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Aventurine woke from the dreampool as if he were drowning. As he threw himself from the water, his vision blurred. Memories clouded his mind: a violent slash, falling into a deep watery chasm, then feeling a despair colder than he had ever experienced. He tried to brush off the feeling like he would a nightmare, but the shadows in the corners of his room felt like they would swallow him whole if he stared too long. And he just couldn’t shake the dark stench of stagnant water.
A brusque knock on the door briefly snapped him out of his state. After answering it, he was surprised to see his dear strategic partner’s face right when he needed it the most. Was he actually awake?
The doctor said nothing, then glanced at where Aventurine’s hand clung to his forearm. “Unhand me, gambler.”
“Sorry.” He withdrew abashedly. “Come in.”
“I witnessed your performance in Golden Hour, although I’m not surprised to see you unscathed as usual,” said Dr. Ratio, stepping inside. “The Family shouldn’t be watching our every move anymore. We should discuss–” He paused as he scanned Aventurine from head to toe and felt his forehead with the back of his palm. “You’re still drenched and much too cold. Dry off and get changed. I’ll wait outside.”
“Don’t go. Just turn around. Unless you wanna watch?” said Aventurine with a thin smile.
Ratio faced the wall, arms crossed. “Ridiculous,” he muttered. He obliged if only to monitor that gambler’s condition for longer. He could hear him stumbling to get changed, his normally poised movements imprecise.
Aventurine shed his outfit, eager to purge the remains of that unpleasant dream. After a fresh set of clothes and a generous application of cologne, he settled into an armchair opposite to his partner.
“I see that foolishly facing the ire of both the Harmony and the Nihility has left you worse for wear.”
The doctor’s tone was sharp. And yet.
“Thank you for your note.”
“Ah, my little hint. At least you had the sense to read it before it became too late.”
Ratio bristled in anticipation of a teasing remark that would deflect this moment of sincerity, but none came. Was Aventurine’s silence an admission of defeat? By all respects, Ratio should have felt vindicated.
He cleared his throat. “What exactly happened? Are you all right?”
Aventurine took a deep breath to stifle the feeling of dread gathering inside him and forced a smile. “Aw, were you worried about me?”
He hasn’t learned a damn thing, thought the doctor. “Dry your hair. It’s unhygienic.”
Halfheartedly, Aventurine shook out his hair with his hand, allowing droplets to scatter across his shirt. “I don’t still reek like that dreampool, do I?”
Ratio leaned forward and pulled his partner’s wrist close to his face, taking him in like one would smell expensive perfume. “Nothing out of the ordinary. But I don’t need to find any physical symptoms to know that the Nihility’s corruption has infected you. A Doctor of Chaos would be more suited to addressing your condition. There isn’t much I can do.”
The doctor retrieved a towel and gently began drying Aventurine’s hair. His body temperature was low, and Ratio could feel him shudder with full-body tremors. “Once I’m done here, I’m going to request the assistance of someone who can actually help you.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.”
Ratio’s hand lingered in the gambler’s hair. “Unlike you, I know my limits. But, if you wish for words of comfort, you should know by now that matters of the heart are not my speciality.”
“But you always seem to know exactly what to say and nearly compromised us because of it. Why?”
“That's…”
Aventurine was playing a dangerous game, teetering on the precipice of the delicate balance they had struck in their relationship. He felt far away as he watched Ratio’s face flush. A brand of shame and desire crawled up his neck to match.
“That's an awfully direct question from someone as circuitous as you. Why do you ask?”
Maybe all the words made up a mask that he was too tired to wear. Aventurine looked up at the doctor standing before him, a question pressing at the back of his teeth that he swallowed as Ratio let his hand drift from his partner’s hair to his cheek. Maybe it was better if nothing was said at all.
Before he could withdraw, Aventurine held Ratio’s palm against his face. He burned under the doctor’s touch despite the chill wracking his body. And as if he was still in a dream that only he shared, he took Ratio’s hand and kissed his fingers one by one. He waited to wake from this reverie, to finally gather his wits, or for Ratio to pull away. Instead, his partner knelt down to meet his gaze and gently took Aventurine’s hand in his.
Aventurine was always amazed at how clearly his companion’s emotions danced across his face. Confusion, concern, and doubt, but also the blush still coloring his face all the way to his parted lips. He reached over, cupped the doctor’s chin, and in a moment of desperation, kissed him.
As Ratio felt Aventurine’s lips upon his, he tried to rationalize why this was happening, but all logical thought was drowned out by shock. Shock – that must be it. In some, traumatic events lead to irrational behavior. And in this state of shock that gambler sought physical comfort. The man was unwell. He needed aid. But…
Aventurine waited for the moment to end. He wasn’t going to move away, no, he wanted to pry open the doctor’s mouth with his own. However, Ratio remained stiffly in place. Aventurine shifted to pull away, ashamed, but at the same instant felt his partner incline his head to follow. For one fleeting, horrible moment, he thought that his affections might actually be reciprocated.
“Wait. Do you know what you’re doing?” asked Aventurine.
“Not in the slightest.”
“Good.”
And this time, when Aventurine leaned in, Ratio met him halfway. Merely a study in physical affection while he had the chance to even have such an encounter. This is what it felt like to kiss, to hold. He could almost understand the warmth of it. Aventurine was indeed warm underneath the preternatural chill that bathed him. His face felt soft, but his skin everywhere else was rough from years of labor under a harsh climate. He never took care of himself, never once partaking in creature comforts other than what was needed to maintain his image. Never allowing himself to slacken, running on nothing but desire. Under a mountain of falsehoods lay a man lacking all sense of self-preservation. And that man faced the Nihility without a second thought. Idiot. Fool. Gambler. He would never learn. What kind of teacher would toil for such a resistant student? Only a stubborn fool to match. So, Ratio kissed him.
The doctor’s warmth stung. And yet Aventurine was dazzled by Ratio’s beauty, the soft sounds that he made, and the gentleness of his hands as if he were holding something so broken that it could shatter in the next instant. Aventurine slid his hands into the exposed parts of his partner’s shirt. How much longer would the doctor tolerate this behavior from him? He could sense Ratio’s discomfort and conflict in the stiffness of his musculature. Aventurine had learned how to read bodies under him only because he had been in this position much more often himself. He liked to pretend that he was docile, hardly a threat. But that didn’t matter now.
Ratio witnessed the madness underneath that gambler’s frivolity. It dominated him, infected him, and pressed him to challenge it with a passion of his own. Merely a physical debate. A test of will. A nip to the neck, and Aventurine cried out in pleasure for the first time. Finally, Ratio felt the satisfaction of outsmarting his opponent. This was simply another mode of communication, one he was rapidly beginning to learn. He was a prodigious student as always, as he sensed something wrong lingering underneath the moment. A frailty, like Aventurine was grasping for something to hold onto. How cruel that Ratio would be used in this way. Along the string of Aventurine’s lovers, he would be nothing but a footnote.
Ratio turned and pushed his partner’s shoulders against the back of the sofa, effectively switching their positions. Aventurine was wide-eyed in surprise, hair tousled and clothing half undone. Ratio was sure he looked the same.
“Wait. This is irresponsible.”
“Now’s not the time for a lecture,” said Aventurine impatiently.
“Please.”
When Aventurine pulled away, he withdrew behind the smile he used to command a situation. That practiced tightening of his facial muscles snapped his mind back into his body. Before him, he regarded his most immediate problem, the doctor’s vulnerable state, with a degree of self-loathing that made him want to vomit.
“Sorry for keeping you here like this.” Aventurine buttoned up his vest and redid the buckle around his neck. There was no coming back from this. He would never be able to face his partner again.
“This was improper.” Ratio’s scolding stung. It looked like he was going to storm out then and there. But instead, he rested his hand awkwardly on Aventurine’s knee and said, “I’ll send for a doctor who can actually address your condition. Just be patient.”
“No need. I'm fine. Trust me,” said Aventurine. And then Ratio knew that that gambler had composed himself again, unchanged from his ordeal. Ratio gave Aventurine’s knee a slight squeeze before releasing it.
As the doctor left the room, the last of Aventurine’s nihilistic nightmare faded, leaving him with nothing but the mundane problems that existed outside of dreams. But somehow, the lingering warmth from Ratio’s hand still comforted him.