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Sea mist sprayed the doctor’s face as he rested his elbows on the flower-adorned railing of the highest caliber ship the Blue Hour had to offer. Any other ship would do, but the gambler always seemed to spend frivolously. Occasionally, Veritas would have to wipe his plaster dry of accumulating water droplets, but other than that, he was quite still. He wasn’t sightseeing in the slightest while aboard this ship. Passersby and unimportant characters did all the reveling for him, gawking and chattering about the artificial glow of the equally faux skyline.
Of course, the view was marvelous but simply not what the doctor preferred to focus on. There were many mysteries afoot in the Land of Dreams, and the man’s mind hungered to unravel them all. Naturally, these mysteries would unravel themselves, but this is where the esteemed Dr. Veritas Ratio’s selfishness lay. He just had to know. That would be how he would put his reasoning in simple terms. The light clink of a cocktail glass resounded through the air as it gently knocked against the venerated doctor’s plaster.
Only one person would deem himself comfortable –or audacious enough– to let their drink near him, let alone touch him. Aventurine chuckled childishly at Ratio’s apparent lack of reaction and took a sip from their glass, giving a short hum of approval and swirling the concoction in a circular motion. The bruised gin momentarily separated from its much less bitter counterparts before seeping back into the cherry limeade.
“A shame that handsome bust of yours had to come out now of all times. I’m sure you would’ve enjoyed a sip of this, Ratio.” the damned gambler mused, calmly taking another sip of his drink through his teeth and shooting Ratio a practiced smile.
Dr. Ratio paid him no mind and remained in his mental world, picking apart the strange happenings the pair had come across in their time here. Aventurine had long become accustomed to being but a momentary distraction in the doctor’s eyes, but to simply pass on an opportunity to enjoy The Blue Hour? Almost a slight to the very hands that worked so tirelessly to create this place. Those shackled and lifeless hands that would seem to superimpose onto his own had he looked down in that moment.
Aventurine huffed half-heartedly and downed the rest of his drink unceremoniously, furtively leaving the emptied glass on a passing waiter’s tray. The gambler shuffled closer to the other man and trained his gaze on the twinkling skyline. What a place Penacony was. What a place. He relaxed his unconsciously taut jaw and spared a sidelong glance at his companion. Who knew what the fastidious doctor was thinking? Aventurine squeezed his eyes to purge them of the seawater (conveniently unsalted, courtesy of the dreamweavers) and playfully nudged Ratio’s stagnant form with the tip of his shoe.
“Doctor, what has you so preoccupied? Couldn’t you give that brain of yours a rest, and enjoy how nice The Blue Hour looks? Upset you don’t have a beau to indulge in the romanticism of this place with?” Aventurine teased, resting his chin on his palm and slowly leaning into Ratio to the point that there was no way the other man could ignore him.
Scoffing noncommittally, Ratio replied tentatively, “Projecting your woes onto me, gambler?”
“You wound me,” Aventurine lamented, dramatically arching his back over the railing and casting his gaze skyward. It lingered long enough for Ratio to spare a glance in Aventurine's direction, but by the time he'd gone to do so, Aventurine had looked back at him and finished with, “But, I do have a name y’know? Rest assured, I enjoy the special treatment. After all, you don’t give many nicknames other than ‘idiot,’ ‘fool,’ and the like.”
“Your attempts to distract me are laughable, ‘Aventurine.’”
An eighth note of silence.
“There we go! Wasn't so hard, was it, Doctor?”
Growing weary of indulging the man, Ratio relinquished what meager attention he gave the gambler and returned to his musings. However, his thoughts didn’t take the direction he wished them to. This had never been a problem for him before. Why now? And why did his thoughts manifest into an analysis of the damned gambler? A documentary of speculations played in his mind, and he begrudgingly sat down to watch it.
-
The seats were empty in the theatre, save for a shadowy figure in the last seat of the row Ratio had chosen. The silhouette was wholly disrespectful, kicking their legs up to rest on the back of the seat ahead of them and yawning in pure disillusionment with the film rolling. Veritas crossed his legs with his calf resting over his knee and paid the stranger no mind, eyes fixed on the screen ahead. The film had subpar cinematography. The director simply used one angle for each shot, and the transitions between shots were all but non-existent. All of the scenes had only one person as the focus, and the camera was even out of focus for a couple of shots. Despite the occasional haze covering the screen, the subject's eyes seemed to permeate the shoddy camerawork, always trained on the lens.
The story was so incomprehensible that Ratio couldn’t possibly fathom what motivated him to stay in the theatre and waste any more of his precious time. Nearly jumping out of his skin while doing so, Ratio stood to exit and caught the stranger in his peripheral. They apparently had made their way to sit themselves right next to Ratio. The doctor’s curiosity got the best of him, and he lumbered back down. The stranger in the fedora seemed to perk up a little before settling down and leaning away from the other man. They both watched the film in silence. Dr. Ratio was obviously more engaged in the film than the other as the blonde fedora man picked at his nails. Their silk-like hair shined even in the dark of the theatre as it cascaded down the man’s neck to cover a black tattoo. No. Not a tattoo. It was an imprint.
‘It’s a brand.’ the stranger offhandedly remarked, flicking some grime out from under his fingernails, ‘But you already knew that, didn’t you? Veritas Ratio.’
The stranger pronounced the name with the kind of hidden fondness you would only hear from a man sworn to secrecy.
‘...Quite some time ago.’ Ratio responded hoarsely, an odd twinge of guilt pinching his core.
The man laughed. Genuine and breathy. Fleeting . He commented once more, ‘There’s no reason to feel so ashamed, Ratio. I’m sure you’re not guilty about keeping your abundance of knowledge from me.’
‘Then I assume you know what I could possibly be regretting. Me, a man often devoid of such a feeling.’
‘I don’t mind your words, Ratio. You didn’t know what it meant to me.’ The Sigonian whispered sweetly, like a sister consoling a younger brother.
‘I care not for how I hurt you-’
‘You do.’
‘But. I am…ashamed of my ignorance at that moment. In…all of these moments.’ Ratio choked out, eyebrows furrowed as he looked through his lashes at the screen ahead.
“You wound me,” The subject of the film lamented, searing gaze flitting elsewhere. The other person was almost lost to the limited scope of the screen, but the scene had panned over to catch the tail end of the man focusing back onto the camera, “But, I do have a name y’know? Rest assured, I enjoy the special treatment. After all, you don’t give many nicknames other than ‘idiot,’ ‘fool,’ and the like.”
“Your attempts to distract me are laughable, ‘Aventurine.’”
An eighth note of pained silence.
The movie seemed to buffer and then pause at that frame. Ratio kept his eyes on the screen, scanning Aventurine’s face, methodically observing the man’s skin, every slight wrinkle, the position of his smile, and the multicolored layers of his eyes.
And the pain those eyes so desperately tried to hide, to no avail. And his smile, usually playful, almost smug, now seemed too bright, a stark contrast to the apparent emptiness above.
It stung Ratio to look at the fluorescent screen any longer, so he shut his eyes tight while tilting his head down, forehead resting against the knuckles of his clasped hands. The gambler snaked his arms around Ratio’s shoulders, bordering on putting him in a tame chokehold.
‘My honored doctor,’ the honey-lipped man purred close to Ratio’s ear while discarding his fedora on an armrest, ‘My real name…you want to know it? Hm? Maybe…one day I can tell you. Maybe, one day, you’ll want to hear it.’
He felt charred skin rest against his bare shoulder, rubbing against him as the other man settled further into the crook of Ratio’s neck. There was no smile on the somber gambler’s face to match his content actions. Ratio unclasped his hands and let one dangle between his legs. The other –afflicted with some kind of rigor mortis– steadily moved to grab Aventurine’s forearm with a vice grip, gently pulling him a little closer. Ratio’s breath ghosted over the pale skin as he considered Aventurine’s words.
‘Do tell me someday.’ Ratio swallowed, ‘I would be honored to hear it.’
-
“Doc? Dr. Ratio. HQ to Major Ratio.” Aventurine prompted, casually knocking on the plaster head before sighing defeatedly. It was no use pulling the shrewd doctor out of his thoughts, after all, and Aventurine didn’t like to play losing games.
Flipping around so his back rested against the railing, Aventurine opted to observe the other passengers who were slow-dancing to the violin-embellished music. He narrowed his eyes at a couple at the center of it all; the dimmed spotlight seemed to follow them despite the light falling over the entire dancefloor. The man looked disenchanted for a moment before he turned his gaze to the woman in his arms. The curvature of her spine was highlighted by a singular dangling gold chain flowing down to the small of her back that the man tangled his hand in while caressing the skin beneath with a thumb. A soft but tender smile spread across his face as he slid his other hand up from between her bare shoulder blades to the crook of her neck. The lady chuckled as her beau tilted her chin up to rest his forehead against hers. They swayed in tune with the music; the man’s dress shoes miraculously never once stepped on the woman’s stunning midnight blue dress as it swished on the floor.
Mind you, Aventurine doesn’t cry. He’s not quite sure if he actually can anymore. The closest he can get to letting tears spill is a pressure pushing at his eyes from behind as if trying to pop them out. The intrusive sensation would gloss his eyes over with saltwater and blur his vision. That familiar pressure welled up behind his retina, and he begrudgingly lowered his gaze as the lovers angled themselves for a languid kiss. Aventurine was nowhere near envious of what they had with each other, rather their freedom. He’d have that for himself in due time, but after so many years in shackles –metaphorically and literally– it was near impossible not to feel a twinge of bitterness at the sight of others who had the liberty to pursue whatever they saw fit.
“You turned away like a child. Can’t handle a display of romance?” Ratio suddenly noted, apparently finished with his whole ‘mind palace’ shtick.
Aventurine giggled at the assumption and drew up the back of his hand to quiet himself. The laughter bubbling up in his chest slowly died down and he remarked sarcastically, “Yes, it’s disgusting doctor! You’re lucky that your back is turned. You’d have to see,” Aventurine shuddered and sneered in play disgust, “Human intimacy.”
“I haven’t the foggiest clue on why I humored you and agreed to come here.” Ratio grumbled, swiping his plaster away to reveal a deadpan stare.
“Not keen on humoring a dead man?” Aventurine muttered under his breath.
“Watch yourself, gambler.” Ratio bit back, narrowing his eyes at the other man who grinned in return.
Ratio groaned and looked away from Aventurine’s smiling face while rubbing his temple. The doctor was awfully easy to tease when using his low tolerance for idiocy against him. It took willpower -strong enough to rival Qlipoth’s- to not burst into laughter upon seeing Ratio’s jaw tense from such a small joke.
“Calm down, doc. Maybe some time out on the dance floor may help?” Aventurine consoled while pouting in faux concern.
Aventurine simply threw the idea out as a silly jest, but he committed to the bit and batted his eyelashes at the man. Ratio looked him up and down for a couple of beats as if appraising Aventurine’s sincerity before averting his gaze.
Aventurine sighed and brushed off the ungentlemanly treatment, “Fine, fine. I was just making conversation anyway-”
“Very well then.”
“Pardon?” Aventurine squawked, abruptly whipping around to look at the expressionless doctor with a quirked eyebrow.
“I said, I accept your invitation.” Ratio stated resolutely as if he was just commenting on the negligible weather. The man was basically saying, ‘The stars are many, two plus two is four, and I’ll dance with you.’
Letting out a breathy chuckle in disbelief, Aventurine struggled to reel himself back into the flow of the conversation, “W-who wouldn’t?” He cursed internally at the uncharacteristic stutter, “I’ll lead.”
Ratio pushed off the railing and extended a gloved hand, “It’s customary for the taller person to lead, I’d rather not compensate my following in accordance with your height.”
Aventurine gawked at the unwavering hand before him and blinked at it stupidly for a moment. Ratio extended his hand towards the man and met Aventurine’s eyes with his own, a subtle look of confused concern apparent in his gaze. Aventurine paused before giving a soft chuckle, and gingerly placed his hand into the doctor’s, comfortably slotting his fingers above the other man’s. He mindlessly let himself be led to a more secluded part of the boat, situated on the upper deck. The music was fainter up here, but the two were tucked away from the gaze of the watchful dreamers.
“Y’know doc, there’s a rumor that in The Blue Hour, if two intertwined souls dance, the music around them changes accordingly.” Aventurine mentioned wryly, “Wonder what our music will sound like…”
Ratio regarded the other’s statement with a calculating hum, appearing to genuinely attempt to come up with an answer, “We’ll have to find out, I suppose.”
The night was full of surprises. Just– one after the next. Aventurine choked out, “...If you treated a lady like this, she’d be head over heels…” his eyes flitted away momentarily before he added, “Too bad you have a nasty personality.” Aventurine fully expected the doctor to feel slighted, but Ratio huffed a quiet laugh, “Heavens, what changed with you? Had a drink or two without me?”
“Did you not wish to dance a moment ago?” Ratio questioned cynically, “If my change in attitude bothers you, I’d be more than pleased to call it a night.”
“And didn’t you say you’d lead? I’m just waiting to be whisked away, Ratio.” Aventurine fired back with a patronizing grin.
In response, Ratio silently coaxed his dance partner into a casual waltz, gently pulling him in by the hand. Aventurine was the slightest bit glad Ratio didn’t take the bait; he didn’t think he could deal with another bout of sugary-sweet words. He adjusted his positioning in kind, draping his arms over Ratio’s shoulders and intertwining his fingers behind the nape of the doctor’s neck.
“Not the proper positioning, but very well.” Ratio griped, moving to hold Aventurine’s waist with both hands. Aventurine’s breath hitched suddenly, but he let himself settle into the doctor’s waiting arms.
Aventurine made an offhand jest about how gentlemanly he was being treated to which Ratio scoffed and readjusted their positioning to mirror that of learned ballroom dance partners. The gambler couldn’t even begin to remember what words the two exchanged at the time, briefly mourning the lost intimacy. It was as if his mind had turned into a blank slate, unable to register anything but his sense of touch and hearing as the two began to move in tandem. Maybe, it was the gambler’s way of focusing to recall the steps to the Universal Waltz he’d learned for black-tie events. It seemed that way for the doctor too, his movements practiced and calculated, methodically shifting his balance where it was needed while subtly guiding Aventurine into the proper footwork.
It was more likely, however, that his subconscious was attempting to leave him with the nuances of the experience. Aventurine spun out into a half-hearted flourish, and like clockwork, Veritas reeled him back in, the man almost protectively seizing the gambler once he had them back in his arms. A desperate hold here, a hurried box step there. It was all so frantic. Aventurine –despite his dimmed senses– remained painfully aware of this fact, chalking up this change in pace to constrictions of time that had been placed around them; the ticking clock that loomed above them, counting down to moments till their parting.
Whipping around and detaching from Ratio to allow himself to spin, Aventurine solemnly broke the illusion, “What a time to be selfish, Doctor.”
“Am I not allowed to be keen on humoring a dead man,” Ratio deadpanned, firmly taking Aventurine by the shoulders to pull him out of the whirl and drawing him back into the rhythm of the waltz.
Aventurine laughed with his whole chest, a melodious but unsurprisingly dull sound. The man’s voice always had subtle undertones of defeat. The exhilarated gambler in question couldn’t care less about how he sounded as he giggled himself silly, back dipping over Ratio’s arm as the other struggled to keep him upright.
“For heaven’s sake, gambler,” Ratio groaned, successfully pulling his dance partner up in one firm tug. He had half a mind to grumble some more before Aventurine whirled them around with an ecstatic cheer, nearly sweeping the doctor off balance.
The gambler knew what he was doing to Veritas, ruffling his feathers and whatnot, but it was a night of indulgence for Aventurine. Aeon forbid he let this chance pass him by. Surprisingly enough, Ratio responded in kind, albeit with an unamused expression. He quickened his movements and stabilized the two by holding the other man closer.
“Okay okay! Slow down, Raito. I’ll lose my breath” Aventurine playfully begged between breathy chuckles, pressing himself against the doctor’s chest and lazily draping his arm over Ratio’s shoulder.
Huffing lightly, Ratio lowered his head to speak into Aventurine’s ear, “Was it not you who asked for this?”
“For a dance … Not a workout.” Aventurine muttered, tracing the doctor’s palm with a finger before gliding upwards to outline veins on the man’s forearm, “Hm, listen close for a second...do you hear that?”
Furrowing his brow, Veritas ignored the hand ghosting over his bicep and strained his ears to listen until a haunting composition encompassed the two. Loud enough to be noted, but quiet enough to become a pleasant ambiance. As a wispy chorus of violas began to weave itself into the somber notes of a piano, Veritas took Aventurine’s waist in his hands and led the two into a pedantic but relaxing sway.
The more the two danced, Aventurine’s arms became weaker until they lay limply at his sides, sliding off Ratio’s shoulder. Momentarily, they lingered, but they fell nonetheless. His tired body leaned on his dance partner, depending on the doctor’s steady figure to guide him, as the exhausted gambler’s eyes began to flutter shut. A glissando rang in the air, and Ratio’s stiff hand moved to guide Aventurine’s head into the crook of his neck. The movement felt practiced, but Aventurine couldn’t make any further note of it as he rested his head against the doctor, eyebrows strewn together while he ached. While they both ached, it seemed. Swiping against the gambler’s waist with a thumb, Ratio gently embraced him, arms tightening around the small of Aventurine’s back. Soon, the other weakly reciprocated.
Waves crashed against the sides of the boat, mixing into the orchestral arrangements while the two held each other, swaying to the music. They were smart enough to know they had to let go, but their minds, just for this moment, were weak. Ratio’s hand snaked up to tangle itself in the indulgent gambler’s golden locs as he grimaced, desperately staving off his logical mind. Desperately trying to stay in this moment, for ‘Aventurine’.
A small sob of grief escaped Aventurine’s mouth, and Veritas’s breath hitched. The music slowed. The man who sobbed didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly, hot tears were trailing down Aventurine’s face, painfully blinding him. Biting down on his lips to stifle his sobs, Aventurine’s grip strengthened around the doctor before pushing off the man and breaking their embrace. He couldn’t bear to look Veritas in the eyes, the man’s face no doubt observing him critically. Aventurine slapped a hand over his mouth and slightly keeled over, willing his tears to stop. No wonder he didn’t cry. It hurt like hell.
He hazarded a glance at Ratio through his moist eyelashes. The man’s features were painted with unadulterated shock and a solemn something else the gambler couldn’t quite place. Dusk-incarnate eyes shone curiously by the lowlight covering the ship, picking apart the person in front of him. It wasn’t an intrusive investigation, but rather a precise surgery to find the root of the issue.
“Don’t leave.” Ratio pleaded, the words coming out choked and gravelly, “Our song hasn’t yet finished.”
The music permeated the palpable aching between the two with a gradual crescendo. Strands of dark blue hair fell around Vertias’s face as he leaned forward, offering his hand. Mouth pulling taut after no physical response from the other, Ratio cautiously took a step forward. He took his dear gambler by the hands and coaxed them into the beginning of another waltz. This time, much slower. A few beats passed, and the two were yet to move until Aventurine intently put more effort into his half-hearted dancing.
Refusing to let his tears flow any longer, Aventurine swallowed then nodded in agreement, “It hasn’t.”
Tear stains still streaked down his beloved gambler’s face. A less enamored man would not find beauty in this disheveled appearance, but the way the quickly evaporating lines glistened and bent around a genuine, content smile had to be objectively the most gorgeous thing Veritas Ratio had laid eyes on. Aventurine felt his face grow warm with the doctor’s unmistakably adoring eyes on him, and his lips slightly parted as he scanned the man’s face. There were frown lines all over the young doctor’s face, but they were near negligible as the man rested his features, lips naturally curling up into a satisfied smile.
The music continued to play its funereal tune, the instruments weeping around the slow dancers. A viola would wail, and the two would pivot with the fake wind whipping at their hair. The piano wept, and the dancers momentarily slowed to take in each other. Finally, the acoustic guitar sobbed, and the dance continued into the night. Their hearts cried a song of mourning, and still they danced.