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How does a body harbor so many ugly reminders of its past? What are the purposes of things like phantom pain, nightmares, scars, stress that overstays its welcome and lingers long after the event that caused it? Why do these symptoms exist, if not only to torment the unwilling, unconsenting inhabitant of the body they reside within? The last remaining Avgin in the entirety of the cosmos asked himself questions such as these once in a while. He wished he liked himself. He wished he could be comfortable in his skin more often. The ability to be neutral about or even appreciate one’s own body seemed like second nature to most people. But most people never had to go through the things he’d experienced. They would never truly understand what he felt. Sometime he wished they could, but that was a horrible, selfish wish. No one deserved to feel those things, of course they didn’t. He just wished that they didn’t look at him like that.
Aventurine knew people found him to be an attractive man. He’d taken advantage of this countless times. But he never felt attractive. He couldn’t look at himself and think “handsome, pretty, beautiful,” no matter how many times the words were tossed at him carelessly by those he interacted with for work. He felt like some sort of valuable object— a gemstone, as it were— that people were hesitant to touch, fearing his shiny surface would be tarnished. Because if people knew what Aventurine of Stratagems looked like under his fancy clothes, knew that his flashy exterior was meant to be deceiving and distracting, then he wouldn’t be “pretty” at all anymore. He didn’t want to admit that he might be a vain person, though maybe he was. Isn’t one definition of vanity a sort of obsession with physical appearance? But then, surely hating the awful scarring across his skin was reasonable, something that could be excused for extenuating circumstances. Anyone would hate them. Although he could ignore their existence on most days, there were times during which he just couldn’t seem to. Aventurine grabbed the worn hem of his t-shirt and twisted his torso as he pulled it up, staring hard at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The ones on his back were the worst. They were healed, in an objective, medical sense, but he despised them the most. He stretched an arm behind himself in an attempt to touch one. Then, giving up, he whirled back around and leaned closer, one hand gripping the ceramic sink. He hooked a finger on the collar of his shirt and yanked it down enough to see the fainter scars that were on his chest. These were easily hidden by clothing, except for when he forced himself to look. He let go of his shirt and tilted his head to glare at his neck, at the commodity code that was an eternal remnant of the past. This was the only one he allowed to be visible to the world. In some act of defiance, or remembrance, a reminder that he’d lived to tell his tale. Even so, he couldn’t say he’d fully accepted it's presence— this little wallowing in self-pity session was proof of that. He knew doing this was only making him feel worse, but he didn’t do it often. Surely some variables were cancelling out there. Or maybe he really was vain. Aventurine whined, a terribly pathetic sound, more like some sort of skittish animal than a man.
“Are you alright?” A voice behind him asked, making him jump violently before he reminded himself that he was fine. He turned around quickly like a child that had been caught doing something wrong. Ratio stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking a mix of uneasy and confused. Oh. Right. There was a world outside of Aventurine’s head, wasn’t there?
“I’m fine,” he said, convincing not even to himself. “I didn’t hear you at the door.”
“I didn’t think so.” Ratio took a step closer, and Aventurine forced himself to meet his eyes. “You’re in here looking at yourself in the mirror— which, well, wouldn’t be anything I would interrupt if you weren’t looking at yourself so unkindly.” That hurt a little. Mostly because Ratio wasn’t supposed to bear witness to that look.
“Sorry you had to see that.” Ratio’s expression shifted from confusion to something deeply sad. That hurt even worse.
“Gambler, that’s so… Tell me what’s wrong.” His tone was inviting, not demanding.
“It’s not—”
“You may not think it’s a ‘big deal,’ or whatever depreciating thing you’re about to say. But you’re upset about something. Don’t you think I could help, if you tell me?” Aventurine wasn’t too sure about that. A conversation would have to last longer than an Amber Era for him to have time to unpack this particular set of problems. Ratio could do a lot of things, but he couldn’t work miracles. Plus, Aventurine didn’t care to ask his partner questions like “am I attractive to you? Do you think I’m ugly? Would you tell me?” It all seemed awfully juvenile.
“It’s a silly thing,” he said, an arbitrary disclaimer. “Just me being… weird…”
“That doesn’t have to be a bad thing. But us going back and forth like this really isn’t much help.”
“Ratio, what do you like about me?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could filter them.
“Uh—” Ratio blinked, clearly not expecting him to say that. “I don’t believe you’ve ever asked me anything like that before.”
“Yeah, trust me, I’m surprised, too. I know it’s stupid. You don’t really need to answer,"
“I absolutely need to answer,” Ratio said, quickly recovering from his mild surprise. “What do I love about you? Everything. I love—”
“About my appearance,” Aventurine interrupted, feeling the need to clarify.
“The answer isn’t conditional, gambler. I love everything about you. Including the parts you don’t like about yourself.” Oh, how he wished that would be the end of this— easy to accept and move on from. But it made him feel neither better nor worse, and that was disappointing.
“Fine.”
““Fine”? You’re beautiful, Aventurine. You don’t believe me?” Aventurine felt his throat start to tighten, a warning sign of oncoming emotion that he preferred not to let escape.
“Sort of? Well— I don't know. I wish I could see myself how you clearly see me, but sometimes I can’t look past my scars. They make me feel ugly, and I hate them— however childish that sounds. And if you telling me directly that you disagree isn’t enough to convince me, I doubt any amount of conversation can.” Ratio didn’t speak for a moment, and Aventurine wondered if he was upset.
“It doesn't have to be a conversation,” he finally said.
“Do explain.” Ratio walked over and placed his hands on Aventurine’s shoulders, gently steering him away from the bathroom mirror.
“We’ve never done much talking about this to begin with. But if you think talking about it is futile, I’ll prove it to you in another way. If you’ll allow me to.”
“Okay.” He would accept any method at this point, and was admittedly grateful for the intervention. Ratio didn’t let go until he’d led Aventurine to their bed and gestured for him to sit. Aventurine stared up at him, unsure of what was to come next. He raised an eyebrow when Ratio took off his own shirt and tossed it to the floor.
“Your turn,” Ratio said simply. Aventurine did not protest. He yanked his t-shirt off and threw it away from him somewhat aggressively. He kept his eyes forward, looking only at Ratio. He did not want to look at himself. Ratio moved again, this time removing his sweatpants and adding them to the pile. He nodded, and Aventurine mirrored him. They continued this silent exchange until they were both fully naked. Aventurine was always more than happy and willing to be casually unclothed in front of Ratio, and the doctor shared the sentiment. But right now, he felt more vulnerable than usual. Ratio almost never said anything about Aventurine’s scarring, never alluded to them in conversation or even looked at them for more than a few seconds, and Aventurine liked things that way. He’d given Ratio the whole “before i take my clothes off, here’s what to expect” spiel once before— the first time they’d had sex. And that was only because he had to. A few days after, he’d gone to Ratio and requested they never talk about them unless absolutely necessary. He much preferred to be treated with some semblance of normalcy than as someone who’d gone through unimaginable pain. But he couldn’t help his curiosity.
“What is this, some kind of exposure therapy? I didn't know you were trained in that stuff.”
“I wouldn't exactly call it that.”
“What're you doing, doc? No need to be coy— if you wanna see me naked, you can just ask.” Ratio made a sound like the beginning of a laugh and moved over to be next to him.
“I’m not complaining, of course. But that isn't the end goal. I said I would prove to you that I think you're beautiful, and I want you to believe me.” His expression was neutral, but far from emotionless.
“Doctor's orders.”
“Good.” With only that one word, Aventurine’s brain betrayed his anticipation to his body. His skin felt like it was buzzing faintly, and goosebumps rose on his arms for a reason that had little to do with the temperature of the room. An intense chill jolted through him when Ratio’s hands shifted against his sides, cool fingers sliding over his hips.
“Doc,” Aventurine said, voice barely above a whisper. Ratio leaned in and rested his cheek on Aventurine’s shoulder, then slid one hand back and up to the nape of his neck. He exhaled, and the feeling of his breath sent another shiver down Aventurine’s spine.
“Gambler, tell me at any time, if you want me to stop, will you?” He gave Aventurine’s hip a gentle squeeze, as if prodding him to answer.
“I will.” Content with this reply, Ratio said nothing more. He pressed his lips to Aventurine’s neck, to the very place marred by an ugly brand, and kissed the skin there without a second’s hesitation. Aventurine took in a sharp breath, expecting it to last for only a moment. Ratio had done this before, but it was always a fleeting thing. When the two of them were deep in the throes of passion, he would kiss that spot once or twice before moving on. Aventurine never had the time to figure out how it made him feel, being too aroused or too preoccupied with Ratio’s pleasure to care. But this was different. It felt good. Ratio lingered there, purposeful and slow. Once he seemed to be satisfied, he continued on, moving to kiss the other side without breaking contact even once. Aventurine closed his eyes. His hands found Ratio’s shoulders and pulled him closer. Ratio acquiesced right away, pushing forward until they were both lying down with himself above Aventurine. When he drew back, Aventurine let out a breath he’d forgotten he was holding in. He stared at Ratio, sitting between his legs and clearly holding back a sly smile.
“Enjoying yourself?” Ratio asked. Aventurine tried and failed to scowl at him.
“Yes, I am.” He lifted a leg and rested his calf on Ratio’s shoulder, prodding at his face with the inside of his foot. “And you know you didn’t need to ask me that.”
“I wanted to hear you say so. Call it a performance review.”
“Ten points,” Aventurine said, mocking Ratio’s habit of assigning joke ratings to things. Ratio turned his head and kissed Aventurine’s ankle. There were scars there too, he remembered.
“Just ten? Should I assume you now believe that you’re beautiful and that there’s no need for me to go on?” Teasing, at a time like this?
“Ratio, don’t you dare stop. Please.” If Ratio had been wearing a shirt, Aventurine would have grabbed it and held tight until he got his wish. But they were equally nude and vulnerable, so he settled for the ‘please’ and hoped it was enough. Ratio gently shrugged Aventurine’s leg off of his shoulder and reached for him again. This time, his hands came to rest atop the slight swell of Aventurine’s chest and squeezed comfortably. This section of Aventurine’s body was free of any significant scarring. There were smaller, shallower ones scattered over his chest and stomach, but none so prevalent as to inspire truly awful memories. These had mostly been acquired on dangerous missions, his punishments for being too brash or relying too much on luck. Some of them were in the late stages of or completely finished healing, with only faint white lines marking where bright red blood had originally been spilled. He could overlook them. Ratio didn’t. He trailed his mouth over every single one, no matter how small. Aventurine expected him to continue on after giving his attention to the scars. But Ratio’s hands only shifted up and around in a steady kneading motion. Aventurine almost let out a loud gasp as the chill returned to wrack his body, strongest where that movement was. He squirmed under the touch— not uncomfortable, but deeply enjoying it and starting to get overwhelmed. Taking obvious enjoyment in the fact that Aventurine was reacting how he was, Ratio continued to massage his chest, a tiny smile gracing his features. Sensing that the atmosphere of the room was getting hotter and heavier, he grinned wider and ghosted his thumbs over Aventurine’s nipples. Just barely. Aventurine really did gasp this time, and Ratio removed his hands immediately.
“Doc,” Aventurine whispered.
“Hm?”
“That caught me off guard.”
“I’m sorry.” Ratio nodded in apology, still not taking any further action. Aventurine waited. Ratio raised an eyebrow.
“You’re so stubborn.”
“So are you.” He still didn’t move. Aventurine was practically shaking.
“Veritas Ratio, if you don’t put your hands back on me right now, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“As you wish.” And he did. He continued to brush over Aventurine’s nipples, then brought his mouth to one and licked at it. His lips and tongue were hot and his movements were slow, and he sucked a red mark onto Aventurine’s skin with wonderful precision. He breathed in the scent of his body like it was necessary to live. Aventurine tried to hold back a sound (a sob? a moan? he didn’t even know), completely undone by the sensations. It didn’t go unnoticed by Ratio, now pressing soft fingertips into his waist.
“Don’t keep it in,” he muttered softly. “I love to hear you.” As if to further emphasize this, Ratio quickly adjusted his own body, sliding back up and burying his face into Aventurine’s neck again. The brief friction drew a much louder moan from Aventurine’s throat, and he could feel its vibration with Ratio’s skin pressed heavily against his.
“Ratio,” he said, half scolding, half wanting more. “Ratio Ratio Ratio—” He was cut off by a kiss, warm and breathtaking. He groaned again, taking in the feeling of the mouth against his.
“Aventurine,” Ratio said when he pulled away. “You’re pretty.” Immediately, Aventurine’s body proved that it was not on his side. Tears pricked at his eyes, threatening to fall. He blinked them back and raised a hand to cover his face in a rare moment of shyness. Ratio intercepted its path, brought it to his lips, and grazed his teeth over the sensitive skin of Aventurine’s inner wrist. It was raised, and not very soft, never having fully recovered from its past of being bound with metal or rope. But these scars didn’t seem to bother him either. If they do, Aventurine thought, he’s doing a great job at hiding it.
“Ratio.” That seemed to be the only word he was capable of saying out loud at the moment.
“Do you believe me yet?” The answer to this was now a pretty resounding ‘yes,’ but Aventurine was hesitant to say so. He felt good, felt attractive, felt a tear slide down his cheek, but he didn’t want Ratio to stop yet. Ratio rubbed a thumb over Aventurine’s face, wiping away the tear, and he searched through the haze of emotion in his mind to find his voice again.
“Don’t stop.” It wasn’t an answer to the question, but it was an answer nonetheless.
“Alright.” Ratio moved a stray lock of Aventurine’s hair behind his ear. “Where do you want me next?”
“Anywhere. Everywhere. It doesn’t matter.” Ratio nodded, endlessly devoted. “Wait, actually, can you— sorry—”
“Don’t apologize. I’ll indulge you regardless. Where?” Aventurine’s heart was doing flips, as if he wasn’t used to hearing things like this. He was, but the novelty never wore off.
“My back.” His voice was on the verge of cracking embarrassingly, but Ratio only smiled his terribly kind smile and lay down next to him.
“Turn this way,” he requested with a quick little wave of the hand. Aventurine turned, trying to release the tension in his shoulders. His usual aversion to having his back facing another person (even if that person was Ratio) seemed to have withdrawn into the back of his mind. All he wanted now was for the doctor to continue doing what he’d been doing. What a privilege this was; for someone to see the parts of him that he’d always gone to great lengths to keep hidden, and show them such gentle affection— this was what he deserved. He couldn’t get rid of the scars, but he could learn to let them be.
“Gambler,” Ratio said, interrupting his revelation.
“Yeah, doc.”
“Can I touch them?” Aventurine could feel the warmth from his body, even though they weren’t making contact.
“Please.” Ratio splayed his fingers out on Aventurine’s back— slowly, like he was trying to preserve his hand print in clay or sand or snow. This was more overwhelming than anything else he’d done thus far. Aventurine couldn’t wrap his head around the concept of being… not repulsed by the sight of these wounds. Even thinking about touching them made his fingers twitch uncomfortably. But oh, here was Ratio. Tracing over the rough edges with more kindness than Aventurine had ever shown to himself.
“You’re so strong, Aventurine.” Ratio kissed his back. “You’re strong, you’re brave and bold. You’re more resilient than anyone else I’ve ever met.” Another kiss, and another.
“You’re beautiful. I’ve said it a million times, and I’ll say it as many more as you need me to. I love you so much. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know.” Aventurine shut his eyes tightly, but still, more hot tears escaped. They streamed over the bridge of his nose and across his face, ultimately landing to form a damp spot on the sheets. Quiet though he was, nothing got past Ratio.
“Gambler,” he said softly. “It’s alright.” The gentleness in his voice and touch were all too much. Aventurine swiftly rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow, shoulders trembling with quiet sobs. Ratio rubbed his back sympathetically until he resurfaced again.
“How do you have this effect on me?” Aventurine asked through a veil of tears, acutely aware of how pitiful he probably looked right now. Ratio expertly held back a laugh.
“I just like seeing you happy.” If Aventurine hadn’t just shed all the tears he had in him, that would have gotten him started again.
“You’re a good man, Veritas.”
“Can we revisit our questions from earlier?” Ratio asked.
“Which ones?”
“Well, you asked me what I like about you, and I told you ‘everything.’ If you’ll recall.”
“Vaguely.”
“Then I asked you if you believe that you’re attractive to me, and you essentially said no.”
“That doesn’t sound like me at all.” Ratio kissed his face in retaliation.
“All I’d like to know, gambler, is if your answer to that is any different. I won’t be hurt if it hasn’t— I know these things take time. But it’s important to me that eventually, you can say ‘yes’ with no reservations.”
“I'll say it right now. Yes. I believe you. I may doubt myself, I'll never doubt you.” He wrapped his arms around Ratio, pressing close so their bodies fit together. “Thanks, doc.”
“I should be thanking you— I’m the one who got to feel up the most beautiful man in the cosmos for several minutes on end.”
“Laying it on thick, aren’t you?”
“Not at all. I’m glad I could help. I’d love to do it again sometime.” Aventurine kissed him with all the passion and feeling he had in his body. Ratio moved a hand down to Aventurine’s thigh and let it linger there. A familiar warmth stirred beneath his navel, intensified with every second of Ratio using just the right amount of pressure and motion. He broke away from the kiss, much to Ratio’s displeasure, evidenced by the very disappointed noise he made.
“Doc. Doctor.” Aventurine said, breathing getting heavy as Ratio tongued at his neck again and squeezed his thigh hard enough to make him dizzy. “You know, there are— mm— there're other ways you can make me feel good.” Ratio laughed quietly.
“Really.”
“Yep.”
“Are you sure it’ll be as effective?”
“Yes, Ratio, come on, please.”
“Who am I to deny you?” Aventurine pressed his hips against Ratio’s in lieu of a response, wanton and impatient. Ratio groaned softly, hands already resuming their task of roving over Aventurine’s body. Aventurine closed his eyes and melted into the feeling. His wrists, where he’d been bound with ropes and chains, were now free to be stroked gently and treated with care. The cold, hard floor he was long ago forced to sleep on every night was replaced with a warm bed and his partner’s soft chest. On his neck, atop the place where a red-hot iron had once been pressed against his skin by someone who harbored nothing but hate, there were tender red marks, playfully put there by someone whose affection for him could never be tarnished. His back, though permanently covered in rough, uneven wounds, felt like they’d been healed. His earlier thoughts of ‘no one could ever see all of me and still find me desirable’ were replaced with ‘Ratio wants me. Ratio thinks I’m pretty.’ Instead of feeling pain that wasn’t really there, his skin only ached to feel more of Ratio’s mouth. All the places that he’d always thought could only ever be sources of anything but pain and suffering were being written over by love.