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When Aventurine invited him out to take a drive, Ratio didn’t expect much, but he also didn’t expect this, either. He’d almost denied him - too caught up in his mess of complicated equations and unanswered questions of his heart, but on a ridiculous whim, he’d said yes. It was clear almost immediately that this wasn’t a time when Aventurine wanted to banter or chat in general. The ride was quiet from the moment the engine had started and continued like that well into the night.
The blinding lights, the loud music and the bustle of the streets blur around them, cocooning them in a semblance of privacy. All Ratio can see, apart from the words in the book in front of him, is the warm gold and dark hues of the night sky. They’re going too fast to make out anything more solid than that, the wandering pedestrians’ flashes of white and blobs of colour that eventually blend into the scenery.
Ratio wishes he could say that he’s reading the book in his hands, but he’s not. He may be looking at it, his eyes glazed over as he traces over the familiar letters and sentences that he’s long since memorised, but instead, his gaze is drawn to Aventurine beside him. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to him, for once, but focused on the road. It gives Ratio a chance to look, all without being scared of getting caught.
Aventurine’s silhouette is illuminated for one second and then cast in shadows as they dance across his face, highlighting and hiding his facial features each time differently. His lips are set in a firm line, neither frowning nor smiling, a completely blank slate. Even looking at his eyes is a lost cause, as they’re hidden behind his sunglasses, but even when they aren’t, Ratio is none the wiser to whatever goes on inside Aventurine’s brain.
It angers him, frustrates him, and leads him to impossible places that he can’t seem to figure his way out with logic. There’s nothing sensical with the way his heartbeat speeds up when he sees Aventurine or smells the light cologne he wears that’s stronger around his collar than anywhere else on his body, or -
“How’s your book?” Aventurine asks, snapping Ratio out of his thoughts.
He bristles, taken off guard but not wanting to show it. “The same as it was when I first read it.”
“Oh?” Aventurine’s voice is flat, but there’s a tiny hint of curiosity in it. “Then why do you keep reading it?”
Ratio scoffs, “Because there’s no end to the amount of knowledge books can supply us with. If I read it only once, how can I fully begin to understand everything the author has said? Even if I memorise it, what good does that do if I miss something the first time, and only after the second or third time does the point finally set in?”
“Sounds boring,” Aventurine replies, tilting his head towards Ratio. His eyes stay straight forward though, watching the endless stretch of road before them. “Just pick another book.”
Ratio runs his finger down one of the pages just to feel the texture of the paper beneath his fingertip. It settles him, bringing him a sense of comfort that nothing else could ever come close to giving him. What would’ve happened if he carried a philosophy like that instead, Ratio wonders. Would it also begin to apply to people as well?
“Then, surely, if that was the case, then the same could be said about humans, too,” Ratio begins, the wind whipping his hair around. There’s never a chill in Penacony, everything is set to a perfect temperature, so much so that even the air is as cool as it is warm. “If we gave up after the first meeting, how would we as a society grow or learn? How would we fall in love, despise people, make friends and enemies?”
Aventurine hums absentmindedly, and Ratio assumes it’s the end of the conversation. He wants to say more, a thousand words balling up into a tight knot in his throat, making it hard to swallow and breathe in. He doesn’t even know what he’d say, either, but he wants to talk and talk and listen to whatever Aventurine has to say - even if it’s not anything he agrees with. Then, they’ll argue, or discuss, whatever the tone will be, but at least it’ll grant him more insight into the person that is Aventurine.
“No matter how many times I read you, it’ll never make sense.”
Ratio stills, his muscles tensing. He wants to turn towards Aventurine again, but the chance is taken away from him as a hand cups his chin, fingertips digging into his cheek, pressing the inside of it against his teeth. Aventurine is close, closer than is probably safe, but Ratio leans in, being taken in by the pull of the pressure against his face, only stopping when his shoulder is pressing firmly against Aventurine.
Each puff of their warm breaths is blown away by the wind, but Ratio still feels each one graze against his skin, leaving it feeling tingly, and oversensitive. Blonde hair tickles his forehead as their noses brush up against each other, the leather gloves warming up to match his body temperature. The touch feels natural, normal, like an extension of himself.
Ratio hates that he can’t see Aventurine’s eyes, or get lost in the endless circles and whirling hypnotising pools of colours that spiral in them, making it feel as though he’s falling head first into the dreamscape without any safety net.
“What are you doing?” Ratio asks, although his voice comes out a whisper, barely loud enough to be heard above the wind whistling by.
“Thinking,” Aventurine says, then he draws back slightly. “Reading you.”
Ratio wonders what type of expression is on his face right now that Aventurine is trying to read. What words would it provoke, and what feeling and sense of knowledge would it leave Aventurine with after he’s done? Would he feel enlightened, working his new theories into existing ones, or would it leave him stumped, needing to rework a few things to try and slot them all into place?
He remembers to blink, his eyes watering from being so dry due to the wind, and it’s then that he realises how wide open they were, gazing up beneath his eyelashes in shock at their new position. He wets his lips, knowing now that they’re parted, and the heat from his cheeks is too warm to only be coming from Aventurine’s grasp, which must mean -
“You’re blushing, Dr Ratio,” Aventurine murmurs, even closer now, their lips brushing against each other.
They’ve been here before. Aventurine pushes and pushes, and Ratio shoves back, their clashing personalities and words pitting them against each other like a rock and a hard place, immovable until it coalesces and explodes, a supernova going off between them.
But it never truly detonates, only rises and rises, threatening to erupt.
Ratio waits, assuming Aventurine will pull away like always, leaving him hanging and at a loss, stranded out at sea with not even his own thoughts to cling onto. His brain betrays him in moments like this, the thing he trusts the most in this world, and Aventurine has control over it like nothing else.
His brain goes silent when their lips finally touch, slotting against his perfectly, everything coming together in a sense where he has all the answers in the world.