Work Text:
The hallway was long and empty, stretching out much farther than it should. It felt like ages since Ratio and the two guards stepped foot inside. Logically, they had only been walking for a few minutes - the moment the door shut behind them, he mentally played that famous Penacony song in his head. If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking by Robin, if his memory served him right. It was about three minutes long, so if he had managed to play it twice now, they had been walking around for six minutes.
Six minutes minimum, seven minutes maximum, yet it felt much longer than that. Every hallway looked the same; lit in a cold white with several doors evenly spaced out. There were no splashes of colour, no decorative paintings - simply nothing. Only doors, corners, and darkness. He knew that the plainness only served to confuse him further, to push him into believing they were walking for longer than they truly were. Why the IPC would want that, Ratio didn’t understand. Perhaps they wanted him to be tired by the time he got there. If he was more tired, he might forget more, might leave the room quicker than anticipated.
At the crescendo of imaginary violins, the guards finally stopped at a door. There was nothing distinguishing it from the others - it was steel and grey, cold to the touch. The key they pulled out to unlock it looked just like every other key on their chain.
“We’ll be waiting here,” one of them said, opening the door for him, “Twenty minutes. If you aren’t out by then, we will bring you out here ourselves.” He paused for a moment, giving Ratio a dirty look, “So don’t get any funny ideas.”
“I understand,” Ratio said, inwardly rolling his eyes. Do they take me for an idiot? He thought as he walked in.
The room was nicer than Ratio imagined. There was a bathroom to his right, where he saw a sparse amount of products lying around the sink. In front of him, there was a surprisingly spacious bedroom, lit up by a warm, dim light. The bed was big and luscious, white sheets folded perfectly, seemingly unslept in. Opposite it was a large television, turned off. A desk and a couch were fitted into the corner, and that was where the man he was looking for was lounging about.
Their room (well, his room that Aventurine slept in after giving his original room to that Nameless girl) was nicer. He remembered arguing with Aventurine over leaving his products scattered everywhere across the sink, and their compromise was to split the sink in half - the right for Aventurine, the left for Ratio. The left was always neat while the right tended to be a mess. Ambient lights cast everything in a bluish hue, which had no effect on him but made Aventurine’s blonde hair appear a greenish colour to his amusement. They ended up having to share the dream bath; there were no rules against it. The first few times Ratio found himself awkwardly trying to push himself away from the other man, but after Aventurine’s constant teasing and amused smirks he let himself settle in the bath, arm to arm with him. The first time he let himself close that distance they appeared in the Golden Hour, where Aventurine, with a triumphant smile, declared, “I told you I don’t bite.” Touch became easier after that, and began to extend outside the dream bath. From the plush sofa where Ratio allowed Aventurine to lean in while he read, to the secluded couch in the bar where Aventurine’s wandering hands had their way with him, he soon became soft for the dear gambler.
The room Aventurine was staying in now felt cold in comparison. It was a mediocre kind of nice, but when compared to their room in Penacony, it fell short by a thousand miles.
The man who once paraded around dressed like a peacock was stripped of his feathers, leaving him in baggy, grey clothes. His hair was longer than usual, blonde hair hiding away his colourful eyes. Interestingly, the most daunting thing he noticed wasn’t the tattoo forced upon him, sticking out like a sore thumb against his pale skin, nor was it the blossoming bruise on his arm, colouring most of his forearm a gross bluish-purple. What unnerved Ratio the most was the smile he wore on his face, as if his deathday wasn’t tomorrow.
“Hey, Doctor,” he greeted, standing up and meeting him in the centre of the bedroom, “You put off your visit for a long time. I began to think you weren’t stopping by.” Aventurine pouted. It was clearly not genuine; rather, it was to perpetuate whatever flippant act he was putting on now, “I’m hurt it took you this long to see me.”
Ratio hated the grin on his face. In the face of one’s demise, why would keeping that godforsaken mask on matter?
He swallowed the burning feeling in his chest before he responded. “Forgive me. It was difficult to persuade Diamond to let me visit you.”
“I’ll bet,” Aventurine said, “Topaz saw me a few days ago. She told me all about how stubborn Diamond was being about me getting visitors.”
He spoke casually as if Ratio had stumbled into him while walking to a meeting and asked about his day. There was no hint of doomsday approaching as he looked up at Ratio, smiling and talking.
“I suppose you’re here for me to thank you,” Aventurine said. When he was met with a confused expression on Ratio’s face, he clarified himself, “I heard from Topaz. You went back to Penacony. She even said you got so far as to talk to Sunday himself. All that work for me? I’m honoured.”
Ratio was sure any stoicism he wore walking in must be slipping now. It was true - at the news of Aventurine being sentenced to death for his failure, he went to Penacony to try and secure it for the IPC. It was a desperate endeavour, and, in retrospect, a foolish one. Without being there on official business and not being a Stoneheart, his chances of success were slim. It was a miracle Sunday listened to him for even five minutes.
When words escaped him, Ratio learned that actions could speak for him. It only ever happened on occasion, but as he spent more time with Aventurine in Penacony, he began using that advice more and more often.
Ratio slipped his arms around Aventurine, pulling him close. He leaned down so he could bury his head in the crook of his neck, the cold skin a stark contrast to the warmth he was so used to. A second passed before Aventurine reciprocated. It was only now, when Ratio couldn’t see him, that he felt trembling hands embrace him back, and those lips stuck in a sly smile began to fall as he was pressed against his shoulder.
“Do not thank me for anything,” Ratio mumbled, “I failed.”
“Whatever you say, Veritas,” Aventurine responded. It was muffled, but he could still hear the bitter chuckle that came afterwards.
When they pulled away, Veritas pretended not to notice the damp stain on his shoulder.
-------------------------------------------
Ten minutes left.
Veritas was hyperaware of the passing seconds. Aventurine was lying next to him, Veritas’ arm holding him close as Aventurine’s hand rested on his chest. Though Aventurine was softly talking about his meeting with Topaz, his voice enviously steady, Veritas’ eyes kept drifting from the man to the clock.
“Veritas,” Aventurine said, sitting up next to him, “You’re ruining the mood.”
He almost laughed.
“My apologies, I didn’t know there was a mood to begin with.”
“Mmm, then you’ll have to make it up to me,” Aventurine said, pushing Veritas deeper into the pillows with one hand.
Looking at him from below, Veritas could only think of the many nights before now they spent like this. Overeager lips finding his, fingers dipping under his clothes as Aventurine whispered sinful things in his ear. Cursing under his breath as he tried to unbutton Aventurine’s unnecessarily complicated attire, closing his eyes and letting pleasure consume him whole. A desperate sort of passion took over them then, guiding every move.
It was nothing like now. Only now, with one of them scheduled to die the next day, did that urgency disappear. Only now, did Aventurine hesitate to touch him. Only now was Aventurine’s hand hovering over him, pretty eyes wide with some emotion Veritas didn’t want to pinpoint. He felt a thumb brush his cheek, wiping away his despair.
It would have been embarrassing. Any other time, he would imagine Aventurine would tease him for it.
Instead, Aventurine stared at his thumb in silence, a parade of emotions on his face.
“Didn’t think you would miss me so much,” he said finally. The smile he wore was fading, but before Veritas could see him break, Aventurine was pushing back his hair and planting a soft kiss on his forehead.
He slowly worked his way to his neck, chaste kisses only interrupted by hot breaths warming Veritas’ skin. The laurel he wore was discarded slowly and carefully, placed aside by Aventurine so he could properly run his fingers through his hair. With one hand in his hair, the other hand stayed on his chest, trapping him there - not that he was going to fight it. Veritas let his own hand rest on Aventurine’s neck - not grabbing or holding, just sitting there uselessly as Aventurine’s heartbeat pounded against his fingers. With the black ink hidden by his hand, Veritas could indulge in a fantasy where nobody owned Aventurine. The life he could have led with nobody breathing down his back.
As he moved his hand away from the pounding of Aventurine’s heart and to his chin so he could catch the next kiss, Veritas was cruel enough to wonder: was this love with Aventurine? If they had longer, could they have been something that wasn’t a convenient partner? Could he have had a life where their futures intertwined, instead of convenient nights in each other’s company?
When his lips met Aventurine’s, that thought process ended. Aventurine was a doomed man, and he was idiotic enough to entangle himself with him. There was nothing left for Aventurine, and that was the only truth. No matter the hypotheticals he could imagine, the wishes he had, or the salty tears landing on his tongue, their fate was unchangeable. He was a fool for trying to take Penacony for the IPC again, and he was a fool for wondering about a life with Aventurine still in it.
There was only the present, and the present never lasted forever.
-------------------------------------------
There was no more time.
“Going so soon?” Aventurine asked, sitting at the edge of the bed.
“It’s been twenty minutes,” Veritas explained. He should be walking straight out the door, but he was rooted to the spot. Aventurine simply looked up at him.
The timeline would go as followed. Veritas would leave and go to bed, and Aventurine would be executed the next morning. While Aventurine’s life ended, he would continue. He would go on to continue his research, continue to teach, continue to learn. There was nothing left for Aventurine, whereas Veritas had the rest of his life to live out.
He had plenty of other opportunities to fall in love.
There would be other times when he could give in to his selfish desires and confess, declare, or make a fool of himself. There were other people he could care for and admire. He knew this, even though it felt like Aventurine was the only person who could ever fill that role in his life.
Aventurine watched him, almost expectantly. Perhaps he continued to sit by the bed in the hopes Veritas would say something else. Hope that he would say those words that escaped them every time they found themselves in each other’s company. They danced around it for so long, their physical ventures a pathetic attempt at replacing those three words.
It should be easy. He had written hundreds of papers over the years, detailing difficult concepts the average person had never heard of. In comparison to that, three simple words should be the easiest thing in the world for him.
Yet it wasn’t. The world drowned as tears filled his eyes, the sight of Aventurine’s longing dissipating in the haze. His throat clammed up as a shudder wracked his body, something that did not go unnoticed by Aventurine.
He barely registered the blonde man’s sorrowful smile as he walked up to him, arms wrapping around his neck. It was only after the IPC guards dragged Veritas outside did he remember the soft exhale brushing past him, those three delicate words finally said aloud. It was a gentle whisper as his lips brushed against his ear, but it echoed loudly in his mind as the guards walked him out.
His heart squeezed. Veritas never got the chance to say it back.
-------------------------------------------
Ratio held his breath as he opened the door.
It revealed a small room, with rows of chairs facing one-sided glass. Grey, uncomfortable chairs with no padding that he was used to seeing in the schools he had taught him. It made Ratio sick, thinking that he would have to see these chairs again in such a lively setting. The white lights flickered every now and again, cobwebs woven in the light fixtures. It was a long-forgotten room, revived just for this special occasion.
There was only one other person in the room. It was a girl with white and red hair, and blue eyes the colour of washed-out denim jeans. She fiddled with her black gloves, taking them halfway off before sliding them back on. She looked at him with wide eyes, before a grim smile settled on her face.
“Dr Ratio, right?” She asked, “Aventurine told me about you.”
The girl made a motion to sit down next to her, which he accepted. She wasn’t a familiar face to him, but clearly one to Aventurine. While he didn’t know who she was, it didn’t take much speculation to figure out who she could be. After all, Aventurine only spoke of one other person making an effort to visit him.
“Miss Topaz, I presume?”
“Bingo!” She exclaimed, but her heart was not in it. Such an expression should be one of delight, and though Topaz smiled at him, it was so forced and strained he couldn’t help but pity her. “Did you manage to get past Diamond so you could visit him?” Topaz asked, her cheery disposition shedding by the minute.
“Yes,” Ratio grimaced from the memory. He contacted boss after boss, manager after manager, trying to find out what visitation hours for a death row inmate looked like. It was ridiculously bad organisation on the IPC’s part that he was only able to visit once because he had to go all the way to the top.
“That’s good,” she said, no longer trying to mask her dread at what was coming, “He talked about you quite a lot.”
“... He did?”
She nodded, “He did.”
A silence fell over them like a blanket as Ratio pondered that information. Aventurine spent his precious time with Topaz talking about him. Quite a lot, if Topaz was to be believed. That knowledge twisted his heart to know; perhaps if he had accepted fate faster and never left for Penacony, he could’ve worked in another visit. If he went straight to Diamond, he would have more than the night before to grieve the future he lost.
Before Ratio could ask Topaz about what Aventurine said about him, the smallest gasp from her alerted him to movement on the other side of the glass.
There he was.
Aventurine was in the same clothes he was in last night as they forced him into the room. His blonde hair was messy, and his eyes were focused on something far away. The pitch-black tattoo on his neck faced Topaz and Ratio as he was led to a bed, a malicious reminder that the house always won.
Topaz leaned forward, hands over her mouth as she watched in terror. Standing up from his seat, he placed a gentle but affirming hand on her back.
“You don’t need to watch it,” Ratio said.
Topaz shook her head firmly, “No. No, Doctor,” her voice trembled, but her determination remained clear, “It can’t just be you in this room. I won’t let it be only you.”
He only nodded. In the past, an execution was entertainment. Nowadays, executions were private, only witnessed by the loved ones of the inmate. This cramped, barren room was only a reminder of what kind of life this inmate lived. If Topaz left, then only one person cared enough about Aventurine to be there when he died. Two was not a lot, but it was better than the singular person who showed up being the one-night stand who had overstayed his welcome.
No, he shouldn’t think like that anymore. Those three words played on a loop in his head, a haunting reminder of everything that once was, and everything that would cease to be.
His hand left her back as he approached the glass. Ratio watched as they laid Aventurine on the bed, strapping him down by his arms and legs. He had never seen the man so neutral; there was no expression on his face. His lips were a straight line, his eyes empty as he watched them tighten the straps.
When he was secured onto the bed, Aventurine turned his head and asked something to one of the guards. Ratio was not a lip reader, he could only imagine what he was asking. Whatever it was, he must have been satisfied with the answer, though a little surprised. Ratio watched his eyes widen before he settled into a small smile. Not the faux one he wore on the job, but a genuine, although bittersweet, smile. It was nice. In other circumstances, Ratio would have treasured the sight.
Ratio almost stumbled back in surprise when Aventurine looked up at the glass. Those vivid eyes pierced through him so glaringly that for a second he wondered if it was a regular window after all. That was impossible, though; if Aventurine could see Topaz and him behind the glass the entire time, he would put on a show. Though Aventurine’s gaze seemingly went through him, Veritas felt completely exposed by him. He knew Aventurine couldn’t see him, but Aeons, it felt like he was. It felt as if his watchful eye was unravelling every detail about him, discovering and learning about him more than he knew himself. Though Aventurine was surely looking at a reflection of the room he was in, all Veritas could think of was how Aventurine ruined him. How he calmly gave into Veritas’ deepest desires and sins, as if it was second nature. Comfortability, affection, senselessness, and sensation had never been so easy until him.
He pressed his forehead against the glass in a meek, pathetic attempt to close the distance. It would be a lie to say Aventurine never made him curious. The man was an enigma, a mystery. It took Aventurine no longer than a day to pinpoint everything Veritas was, yet Veritas still didn’t understand what made Aventurine tick. He didn’t even know his real name.
The first injection was being prepared.
The first injection rendered them unconscious. The second paralysed them. The third stopped their heart. To him, the notion was comforting. Aventurine would be unconscious and unfeeling when he died; there would be no pain, no suffering, just an everlasting sleep. No matter how deeply death was researched, the experience was not explainable. He hoped it was as kind as he heard in anecdotes. As untrustworthy as such a source was, he prayed that for the sake of Aventurine and his own peace of mind that it was as they described. A blanket of warmth, shrouding the individual in darkness. A pleasant, perhaps even comforting way to leave the universe.
To Aventurine, he could only imagine this was terrifying. Watching the liquid filling the syringe, knowing it would be one of the last sights before he died must strike fear into his heart. To know he was going to sleep and never wake up was a fear no amount of research could alleviate.
Aventurine’s eyes flickered between the syringe and the glass, his panic prominent in the heaving of his chest. This was it for him. There was nothing after that. No matter how desperately Veritas would have liked to be in the room providing at least some semblance of comfort, there was nothing he could do from behind a window. Those beautiful eyes that observed him, forcing him vulnerable underneath those gloved fingertips, would flutter closed forever.
Veritas sucked his breath in when the first injection was administered. He watched in petrified silence as Aventurine’s gaze grew distant until his eyes shut completely. There was no time to catch his breath, to comfort Topaz, or to steady his heart. The second dose was ready. Prepared, inserted, done. No more twitches, nor the occasional flinch. Aventurine might as well be dead already - he certainly looked the part. Pale and barely moving; only the weak rise and fall of his chest indicated life.
The third injection. Whereas the first and second ones went so fast, it felt like forever for the third syringe to be prepared. Veritas couldn’t look at the syringe any more, not when this would be the last time he saw Aventurine breathing. He needed to remember every second of this - the way his chest rose and fell, how peaceful he looked, how his blonde hair formed a halo around his head. The tattoo, so dark against white skin, almost looked like it was protruding out from him. The way he didn’t move when the last syringe was used, how he simply stopped moving.
It was over, just like that.
Behind Ratio, he could hear shuddering breaths. Topaz wasn’t crying; at least not yet. He could see her reflection in the glass. He watched quietly as she walked out, never looking up. Mourning was a private affair, Ratio supposed.
Aventurine looked like he was just sleeping. After seeing Aventurine asleep by his side so often, he could almost trick himself into thinking he would wake up. One good shake and he would snap up, his voice croaky as he asked what time it was. Yet his chest remained still, his mouth sealed shut. Nights together were condemned to his memories and his memories only.
This was illogical. The need to move his hand to the glass like he could touch him was stupid. The tears that trickled down his cheeks were useless. When he cursed out the IPC in his head, he couldn’t help but realise what an idiot this man made him. The final straw was the urge to reciprocate the dead man’s confession the night prior. Perhaps if, in the moment, he had been able to say it back, there would have been a point. A closure between them, forced by the hands of Aventurine’s superiors. But now? Aventurine was dead, and the dead do not feel.
Ratio swallowed. Straightened his back. Took a second to wipe at his face, turning around from the glass as if the executioner would see his tears. And then he left.
-------------------------------------------
Ratio was lying down on the sofa, looking at his book. Not reading, exactly; the letters seemed jumbled and scattered across the pages. He wasn’t sure why - perhaps it was the drink Aventurine convinced him to take earlier, or the strange blue lighting Aventurine forced him to keep on. Despite being on the job and the blue colour making Aventurine’s hair look like seaweed, Ratio found himself compliant with his requests. However, if Aventurine took another minute to get back, he would have to-
“Ratio!”
Ah. There he is.
“Aventurine,” Ratio said, “You were meant to be here eighteen minutes ago. Where have you been?”
“Aren’t you picky?” Aventurine sighed, tossing his hat and sunglasses aside before beginning to take off his coat, “The Nameless are trickier than I thought. Their goals are somewhat wayward.”
“I told you to avoid them.”
“Yes, yes,” Aventurine rolled his eyes, “I get it, you told me so. But if I never talked to them, they wouldn’t owe me any favours. And we both know how important a favour is on this job.”
Aventurine didn’t give Ratio much time to prepare. Without any warning, except for a mischievous smirk, he flopped next to him on the couch, wrapping Ratio’s arm around him. He nestled in comfortably, body slacking his grip.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Relaxing. You should try it. Might make you likeable,” Aventurine’s hand tightened around Ratio’s clothes, “Can you move over? I’m going to fall down.”
“... Fine.”
He begrudgingly moved over, allowing Aventurine to have more space. Despite that, he still chose to huddle into Ratio’s side, eyes close to fluttering shut for some rest. Ratio couldn’t lie, it was endearing to think that he would be so comfortable there. His golden hair was a mess, his body pressed up against his, his hot breaths warming his clothes. Moving slightly so he could plant a kiss against his hair seemed human nature.
Aventurine’s eyes snapped open at the sudden touch, a sly smile matching the pink dusted on his cheeks.
“Getting sappy, Veritas?” He asked.
Veritas moved a lock of Aventurine’s hair.
“Yes,” he said, moving down to plant another kiss, this time on his cheek.
“So bold,” Aventurine commented, shifting so that Veritas had adequate access to his neck.
As his lips grazed the inked skin, what came next was innate to him. Though he’d never said it before, now had to be the time. Just as the sun came up in the sky and the birds sang their morning tune, this was the natural course of events.
“I love you.”
There was a beat of silence. It did not last long, but it was long enough for him to worry.
“Really?” A hand reached up and touched his cheek, and instinctively, Veritas leaned into it.
“Really.”
“... How unfortunate.”
He felt the jarring feeling of ice against his skin, sending him lurching backwards in surprise. Veritas held his cheek. Cold. Numbing.
What was once Aventurine was now a corpse. Not rotten nor deteriorated, but obviously, clearly, dead. Unmoving, rigid, lifeless. There was no charm in his tangled hair, now messy from ignorance rather than being busy. His lips were sealed shut, no longer able to voice his complaints about the workday. Those mesmerising eyes Veritas grew so fond of were closed shut, likely forever. Weakly, Veritas held the limp hand of the gambler. It was as cold as he remembered. His eyes drifted to that tattoo. While all colour was erased from the man, the dark tattoo stayed, taunting him.
When he reached out to cover up that damned tattoo once and for all, Ratio woke up, cold but sweating.