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When Aventurine jolted awake from the Dreamscape, steeped in the Dreampool's pearlescent waters, Veritas Ratio stood there in waiting.
He thought he was still dreaming at first. When Aventurine lent him a key to his hotel room at The Reverie, their plan to deceive the Family still in motion, he advised him only to make an appearance when an emergency arose. Aventurine never anticipated that fate would deny him the 'grand death' he sought to achieve... thus, Veritas' appearance was both startling and somewhat head-throbbing at once.
"Easy now," the man kept a steady hand on his shoulder, anchoring him to reality. "Your seventeen system hours have passed. You lived. Congratulations."
Aventurine's breathing was abated, hoarse and rough for reasons he didn't dare contemplate. Although the concept of wakeness returned to his perspective, he still trembled all over, his surroundings somewhat blurry and multicolored. He just barely managed to catch Veritas at his side, indicating for him to take deep breaths with his hand movements. In... and out... and several times more. All the while, Veritas' firm grip never wavered, if only to massage his upper arm throughout the comedown.
He was alive.
Aventurine glanced upwards, his eyesight bleary, taking in the world around him as his panic dissipated. What remained of his belongings appeared to be sound. The Harmony appeared to still hinder his vision and give him a perpetual migraine. Veritas Ratio was shaking him awake. Everything was just about normal, truly.
"Hah... Doc?" Aventurine smiled lazily, however forced it was on most occasions. "I must be in heaven, with such a handsome angel at my wake."
"Be silent. You've just faced a near-death experience within your subconscious and you've only just now returned to reality. I need to assess your state of being."
"I expect nothing less from the man with eight doctoral degrees."
"You must still be under Sunday's influence if you can scarcely process simple directions."
"What's wrong with a little banter?"
"Suit yourself, then," Veritas ceases his attempts to adjust Aventurine's state of health. He huffs, then, slumping against the nearest citrine armchair. Aventurine is graced yet again with the lack of his sculpted bust, so he takes the opportunity to admire a range of his features—his disheveled violet hair, the tick in his jaw, the anxious furrow of his brow. If Aventurine didn't know any better... "What is it?"
"Well, doctor, you look far more distraught by that series of unfortunate events than I," Aventurine began, steadily rising from the Dreampool and dipping his legs out of the water. "Don't tell me you were worried."
Veritas scoffed, trailing his eyes down Aventurine's tousled nighttime attire before averting them. "Don't be ridiculous. I was well aware of your scheme. But after that woman you were so concerned about—Acheron, I believe—severed you out of comprehensive sight, what was I meant to think?"
"That I achieved death in Penacony, no?"
"Precisely."
"As it happens, a certain doctor informed me that the impossible in the Dreamscape is not 'Death', but 'Dormancy' instead," Aventurine recites his message with perfect clarity. "So I'm alive."
"That you are."
A few moments passed of silence before Aventurine attempted another step, only for him to stumble and groan with pain. Naturally, Veritas rose to his feet again.
"Do not make any sudden movements. At the moment, there is no way to determine the extent of effect The Harmony has on your psyche," Veritas scolds him, ushering him over to the sofa. The Reverie's accommodations seemed to opt more for style and aesthetics than comfort or practicality, but it would have to do for now. "Sit down, at least. I don't suppose you've eaten for a while? I will go fetch you a meal, and some painkillers for your obvious migraine."
"I'm fine, Ratio. I've been through worse."
"You almost died, you imbecile," Veritas trudges towards the side table and reclaims his spare key, shooting Aventurine a glare. "I cannot say I know how much worse you've been through, but this time, you will not face it alone. Stay put and don't move a muscle."
Just like that, a very frazzled Dr. Ratio shoved the door open and locked it shut, the sound of his footsteps echoing throughout the distant halls. Aventurine had half a mind to question Veritas' behavior—how it seemed so unlike him to concern himself wholeheartedly with Aventurine's well-being, given his track record—but unfortunately, the state of his mind and body refused to permit him further scrutiny.
Instead, he merely shifted so that his side rested along the sofa, cradling his temple with one forearm. The hotel lobby had a tendency to be packed, so it's not as if Veritas would return too soon, surely?
Thus, Aventurine's thoughts trailed off into nothingness, his eyes fluttering shut.
✦
When Ratio returned to the hotel room, the many screens and effervescent bubbles within the Dreampool illuminated the vicinity, yet Aventurine appeared fast asleep on the sofa. How charming.
Contrary to his expectations, the frequent crowding Penacony's hotel lobby often possessed fizzled out following the Charmony Festival. Thus, he swiftly managed to stop by the general goods shop for greek salad and feverfew tea. The medication required a longer trip, but not one long enough that it impeded on his ability to care for Aventurine with haste.
Of course, he should have known better. Now he was faced with a thoroughly snoozing Aventurine, although it did not look entirely peaceful given his occasional groaning and shifting to better adjust to his aching. Veritas weighed both concern and bemusement before proceeding, setting his rations down and prodding once again at the man before him.
"Aventurine," he began, gradually inching him upwards. "Wake up. It is not wise to miss a meal for this long—not that I suspect you mind, given your lack of self-preservation."
Aventurine's eyes begin to drift open, whining as Veritas' words reawaken his growing pains. "Mmnh..."
"I suppose you're not feeling much better," Veritas says, only this time it's quieter, softer. "I understand. I will leave what I've brought for you here. Do contact me if you need anything else."
Aventurine, still half-asleep, almost appears to frown at that. He outstretches the arm that isn't tucked beneath his head and reaches for Veritas' hand, covering it with his own. "Ah... wait..."
"Hmm?"
"Don't leave yet... I'm still..."
A few seconds pass with no continuation of the sentence. Veritas raises a brow. "Still?"
Nothing.
Veritas sighs, shaking his head. It was so very like Aventurine to leave him guessing, unable to efficiently predict his next move. It was almost laughable how a man who never received the privilege of an education manages to make Veritas question his own genius. He leaves things open-ended, intentionally ambiguous yet unable to be analyzed with proper results. He gambles with fate and always wins, even with the stakes stacked against him. He is faced with countless obstacles—from the prejudice to the abuse—and even so, he manages to breeze through life with a carefree smile and a courageous soul.
Truly a maddening character. So maddening, in fact, that Veritas cannot help but exact that irritation unto the man himself, expressing disdain for his every word. How else was he meant to approach the kind of individual who introduces himself by taking a revolver with one bullet in the cylinder, placing it into Veritas' hand and pointing the barrel to his own chest, a cryptic smile on his face and one arm behind his back? The kind of individual who throws fear to the wind just to prove himself?
He could not fathom it. Yet over time, Veritas realized that Aventurine's constant occupation of his mind was no longer customary merely for his peculiarities. It was not only because he couldn't understand him, but because he wanted to. And despite himself, his partnership with Aventurine developed more closely than he was initially satisfied with. Their collaboration became less out of convenience and necessity, and more out of Veritas' personal inclination to see that Aventurine came out of his schemes unscathed.
That he was safe.
He could not deny, also, that Aventurine's flirtatious and provocative nature furthered his level of questioning. Was this behavior common amongst all of Aventurine's partners, or was it exclusive to Veritas? Was there something beneath the facade that he aimed to achieve, or did he simply enjoy getting a rise out of him? Moreover, why did it matter?
Veritas watches Aventurine's sleeping form, which somehow appeared more at peace than it had when he arrived.
Despite himself, he takes Aventurine by hand, intertwining their fingers. Their rings clicked together and the coverage of their gloves were opposite, but it felt strangely right. As if this were normal. As if this were something Veritas had ever done with someone before. Even more strangely, he felt that Aventurine was the same; both uncertain, both unfamiliar with relations and who they themselves are meant to become... yet resulting in the very same place, behaving as if they knew precisely what they were doing all along.
He takes that hand and lifts it up to his lips, brushing them against his knuckles. It was almost surreal that they had reached this point. It was still difficult to process that Aventurine was real, tangible, only inches away from him. That he survived.
Heavens, he was alive. He was alive.
Veritas exhaled, letting go of Aventurine's hand and watching it drift back to his side. He seemed to be in a deeper sleep now, undeterred by Veritas sitting up from the ground and retreating back a few steps.
He wanted to stay. If only to assure that Aventurine rests soundly, and that he takes what Veritas brought for him when he wakes. But instead, he picked up his key and made his way to the door, not sparing so much as a glance behind him. He knew it would inevitably weaken his will, plunging him into a point of no return that he wasn't quite ready for.
There was much he had to consider. He had to do this correctly, lest that unpredictable gambler deal him a misère ouvert and slip away forever. Hence there was no time to waste.
Consumed by his thoughts, Veritas took his leave.
✧
At this hour, it was Pier Point's infamous IPC Headquarters that bustled and brimmed with life. After all, the Interastral Peace Corporation's staff were celebrating yet another successful establishment of peace, and as a result, all faculty attended a banquet throughout the pleasant afternoon.
Aventurine happened to enjoy this form of official business. Instead of hunting down criminals with dirty tricks and passing off a fortune to the higher-ups, he relished the opportunity to kick back, breeze through his cups, and forget that it's all for the sake of maintaining a false sense of economic power funding their collective corporation. He wouldn't call any of subordinates friends, per se, but it was awfully amusing to hear their many complaints and anecdotes about missions to come. If only the other Stonehearts were more like you, Mr. Aventurine... a phrase he's heard a handful of times. If Diamond knew about all of this, it'd be over for me!
(They were buttering up to him, he was well aware. These particular individuals would never dare work with him personally.)
What made their celebratory events even more enjoyable happened to be invitation rights. All licensed employees are permitted the right to invite an associate or two to partake in the event, given their visitation had to pass through administrative checking first. What began as a standard business event preserved for the winning staff soon bloomed into a momentous occasion for the commonwealth, which suited Aventurine just fine.
Nonetheless, Aventurine couldn't stick around for as long as he would've liked. The Stonehearts typically held a meeting later into the night, so he was forced to unenthusiastically readjust himself before the allotted time arose.
When Aventurine reached the first floor of the building, still idly chatting with a few of his coworkers, he expected various visitors to be passing through. Who he hadn't expected to see was a regally-dressed man equipped with an alabaster head and... a bouquet of flowers? To be fair, it's not something he saw everyday.
As he wrapped up the exchange with his coworkers, he felt a slight pang in his chest that he couldn't quite ignore. Was Veritas on the receiving end of the bouquet, or was it for someone in attendance? No, it couldn't be the first one, given he seemed to be waiting for someone. Aventurine doubted he would linger otherwise. Furthermore, his focus seemed to shift once Aventurine came into view, facing his direction once he exited the elevator and passed through the hallway. He wasn't expecting Aventurine to pass it along, was he?
Aventurine couldn't fathom why the concept of Veritas gifting someone a bouquet bothered him so much, but he was intent not to let it show. He readjusts his lapel and puts on an easygoing smile before bidding his companions a temporary farewell, opting to greet Veritas regardless of his intentions—who knows? He may just be fortunate enough to see him flustered.
"Hey there, Doc! I'd recognize that bust anywhere," Aventurine says, waving and scampering over unceremoniously. "Although, you don't normally show up to events like this. Got a date?"
Veritas' sculpted head tilts in response. "Not exactly, but that would depend on the outcome... here," The bouquet in Veritas' hands is hastily passed over to Aventurine before he shuffles back. "It consists of alstroemeria, orchids, and red roses. A classic selection, to be sure, but not one I presume to be unsatisfactory."
"Interesting. So you do have a sweetheart with the company, then?" Aventurine chuckles, gesturing for Veritas to take them back. "I'm not well versed with flower meanings and whatnot, but it's quite the visually appealing bouquet indeed."
Veritas crossed his arms. "Don't play the fool."
"Eh?"
"Don't hand them back to me. I am giving them to you."
Aventurine laughs some more, feeling suddenly like there's something he's missing about this particular exchange. Strange, given he's usually quite good at reading people, but Veritas Ratio is one of few exceptions. "Did you want me to deliver them for you? I can do that, but I'll have to know who they're for, first. Heh, I never took you for the shy type… but it's cute, don't worry."
"Aeons give me strength... Aventurine, they're for you. I want you to keep them."
Ah.
When it dawns on him, Aventurine is painfully unable to stop the flush from gracing his cheeks. The bouquet returns to his grasp, steadily, in all of its brightly colored, neatly wrapped splendor. This... certainly wasn't good for his heart.
"Consider it congratulations for successfully carrying out your mission in Penacony. The people may not know how much you personally gambled, but I am here to offer acknowledgement for it," Veritas, whose awkward movements suggested he was fidgeting, made quick work of continuing the conversation. Aventurine knew this move quite well—primarily because he himself often utilized it. "Are they... not to your liking?"
Aventurine blinked, dazed. "Sorry?"
"The flowers. Unfortunately, intimate gestures are not my area of expertise... but, ah, I mean... perhaps intimate isn't exactly the correct term, but..."
"Ratio."
"Yes?"
"Take off the sculpture," he says, gently prodding, testing the limits. "It's kinda hard to take you seriously otherwise."
Veritas hesitates, but eventually he quietly adjusts the span of his neck in order to remove the headpiece. It was certainly a handsome work of art, but Aventurine much preferred the face underneath: unkempt locks of indigo, an even rosy shade along his face, and watchful eyes that resembled the dawn. This was when he liked Veritas Ratio the most. The softness and vulnerability that existed between the two of them, preserved behind a veil of privacy, was completely unmatched.
Aventurine smiles, this time genuinely as his eyes flit down to the bouquet. "I do. Like the flowers, I mean. They're definitely the nicest flowers I've ever received," he murmurs, finding himself alight with nerves as well. "That being said, these are the first flowers I've ever received, so... thank you, Doc."
Veritas opens his mouth. Closes it. "Come with me," is what he settles on, before taking Aventurine by the forearm and tugging him towards the entrance.
"Wh—Hey! Where are we even—"
In a swift period of time, Veritas' alabaster head migrated to his satchel, which was tucked neatly over his shoulder. The motion finally led Aventurine to acknowledge Veritas' outfit as well, a familiar navy suit and a tie embellished with tones of lilac. It wasn't often Veritas attended social events and even less often he changed out of his usual attire for it, given he already dressed like a Greek aesthete fashioned him. Nonetheless, he clearly had an eye for dressing himself.
Veritas slows his hurried steps, facing him with poorly masked concern. It was new, but at the very least unquestionably endearing. "What is it? Do you have somewhere to be?"
"Well, I have a meeting with the Stonehearts in a little under three hours," Aventurine replied, trying not to draw too much attention to their newly joined hands. "But where were you planning to take me?"
"A restaurant. I heard Kiliro Fish Restaurant provides a wide range of seafood, as well as a view of the starships from the roof."
"Doctor, surely you know that buying someone flowers and taking them out for dinner are the proceedings of a date?"
"I do," Veritas responds, verifying his intentions as if he weren't visibly hesitant to be presenting him flowers moments before. "Is that something you're comfortable with?"
With full honesty, Aventurine was having a hard time processing the scene unfolding before him. Perhaps the process of returning to ordinary dreams after experiencing Penacony's spectacular Dreamscape was altering his mind, providing him unusually semi-realistic illusions in his wake. Even still, why would his subconscious conjure up something this vastly different from his recent nightmares? And why did his heart thump wildly in his chest after every touch, every word?
This was Doctor Ratio, after all. Unreachable, unattainable. A gamble he couldn't help making over and over, raising the stakes with each clever advancement. Veritas had never once risen to the challenge, typically more inclined to berate or insult him for being reckless and irrational. And yet, somehow, fate kept playing its hand and drawing them back together... whether it be as partners on a mission, or standing here at the IPC's headquarters with their fingers brushing.
Aventurine cleared his throat. "I mean... you're not messing with me, are you?"
"Do I seem as if my goal is to mess with you? I am being quite genuine, Aventurine."
"You're just not being very clear," Aventurine continues, helplessly lost. "You want to go on a date. With me. Romantically. Or 'intimately', as you're apt to describe it."
"...I see. I digress, I have taken an unconventional approach to this ordeal, so I will clarify for you," Veritas turns around, taking Aventurine's hand in full by intertwining their fingers, squeezing him gently. "Aven, I have booked a table for us at a restaurant here in Pier Point in hopes that you will go on a date with me. If our service is anywhere near acceptable, you should make it to your meeting on time, and I will even escort you back here personally," he coughs into his open fist. "Should you accept, that is."
Aventurine, although shaken, simply chuckled again. "Aven?"
Veritas jolts. "It slipped out. I apologize."
"It's okay, really. I liked it," he turned back to see if his coworkers were still lingering around the lobby, but it appeared that they departed shortly after he trotted over to the guarded Dr. Ratio waiting for him. "Let's get going before the higher-ups catch me sneaking off."
✦
Kiliro’s service exceeded expectations, given they were considerably high to begin with. The reservation Veritas booked for two inhabited a rather cozy corner of the restaurant’s roof, a view of glittering stars overhead. The seafood selection was delectable (and well suited to Veritas’ palate, at the very least—he could only assume Aventurine enjoyed partaking in the meal from the ever-so brief spark in his captivating eyes), not to mention they were delivered to their table in a most appropriately timed fashion. This sort of environment was indeed adequate for Veritas and Aventurine both, which Veritas prided himself for.
The only downside was precisely how concerned Aventurine appeared with the progression of things. He almost seemed restless, asking an array of questions about Veritas’ intentions and looking disgruntled when Veritas refused to let him pay any of the meal, on the date Veritas himself planned. Any comfort or joy visible in Aventurine’s demeanor quickly faded into anxiety and uncertainty. Almost as if he couldn’t quite grasp if Veritas had ulterior motives or not, given anything he said prior in the lobby was true.
Nonetheless, he hoped to dispel all doubts regardless of their date’s outcome. Even if Aventurine happened to be too weary to attend another with him, his primary objective was simply for the other man to have an enjoyable enough time to look back on the experience fondly, and know that there is at least one individual he knows who cares for him. Enough so to go to such lengths without expecting anything in return, he hoped.
After they had both eaten their fill, Veritas successfully secured the check and paid the full balance. Aventurine may be an incredibly wealthy and capable businessman, but Veritas could certainly hold his own—what with his renowned importance as an Intelligentsia Guild member and all. He could only attempt to stifle a chuckle as Aventurine pouted, the check being folded and carried away from their table arrangement. He sought value in his company, after all, not to be spoiled with his riches. The gambler would merely have to cope.
Once the tab was settled and the sun began to set, Veritas eased up from his seat and extended his arm to Aventurine. Aventurine raised a brow. “What’s next, Doc? A fireworks show? A performance commissioned from Miss Robin herself?”
Veritas rolls his eyes, Aventurine taking him by hand gently instead of linking their arms. It’s a tentative thing, testing the waters before indulging in the treacherous seas ahead. “Not quite as spectacular, I’m afraid. But we happen to have time to spare, and the view of the sunset from here is pleasant, no?”
Aventurine responds by tracing his thumb over the back of Veritas’ palm, allowing himself to be lifted and standing beside the other. His gaze doesn’t part from their joined hands, eyes now downcast and searching; so Veritas shifts their connection so that their fingers are intertwined, tightly linked together with security. He supposes it was easier before, when they were more preoccupied with navigating their plan of action to process the meaning of where they had become connected. Against his better judgment, Veritas has half a mind to do something similar to what he did whilst Aventurine was asleep, trailing soft, loose kisses over each of his fingertips, but he immediately perishes the thought. Such an act would be too vulnerable for a moment so fragile, still teetering on the possibility of Aventurine fleeing the scene entirely.
With the trust of Aventurine’s hand pressed his own, Veritas simply leads him over to the edge of the rooftop, a protective metal railing assuring their approach to be free of risk. It wasn’t so tall it loomed overhead like the bars of a prison cell, or a cage, but just tall enough that they could rest their elbows over the topmost pole.
For a few moments, they stand there completely in silence. The all-encompassing light of the sun sinks into the horizon, a gradient of vermillion, rouge and saffron-gold that is difficult to pull away from. Veritas, for his part, believes he could be content lingering here for something close to eternity… that is, until Aventurine eventually had to depart.
Veritas turns to see if Aventurine is enjoying the view himself, yet he’s startled by the discovery that Aventurine was looking directly at him. He looks tentative, as if there are many things occupying his mind yet he can only convey those thoughts via poorly matched eye contact. “Aventurine?”
“Doc,” Aventurine murmurs, the title existing exclusively within a nonexistent bubble between the two. “Why are you doing this?”
Veritas raises an eyebrow. “Elaborate?”
“It’s just—” Aventurine’s facial expressions shift, flitting from distressed to masked nonchalance. “If there’s something you need from me, you only need to ask, you know. Whether it be the Intelligentsia Guild, or you and you alone. I get it. Being used at the disposal of our corporations is my job.”
“I’m not following.”
“Let’s be honest with ourselves,” Aventurine drops Veritas’ hand, watching it fall weakly to his side. “Anyone who seeks me out to such an intimate degree is always doing so because they require my services. After all, who would willingly pursue a ‘doomed Sigonian thrall’ such as myself?”
Veritas exhales, opening his mouth, closing it. Opening it again: “Aventurine, that was not my intention. We were—”
“Acting, I’m well aware,” Aventurine says. “But there’s truth to the statement, correct? That’s precisely my point. I’m asking you not to beat around the bush. I would much prefer you to come out with it now than… than give me false hope.”
“You are drastically misunderstanding me,” Veritas scoffs, instantly denouncing Aventurine’s rather self-deprecating vernacular. “My intentions with this outing were precisely the opposite of how you are currently interpreting them. I was completely transparent when I invited you on this date, and I am being just as transparent with you now. Do you truly take me for the sort to deceive you so backhandedly? I must say, I’m offended.”
Aventurine’s lower lip quivers, taking a pause before he continues to argue. “But that doesn’t—that doesn’t answer my question. You’re extending more effort to someone like me, the embodiment of everything you denounce and resent, than I’ve ever seen you do for anyone else. Your acting in Penacony was so realistic I could easily believe it, and yet you—you completely intercepted our plans just to pass on your ‘best of luck.’ Why? Why are you wasting your time with someone like me?”
“Aven—”
“Just…” Aventurine stops to take a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Regains his composure, adjusts his posture. It does little to stop him from shivering where he stands, nor does the hand he removed from Veritas’ leave where it's bent behind his back. Even now, his oh-so imperceptible habits were an open spread of cards on the playing table to the esteemed doctor. Like a peacock subconsciously unfurling its feathers… or an aposematic mammal on a silver platter. “You have been perfectly happy all this time to remind me that I’m below you. You’ve approached me with skepticism at best and disdain at worst. My upbringing shapes me into exactly the sort of fool you scoff at. I’ve made my peace with the conditions, so I’ve been living up that role for you. Just tell me what you want from me now—”
“Aventurine.”
The man in question halts all defenses abruptly, returning his previously avoidant eyes to Veritas’ own. It is only then that he realizes the other man had begun to shed tears.
“Oh,” Aventurine says. “I’ve gotten it all wrong, haven't I?
Veritas swipes at his cursory eyelids, gathering the offending and unwelcome moisture with haste. He sighs, a faltering thing. “I suppose I should have known. That you, too, would mistake my gestures for scorn. I cannot say your assessment is invalid, but it is certainly incorrect.”
Aventurine tilts his head, considerably more careful than before. His fair eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, shining with an almost-mimicry of Veritas’ state of being. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I apologize. I hadn't realized you had taken my approach to our relationship, strictly business or not, as true to my perspective of you,” Veritas says, shaking his head. “But I will clarify for you, if it's any consolation — you have never been, nor will ever be ‘below’ me. If anything, I find that your clever approach to many things leaves me in awe, to the point that I often cannot properly verbalize my emotions in that regard.”
The man beside him says nothing. For the first time amidst their entire outing, Aventurine is completely still. Not fidgeting, not gesturing with his hands, not wholly imbalanced where he stands. Waiting.
Veritas continues. “You are most certainly a fool in many regards. You lack any sense of self-preservation, thrusting yourself in all manners of danger for the sake of this grand gamble you invest yourself into. You talk too much and you tease to a point of unnerving. You offer yourself up for the IPC with no forethought for the state of your life, and yet… and yet.”
Aventurine looks at him as if he’s holding onto every word.
“And yet you still manage to succeed in every possible situation. You outwit foes and comrades alike with ease, each word you speak meticulously selected for each recipient and scenario. You have yet to experience a formal education, because our universe has failed you, yet the life you live substantiates that you have not required one. You are skilled with mathematics, commerce, and communications alike. You are skilled with taking me by surprise and sharpening my mind whenever we meet, as if fate has tied you to me in a manifestation of some unending trial for my ‘genius’ brain.” The words flood out from Veritas’ mouth before he can think twice to hinder the raw truth of them. But he cannot stop, because each word of unusually spoken praise brings a flicker of light to Aventurine’s eyes, something he cannot help but desire to see in permanence. “You are a smart man, Aventurine of Stratagems. Perhaps just as much so as you are radiant and enrapturing. I can only hope you are smart enough to discern my feelings for you, by now.”
Aventurine’s eyes widen, the rings of sapphire around his pupils sizing out of proportion in favor of their visible dilation. His breaths are short and heavy, almost unable to be heard alongside the sounds of chatter and classical instruments a few floors below them.
And then he smiles, endlessly warm and true. “I don’t know, doctor. I think I’d prefer you to tell me directly.”
Veritas frowns, wincing. “Please do not tease me right now.”
“Why not? You make such a pretty sight when you're flustered.”
“Frivolous words will not help your case.”
“Fine, then how about this?” Aventurine shifts ever so slightly closer, lightly trailing a thumb below Veritas’ eye and caressing his cheek with the motion. “I don’t want any more loose ends. I want to hear you say it. So that — that way, I’m not misunderstanding again. This isn’t a gamble I want to make without… well, without knowing the stakes, first.”
Veritas closes his eyes, burrowing into the warmth of Aventurine’s hand and feeling the fight leave his body. Truthfully, how could he ever say no?
In lieu of an immediate response, Veritas presses his hand up to the hand cradling his face, cupping it gently. At long last, he gathers the courage to maneuver that hand to his lips, a soft kiss to the palm of Aventurine’s hand. His hands are both calloused from past experiences and clever, adept at shuffling cards and doing coin tricks throughout the lifestyle he lives now. Hands that have braved countless tribulations and still have the capacity to hold, to instantly calm Veritas’ nerves.
Hands, much like the man who possesses them.
His grip loosens. “My only objective with this date was for you to know that regardless of the circumstances, there is someone in your life who wishes for you to live, and to do so without feeling quite as alone.” He feels Aventurine’s hand dip from his cheek to the line of his jaw, feeling every word in tactile motion. “A man who is terribly, hopelessly smitten with you.”
Aventurine chuckles, pinching him. “‘Smitten’, eh? Not the most conventional approach, but I guess I don’t mind.”
“Shall I call things off here so we can forget this ever happened?” Veritas says, his words tight with annoyance. Aventurine’s smile inches wider.
“No way! You’ve already poured both your heart and your wallet out for me. I don't do refunds.”
“What perilous insolvency I’ve found myself in.”
Laughter bubbles up even further, Aventurine’s forehead knocking against Veritas’ chest as he shakes with it. “Pffft… debt collection is Topaz’s job, Doc. But I’m happy to settle the score with you.”
Disbelief with just how unfiltered Aventurine’s joy is presented to him leaves Veritas’ heart wrenching, pounding rapidly in his chest. The sun’s rays have become submerged with the buildings across the cityscape, only the distant candlelight and stars peering above to illuminate the edges of their proximity. Veritas would almost feel betrayed by this development, if not for the fact that Aventurine shined so brightly on his own. Still attempting to stifle his incessant snickering, the man barely notices when Veritas pulls him in by the nape.
“You’re so…” Veritas trails off, suddenly unable to adequately deliver his sentence when Aventurine looks at him with so much awe. And then his gaze travels down to his lips, lacking entirely in subtlety, and Veritas can't hold himself back anymore. He kisses him.
Aventurine’s lips are soft, tasting of basil and champagne. One would expect from the way Aventurine presents himself that his affections would be bold and all-consuming, but with Veritas’ hand gently stroking his neck and Aventurine’s hand buried in Veritas’ hair, he is both pliant and eager. Veritas aims for a benign, honest connection before they part, but when Aventurine tugs lightly at his crown Veritas surges forth and sucks on his bottom lip, causing Aventurine to gasp with an unrestrained whimper. Oh.
Veritas pulls back, suddenly, uncertain if he’s overstepped an unspoken boundary, but Aventurine doesn’t move. His eyes are tightly shut, upper lashes trailing butterfly kisses over Veritas’ cheeks with their foreheads pressed together. He looks almost flustered, a rosy flush across his face, so Veritas simply leans forward again and pecks him once, twice. Claims his lips yet again.
Not much thought takes place afterwards. For once, Veritas’ brain finds itself unable to think, a pleasant buzz consuming his senses and struggling to find peace in anything but Aventurine’s embrace and the low, breathy sounds he makes into his mouth. It’s only when Aventurine’s tongue swipes over the space between them that Veritas grabs him by the shoulders and abruptly forces a distance. He can only stare at him, then, breathing reduced to heavy panting for common air.
Aventurine trails his thumb over Veritas’ lip instead, smug. “Aren’t you going to finish your sentence, Doctor?”
A pause. “...lovely,” Veritas says, only distinguishable between the two of them. “And foolish. Inconceivably foolish. Nonsensical! Incorrigible!”
“Woah,” Aventurine eloquently replies. “Quite the flatterer, aren't you?”
“How could you almost get yourself killed so carelessly? Within Penacony’s Sweet Dream Paradise, no less!” Veritas scolds him as Aventurine backs up, averting his eyes bashfully. “You are quite lucky indeed, to have extended me a key to your room, lest I stressed myself into an early grave of my own. The audacity.”
“So you were worried.”
“Of course I was,” Veritas responds, gesturing as if in mock offense, although it happened to be much the opposite. “Have you learned nothing from our discussion just now? Imbecile.”
Aventurine shakes his head with exasperation, but the look in his eyes remains unmistakably fond. “There’s the Dr. Ratio I know.”
Suddenly, a buzzing sound vibrates from Aventurine’s pocket where his phone is tucked away. He slides his free hand down and scans the words on the vibrant screen whilst Veritas patiently waits. A mere few seconds passes before Aventurine urgently flicks the lock screen open, reading whatever he witnessed in full from the application itself. “I think they’re waiting for me.”
Veritas feels his facial features drop. “What do you… ah. The meeting.”
“About ten minutes ago, Topaz contacted me. ‘I asked your subordinates if they’ve seen you anywhere, and one of them told me the last place you were seen was in the lobby with a man cosplaying an intellitron.’” Aventurine recites her messages. “Shortly afterward, ‘The meeting is soon. You’re going to be late. Don’t say I didn’t warn you if Opal takes action.’” Another scroll. “‘You are five minutes and twenty-seven seconds late. Timer’s going.’ Looks like there’s something you and Topaz have in common.”
“What, punctuality?” Veritas sighs. “You should hurry. Although it's unfortunate, our arrangement has already taken up an unreasonable amount of your time.”
“I thought it was pretty reasonable,” Aventurine nudges him. “But fine. I'd rather show up late to address things than not show up at all and face a worse penalty, I guess.”
As he maneuvers to gather his bag from beside the dining table, his phone returned to his pocket, Veritas watches in silence. That is before Aventurine speaks again.
“You know,” he begins, “You didn’t have to do all of this. A date this extravagant isn’t necessary to appease me, although I’m sure you're aware I enjoy it.”
Veritas hums. “Then where would you suggest we do next time?” Aventurine smiles, a mix of amusement and pleasure.
“Next time, huh?” Aventurine echoes. He readjusts the hat on his head and approaches Veritas with a glint in his eye, charmed. “Well, there is a certain event coming up. A festival, of sorts.”
“Oh?” Veritas lilts. “Do tell.”
“Well, I can’t say I’ve seen anyone celebrate it in… a really long time. Not since I was little,” he continues, quiet. “But I remember all of the traditions, and I often spend time by myself indulging in the practices alone. I wouldn't mind having someone to do them with, though. If you’re interested.”
Veritas smiles, then, crossing his arms. A sacred tradition that Aventurine is choosing to share with him, and it would only be their second outing. “An opportunity for more knowledge? Surely you know I would not pass it up. Consider me your student.”
“Hehe. Maybe then you could call me ‘Professor Aventurine?’ I kinda like the sound of it.”
“Don’t push it.”
Aventurine chuckles, his next words full of mirth and effervescence. “Alright, alright. Then I’ll show you. Just be warned that it might be a little strange — at least, for someone unfamiliar with our customs.”
“Many things in our universe seem strange when first encountered. That does not mean they should not be studied,” Veritas says. “What is the name of this festival? Perhaps I can attempt some investigation ahead of time, to see if its practices remain in any currently preserved texts.”
Aventurine’s expression tells Veritas that he highly doubts it. Yet he exhales, preparing himself to tell him anyway. “Kakava.”
“...Kakava,” Veritas repeats it. Stashes it away in his memory. “Fascinating. Very well, then.”
“Cool,” Aventurine says. “Great. Well, I gotta go. Topaz is probably counting the seconds while my vibrate is off, so.”
“I will see you soon, Aventurine.”
Aventurine waves a little awkwardly before shifting his bag in his grasp and turning away, strolling towards the roof’s door. The lamp’s adorning the exit cast warm tones along his shoulders and the silver of his jewelry. And then, just as he’s about to turn the knob and take his leave, he stops.
A beat passes. Then two, then three. And then Aventurine is turning around, scurrying in Veritas’ direction. As soon as he reaches him, confused and stiff where he remains, he yanks him by the chain of his neck ornament and kisses him.
It doesn't last long enough for Veritas to process or reciprocate before Aventurine pulls away. “It’s a date,” he whispers. “Okay. See ya.”
Then, he is gone.
Veritas watches the flames dance from the wick of each candle in the vicinity, feeling that his heart must be ablaze in a similar fashion. A steady heat with great intensity. Like the sun setting beyond reach, or the weight of a last-ditch effort in his palms, that scroll in a bottle, or the way Aventurine looked at him when he told him he shouldn’t ever be alone again. Refuge in a hearth that always seemed so impossible to win, yet he sought out all the same. The first and only gamble he has ever made.
What a foolish man he was. Inconceivably foolish.