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"What are you doing?"
Aventurine doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. He doesn't do either.
"I could ask you the same thing, dear doctor," he says without turning around. "Did you follow me here?"
"Out of concern, yes," Ratio says, and Aventurine notes with mild interest how readily he admits it. He also notes that Ratio's voice sounds much closer now than it did a moment ago.
"Concern?" he says, barking out a short laugh. "Whatever for? It's perfectly safe here. A perfect dream."
A short pause. Aventurine stares at the lights below. They seem duller than usual, but so does everything else these days, so it doesn't strike him as unusual. The ground is so far away and so, so inviting.
"I believe that there has been a misunderstanding," Ratio says after a moment. He sounds relieved, but on edge at the same time. It's an odd mix of emotions, one that Aventurine doesn't really understand.
"Oh, there's no misunderstanding here," Aventurine says lightly. "Don't worry, doc, I know what I'm doing. I've done this before, remember? It won't hurt me, not here."
Although maybe it would be better if it did. A second chance to feel something, perhaps. If the fall doesn't do it, maybe this time he'll at least get to know what it feels like to hit the ground before he wakes up.
If only he could be so lucky.
"Aventurine," Ratio says, his voice sharp and biting. "Look at me right now."
For a moment, Aventurine ignores Ratio. Honestly, it's hard to give him the attention he deserves when his brain is this fuzzy. He thinks he must be drowning in this emptiness, and there are only so many options remaining to snap him out of it. He stares down at the city below, and he doesn't know if it's the chance to feel or the void itself that's beckoning him.
"Aventurine," Ratio stresses.
Reluctantly, Aventurine looks. He pulls his eyes away from the ground and turns to face Ratio, and he is immediately taken aback by the sight that meets his eyes. As much as he is attempting to remain calm, it's obvious that the doctor is on the verge of panic. Whatever teasing remark Aventurine was about to make dies on his tongue as he sees Ratio's calm facade tremble.
Ratio's voice is tense when he speaks.
"This is not a dream."
Ratio stares at Aventurine. Aventurine stares back. He blinks.
This is not a dream.
He sweeps his gaze back toward the city. It looks… different, now that Ratio mentions it. Not quite as dazzling as the Penacony he remembers. Still, he can't quite seem to fully process the meaning behind Ratio's words as his eyes are drawn once again to the pavement below.
He thinks one good fall will fix him.
"Aventurine!" A hand grabs his sleeve, steadying him as he leans dangerously close to the edge. "Didn't you hear me? We're not in Penacony. If you fall, you will die."
Aventurine is pretty sure that Ratio’s statement is meant to elicit some kind of reaction from him. He tries to picture it, his body crumpled and unmoving on the ground many floors below. It doesn’t look real in his mind’s eye, though. Right now, he’s not even sure that he’s real.
He shrugs, not taking his eyes off the ground. “...So?” he says after a moment.
“So?” Ratio repeats, his voice disbelieving. “So? You can’t be serious.”
“Have you ever known me to be serious before, doc?” Aventurine asks playfully, even as he drifts closer and closer to the edge. Ratio’s grip on his arm tightens, pulling him back, and Aventurine pouts.
“Oh come on, Ratio, you never let me have any fun.”
“I am not just going to stand back and watch you kill yourself!” Ratio hisses. Aventurine giggles, imagining how angry his face must look right now, even as he keeps his own gaze fixed far below.
“Why not?” Aventurine asks. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters!” Ratio snaps. “It matters because if I let you do this, you will be dead! How can you possibly believe that that doesn’t matter?”
"Nothing really matters," Aventurine says, staring down at the concrete beneath his feet. He scuffs his foot against the ground. It is a completely pointless action. He does it again. "Least of all me."
For what it’s worth, he didn’t come up here to kill himself. He must have been more out of it than he initially realized, to not recognize that he wasn’t in Penacony. But now that he’s here, he’s having a hard time remembering why he shouldn’t jump off this roof right now.
He had known that breaking through the barrier in Penacony had been a risk. Generally speaking, he finds that it’s only worth doing something if there’s some risk involved. Still, he had never expected a consequence like this.
His trip to the Border of Nihility had… done something, to him. It was difficult to define what it was exactly, but he had certainly been changed by the experience, arguably for the worse. He’d tried everything he could think of to counteract the effect, the all-consuming emptiness, but so far, nothing had worked. Sex, drugs, slitting his wrists– he had tried anything that should have sent adrenaline rushing through his veins. But even if the physical reaction was triggered by his ill-advised activities, there was no changing the fact that Aventurine remained completely numb.
He just wants to feel something again.
“Aventurine, that is not–”
“Do you think that if I give it what it wants…” Aventurine interrupts, cutting Ratio off. It’s a ridiculous premise. The Nihility wants for nothing. It does not seek to draw Aventurine into the abyss– that is simply the natural course of things. It is the inevitable fate of those whose feet have tread the path of nothingness.
“If I give it what it wants…” Aventurine repeats. “Do you think this emptiness will go away?”
He doubts it, if he’s being honest. But surely it would be better to try than to continue to waste his days away in this meaningless fog.
“I… do not know.”
The response is enough to cause Aventurine to look at Ratio’s face. He wouldn’t call it surprise, exactly, but it’s certainly unorthodox to hear the esteemed doctor utter those words.
“The fate of what happens after this life is not one that concerns me greatly,” Ratio admits. “I have far more pressing matters to attend to. And… I’d like to think that you do, as well.”
Aventurine snorts at that. “I wouldn't be so sure,” he comments wryly. “I’ve already lost everything that mattered to me.”
Now that he’s actually looking at Ratio, he can clearly see the moment that the doctor’s face falls. “Do you truly mean that?” he asks quietly. “Everything?”
Aventurine studies Ratio’s face. He’s trying to keep his expression calm, but there’s something there, Aventurine thinks.
He recalls, suddenly, how often he used to stop by Ratio’s office, how easily he used to tease and flirt just to bother the doctor. And what’s more, he can remember times when Ratio had stopped by to visit him, bringing moments of excitement to his normally mundane existence.
Aventurine is struck with a sudden moment of clarity.
He is sure that this man mattered to him before.
“I’m… not sure,” he says falteringly in response to Ratio’s question. Now that Ratio is pointing it out, Aventurine is certain that he used to care about Ratio– maybe more than he would’ve liked to admit. But the question remains– would it even be possible for Aventurine to feel that way again?
Still, Ratio’s face lifts slightly at that, his shoulders relaxing a bit. Aventurine can’t imagine why– his response can’t have been all that reassuring. But he supposes it’s better than a flat-out rejection.
Without any warning, Ratio suddenly tugs his arm, hard, and Aventurine steps heavily off the ledge and back onto the roof. He wishes he could feel relieved, or even disappointed, by this development, but he can’t find it in himself to care either way.
Just another thing the Nihility stole from him.
Before Aventurine can react, Ratio spins Aventurine towards him and crushes him in a hug.
“Well then, you’d better figure that out before you throw yourself off any buildings, damned gambler.”
Aventurine stares forward over Ratio’s shoulder at the expanse of the roof, uncomprehending. Ratio’s grip is tight, almost as if he is afraid to let go.
“Why… why are you hugging me?”
“Embraces have been shown to reduce feelings of distress.”
“Oh.” Aventurine frowns. “I’m not distressed, though,” he says truthfully.
“Then perhaps the embrace is not for you.”
Aventurine shuts his mouth, unsure how to respond to that. It’s strange, the idea that Ratio would care enough about him to be actively distressed in this situation. With nothing to say, he tries to relax into the hug, but even though he knows that Ratio’s arms are squeezing him as tightly as possible, he still feels far away from this moment, as if Ratio isn’t there at all.
After a minute or so, Ratio finally eases his grip. He pulls back slightly, and frowns when he sees Aventurine’s face.
“You’re crying,” he says softly.
“Oh, am I?” Aventurine says. If so, that’s news to him. He reaches a hand up to his face, and sure enough, there’s a wetness there that could only be from tears. “Interesting.”
“What’s wrong?” Ratio asks, his brow furrowed.
“Nothing,” Aventurine responds honestly. “Or… everything. I don’t know.”
He peeks over his shoulder, back at the city, and thinks about jumping. He looks back at Ratio, who watches him with obvious worry in his eyes, and thinks about going back down the stairs with him, back to safety.
He looks down at the ground beneath his feet and thinks about standing here, unmoving, until he dies.
“Aventurine,” Ratio murmurs. He’s hesitant as he takes both of Aventurine’s hands in his own, which Aventurine supposes isn’t all that surprising. This is certainly a new situation for the both of them. “I cannot begin to understand the way that the Nihility has affected your psyche. I am certain that the struggles you face run deeper than I can imagine. However…
“In my experience, we will always face doubts about our efforts. When such doubts arise, it is up to us to choose the meaning we give to our actions.”
“Is that so?” Aventurine asks, smirking slightly as he cocks an eyebrow. “Then what, dear doctor, does it mean that you are here right now?”
The stare Ratio meets him with is much more intense than Aventurine could have anticipated, seeming to see straight into his soul. Aventurine suddenly recalls the numerous times Ratio has hidden behind smooth, emotionless alabaster– what a stark contrast to the Ratio that stands before him today.
“It means that I am choosing to value your life.” Aventurine is all but rooted to the spot as Ratio’s eyes burn with an emotion that Aventurine cannot name. “It means, Aventurine, that I am choosing you.”
Ratio’s hands squeeze Aventurine’s emphatically, and a shiver tears through Aventurine as for just a moment, he feels a spot of warmth where their hands meet.
Aventurine’s eyes snap down to their hands. His heart races, though he struggles to link the physical reaction to any particular emotion. “Do that again,” he breathes.
Ratio blinks at him curiously, but obliges immediately, squeezing his hands even tighter than before. The warmth is tantalizingly brief, gone before Aventurine can fully process it. Still, it’s as undeniable as it is unbelievable– for some reason, in this moment, Aventurine can feel something.
“Please, Aventurine. Come back downstairs with me.”
For a moment, there is silence. Aventurine finds it impossible to look away from their hands, though the warmth that they shared is already a distant memory. It’s difficult to believe that it means anything at all, that warmth– in a universe as unfeeling as theirs, how could such a fleeting feeling matter?
Still, it’s the only thing Aventurine has to hold onto, and he has to believe that it means something. Or at the very least, he’d like to believe that it could mean something. It’s not much, but it might have to be enough.
Just for tonight, he chooses to believe that it is enough.
“Okay,” he finally whispers. “Okay.”
He lets Ratio lead him down from the roof. It doesn’t particularly feel like a win or a loss to be led away from his premature death. He can’t find any fear in his heart for his close call with the inevitable, nor does he feel any relief for his narrow escape.
But as they make their way downstairs, Ratio continues to grip his hand. It doesn’t feel like much, not right now, but it’s something.
And for Aventurine, who has known only the deep, deep emptiness of the Nihility ever since he first crossed over to the other side, “something” is a whole lot better than nothing.