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Aventurine suffers quietly.
He’s been a mess lately, for so long actually, that he can barely remember the last moment of true and unbridled happiness, with only eternal seeming numbness left in its stead, threatening to swallow him whole.
It had started slowly, the first signs not visible to the naked eye, especially to those many people around him, who didn’t bother looking behind his carefully crafted facade and saw nothing wrong with his behaviour because Aventurine was good at playing his given part, way too good for comfort at times.
It makes him wonder if he’s still the same boy his family tried to protect, deep down inside and hidden away or if he’s already become too corrupted for his innocence to ever return, a changed man forever.
And now he’s in his disheveled and untidy apartment, the air stagnant and stale, clothes and used dishes strewn all around, the food on them barely finished and growing mouldy in some places and as much as Aventurine despises the current mess, he can’t bring himself to clean it up.
He’s grown lethargic, a zombie who can’t take care of anything except work, from which he’s been missing in person for a short while, claiming the reappearance of Nihility symptoms, much to the displeasure (or in a few cases enjoyment) of the other Stonehearts.
The long and luxurious couch smack dab in the middle of his equally large living room has turned into Aventurine’s safe heaven, a place where he manages business partners and investors from and irregularly sleeps, mostly a couple of hours at a time and plagued by vivid and terrible nightmares.
He misses the cat cakes usually keeping him company and turning rough times into better ones but as a matter of precaution and since he really can’t take care of them, Aventurine has given the three away to his partner and friend Veritas Ratio, where they’ll be treated with the care they deserve and Aeons, he craves seeing all of and spending his days with them.
A sigh wrenches itself over his lips as he wipes away the holo screen in front of his tired face with a loose gesture of his hand and removes the accompanying earpiece, putting it somewhere on the cluttered mahogany table before aimlessly sitting around and staring into the air.
His stomach loudly growls and Aventurine realizes, he hasn’t eaten anything in the last 12 hours, nor consumed any kind of liquid, yet he also doesn’t particularly possess an appetite, every meal nowadays tasting bland and like he has to forcefully will it down his throat, not to mention the incidents of throwing everything right back up.
He could simply continue to sit here, turn on the TV for background noise and fight off sleep, until it eventually claims him anyway but instead a heavy knock on his front door nearly startles him out of his seat.
Aventurine isn’t expecting any visitors or at least he doesn’t remember inviting anyone and for one blissful moment, he imagines crawling under the nearby blanket and hiding from whoever wants to see him, though the knocking is quite persistent and then there is the sound of a muffled voice, a very familiar one.
“I know you’re home, Gambler,” Veritas speaks barely loud enough to be audible, the tone of his voice hard to interpret. “I’ll give you 5 more minutes before I open this door up by myself.”
It sounds very much like a wannabe threat and Aventurine wonders why exactly Veritas hesitates to make use of the key to this apartment he owns and curiosity does get the better of him, as his trembling legs struggle to get his body into an upright position, until they finally carry him towards the wooden wall separating him from the other.
“My dear Doctor,” Aventurine puts his charm on thick, once the door is open enough to reveal his thin stature, skilfully hiding the state of the room behind him. “What brings you to my lovely home on this fine evening? And pray tell, why are you not letting yourself in?”
Veritas is dressed nicely, a long coat and turtleneck keeping him warm in the already frosty autumn weather, his soft hair meticulously styled with the ever present laurel wreath glimmering in the dim light of the hallway.
“I have the decency to announce my arrival and give you the chance to compose yourself,” Veritas explains, his facial expression as neutral as can be. “Or have you forgotten about when I came in unannounced once and found you walking around completely bare?” he adds unamused and raises an eyebrow.
“We had sex afterwards, so I thought you liked it,” the blonde quips and shrugs, the corners of his mouth twisting into a genuine smirk as Veritas blushes in response. “Should we bet on me being able to guess why you’re here?”
“No need,” comes the swift and disappointing reply. “Your colleagues informed me of your absence and asked me to come examine you but if you’re well enough to crack jokes, I suppose your symptoms can’t be that bad.”
You have no idea.
Aventurine isn’t sure how to answer.
There are two choices coming to mind, one that’s playing the poor victim of an illness that, in actuality, hasn’t flared up in months, the second is coming clean about the truth of what’s happening behind closed doors, physical and mental ones alike and suddenly Aventurine is overwhelmed.
He trusts Veritas more than anyone else in this whole forsaken universe but what if he’s already ruined everything by putting on the persona of that invincible charmer and jokester, which the world knows him as? What if the older man concludes he definitely isn’t in need of any help and leaves?
He’s going to leave, he’s going to leave, stop him, stophimstophimstophim-
Awkward silence spreads between them and Aventurine’s throat is too dry to speak, producing a pathetic squeak so unlike the saccharine honey dripping from his tongue under normal circumstances and he catches Veritas’ gaze, maroon eyes mustering him from head to toe and what is it he sees in there?
It looks like compassion. Understanding. Interest. Disdain. Hate.
There is no way he cares. You’re imagining things.
The other’s mouth opens, then closes, once, twice and Aventurine suppresses the instinct to slam the door in his hand shut and run away.
“Do you need my help?” Veritas offers carefully, tending to him like a wounded animal ready to flee at the first signs of distress. “You can be honest and I won’t judge, Kakavasha.”
“That’s foul play,” Aventurine croaks and blinks away the hot tears appearing and burning in his eyes, his vision remaining blurry nonetheless. “I didn’t give out my name for you to abuse it like that.”
He’s obviously not offended, just stunned because he’s always Aventurine and Gambler and sometimes Idiot but so rarely allowed to be his real self.
“Give me 15 or 20 minutes and I’ll be presentable and we can go to a nice new restaurant. Opened a couple of days ago,” the younger blurts out before Veritas can get his turn, self-conscious once again and desperate to change the topic. “My treat.”
Who am I fooling?
From one second to the next, Aventurine feels small and exposed, the cold air of the outside world creeping into his very being and causing his bones to ache and never has he missed the fancy pyjamas set he owns more than right now, the plain shirt and shorts doing nothing to protect his limbs from the chill.
“Let me come in,” Veritas states resolutely and steps forward, gently wrenching the door out of his partner’s death grip and ushering them both inside.
It’s embarrassing to admit that the apartment appears worse than Aventurine had perceived it in the past weeks and his heart drops at the unruly sight of it all, how far he has let himself and his environment go, yet Veritas doesn’t mock or explode on him and seems to merely access the damage done.
“I’m trying out a sort of abstract style,” Aventurine weakly tries to joke, his words ringing hollow in his own ears and doing nothing to ease the nervous fluttering of his stomach and he almost wishes a hole would open up and swallow him whole.
“It’s not to my taste,” the older comments, still not maliciously and simply as a matter of fact. “I recommend you change it up and we take care of this together,” he goes on and waves his hand around in a circular motion, encompassing the entire room and relief floods Aventurine’s system. “Is the kitchen usable?”
Truth be told, he doesn’t know and so he tells Veritas exactly that and follows him closely, observing the same inspection taking place a second time and being granted to the fully stocked fridge and pantry too, a plethora of ingredients densely packed into every single row of them.
“Good,” Veritas eventually finishes and before Aventurine can question what’s so good about food rotting away because of his lasting aversion, the other starts to pick and choose from the grand selection presented to him, the marble countertop opposite of them quickly filling up with various goods, while Aventurine stands around uselessly and attempts to decipher the plan in motion.
“Talk to me, Doc,” he ropes the man back into conversation and seeks out the heated body calling to him, his arm wrapping itself around a firm waist.
“I will cook a meal for you,” comes the absentminded reply, though Veritas has enough sense to not push him away and go as far as break his focus and stop in his tracks. “After we’ve cleaned up and you have taken a bath.”
As if on command, Aventurine smells his body and clothes, luckily odourless in nature and he swears he can spot Veritas lightly smiling out of the corner of his left eye or perhaps it’s his mind playing tricks on him.
“What’s so funny?” he wants to know, hoping it comes across as playful and not hostile and yes, he must be going insane, since the older’s expression is as nonchalant as ever.
“Nothing,” Veritas speaks and lets the door to the fridge fall shut, apparently satisfied with his choices. “I’m not appalled by your scent, if that’s what you’re worried about. My suggestion is based on the fact of a bath being a great aid to bring your mind to relaxation. And you should listen to a professional’s advice.”
There’s no protest coming from Aventurine’s side and in spite of not being the most affectionate man, Veritas offers him his little finger, which the blonde gratefully takes and wraps his own around, letting himself get led back to the living room and receiving comforting guidance, like many a times in the past.
It takes them an hour and a half, two trash bags, opening up the double set of windows and a tiny cleaning robot meant to rid the floor of dust, to free most of the apartment from the existing mess and by the end of it, Aventurine is tired, the lack of sleep and food catching up to and earning him a place in Veritas’ strong arms, who lifts him up as if he weighs nothing and wordlessly carries him into the bathroom.
“Shall I stay?” Veritas questions his partner quietly, who only nods in return and lazily undresses before climbing into the spacious tub and lying down, warm water filling the porcelain around and covering him up to his chest soon after and hell, there’s even a bath bomb, a gift from the Doctor, seemingly procured out of nowhere.
The note of lilies hangs lightly in the air as Veritas collects the discarded clothing to throw it in the laundry before taking his place behind Aventurine and reaching for the attached shower head, wetting his partner’s matted hair and deciding on the first shampoo he can find, an expensive and well known brand in the galaxy.
“Feels amazing,” Aventurine sighs, while the other massages the product into his strands and includes his scalp in the process and he swears he could fall asleep this instant, though his eyes don’t close with the intent of premature rest. “I do have to ask..why are you doing this for someone like me?”
Probably out of pity.
“Come again?” Veritas murmurs, his hands continuing to work their magic.
They’ve already had this conversation and Aventurine is quite aware of that but his mind, in its vulnerable and lulled in state, cannot fathom love being given to him so freely, no cost or payment required. It never will.
“Well, people are usually after my luck or money or body or all three of those and I am trying to figure out what you’re going for. Money for your research perhaps?”
His claim is met with silence, then the sound of running water, when Veritas washes the foam out of his hair and combs through it once with the help of his fingers before assuming a kneeling position beside the tub, resulting in Aventurine popping one eye back open.
“Nonsense,” Veritas says, firm and without leaving room for any doubt. “I do this because I care and you matter to me,” he explains further and reaches out to lovingly cup his partner’s face, a rare gesture reserved for being in private. “Nothing will ever change that. Did I do anything to make you feel this way?”
“No,” Aventurine nearly chokes on one short, pathetic word, the tears from earlier announcing their return. “It’s just..this month,” he sobs in between his right eye revealing itself as well and wildly moving his hand around, causing water droplets to splash around, “has been hard. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth living. If I’ll ever be free from the shackles that bind me to the IPC,” the blonde rants on, raw emotions spilling over after being trapped so long. “If I’ve become one of the monsters I despised and reached the point of no return.”
Aventurine hates it. Truly hates the weakness he displays.
He doesn’t cry often, has grown numb to the downsides of his life and yet Veritas’ presence brings out something raw, a desire to let him know that behind all the glamour and glitz, he’s an entirely different person.
“The IPC does drive a hard bargain,” the Doctor begins, his thumb stroking over Aventurine’s cheek and catching a few stray tears. “Though you’re more than what they made you and you did it to survive,” Veritas goes on, soothing his nerves and worries. “And no matter who you are, whether it be Aventurine or Kakavasha, I’m at your side. It’ll be hard to get rid of me,” he chuckles. “Do you remember the advice I gave you on Penacony? It may be incredibly selfish of me to ask but I’d prefer for you to stay alive.”
Does he really?
“Do you really?” Aventurine voices his thoughts out loud, his heavily shaking left hand laying itself over Veritas’ bigger one and attempting to envelop it.
“Should I be offended you think of me as a liar?” Veritas muses and pulls him in, bringing the younger man into somewhat more of an upright position, until their faces are mere inches apart. “Yes, I mean every word I said. Really.”
Soft lips capture Aventurine’s with practiced movements and open his floodgates entirely, such a simple act of affection meaning the absolute world to him.
And even though the blonde has kissed many men, not always of his free will, it is in this kiss and the ones following in rapid succession, that he senses the true love he’s been craving, unfiltered and unending.
He eventually ends up against Veritas’ chest, slightly wetting the cotton of his upper wear, while unashamedly crying, a symphony of sorrow and deeply rooted sadness, yet also hope and faith in a better future, through which his partner holds him tightly, rubbing languid circles over his back.
“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you,” Aventurine ends up threatening, once his tears have run dry and Veritas laughs again, flashing him that beautiful smile meant purely for his gaze and no one else’s.
“I’d like to see you try, Gambler,” he comments on the claim, self-assured and tenderly pries the other away from himself, placing a final kiss on top of his forehead. “Your secret is safe with me.”
The remainder of the bath is thankfully uneventful, as Veritas refills hot water and assists in cleaning his face and body, lifts Aventurine out of the tub and dries him off with one of the plush towels, rubs lotion into his skin and even goes as far as picking fresh stay at home clothing from his overflowing wardrobe.
“I was wondering where this went,” Veritas scolds the blonde and holds up a stolen sweater of his, helping him into it nonetheless and despite the dark blue material being way too oversized, the sight of Aventurine stripped of his armour of designer brands and sparkling jewellery, fills his heart with fondness.
Swooping the younger up bridal style for the second time today, their next stop is the couch, fluffed up pillows finding their way behind Aventurine’s back before he’s bundled up in a changed and large blanket, while Veritas simultaneously turns on the TV to play a documentary on some discovery channel and leaves for the kitchen, promising to not take long and return fast.
Aventurine naps away almost instantly and when a nudge to the shoulder startles him awake, there is a bowl of steaming lentil soup, topped off with greek yoghurt and two pieces of toast on an extra plate beside it, placed on the table and his stomach angrily growls, reminding him of its emptiness.
“Ugh,” he scoffs at the cooked carrots mixed into the meal but goes for a scoop of it anyway, the different flavours melting on his tongue and standing in stark contrast to the microwaveable food and takeout he’s lived off of the previous weeks, a competition easily won.
“Don’t ugh me, young man,” Veritas clicks his tongue and takes his seat close to him, their shoulders brushing against each other. “You’d do well to eat them. In fact, heating has a high chance of increasing their calcium levels, freeing up more nutrients and not to mention the fact that they possess vitamin A-“
“I get it, I get it,” Aventurine interrupts the other’s rambling and rolls his eyes, though there’s a smirk present on his lips.
He loves to hear his partner talk deeply about the most mundane things.
His head slots itself on Veritas’ shoulder, while he eats in comfortable silence, fighting off brief nausea and the pleasant warmth that settles in his stomach, serves as evidence for the thoughtful treatment he’s lucky to experience and does not fail to make him sleepy all over.
“I’ll pay you back somehow,” he yawns, the bowl and plate scraped entirely clean.
“You don’t have to,” Veritas returns, visib- and audibly relieved about the food being gone and accepts Aventurine, who tiredly climbs onto his lap, into his arms, his front facing that of the other. “Seeing you happy is all the payment I require.”
“You know what would make me even more happy? You staying the night.”
“Consider your request granted. Should I bring us to bed?”
“No. Stay like this. With me. Just a bit longer.”
Veritas’ response comes in form of his muscular arms pulling him into a tight hug and whispered promises of never leaving him alone and for the first time, since the beginning of this terrible month, Aventurine’s mind is peacefully quiet and fulfilled, the only thoughts in it revolving around nicer days to come and storing a mental note of asking Veritas to accompany him outside and visit the cats tomorrow.
“I love you,” Aventurine utters under his breath before sleep can claim him for the night, not expecting a spoken confession because to be honest, he doesn’t require one but Veritas decides to indulge him anyway.
“I know. And thank you for allowing me to love you as well.”
As his eyes drift shut, Aventurine realizes one last thing.
With Veritas by his side, he doesn’t need to suffer by himself any longer.