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Blood trickled from multiple wounds on Aventurine's body as he dragged himself through the corridors. His once flawless skin was now streaked with dried blood and bruises. One arm hung limply at his side, dislocated and possibly broken. His clothes were torn and stained dark with blood, the fabric clinging to his skin uncomfortably.
His body felt heavy, every muscle aching and every joint screaming in pain. Each breath he took was ragged, drawn with difficulty, as sharp, stinging pains radiated through his ribs with every shallow inhalation. Warm blood trickled from a particularly deep wound on his forehead, mingling with the sweat and tears that streamed down his face. Each step forward was agony.
His vision blurred, occasionally darkening at the edges, as he fought to stay conscious. The world around him seemed distant and surreal, as if he were moving through a fog. Each step he took was uncertain, his legs trembling and barely able to support his weight. He was moving on autopilot, his mind disconnected from his body, driven by a primal need to find safety.
He didn't realize where his feet were leading him until he found himself at the door of Ratio's office. He couldn't recall how he got there, the journey a hazy blur of pain. The hallways seemed endless, each step echoing in his ears. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound of a relentless drumbeat that matched the throbbing in his head.
Half-expecting to see Ratio's concerned face, Aventurine hesitated as he reached the door. Ratio was a figure of stability in his chaotic world, a beacon of strength and reassurance. The idea of shattering that image with his own brokenness was unbearable. He couldn't stand the thought of Ratio's eyes filled with pity.
Aventurine's hand trembled as he reached for the door handle, his bloodied fingers struggling to grip the cool metal. He pushed the door open and stumbled inside, his heart sinking with relief when he saw that the office was empty. Ratio wasn't there. He didn't have to face him, not yet. The relief that washed over him was overwhelming, mingling with the exhaustion and pain in a wave that threatened to knock him off his feet.
He closed the door behind him and leaned heavily against it, his legs finally giving out. He slid down to the floor, his back against the door, and let out a shuddering breath. The silence of the room enveloped him, a stark contrast to the chaos that raged inside his mind. His body ached, each pulse of pain a reminder of his vulnerability, his fragility.
Tears welled up in his eyes, unbidden and unstoppable. He tried to hold them back, to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was a lost battle. The tears spilled over, mingling with the blood and sweat on his face. He buried his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The exhaustion, the pain, the relief of not having to face Ratio—it all came crashing down on him, an avalanche of emotions that he could no longer hold back.
In the quiet of Ratio's office, Aventurine allowed himself to break. He let the tears flow, let the pain and fear and exhaustion consume him. For a moment, he was just a man, vulnerable and broken, seeking solace in the silence. The room's emptiness was a comfort, a sanctuary where he could let go of the mask he wore and simply be.
As Aventurine sat slumped against the door of Ratio's office, a chilling cold began to seep into his bones. The loss of blood from his many wounds left him feeling increasingly cold. His clothes, damp with blood and sweat, clung to him uncomfortably, each fabric fold seeming to leech whatever warmth remained in his body.
He started to shake uncontrollably, fine tremors slowly growing into violent, convulsive shivers. His vision, already blurred and unreliable, began to darken at the edges, narrowing his field of sight. It was then that he noticed the bathtub at the far end of Ratio’s room.
With great effort, Aventurine pushed himself away from the door. Each movement was agony, his muscles weak and uncooperative. He dragged himself slowly across the floor. His vision flickered, threatening to give out entirely.
Finally reaching the bathtub, he felt the radiant warmth emanating from the water and the ceramic. Aventurine leaned over the edge of the tub, his trembling hands brushing against the smooth, warm surface. The contrast between the cold that pervaded his body and the soothing warmth of the bathtub was almost painful in its intensity.
With what little strength he had left, Aventurine hoisted himself over the rim of the bathtub. His movements were clumsy and slow, more of a collapse than a graceful entry. As his body made contact with the warm water, a sigh escaped his lips—a mix of relief and resignation.
As he let himself sink into the water, the comfort was overwhelming, pulling him towards the oblivion he desperately needed. The relief was so intense, so immediate, that Aventurine could not help but let his guard down completely.
His eyelids grew heavy, the world around him fading into a haze. He felt the pull of sleep, stronger than ever. With a final, shuddering breath, he lost consciousness, his body collapsing into the soothing warmth of the bathtub, the gentle waves lapping against his battered form as darkness claimed him.
Ratio arrived later, the familiar scent of Aventurine’s perfume catching his attention as soon as he entered the hallway. The subtle yet powerful fragrance made him draw a small, knowing smile. Aventurine had returned and probably tried to see him. It was a comforting thought, but as he walked closer to his office, that comfort quickly turned to dread.
Blood. There was blood smeared across the floor, trailing toward his office. His heart skipped a beat as he saw more of it on the door handle. His eyes scanned the room, the sense of foreboding growing stronger with each passing second. Then, he saw him.
Aventurine was lying in the bathtub, the water a light red from all the blood he had lost in it. His normally vibrant skin was shockingly pale, his body unnaturally still. Ratio froze, trying his best not to panic at the sight before him. His mind raced, but his training and experience kicked in, urging him to act.
He rushed to Aventurine’s side, his heart pounding in his chest. Despite the heat of the water, Aventurine’s body felt cold and unlively. Ratio's hands trembled as he tried to get a response, any response, from Aventurine. He shook him gently, his voice cracking with desperation. “Aventurine, please, wake up! Say something, anything!”
But there was no response. Ratio’s fear escalated to a full-blown panic as he continued to call out to him, shaking him a little harder, hoping for any sign of life. The sight of Aventurine’s lifeless form, the blood-stained water, and the cold skin was too much to bear.
Refusing to give in to despair, Ratio took a deep breath and focused on what needed to be done. His hands moved quickly, his medical training coming to the forefront. He checked for a pulse and, finding a faint one, proceeded with urgent care. He first drained the bathtub, lifting Aventurine out of the water and onto a nearby mat. The immediate goal was to warm him up and stop the bleeding.
Ratio grabbed a thermal blanket, wrapping it around Aventurine to combat the hypothermia. Then, he reached for his medical kit, his hands working with practiced precision. He applied pressure to the worst of the wounds to stem the bleeding, using antiseptic wipes to clean the cuts as best he could.
He worked quickly, stitching up the deep gashes with a suture kit, his fingers deftly tying off each wound. Every stitch was a small victory, each completed with the hope of keeping Aventurine alive. Ratio’s face was set in grim determination, his focus unwavering. He could not lose him, not like this.
Next, he treated the dislocated shoulder, carefully setting it back into place with a firm, but gentle maneuver. He then secured it with a makeshift sling to prevent further damage. The more superficial cuts and bruises received quick bandaging, anything to stabilize Aventurine’s condition until he could get more comprehensive medical help.
The color began to return to Aventurine’s cheeks, the warmth replacing the chilling cold. Ratio's heart raced as he watched for any sign of consciousness, his hands never stopping their work. Finally, a flicker of movement, a small twitch of a finger, and then a faint, ragged breath.
Relief flooded through Ratio, his panic subsiding as Aventurine’s eyes fluttered open, weak but alive. He leaned closer, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you. Just hold on.”
Aventurine’s gaze met Ratio’s, and a weak, grateful smile touched his lips. The connection between them was palpable, a silent understanding passing between them. Ratio continued to tend to him, ensuring every wound was treated, his hands gentle and reassuring.
In the aftermath, as Aventurine’s breathing steadied and his color fully returned, Ratio allowed himself a moment of vulnerability. He held Aventurine close, his voice a whisper. “Don’t scare me like that again.”
Aventurine nodded weakly, the weight of the events settling in. But in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the blanket and Ratio’s care, there was a sense of peace. They were together, and that was all that mattered.
Ratio's composure, however, finally shattered. Tears welled up in his eyes and streamed down his face as he held Aventurine tighter, the relief and fear he had been suppressing spilling out in sobs. His body shook with the intensity of his emotions, the reality of how close he had come to losing Aventurine hitting him all at once. "I'm so glad you're okay," he choked out, his voice trembling with emotion.
Aventurine, though weak, managed a small, reassuring smile. He lifted a hand with great effort, placing it on Ratio’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “I’m here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Ratio nodded, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. He knew he needed to get Aventurine to a proper medical chamber where he could receive more comprehensive care. He carefully lifted Aventurine into his arms, cradling him as gently as he could.
The journey to the hospital chamber next to his office was slow and cautious. Ratio moved with utmost care, ensuring that every step was steady and that Aventurine was as comfortable as possible. He could feel the faint rise and fall of Aventurine’s chest, a constant reassurance that he was still alive.
Upon reaching the chamber, Ratio gently placed Aventurine on a hospital bed, immediately activating the advanced medical equipment. The sterile, clinical environment was a stark contrast to the chaos they had just escaped. He attached monitors to Aventurine’s chest to track his heart rate and breathing, and set up an IV to replenish the lost fluids and nutrients.
Ratio then administered more thorough medical care, using the equipment to better treat Aventurine's injuries. He re-sterilized the wounds, ensured the sutures were secure, and checked the bandages. The dislocated shoulder was given additional support with a medical brace.
As the machines beeped softly, indicating stable vitals, Ratio finally allowed himself to sit down beside the bed. Exhaustion and relief washed over him in waves. He held Aventurine’s hand, his fingers entwined with his friend's, and let out a long, shaky breath.
Aventurine woke up the next day to the soft beeping of the medical monitors and the sterile smell of the hospital chamber. His body ached, but the warmth of the blanket and the steady hum of the equipment provided a strange sense of comfort. As he blinked the haze of sleep from his eyes, he noticed Ratio sitting beside him, looking utterly exhausted yet vigilant.
Ratio’s eyes met Aventurine’s as he stirred, and for a moment, the relief was palpable. But there was also something else in Ratio's expression—anger, concern, and a deep sense of hurt. If Aventurine didn’t know better, he would have thought Ratio was angry at him.
Ratio's voice, usually so calm and composed, was tinged with a mixture of frustration and anguish. “Sometimes I wonder who between your fate and your illogical pride is more cruel towards you,” he began, his tone both scolding and laden with emotion. “You could have asked for help. You should have asked for help.
Aventurine tried to respond, his voice weak and shaky. “I didn’t want to bother you…”
Ratio snapped, his voice rising sharply, “You wouldn’t have bothered anyone at all… especially not me!” The intensity of his words echoed in the quiet room, the raw emotion in his voice cutting through Aventurine like a blade. He had never seen Ratio this affected, this vulnerable, and it struck him deeply. The gravity of his actions, the danger he had put himself in, and the fear he had caused Ratio all came crashing down on him.
Ratio continued, his voice softening but still laden with emotion, “Do you have any idea how scared I was when I saw you like this? Do you know what it felt like to think I might lose you because you couldn’t swallow your pride for one moment and ask for assistance?”
Aventurine's eyes filled with tears, the sincerity and depth of Ratio’s concern touching him in a way few things ever had. “I’m sorry,” he managed to whisper, his voice hoarse and filled with regret. He tried to sit up, but Ratio gently pushed him back down onto the bed.
“Don’t,” Ratio said firmly, though there was a tenderness in his touch. “You need to rest. We’ll talk more when you’re stronger."
Ratio sighed, his expression softening slightly. He reached out and took Aventurine’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Just… take care of yourself,” he murmured. “I need you here. We all do.”
Aventurine squeezed back, a small smile playing on his lips despite the pain.
Ratio hesitated, then, unable to hold back any longer, let it slip. “I care about you, Aventurine. More than you know. More than I should.” His voice was barely a whisper, but the weight of his confession hung in the air.
Aventurine's eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, there was silence. Then he reached out, touching Ratio’s cheek with a trembling hand.
Ratio’s eyes softened, and he leaned into Aventurine’s touch. Without another word, he gently climbed onto the bed beside Aventurine, wrapping an arm around him. Aventurine shifted, resting his head on Ratio’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his ear. The warmth and closeness were a balm to his weary soul.
Ratio looked down at Aventurine, his eyes tender and filled with concern. “Would you like me to read you a story?” he asked softly.
Aventurine managed a weak nod, his eyes filled with gratitude.
Ratio reached for a book on the bedside table, opening it to a marked page. As he began to read aloud, his voice was soft and soothing. He gently ran his fingers through Aventurine’s hair, the touch comforting and intimate.
The familiar cadence of his words, the gentle rise and fall of his voice, and the tender strokes of Ratio’s fingers through his hair lulled Aventurine into a state of peace. He felt safe, cherished, and loved.
As the story unfolded, Aventurine's eyelids grew heavy. The rhythmic sound of Ratio’s voice, the steady thrum of his heartbeat, and the comforting warmth of their embrace pulled him toward sleep. With a final, contented sigh, Aventurine drifted off, his head nestled against Ratio’s chest.
Ratio continued reading, his voice a gentle murmur, even as Aventurine's breathing slowed and deepened. He looked down at the man he loved, a soft smile playing on his lips. In that quiet moment, everything else faded away. They were together, and that was all that mattered.
Eventually, Ratio closed the book and gently extricated himself, intending to fetch some food for Aventurine. But as he moved, Aventurine stirred and grasped Ratio’s hand weakly. “Please, don’t leave me,” he murmured, his voice filled with fear and vulnerability.
Ratio’s heart melted at the plea. He sat back down, leaning closer to Aventurine. “I won’t leave you,” he promised, brushing a strand of hair from Aventurine’s forehead. “I’m right here.”
Aventurine’s grip relaxed slightly, and he nestled back into Ratio’s embrace, the fear slowly ebbing away. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice heavy with exhaustion.
Ratio tightened his hold, pressing a gentle kiss to Aventurine’s forehead. “Rest now,” he said softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”