Work Text:
I just want you to be happy, is all.
Those had been the last words Aventurine had sent to Dr. Ratio, seconds before blocking him on all possible communication avenues and fleeing to Taikiyan for three weeks and dodging Guild meetings for another month after that. Now, at a small event hosted by Pearl (too small to cancel on), he is seeing his ex-flame for the first time; and there's another man on his arm. Short, with pale hair tied in a low ponytail and a striking eyepatch, Ratio's companion argues with someone Aventurine vaguely recognizes as another member of the Guild.
It's hard to think when his stomach is in this many knots.
"I told you it wasn't that serious between us," he laughs to Topaz. "He's already bare-faced with his new boyfriend."
"... you're joking, right?" She frowns at him from the corner of her eye.
Aventurine takes a glass from a walking waitress and downs it without thinking, muffling a cough as he realizes too late it was straight ethanol - intended for the Intellitrons in attendance. Oh well. He's ingested worse. "Don't try to back out of a bet, 'Paz. I was right. He's happier now that I'm not bothering him all the time."
(That had been the hardest part. They had only slept together a few times but they talked so often, either through work emails or text messages or social media, that reminding himself not to send something to Ratio happened almost every day.)
"... huh. Give me a minute," she says, summoning Numby with a snap of her fingers and muttering instructions to it. Various screens pop up between them, and Aventurine takes a side step to avoid standing in a hologram—
—and makes eye contact with Dr. Ratio.
It's broken quickly, Ratio turning his back on Aventurine to pay better attention to the group, but his companion had already followed Ratio's gaze over. The man strides across the room, long coat fluttering behind him.
He comes to a stop in front of Topaz, who raises a gloved finger. "I'll be with you in a moment, please."
"Keep working," he murmurs, voice lower and sharper than Aventurine expected, and the man studies the backside of the holograms with open curiosity. "Your companion appears to be helping you," he declares after a moment. "Fascinating."
"Warp Trotters are smarter than people give them credit for," Topaz says absently.
"Is that what it is? Hm."
It's strange to not be the biggest oddity in the room. Aventurine coughs. "I didn't catch your name earlier, you are...?"
"Professor Anaxagoras," the man says without taking his eyes off of Numby, who has started making nervous little sniffles under the intense scrutiny.
"Nice to meet you. I am—"
"Aventurine, the Stoneheart of Stratagems. I know. I've heard." Anaxagoras tilts his head to the side. "It's this one I don't know," and his tone softens ever so slightly. "You are..."
"This is Numby," Topaz says, shutting down her screens with a bright little expression. Aventurine's phone buzzes in his pocket with a notification. "It doesn't speak, but we're able to communicate through other means."
"Explain."
Aventurine checks his phone.
From: [email protected]
Subject: You're An Idiot
Body: Pictures are worth a thousand words, so here's 10k of you being wrong. You're welcome.
Attachment: Timeline-of-Ratio-photos.pdf
Watching Ratio's new fucktoy talk to Topaz about animal behavior wasn't going to be much fun anyway, so Aventurine excuses himself to the corner of the room to read.
The first photo in the file is one from last year of Ratio receiving some award from his university. His expression is stern, in sharp contract to those around him in joyful attendance. Typical doctor.
The next is more recent, a crop of a press release photo of Sapphire discussing Antimatter Legion suppression tactics where himself and Ratio were in the background. It's hard to tell at the resolution, but they're standing just a little bit closer to each other to anyone else. Aventurine swallows.
The third, fourth, and fifth are similar in subject matter. Candids from paparazzi, snapshots of them together in the margins of other moments. Perfectly professional in every one, but there's something just a little... more in their interactions. Aventurine's smiles are a little brighter, and he chews the inside of his lip just to have something to hurt.
The sixth is—
A personal photo, taken on someone's phone. Just after Penacony, when they're standing in the lobby of the Reverie. Aventurine's legs were still a little unsteady and Ratio had caught him with an offered arm. Aventurine's head is tilted down as he laughs off the moment, but Ratio's attention is focused entirely on the man gripping his arm and he looks—
Aventurine hurries to the next one, and it's even worse.
Another background photo, where over the shoulder of a smiling woman he doesn't know, he sees Ratio leaving Aventurine's apartment with a soft smile on his face.
On instinct, Aventurine looks up.
Across the room, Ratio looks away, the lines in his body sharp with miserable tension, his expression flat and his eyes vacant with apathy.
Well.
Fuck.
Hours later, Aventurine stares at his bedroom ceiling in the dark, tracing the floral pattern of the cat-cake on his chest with his fingertips, lost in thought. Wondering if, millions of miles away, Ratio lies awake as well - alone in bed or with his plus-one from that night beside him, curled up and asleep like Aventurine never could bring himself to do. (The memories of being forced to share a bed with his masters kept him awake, and the chance he might fall asleep and into one of his usual nightmares made the prospect even worse.)
He checks Topaz’s email again and studies the last photo once more; Ratio turning away from a paparazzi photo, his bust half-constructed over his face, but the sliver of the expression visible there was haunted. Taken just days after Aventurine’s trip after the one-sided decision to break up.
The evidence is clear. Aventurine had made Dr. Ratio’s life dramatically worse by cutting him off. The only question was what to do about it now?
On impulse, he grabs a different phone and dials one of seven identical contacts stored inside. He doesn’t have to wait long.
“Yeah?”
“Ranger,” he greets the woman on the other end of the line. “I… I wanted your opinion on a personal matter.”
Acheron hums. “I’ve got a little time.”
“Do you remember the— friend who gave me that letter? The one you said was my answer to why humans exist?”
“I don’t. I’m sorry. Who—”
“It doesn’t matter.” His cheeks feel hot with shame. “It’s just— I hurt him while trying to protect him. And I’m not sure if that’s something I can… fix or not.”
Another little pause. “What were you protecting him from?”
“Heartache,” Aventurine says. “Grief. Sinking too much time into a failed venture.”
“Hmmm. An emotional threat, then.”
“Yeah.”
“Did it help?”
He chuckles. “No. He— got hurt anyway. And I… I don’t know if I should bother trying to fix it. I don't think I can fix it. I mean, I’m the reason he got hurt in the first place. He’s a good guy— a great one, really, even if he’s kind of an asshole when you first meet him.”
Aventurine stops to wipe something off his cheek.
“It sounds like you want to fix it,” Acheron says, in her quiet rasping voice. “I think that’s reason enough to try.”
“What if… what if I make it worse? Or I help him now, but hurt him later?”
“An imperfect apology is better than silence. And doing nothing is already eating at you, isn't it?”
He nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
“There’s your answer, then.” Something roars in the background. “I’ve got to go. Keep fighting your own battle, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you.”
The line goes dead. Acheron never responds to his gratitude; perhaps she thinks she doesn't deserve it. In any case, it leaves Aventurine with an itch for action.
He switches back to his usual phone and starts rearranging tomorrow’s schedule.
He’s not in his usual finery when he visits Veritas Prime; dressed more like a member of the faculty, he smiles his way through campus and walks himself to the physics building cloaked in confidence. Thursdays, Ratio keeps office hours here from 10am to noon, then 2pm to 4pm. It’s ten to two now as Aventurine trots down the hall and spots the line of students waiting already.
He walks to the front of the line and holds up his wallet. “How much to make all of you go away?”
Nine minutes and a few thousand credits later, Aventurine feels the door at his back click as the lock disengages. He has just enough time to turn (and stick a foot out preemptively) as it opens.
Ratio’s bust shows no emotion, but his tone speaks volumes. “No.”
“They're called office hours,” Aventurine protests as he blocks the close of the door with his leg. “They didn't specify they were for University students only. I’ll be quick, I promise.”
The stone face that stares at him through the gap is impassive, but the door opens again anyway. Ratio retreats to his desk as Aventurine lets himself in, locking the door behind him. He may have paid them all for fifteen minutes, but new students could come by at any time.
As he watches Ratio sink into his chair, body language stiff with irritation and resignation, something shiny catches Aventurine’s eye.
"I was starting to wonder where that went.” He pretends to examine the ring sitting on Dr. Ratio's desk; gold, gaudy, and nearly identical to two dozen others in his possession.
On the other side of the desk, unreadable behind his plaster bust, Ratio speaks for the second time since Aventurine waltzed in during his University mandated office hours: "then take it, and get out."
A memory springs to mind; kneeling under Ratio's desk and peeling off his gloves before putting his mouth to good use. It must have rolled under the furniture then, but that was... five or six months ago. He kept it all this time?
"I don't need it," he deflects, resting his hip on the edge of the desk. "I... came to apologize."
"For?"
"For... hurting you."
The scoff that answers him twists the knife a little deeper. "If you don't know what you did, go home and reflect on your actions some more. Do not waste my time trying to take responsibility for someone else's emotions."
"I'm trying, Ratio," he snaps back. "I don't have a lot of practice with this, you know. All my healthy relationships are dead."
He stands, half ready to leave, and paces to the other side of Ratio's office. Normally, you'd expect to see the walls covered in the diplomas and accomplishments of the person who works there, but Ratio's largest wall is taken up by a portal window. Currently, a park is displayed, with green grass and a blue sky splashed with white clouds and a family of waterfowl slowly swimming across a pond.
There's a crackle of Imaginary energy behind him, then Ratio's voice, unmuffled. "What actions did you take that you regret?" he asks in his teaching voice, and it stings Aventurine's raw nerves but he bites his tongue and he listens instead. Thinks.
"I shouldn't have decided what was best for you," he tells the window. "You— you can make your own decisions."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Is there anything else you regret?"
Aventurine crosses his arms. "You know I won't grovel for you—"
"That is not what I'm asking for." The thrum of wheels across the floor, the squeak of leather, then Ratio's voice is right behind him. "I'm asking if you are only seeking to mend our professional relationship."
Of course there's more he regrets. Aventurine has hardly made a decision he's enjoyed his entire life. Ending things with Ratio was one of them, and maybe starting it in the first place was, too. At least now he wouldn't feel the crackle of tension between them as they stand side by side in front of the window, watching birds on some unknown, distant planet glide across the lake.
"I... I do miss you, but— I didn't come here only to try to get you back. I really... didn't want to hurt you, even if— even though I was just trying to protect myself. You're a good guy, doctor."
As they watch, the window's vision shifts to an underwater view of a coral reef dappled in gentle sunlight, scattered with colorful fish and lively crustaceans.
"So?" Aventurine prompts, peering over the arm of his sunglasses up at the man beside him. "How many points do I get?"
"Metric scores for emotional development is unhelpful and misleading," Ratio says, still watching the fish. "Growth is seldom measurable or linear."
"C'mon," he nudges him with his elbow. "Humor me."
"... seven out of ten. A passing grade, but still room for improvement," he relents, returning Aventurine's gaze from the corner of one red-lined eye.
The distance between them remains, but Aventurine feels a little lighter. "I'm a few minutes late for a meeting but— feel free to message me if you need anything."
"All right."
Aventurine retrieves his hat from the hook by the door and steals one last glance at Ratio as he goes. In the cyan light of the window, his red eyes - both of which are trained on Aventurine - look just a little bit like his own.
Like a starving animal on a chain.
Only when the door blocks Ratio from his sight can he start to breathe again. "Better than nothing," he mutters to himself, and hurries down the hall.