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Aventurine did not want to be alone tonight. Tonight wasn’t special, of course. It was rare that he felt content with coming home after work, turning on the television to play in the background as a buffer for his thoughts, eating dinner while watching some inane video on his phone that was a mediocre distraction. Tonight, doing that really was not a good enough way to pass the time. He stared over the living room of his large apartment, feeling the size of an ant in comparison. It all seemed to warp before his eyes, turning into a drab, empty place that wasn’t comfortable to inhabit. But inhabit it he must. Aventurine took a shower long and hot enough for the steam to make his bathroom look and feel like a sauna. When he stepped out, wrapped a towel around his waist and sat on his bed, the comforting heat from the water lingered for about five minutes before being replaced with a clammy cold.
It was too early to sleep. He felt too downcast to eat. Going out to some bar in search of a lively scene would make him too sad. He’d sit alone and drink himself into an awful habit while everyone around him talked and laughed and danced in groups. More than anything, Aventurine felt too lonely. When ninety-nine percent of his interaction with others came from his soul-sucking job, it was an inevitable feeling to experience. He changed into his pajamas and slowly laid down, letting his still-wet hair drip onto the sheets. He pulled one of his pillows close to his body and hugged it tightly. It gave him something soft to lean on, a gentle pressure against his chest. But it was still nothing but an object, a substitute for something more real.
Ratio did not want to be alone tonight. He usually had no issues with coming home after a long day of lectures or research or lab work. There was a certain satisfaction in taking a hot bath, making dinner with music playing, and lying in bed with a book or sketchpad before falling asleep. The routine rarely failed him. Tonight, it felt like an unappealing way to pass the time. He felt… well, it took him several minutes of thinking before he pinned down the feeling: loneliness. He didn’t feel it often. Thus, now, it seemed to hit him like a train at full force. One moment, he was sitting at his dining room table, eating dinner while glancing down at an article on his phone. The next, it was as though his heart was heavier than a stone, something metaphorically melting a hole in his chest and leaving him empty and wanting. Like something was suddenly missing from his life. Ratio breathed in softly, his food suddenly tasting bland. Hell, how long had this been waiting dormant inside him? Why, when most of his daily interaction with others was stimulating and busy, did he suddenly feel like it wasn’t good enough? Nothing in his home felt real enough to calm this feeling. But there must be something he could do about it.
Ratio closed the paper he was reading and, knowing it was a silly choice, opened his contact list. Surely there was no one he could call at this hour. It was too late to leave home, to early to go to sleep. Ratio’s eyes scanned the screen. Likely, he’d just go to bed unnaturally early and start a new day tomorrow. This feeling would go away with rest. His finger stopped at a familiar name and tapped the call button before his brain had fully caught up. He frowned at Aventurine’s contact photo, mentally scolding himself for bothering someone whose daily life was arguably busier than his. Aventurine would surely be resting. It was selfish of Ratio to interrupt him, especially when he had no idea what the point of this call was.
“Hello,” Aventurine’s voice mumbled. There was a slight crackly quality to it that Ratio chose to pass off as a technological flaw.
“...Hi, gambler.” A pause.
“Hi.”
“How are you?”
“I’m… I’m just here. At home.” That didn’t answer the question.
“Are you… busy?”
“No,” Aventurine answered, without any of the hesitance from a few seconds ago. “I’m not. Are you?”
“No.” Ratio rubbed at his forehead, hating the pace of this conversation.
“Why’d you call?”
“I was just…” He couldn’t lie. Even over the phone, Aventurine would sense it immediately. “I wanted to ask you to spend the night.” The other end of the line went quiet.
“I suppose it’s late,” Ratio amended quickly. “And you’re probably content being home, and—”
“No! I have time for you. I’ll see you in a bit?” Ratio bit his bottom lip softly.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Another pause. “Do you want to hang up first?” Oddly, hanging up felt like a much more vulnerable act than it should have.
“Sure,” Ratio said. And he did, disallowing any more awkward silences. He cleaned up his kitchen, and was drying the last few dishes when he heard a quiet knock. He crossed the room in a few strides to open the front door and reveal Aventurine, who stood in his nightclothes with only a thin-looking jacket as cover. Ratio raised an eyebrow.
“Come in. Did you bring anything?”
“Only myself.” Aventurine stepped into the apartment and removed the jacket and his shoes. “I’ve been, running on autopilot today. It didn’t cross my mind.”
“That’s alright. Make yourself at home.”
“Let’s go to bed,” Aventurine groaned.
“It’s still early.” Aventurine walked slowly over to the couch, unfolding the small blanket that was draped over the back of it.
“Sit with me?” he requested quietly. Ratio didn’t need to be asked twice. He sat at the other end of the couch, leaning against its plush arm. In his peripheral vision, he watched Aventurine turn to face him with a nearly unreadable look.
“What,” Ratio said.
“What, what?”
“Gambler.”
“Just… you wouldn’t mind if I moved a little closer, hm?”
“Go ahead.” Aventurine did.
“How about a little more?” he asked. Ratio nodded, trying and failing to hold back a smile. Aventurine inched over.
“You know,” he said. “Maybe just a liiiittle more.”
“Sure.” Aventurine moved once again, so that their thighs were an inch from each other. Ratio sighed at his coyness.
“Are you done?”
“I’m shy,” Aventurine said with a facetious pout. As if to emphasize this point, he pulled the blanket up over his head and frowned.
“You’re obnoxious, is what you are. Come here.” Ratio reached over and pulled him close without thinking twice. Aventurine inhaled softly and wrapped his arms around Ratio’s waist.
“I was only flirting,” he mumbled.
“Well, thank you for sparing my feelings.” Ratio didn’t let go. “Feel free to get up.” Aventurine didn’t let go.
“That won’t be necessary. Lie down a little for me, doc, you’re so tense.” Ratio easily adjusted their place on the cushions and reclined so that Aventurine could relax on top of his body. And relax he did, as if this position was the most natural, comfortable thing in the universe to him. His face resting in the space between Ratio’s head and shoulders, he rearranged the blanket to cover over both of their bodies. This, Ratio realized, replaced what had been missing, calmed that feeling of emptiness in his heart. This close, close contact. His legs overlapping with Aventurine’s, their arms around each other and their hearts slowing to a calm, resting rate. Aventurine sighed, his warm breath tickling the skin of Ratio’s neck. It was virtually impossible to draw any nearer to him. Ratio wouldn’t mind trying anyway. He held tighter, willing their heartbeats to fall into a rhythm, a perfect synchronicity between them. Aventurine’s hand found Ratio’s, linking their fingers together and squeezing once.
“Goddess,” he said quietly. “I really missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” Ratio absentmindedly stroked through Aventurine’s soft hair with his other hand. “But even for you, I will not be sleeping on a couch.” Aventurine tilted his head to press slow kisses to Ratio’s neck.
“Come now,” he mumbled. “Just this once.” Ratio squinted at the ceiling, quite seriously considering caving. Just this once.
“Not happening,” he said after far too much hesitation. He sat up to remove Aventurine from his lap, which proved to be difficult as Aventurine continued to kiss him.
“Mercy, gambler.”
“Sorry,” Aventurine laughed, resurfacing. Ratio shed the blanket and stood up to walk to the bathroom. He turned on the sink to let it run until it was warm and splashed it onto his face. Aventurine walked in behind him, yawning audibly.
“You have an extra toothbrush, doc?” Ratio pointed vaguely, listening to Aventurine rummage around for it. “Thanks.”
“Mm.”
“I’m going to use your expensive face wash. It smells like you.” Ratio resurfaced to dry his slightly blushing face. Aventurine gave Ratio a quick up-and-down look and twisted his lips to hide a smile.
“What is it?” Ratio asked.
“You’ve got something…” Aventurine trailed off and waved a mischievous finger at him. Ratio stared into the mirror until it clicked that there was a conspicuous red mark on the side of his neck.
“Gambler!” he scolded, and Aventurine’s tiny smile turned to a shit-eating grin.
“Oops,” he said in a voice that held not even a trace of remorse. “Go get in bed, I’ll meet you there.” Ratio obeyed, letting him take the spot in front of the sink. He slowly got into bed, exhaustion setting into his body. Aventurine was not far behind; he walked into the bedroom and practically launched himself at Ratio, collapsing into the soft mattress with a sigh.
“I’m happy, doctor.” He trailed his fingertips over Ratio’s bicep, making goosebumps rise there. “You asking me over here was impeccable timing.”
“What do you mean?”
“I felt awfully lonely today. Like I was all on my own in this cruel universe.” He looked over his shoulder, his eyes seeming to stare through to Ratio’s very soul. “You have this way of reminding me that I’m not. Alone, I mean.”
“I’m glad I called,” Ratio said.
“So… You asked me to spend the night. If you wanted—”
“Gods, gambler. “I did not mean it that way, and you know it.”
“Just thought I’d ask.” Ratio reached over to turn off his lamp, tossing the room into a darkness lit only by the moonlight in the windows.
“How prudent of you.”
“You know, we had a good thing going back on the couch,” Aventurine said in a sentimental tone, as if referring to a moment far in the past. “If you wanted to go back to that, I certainly wouldn’t mind.” Ratio nodded, allowing Aventurine to nestle close, holding him close so that they could draw heat from each other, chase that deep need for contact out of their minds. Quiet, gentle, safe.
“...If you try to mark up my neck again,” Ratio muttered. “You’ll be keeping yourself warm.” Aventurine laughed.
“We’ve got all night. I’ll take my chances.”