Chapter Text
When he emerges from the other side, he can barely tell where he is, let alone how much time has passed.
One thing he knows for sure; struggling to breathe, to stand up, he’s still alive.
Do stay alive.
The man formerly called Aventurine reaches into his pocket and reads Ratio’s note again.
Veritas Ratio. The only soul in this cruel universe that still gave a damn about him.
The one he came back for.
So, to Kakavasha, lost he may be, there’s only one place he can think of going. Resolution firm, he stands up, and starts the long journey to find the sole attachment that holds him to this world.
After another day’s work at the Guild, Veritas Ratio returns home with a general feeling of self-satisfaction and mild exhaustion from back-to-back lectures. He isn't one to complain about work, not when he more than eagerly accepts the chances he gets to educate the masses, though weariness is starting to settle in and dull his mind.
Thus, the doctor treats himself to a well-deserved bath. From the temperature to the color of the bubbles, the quantity—all of it, perfect. Measured within his calculations, with the added touch of a soft classical tune playing from the antique gramophone balancing on the intricate tub’s edge.
Feeling particularly indulgent, he spends a whole ten minutes more than usual in there, and very nearly loses track of time. As he steps out and pats himself down with the towel before wrapping it around his middle, he neatly folds his clothes and puts them on a marble counter, meticulously ridding them of any creases before he moves on.
Even though he’s not at home that often, Ratio still has a general sense about the place even in the dark. Most would not call the place humble; his place speaks of riches and is decorated in much of the same style as his attire, featuring several marble busts of himself that he still makes use of on occasion displayed around the house.
It’s so intricately him, yet…
Something is off. Ratio narrows his eyes and motions for the lights to come on, preparing a speech for whoever this… intruder may be.
“Whoever you are, I give you ten seconds to leave. My capacity for low-life fools has hit its limit, I’m afraid. Turning you in to the IPC would be a mercy.”
A sickeningly familiar voice comes from the other side of the room, and the scrawny, pale figure is slowly brought into view. “A mercy? Ha, you’d be sending me to my execution.”
Ratio must be quite the sight. With a towel draped around his abdomen he stares at the ‘intruder’, eyes wide, and he feels the towel slipping already, but he’s frozen in place. “Aventurine?”
The strange man laughs. “No, not Aventurine.” He smiles, carding a hand through his messy hair. It’s much longer than it was when they’d last seen eachother. He’s overdue a trim, thinks Ratio, because he can hardly process his own thoughts at the current moment. “Kakavasha. Hello, doctor.”
The man he knew once as Aventure, a man he spent far too long in… complications of, slowly comes closer. Ratio almost wants to take a step back, but as if on instinct, he moves forward instead.
His towel nearly falls, but Kakavasha catches it, and readjusts it around the doctor’s waist. There’s a strange smile on his lips, and his eyes are distant. Worn, is what Ratio attributes to him. He looks so terribly worn, practically oozing exhaustion. He pointedly does not look Ratio in the eyes, either.
There are a myriad of things Ratio wants to say, but his throat feels clogged, and his tongue heavy. With a telling voice crack, he asks, “How long were you here?”
Kakavasha looks at him strangely and shrugs. “Oh, not that long. Now, my journey here… tsk. Arduous doesn’t even begin to describe it.” There’s that familiar tone. That facade Ratio is so very used to. He squints, yet words continue to elude him.
How irritating.
For his own sake, he sits down in his armchair, crosses his legs, and draws a deep breath.
“You…” he begins, but how could he possibly air every question he had at once? Unfamiliarly, he settles on a simple word. “...How?”
Kakavasha shifts in a way Ratio isn’t used to of him. He produces something from his tattered garments’s pockets, and Ratio immediately recognizes it for what it is—the note he’d left for Aventurine back on Penacony.
Before the fool went off and got himself killed.
Or, so he thought.
“I listened to the doctor’s prescription,” Kakavasha says airily, as if his words don’t carry the weight of his entire being, as if he isn’t about to fall apart on the spot. “Or has it expired already?”
“No, that—no. It… it has no expiration date,” Ratio replies awkwardly, interlocking his fingers and squeezing his hands perhaps a little too hard. He still cannot make sense of the mess in his own head. He is no worse than one of those blubbering idiots he so frequently complains about, ever inept in the field of… of emotion.
“I’m glad, then,” Kakavasha responds, and by his tone, it seems he’s in a similar predicament. Ratio rubs his temples, and groans, shaking his head. Droplets of water slide off the leathery chair, but he pays it no heed. There are more pressing matters than the state of his furniture.
Kakavasha saves him a question. “Where else could I go? Doc, you—” he shakes his head, and draws a shuddering breath. “There’s no one else.”
Ratio silently reciprocates that feeling. Perhaps he realized it too late. But, with the man before him now, is it really too late, still?
“Nowhere else.”
Realization settles in. His heart drops, and he almost immediately stands up. His throat burns, and he recalls the instance where he sat by Aventurine’s dreampool, quietly asking him to come back.
Come back.
He finds his words again, and advances on Kakavasha.
“…Do you realize the implications behind what you are asking of me? This may very well cost me my job, if not both our lives.”
“Right,” Kakavasha falters, lingering awkwardly by one of Ratio’s many marble statues. He takes a laugh, putting on a forced smile. “I shouldn’t have come. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize your life. Forgive me for intruding, doc—”
Ratio holds up a hand. “…I did not say no.”
A look of genuine surprise finds its way into Kakavasha’s face. He stops himself from leaving, and stares at Ratio, befuddled. “…Right.”
Ratio closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with an aggravated sigh. “I could not believe the IPC’s delegates relaying the message to me. I suspected foul play, not for you to have… disappeared. I waited. Painstakingly, for a clue. I played the sentimental fool and lingered by your… your dreampool. But a year in, and even I could not cling to false hope. Hope. Pah. There has always been a reason Nous would not cast their gaze upon me. Now, I fear, I know why.”
Kakavasha cocks a brow. “Wow, doctor. I didn’t know you cared.”
“Of course I—” Ratio looks up at Kakavasha’s oddly sincere smile, and groans. “You are incorrigible.”
Kakavasha smirks. He closes the distance between them, throwing his arms over the man’s shoulders. Ratio lets the other pull him in close, and Kakavasha goes in for the kiss.
…
Ratio immediately pulls away, scrunching up his nose. “When did you last have a wash?”
Kakavasha laughs at his odd expression. “Oh, I don’t know. I headed straight here.”
“That… explains the stench.”
“What, you didn’t notice?”
“It would be rude of me to make a comment on such a trivial matter while you were baring your very soul to me.”
“You’re too kind.”
“A fatal flaw.”
“It’s endearing.”
Ratio huffs, gently pushing him away. “Try not to antagonize me into deporting you back on the streets, Kakavasha.”
He wouldn’t. Both of them know. Ratio doesn’t have the heart to do something so cruel.
“Duly noted.”
There’s a moment of silence between them that lasts too long to be comfortable. Ratio clears his throat, and motions down the hall. “Allow me to draw you a bath, at the very least. I cannot have your stench permeating my abode. As for those rags…”
“Oh, these?” Kakavasha looks down to his tattered attire which once shone brilliantly, and Ratio had berated him for prancing around like a damn peacock. Now, they’re completely dull, just as dead as the identity of ‘Aventurine’. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. You’re a handsome man with a taste in fashion, don’t you have extras?”
Ratio nods curtly, leading Kakavasha to the bathroom. “Perhaps one or two.”
Once inside, Ratio notices how Kakavasha’s slim fingers tremble as he tries to rid himself of the remains of his suit, his face a mix of frustration and sadness when he finds he cannot make much progress on his own.
He doesn’t have to, Ratio tells himself.
Yet he does.
Almost without a second thought.
He helps Kakavasha out of the ridiculous outfit, and into the freshly-drawn bath. Kakavasha sighs contentedly and reclines against the tub’s edge, his eyes fluttering shut. For a moment, he seems at peace, but then a strange expression crosses his face, and he looks at Ratio. “You’re not joining me this time, doc? For shame—”
“Stop it.”
He could not take more of it. Of Kakavasha’s attempts at burying his own emotions, barely having given any comments on why he did what he did, how he ended up here, why, after all this time, he sought out Ratio still… damned gabmler, he deserves answers!
And it’s not just Ratio who does. Crossing his arms over his chest, he affixes the struggling man with a stern yet concerned look. “Drop the act. I cannot take any more of your fumbling.”
“Then, would you rather I crack? Would that be preferable?” Kakavasha replies coldly, and Ratio is taken aback by the sheer venom in that trembling voice.
But he does not back down. He never has. “It would,” he says, shaking his head. “You owe as much to yourself.” And me. But he does not say that. He suppresses the thought too. How utterly selfish, and irritatingly emotional.
Kakavasha’s form tenses, and slumps. His expression falls, and the eyes that meet Ratio’s are completely devoid of anything. “Veritas,” he mutters, and Ratio moves closer, gently leaning down by the tub’s edge. “I’m… tired.”
Ratio sighs. “Let me get you cleaned up first. You may make use of my bed after.”
Kakavasha simply nods. All that willpower, all that spirit is completely taken from him, swallowed up by some unknown void. He just sits there, motionless, while Ratio takes the time to wash his hair and body both, doing as thorough a job as he can.
“...How long… has it truly been?” Kakavasha asks as Ratio rinses his hair, gently dragging his fingers over Kakavasha’s scalp.
“Two years. Two years, seven months, and ten system hours, to be precise.”
Kakavasha frowns at him. “You kept count.”
Ratio closes his eyes, gritting his teeth. “That I did.”
Kakavasha leans over a little more, resting his hand on Ratio’s free one. He gives it a squeeze, and Ratio re-opens his eyes.
“I know,” Kakavasha says cryptically, and Ratio’s tension dissipates a little. Kakavasha switches topics, much to Ratio’s relief. He should concentrate on the task at hand. He fears that if they got deeper into it, there would be no way out.
“In there… it felt like an eternity, and no time at all. I didn’t even know if you were still around. How much time had passed.”
“Yet, despite not knowing, you came right here.” Ratio remarks with a puzzled look on his face, failing to understand why.
“Indeed.” Kakavasha looks up at the ceiling, and Ratio rinses the last bit of shampoo from his hair. “I gambled with this wretched universe one final damned time, and I won.” The bitterness in Kakavasha’s voice is nothing Ratio hasn’t heard before, but the sheer intensity of it startles him for a moment. The man’s fists are clenched, and Ratio gently covers them with his own hands, urging him to settle down.
“That you did. Remain here. I will fetch your clothes. You may dry off if you wish. The towels are over there.” Ratio gestures, but just as he turns around and is about to leave, Kakavasha grabs his arm. His grip is tight, and the doctor freezes in place. “...Kakavasha?”
Realizing what he did, Kakavasha suddenly lets go, and draws a shaky breath. “...It’s nothing.”
But it isn’t nothing. Ratio sighs. “I will not take long,” he says, voice much softer than he’d intended. Behind him, Kakavasha nods, and unbeknownst to both of them, that same sentiment is shared again.
Don’t leave.
As if either of them would go anywhere at this point.
Once Kakavasha is dry and dressed, Ratio shows him to his room. He looks better, but only by a margin. That hollow, haunted expression of his as he stares off into nothingness tugs at Ratio’s heart, but he cannot find any words that would be of use.
“Right, then. Get some rest. It appears long overdue.”
Kakavasha snaps back to reality, and laughs hollowly. “That obvious?”
“It is written all over your face. Sleep, Kakavasha.”
Again, despite that ache in his heart, Ratio turns around to leave, only to again be stopped by Kakavasha grabbing onto his arm, but this time, he doesn’t just dismiss it.
“Veritas,” he looks at the doctor with pleading eyes, and Ratio feels so full of guilt that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Don’t… don’t go.”
Something in him snaps. The IPC—the very Aeons be damned, Veritas Ratio couldn’t reject such an earnest plea, not when all he himself wants to do is take that man into his arms, and never let him go again.
It’s time to stop pretending.
Gritting his teeth, Ratio suddenly whips around and drags Kakavasha into a tight hug, clinging to the scrawny man for dear life. “You… fool. I thought that you were lost. That I… that I had lost you.”
Slowly, Kakavasha drapes his arms around Ratio’s shoulders, and he… he sniffles.
“You saved me. When I had already given up on myself, you saved me.”
Kakavasha’s shoulders tremble tellingly. He buries his face against Ratio’s neck, and all Ratio can do is hold him, hold him until the echoes of his sobs fade, and his grip on Ratio’s shoulders loosens. He has no words of comfort to offer; he has only his presence, and in this instant, it is enough.
Ratio presses his lips against the top of Kakavasha’s head, and gently strokes the man’s back while he cries, holding him as close as humanly possible.
He will not be going anywhere.
Not again.