart. His body already feels as if it is aching, as if he is overcome by it all, and he refuses to permit himself to fall any deeper than he already has.
It defies all logic - and, more than that, it defies all the principles he had focussed upon for so long. To wear a mask to defend himself from idiots, only to fall in love with one...
Gritting his teeth, he takes a deep breath before he glances up and frowns. ]
Why not?
[ A question that might have a thousand answers. ]
I examined the evidence that I had and decided upon the best outcome. Your input was not deemed necessary in my choice.
( Your input was not deemed necessary in my choice.
Aventurine knows, logically, that Ratio doesn't mean for the words to cut as deep as they do. He's well familiar with the other man when he does mean to belittle and demean. But it can't help the way he flinches, the smile he'd been barely holding onto sliding off his face completely -- of course he doesn't have a say, of course. Just one more thing in his pathetic life that is out of his control, taken from him by the will of others.
It doesn't matter to him. It can't. Not when it's Ratio's own feelings -- the man can decide to do whatever he wants to with them. Including cutting them out.
But damn, does it hurt. )
If I'm involved ( He grits out, eyes narrowed, the hurt and anger seeping into his tone at long last. ) I'd have thought you'd have the heart to tell me we weren't at least going to be friends anymore. I didn't think I meant so little to you, Doc.
( To say nothing of one, key thing. ) Besides, what if you missed something?
[ Ratio frowns, his arms crossing over his chest again.
Nothing that the doctor had said gave any indication of the removal of the flowers also removing any trace of friendship. The excavation of his chest and the removal of this disease should do no more than erase the affection he feels for Aventurine on the romantic side, not on the platonic. It was not as if he intended to cut their partnership entirely, or prune the link that they shared.
Just make life easier to bear, without the lingering sense of longing and want to cloud his every waking moment. ]
The operation has the intention of removing the romantic inclination, not friendship or any other association. [ So he might still feel horny, foul. ] You and I will still be able to work together amicably.
[ This is... Not necessarily casting doubt, but certainly making him reconsider his thought process a little. ]
( Sure, that's probably what happens if you've got someone kind behind the scalpel. Someone who doesn't have orders to carve every iota of affection out of the man who's your newest, best asset. Aventurine remembers choking on the petals, the fear that'd run through him at the idea that this was a gamble he wasn't going to win --
The IPC had taken care of it and Aventurine remembers feeling nothing at all the next time he'd seen the man in the halls. It was likely for the best, though he can't say he had a choice in the matter.
But if Ratio is on this backwater sphere of ice, he's probably not getting the best care, the top of the line surgeons. Likely because they would do what any normal person would consider the best and easiest option: confess. Aventurine can't help but wonder if his doctor here told him the same, and he'd simply refused out of stubbornness and pride and logic, all of which make him incredibly stupid. )
That's awfully convenient, isn't it? Makes you wonder why more people don't simply opt for the removal over the mortification of confessing. Just poof and everything can go back to normal. ( He makes a minor explosion with his hands, fanning his fingers out before letting them fall back to his side. ) Shame it didn't work that way for me.
( He can offer something real, something from behind the mask -- an offering for the other man to make what he's leading up be less likely to be laughed off. There's not much that Aventurine can't handle, but Ratio not taking him seriously about this?
Aventurine has survived no small amount of traumatic experiences in his life, and this wouldn't even break the top five, but he'd rather not have it on the list at all. If it's all the same to Ratio. )
But I think you have. Something important. Why don't we walk through your thought process and we can find it together?
[ ... Suddenly, things make a great deal more sense.
Ratio had not heard of anyone who had personally experienced the operation, but Aventurine's distaste for it is all the more applicable now from experience. Natasha had not mentioned anything about those kinds of side effects, and it does give him a brief moment of hesitation, of wondering, and his eyes flicker for a moment before he tries to school himself, to slide behind his mash.
He wishes he had brought it with him.
Complicated feelings emerge inside of him, making him twitch, and he resists the urge to tap a finger or his foot like some kind of petulant child. He is better than this. ]
I am... Sorry, that your experience was less than stellar.
[ To say the least.
Moving back into the room, wanting a little more privacy for this despite the implication, he shakes his head. ]
There is no need.
[ A hand, pressed to his forehead. Irritation and grief, all at once. He does not want to speak of it, to have his mind changed when he was so certain of his course. ]
( It would be easy to follow him in, but Aventurine... doesn't. He hovers at the door, though he does open it further with his foot -- not wanting the other man to hide completely. He's just lucky that he's forgone his plaster mask. It's easier to catch the small changes that let him know where to push, to pull that gives him the answer he's desperate for. Feeling guilt for manipulating others has never been one of his many, many issues, but he does feel a small twinge at doing it to Ratio.
It'll be worth it, he reminds himself. For the both of them. )
It was a long time ago. It'd hurt more, I'm sure, if I could remember being in love with him. ( But he can't, so. Onto Ratio's own idiotic decision. ) Alright, so I'll work through it for you.
( Aventurine leans up against the doorframe, counting on his fingers with a slight flourish. )
One -- you got mad at me for suggesting that you were getting this done because you didn't want to love me. ( Which: he still can't quite believe that Ratio isn't doing this because he doesn't want to, but that has more to do with the fact that Aventurine can't possibly imagine anyone loving him. That somehow, in spite of all odds, Ratio does is... well. It's something, alright. ) Two -- you decided to do all this without telling me. Which makes me think that the issue isn't with what you feel, but what you think I feel. Or don't feel, in your estimation.
[ Ratio hates being surrounded by idiots and simpletons.
He finds it difficult to sit and listen to them speak, the listless, aimless dialogue that grates on him and makes him feel as though he might snap - plebeian, baseless, spineless, in many cases, without knowledge or evidence to support their idle chatter. It makes him feel as though he is getting a migraine whenever he is around them, both with the urge to snap their heads with his book and the urge to educate them properly, as though to grade their oral examinations with his chalk.
It has never felt so with Aventurine, for all that Ratio might call him a fool. Despite appearances, despite how he might act around others, the other man is wise. Sly, like a fox, yes, but with a wisdom and intelligence below it that betrays the facade that he might portray. It is what makes him so appealing to someone like Ratio, who longs for someone who can speak to him, understand him, his mindset, his focuses.
Scowling, he looks away, gazing at the window leading out into the cool, flickering daylight. It's warm inside, but he feels as cold as the weather itself.
Why did Aventurine have to see through him so easily? ]
Aventurine slides into the room, kicking the door shut with a practiced swing of his foot. Ratio is going to have to physically pick him up and throw him out of the window to get him to leave now. And while he's not against the overt display of the fact that the brain isn't the only muscle Ratio works on (He's going to file away that joke for later, Aventurine thinks, because it's terrible and it'll make Ratio roll his eyes at him.) there are way better uses for his upper body strength. Like pinning him down on the bed, or gripping the sheets as he keeps the good doctor under him.
He is putting the cart a bit before the horse here, though. They can get to that later. )
Did it ever occur to you that I might feel the same? For all that your brain might be one of the best in the universe you can be horribly obtuse.
( As tempting as it is to reach out to the other man, Aventurine hangs back -- a hand stuffed into his pants clenched as tight as it can be. Aventurine is a gambling man, yes, but rarely with his emotions. He likes keeping those uninvolved; it makes things messy when you eventually have to backstab someone for the job. But Ratio knows his job, knows what sort of person Aventurine is, and puts up with him anyway.
Veritas Ratio is a hard man to love, but he's sharp witted, exacting, and exceptionally delightful to tease. And, perhaps best and worst of all: Aventurine trusts him. There's not a lot of people he can say that about in his line of work. )
[ Of course it didn't, why would it ever have occurred to him?
People in his life do not like him. He understands why, of course, because he dictates their ignorance to them, scolds them for their foolishness, for their idiocy, is harsh and sarcastic and irritating and all the other terms that he has heard over his life. There are people who might tolerate him more than others, and Aventurine had always been among the few able to be in his company for long periods of time, but Ratio had assured himself it was because he was useful.
He had a role to play in Aventurine's schemes, he had a connection with the IPC that could not be ignored, and thus they came together like the sun and the moon in an eclipse: in tandem, not outshining.
Unable to turn his head, unable to look at the man standing in the middle of his hotel room, Ratio does little more than lift a hand to press over his heart, beating too fast. A side effect of the rush of adrenaline, the sudden burst of want and desire that overtakes him and leaves him wishing for something he had already been sure he would be denied.
So sure that he would risk his own life on it.
Swallowing, he stares out the window, unblinking, afraid of the emotion. ]
I analysed the situation. I came to the conclusions.
[ Or did he fail at the final hurdle and allow emotion to cloud logic? ]
( He is useful. But somewhere along the way putting up with Ratio because he was useful gave way to enjoying his company, and that just evolved into affection and attraction until he can't deny that he does, in fact, love Doctor Veritas Ratio. That he happens to be a great many other things besides is a happy little bonus.
"Analyzed," "came to the conclusions." It's just like Ratio to fail to consider anyone else's human heart in the matter -- logic and reason blinding him to the fact that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't such a hopeless case. The smile drops from his face in favor of something warmer, softer, more genuine than the smiles he flashes for whoever he needs to use. )
Even you can't be right all the time. Though you could stand to be a little more appreciative of the fact my luck hasn't run out just yet, seeing as I caught up with you before you did something reckless and idiotic.
( He steps closer, waving away the last remnants of his nervousness and doubt. Right now, in this moment, even if the idea of being in love, of being loved in return, is enough to make him want to pinch himself in uncertainty and doubt -- he's going to enjoy it. If Ratio, somehow, still wants to go through with it then at least he'll know he'd done his best. Given it his all. )
C'mon, the least you can do is kiss me after I ran here and everything.
[ He does not want to admit to hope, of course - the idea of it is uncomfortable for him, trying to wrap his mind around it all. Not once did he imagine that Aventurine would return his affection, partly because it felt illogical but also because he did not want to have the urge: he did not want to admit his own desire for any kind of romantic entanglement. If Aventurine did not desire him, it made his own situation easy to bear.
He is not a man born for relationships. He is a man born for science. For learning, for education. Not love, nor lust, nor passion.
Turning his head, he looks at his companion, feeling an ache in his heart. He both wants and does not want this, the hypocrisy of it making him feel - unanchored. Adrift. His eyes close as he grits his teeth and forces himself to breathe in and out sharply. ]
Your running here does not inspire me to do anything.
[ But he does turn to look at Aventurine, his eyes dark - wanting, desperately, but not quite having the determination to reach out and do it. ]
( Aventurine is made for want and desire. All the Avgins were, though it was more of an accidental side effect rather than an effort as a species to look beautiful. Physical desire is, at times, just as useful a tool as a weapon -- he knows that, too, and knows what playing into the universe's idea of what he should be can be used for. Not so, Veritas Ratio.
He's charmed by that, by the new ground that Ratio must be finding himself on because of him. And not because Aventurine pulled the strings and arranged the cards for him to fall in love, but because Ratio did it in spite of himself. That means more to him than he can possibly ever say, and not just because finding the right words would be difficult, allowing himself the vulnerability to admit so nearly impossible. )
The image of me, hot and sweaty on your behalf, doesn't do a thing for you, huh? ( It's a warm tease to fill the air as Aventurine decides to put it all on the line -- stepping forward to close the distance between the two of them, an arm snaking around Ratio's neck. ) That's alright, Ratio. We can do whatever you want, even if it's just sitting around and reading. But if you're in the mood for something a little more captivating, well--
( Aventurine is far more desperate for this than he'd like to admit to, for Ratio to want him just as much as he wants to free himself from the constrains of illogical behavior. He won't press, of course, he couldn't-- whatever Ratio wants to give should be given freely. )
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aventurine can't even begin to unpack the knot starting to form in his stomach. )
Stay for another drink? Unless you can't possibly keep yourself away from my gift any longer.
( he needs to buy himself more time. )
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[ The reality being, of course, he wants to have a little more time with this warm, content feeling inside of him. A little more time pretending.
A pathetic display of emotion. ]
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that's the last truth he's going to allow hanging around tonight, however, and he slides into something easier for what he's going to ask next. because he's exhausted the list, and is willing to hedge his bets.
luck is always on his side. )
So. ( he says, taking a larger sip from his drink than usual before allowing nonchalance to color his voice. ) Who is it?
( aventurine does not look at ratio. he can't. his own feelings aren't the issue here, when it's ratio who's going to be undergoing surgery to remove the flowers from his lungs. which is so very like him, aventurine concludes, avoiding the obvious answer in favor of one that can have a assured outcome.
he just hopes the other poor sod never finds out. )
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He should have counted on this. For all that Aventurine might play the fool, the idle gambler with no wisdom to support his clever little insights, thereโs no denying that he has the intelligence to back it up. To be a few steps ahead of everyone around him, to know what bet to make to get the outcome he most wants. It seems only natural that he would deduce the condition with scarce information.
Very little these days require such a long period of recovery. He has no outward symptoms. Therefore, a conclusion can be drawn - a gamble can be risked. Ratio sighs. ]
Irrelevant.
[ He wishes he had started drinking three hours ago.
He wishes he had left.
He wishes a lot of things that betray his confident mind. ]
Telling you would serve no purpose.
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except aventurine wants to know how long he'll wait for him. if there is something he'll do for him that he won't do for anyone else. if the other man thinks about what aventurine might like the way he does about ratio. if he could spin the time spent with veritas ratio into longer chunks, hour by hour, until one day one of them stays the night.
aventurine is very aware that he loves doctor veritas ratio. he knows his luck. and he knows that the only way for ratio to love him back is if he'd rather cut the damn emotion out instead. )
I mean, I get it. ( the mask cracks with a hard laugh, a twist of aventurine's lips as he finally looks at ratio. ) I wouldn't want to be in love with me, either.
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This is not the outcome he wanted. He shouldnโt turned and left hours ago, rather literally, should have raised himself up and found his way back to the tiny clinic with a doctor who wonโt speak his name. Ratio had made a mistake, as rare an offence as that night be, and the anger and irritation he feels burns through him like an inferno.
He never should have organised this.
Finishing his drink, he shakes his head and pushing himself up and away from the stool, brushing his hand absently against the shape of his torso, imaginary dirt on the fabric of his clothes. Expression terse, antsy and angry inside himself, he pushes hair from his face and shakes his head. Remoulding himself back into the cutting figure he had been before his heart had been so painfully laid bare. ]
If thatโs what you believe, then my decision has been proven to be all the more appropriate. Youโve had your one drink, so our appointment is over. Good day.
[ He has to return to that planet for one last set of exams and then the operation that evening anyway, so itโs best to make a hasty retreat. Thereโs no further comment - just Ratio leaving as swiftly as he had arrived, slipping into a crowd to disappear, ready to return to ice cold (both in planet and in feeling). ]
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Fuck.
( aventurine crumples, head in hands for a long moment. when he feels like he can breathe again it's only to look up, settle the bill, and leave. except-- ratio forgot the book. he scowls at it, as if it's the book's fault for the mess his evening's become. he shouldn't have come.
he shouldn't have gotten the book because he thought ratio might like it. he shouldn't have fallen in love with ratio in the first place. what did he expect to happen, really? for the other man to let aventurine exist in his life until he got bored of him? until he saw that he really was clinging to his winning hands with fists and white knuckles and decided he wasn't worth dealing with anymore?
but if that wasn't what ratio wanted, then--
aventurine grabs the book, quickly makes his apologies to the bartender, and darts after ratio. aeons, how much time did he even have left--
not long, it turns out. he'd run into that trailblazer, who'd been most helpful purely by accident -- though he thinks that perhaps if he'd been more direct she still would have helped him in spite of her general... distaste for him. not that he can blame her. there's really only one person who seems to have taken a liking to him, and aventurine really has to catch up with him before he does something incredibly stupid.
which is how he's here, practically panting at ratio's door in the goethe grand hotel on that little planet that threw topaz for a loop, book held in one hand and a foot wedged through the door so that ratio can't close it on him. it would be just his luck to have it run out now of all things and be too late to do anything about it.
first things first. aventurine shoots him a smile, hopeful -- an unevenness to the edges that betray he's not simply pulled one on in order to play to ratio's better senses or the emotions he's clearly intent on ripping out of himself. )
Book. ( very good, adventurine, and he almost kicks himself for it. ) Back at the bar. You forgot it.
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This is not a gamble worth playing, as far as Dr Ratio is concerned: he is no prize, to most, and while he prizes himself highly and recognises his merit, time and time again, he is not inclined to allow himself to dwell on what other people think. That doesn't mean he does not end up being completely overwhelmed by it, however - and he has drowned himself in enough simple, plebeian thoughts over the last few weeks that this seems the only solution to his problem.
Logic dictates that an experiment is thus: an idea is put forward, it is tested, examined, and then proven correct or false. Ratio has played through the experiment in his mind and seen the logical conclusion: nothing.
Turning up to Jarilo-VI for his surgery is easy enough, and his hotel room is enough that he does not feel entirely out of place, despite the strange looks he receives from the locals (he is not necessarily well-dressed for the weather, after all, and remains so, attire unchanged).
The door knocks and, expecting dinner, he opens it - and it is good that Aventurine puts his foot in the door, because Ratio is attempting to slam it with all the force of hitting a creature with his book. ]
Do you think I care for a book in this situation?
[ He pushes at the door. Fuck off. ]
I did not request your company. Leave.
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( it's a damn good thing that, for all his love of finery and foppish fashion that aventurine knows that everything should have a secondary purpose -- his shoes are sturdy enough that he only winces in pain rather than flinching enough to pull back and let the other man slam the door. he's not letting the so-called genius do something so incredibly stupid when there's a simple solution; if the doctor wants it, of course.
and that's what aventurine doesn't know. who would love him? his family did, of course, but they're all dead and aventurine has nothing to offer a perspective partner. who would possibly want to love him? he has nothing to offer, a man who has killed and bartered and gambled his way into his position as a stoneheart -- there's nothing to love anymore.
and yet-- )
You've got quite the upper body strength there, Doc. ( his own teeth grit, and he leans on the door to try and get him to open it at least further enough to talk. ) And you're going to need something to read if you insist on going through with your incredibly stupid plan.
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[ He wants to keep pushing against the door, but at the same time it feels vaguely pointless. It's not as if Ratio believes that Aventurine is going to go anywhere now that he's been discovered, and that means there's only so much he can do before his patience runs out. The stupid, idiotic man that he is, he is also stubborn and determined, and Ratio has to accept that.
Isn't that one of the reasons why he is so desperately, sickeningly fond of him?
Gripping at the handle of the door, he stares at the other man before he scowls, shifting and taking a step back. He's not inviting him in - Ratio is no fool - but he's not trying to destroy his foot with the slam of wood any longer. Small mercies indeed.
It doesn't help when he's saying such idiotic things. ]
It was necessary.
[ Pride, arrogance - it curls around him with familiarity, despite his frustration and irritation. ]
I have brought my own texts with me, and therefore your services are not required.
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( not having a foot smashed is, in fact, a plus. aventurine doesn't want to be having this conversation in the middle of a hallway on a frozen rock after he just ran to catch the other man in time. he can feel his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, the way his heart hammers against his chest. but it seems like veritas ratio isn't giving him any choice in the matter.
though he still leave his foot in the doorframe, just in case. )
But maybe you can indulge me a little. ( a flash of a sharp, false smile. ) Before you decide that you'd rather feel nothing for me at all.
( there's hurt in his eyes; ratio might be mad at him, but that doesn't change that someone here would rather undergo intensive surgery rather than confess. and, sure, he can't blame him -- he'd meant that when he said that, there are much better people to love in this wide universe of theirs, after all. but it still stings. and unlike most of ratio's barbs, this one lingers, stuck in between his ribs, digging in further. )
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Why does he look so desperate? So put out? A gamble is in the making, clearly, but he cannot put his well-learned brain to the test. There is no metric to judge this on - and no world in which he imagines that Aventurine would care to feel the same for him in return. Ergo, a there is a misunderstanding. Perhaps he was here for the Nameless after all.
Waving a hand, he crosses his arms over his chest, irritated and embarrassed. This was supposed to be painless. ]
I will give you precisely five minutes.
[ What could be said in such a short amount of time to change anything between the two of them, after all? And he needs an early night. Surgery beckons on the morrow. ]
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(he wonders, suddenly and like always, if this will be the time his luck fails.)
he has five minutes to find out. )
Why? ( the question seems brittle, hesitant. unlike him, so he pushes forward, shoving that away back under the smile and the mask. ) You... took the idea that I didn't blame you for wanting to cut it out rather poorly. So: why? Besides the fact that you probably hate being in love in general, of course.
( like he said: aventurine is not really the sort of person people love, anymore. he'd hate the dirty, rotten job of being in love with a man who flits through life as if it's a game, throwing himself into dangerous scenarios without a thought and, alright, a view that his life is an acceptable loss. a man who's owned. especially people like ratio. who prides himself on logic, on rational thinking, and seems to barely tolerate him on the best of days.
but he does tolerate him, aventurine reminds himself. will that go, too, with his love? the thought makes something in him twist -- he could live without ratio's love, considering he'd been doing it just fine up until this point. but their friendship? their partnership? he's willing to throw that away along with it, apparently. )
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Ratio knows he should step back into his room and allow Aventurine in, if only for privacy, but it feels like too much. Allowing him to step inside, permitting him entry into his space, it is too close to what he cannot bear to do - to allow him to take total control of his heart. His body already feels as if it is aching, as if he is overcome by it all, and he refuses to permit himself to fall any deeper than he already has.
It defies all logic - and, more than that, it defies all the principles he had focussed upon for so long. To wear a mask to defend himself from idiots, only to fall in love with one...
Gritting his teeth, he takes a deep breath before he glances up and frowns. ]
Why not?
[ A question that might have a thousand answers. ]
I examined the evidence that I had and decided upon the best outcome. Your input was not deemed necessary in my choice.
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Aventurine knows, logically, that Ratio doesn't mean for the words to cut as deep as they do. He's well familiar with the other man when he does mean to belittle and demean. But it can't help the way he flinches, the smile he'd been barely holding onto sliding off his face completely -- of course he doesn't have a say, of course. Just one more thing in his pathetic life that is out of his control, taken from him by the will of others.
It doesn't matter to him. It can't. Not when it's Ratio's own feelings -- the man can decide to do whatever he wants to with them. Including cutting them out.
But damn, does it hurt. )
If I'm involved ( He grits out, eyes narrowed, the hurt and anger seeping into his tone at long last. ) I'd have thought you'd have the heart to tell me we weren't at least going to be friends anymore. I didn't think I meant so little to you, Doc.
( To say nothing of one, key thing. ) Besides, what if you missed something?
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[ Ratio frowns, his arms crossing over his chest again.
Nothing that the doctor had said gave any indication of the removal of the flowers also removing any trace of friendship. The excavation of his chest and the removal of this disease should do no more than erase the affection he feels for Aventurine on the romantic side, not on the platonic. It was not as if he intended to cut their partnership entirely, or prune the link that they shared.
Just make life easier to bear, without the lingering sense of longing and want to cloud his every waking moment. ]
The operation has the intention of removing the romantic inclination, not friendship or any other association. [ So he might still feel horny, foul. ] You and I will still be able to work together amicably.
[ This is... Not necessarily casting doubt, but certainly making him reconsider his thought process a little. ]
I do not miss things.
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The IPC had taken care of it and Aventurine remembers feeling nothing at all the next time he'd seen the man in the halls. It was likely for the best, though he can't say he had a choice in the matter.
But if Ratio is on this backwater sphere of ice, he's probably not getting the best care, the top of the line surgeons. Likely because they would do what any normal person would consider the best and easiest option: confess. Aventurine can't help but wonder if his doctor here told him the same, and he'd simply refused out of stubbornness and pride and logic, all of which make him incredibly stupid. )
That's awfully convenient, isn't it? Makes you wonder why more people don't simply opt for the removal over the mortification of confessing. Just poof and everything can go back to normal. ( He makes a minor explosion with his hands, fanning his fingers out before letting them fall back to his side. ) Shame it didn't work that way for me.
( He can offer something real, something from behind the mask -- an offering for the other man to make what he's leading up be less likely to be laughed off. There's not much that Aventurine can't handle, but Ratio not taking him seriously about this?
Aventurine has survived no small amount of traumatic experiences in his life, and this wouldn't even break the top five, but he'd rather not have it on the list at all. If it's all the same to Ratio. )
But I think you have. Something important. Why don't we walk through your thought process and we can find it together?
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Ratio had not heard of anyone who had personally experienced the operation, but Aventurine's distaste for it is all the more applicable now from experience. Natasha had not mentioned anything about those kinds of side effects, and it does give him a brief moment of hesitation, of wondering, and his eyes flicker for a moment before he tries to school himself, to slide behind his mash.
He wishes he had brought it with him.
Complicated feelings emerge inside of him, making him twitch, and he resists the urge to tap a finger or his foot like some kind of petulant child. He is better than this. ]
I am... Sorry, that your experience was less than stellar.
[ To say the least.
Moving back into the room, wanting a little more privacy for this despite the implication, he shakes his head. ]
There is no need.
[ A hand, pressed to his forehead. Irritation and grief, all at once. He does not want to speak of it, to have his mind changed when he was so certain of his course. ]
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It'll be worth it, he reminds himself. For the both of them. )
It was a long time ago. It'd hurt more, I'm sure, if I could remember being in love with him. ( But he can't, so. Onto Ratio's own idiotic decision. ) Alright, so I'll work through it for you.
( Aventurine leans up against the doorframe, counting on his fingers with a slight flourish. )
One -- you got mad at me for suggesting that you were getting this done because you didn't want to love me. ( Which: he still can't quite believe that Ratio isn't doing this because he doesn't want to, but that has more to do with the fact that Aventurine can't possibly imagine anyone loving him. That somehow, in spite of all odds, Ratio does is... well. It's something, alright. ) Two -- you decided to do all this without telling me. Which makes me think that the issue isn't with what you feel, but what you think I feel. Or don't feel, in your estimation.
( A small, sharp smile. )
Tell me if I'm getting warmer, Doc.
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He finds it difficult to sit and listen to them speak, the listless, aimless dialogue that grates on him and makes him feel as though he might snap - plebeian, baseless, spineless, in many cases, without knowledge or evidence to support their idle chatter. It makes him feel as though he is getting a migraine whenever he is around them, both with the urge to snap their heads with his book and the urge to educate them properly, as though to grade their oral examinations with his chalk.
It has never felt so with Aventurine, for all that Ratio might call him a fool. Despite appearances, despite how he might act around others, the other man is wise. Sly, like a fox, yes, but with a wisdom and intelligence below it that betrays the facade that he might portray. It is what makes him so appealing to someone like Ratio, who longs for someone who can speak to him, understand him, his mindset, his focuses.
Scowling, he looks away, gazing at the window leading out into the cool, flickering daylight. It's warm inside, but he feels as cold as the weather itself.
Why did Aventurine have to see through him so easily? ]
Your five minutes is up. You will leave, now.
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Aventurine slides into the room, kicking the door shut with a practiced swing of his foot. Ratio is going to have to physically pick him up and throw him out of the window to get him to leave now. And while he's not against the overt display of the fact that the brain isn't the only muscle Ratio works on (He's going to file away that joke for later, Aventurine thinks, because it's terrible and it'll make Ratio roll his eyes at him.) there are way better uses for his upper body strength. Like pinning him down on the bed, or gripping the sheets as he keeps the good doctor under him.
He is putting the cart a bit before the horse here, though. They can get to that later. )
Did it ever occur to you that I might feel the same? For all that your brain might be one of the best in the universe you can be horribly obtuse.
( As tempting as it is to reach out to the other man, Aventurine hangs back -- a hand stuffed into his pants clenched as tight as it can be. Aventurine is a gambling man, yes, but rarely with his emotions. He likes keeping those uninvolved; it makes things messy when you eventually have to backstab someone for the job. But Ratio knows his job, knows what sort of person Aventurine is, and puts up with him anyway.
Veritas Ratio is a hard man to love, but he's sharp witted, exacting, and exceptionally delightful to tease. And, perhaps best and worst of all: Aventurine trusts him. There's not a lot of people he can say that about in his line of work. )
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People in his life do not like him. He understands why, of course, because he dictates their ignorance to them, scolds them for their foolishness, for their idiocy, is harsh and sarcastic and irritating and all the other terms that he has heard over his life. There are people who might tolerate him more than others, and Aventurine had always been among the few able to be in his company for long periods of time, but Ratio had assured himself it was because he was useful.
He had a role to play in Aventurine's schemes, he had a connection with the IPC that could not be ignored, and thus they came together like the sun and the moon in an eclipse: in tandem, not outshining.
Unable to turn his head, unable to look at the man standing in the middle of his hotel room, Ratio does little more than lift a hand to press over his heart, beating too fast. A side effect of the rush of adrenaline, the sudden burst of want and desire that overtakes him and leaves him wishing for something he had already been sure he would be denied.
So sure that he would risk his own life on it.
Swallowing, he stares out the window, unblinking, afraid of the emotion. ]
I analysed the situation. I came to the conclusions.
[ Or did he fail at the final hurdle and allow emotion to cloud logic? ]
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"Analyzed," "came to the conclusions." It's just like Ratio to fail to consider anyone else's human heart in the matter -- logic and reason blinding him to the fact that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't such a hopeless case. The smile drops from his face in favor of something warmer, softer, more genuine than the smiles he flashes for whoever he needs to use. )
Even you can't be right all the time. Though you could stand to be a little more appreciative of the fact my luck hasn't run out just yet, seeing as I caught up with you before you did something reckless and idiotic.
( He steps closer, waving away the last remnants of his nervousness and doubt. Right now, in this moment, even if the idea of being in love, of being loved in return, is enough to make him want to pinch himself in uncertainty and doubt -- he's going to enjoy it. If Ratio, somehow, still wants to go through with it then at least he'll know he'd done his best. Given it his all. )
C'mon, the least you can do is kiss me after I ran here and everything.
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He is not a man born for relationships. He is a man born for science. For learning, for education. Not love, nor lust, nor passion.
Turning his head, he looks at his companion, feeling an ache in his heart. He both wants and does not want this, the hypocrisy of it making him feel - unanchored. Adrift. His eyes close as he grits his teeth and forces himself to breathe in and out sharply. ]
Your running here does not inspire me to do anything.
[ But he does turn to look at Aventurine, his eyes dark - wanting, desperately, but not quite having the determination to reach out and do it. ]
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He's charmed by that, by the new ground that Ratio must be finding himself on because of him. And not because Aventurine pulled the strings and arranged the cards for him to fall in love, but because Ratio did it in spite of himself. That means more to him than he can possibly ever say, and not just because finding the right words would be difficult, allowing himself the vulnerability to admit so nearly impossible. )
The image of me, hot and sweaty on your behalf, doesn't do a thing for you, huh? ( It's a warm tease to fill the air as Aventurine decides to put it all on the line -- stepping forward to close the distance between the two of them, an arm snaking around Ratio's neck. ) That's alright, Ratio. We can do whatever you want, even if it's just sitting around and reading. But if you're in the mood for something a little more captivating, well--
( Aventurine is far more desperate for this than he'd like to admit to, for Ratio to want him just as much as he wants to free himself from the constrains of illogical behavior. He won't press, of course, he couldn't-- whatever Ratio wants to give should be given freely. )
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