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Aventurine lounges back in the leather chair, feet propped on his desk and head hanging back.
Ting.
Heads.
It’s late in the afternoon, painting his office in cool purple hues. He’s done most of his paperwork, and he can’t be bothered to finish it all tonight anyway. Before he can go back to his apartment and get ready for a night of lively indulgence (or as Ratio would put it with a scowl, “squandering himself in earthly pleasures”,) he’s waiting on one last visit from his coworker. He stares up at the ceiling. The coin zips between his fingers almost imperceptibly. He rolls it across his knuckles and then back into his palm.
He tosses it again.
Ting.
Heads.
There’s a soft double knock on the door. It opens with a click, and the sound of high heels follows, approaching his desk.
“Ah, Jade! I’ve been waiting for you to come around,” Aventurine calls, still lounging back and staring upward, “You said Diamond has a new assignment for me?”
Jade hums affirmatively, placing a manilla folder on his desk with long, delicate fingers.
“There are details in the file. For you to read.” She says, stating the obvious unnecessarily. She’s hesitating. Aventurine sits up in his chair and eyes her, tilting his head appraisingly. Their eyes meet, and he’s surprised to find her wearing a strange expression.
She’s concerned. A tiny smirk appears on Aventurine’s face.
“Oh, my. Is it a tricky one, then?” His smirk grows, and he rests his elbows on the table, folds his hands and rests his chin on them. “You didn’t seem worried for me when my plan was to enter the Nihility, nor when I nearly died doing it. We both know that my luck always comes out on top.”
He flips the coin.
Ting.
He makes no move to catch it. It lands on top of the folder.
Heads.
Aventurine slowly slides the folder closer to himself, coin and all. “What is it, I wonder, that has you so ruffled?”
Jade gives him a small smile, but still looks uneasy. “It is not your luck I am worried about, child.” She says smoothly, picking up the coin off the folder and setting it on the table. She sighs. “It’s a test, I believe. From Diamond.” She crosses her arms gracefully across her chest. She stares at the folder between them like it’s a bomb.
Aventurine levels her with a raised eyebrow, still smirking. Didn’t Penacony show that he could hold his own? That he would always beat the odds? Truly, Jade was foolish if she thought he wouldn’t succeed at this project too.
He opens the folder. For a moment, he doesn’t understand what he’s looking at. The file is formatted like every other. Then sense kicks in, and the realization hits him at full speed.
His stomach drops, a heavy stone in water. Nausea crawls up his throat.
In tight, neat print at the top of the page, the title reads:
Clearance level: P45
Assignment designation: Aventurine of Stratagems
“Ah,” He laughs, and it’s an empty, dull sound, “I see.”
Under his name, in the same, unassuming text, reads;
Assignment location: Sigonia-IV.
—-------
The Sigonian bartender smiles at him and slides him a rose-colored drink in a tall glass. Aventurine smirks at him and takes a long sip.
“Your usual.” The bartender winks, and Aventurine thinks he might be a handsome man. He’s tall, with sweeping brown hair and a rugged smile. Aventurine just thinks he might look better with more muscle in his arms. And dark, violet hair, preferably falling in an artful wave. And a gaze rimmed with gold, stern and confident. And hands that are gentle when they hold yours, voice low and tender when he says, “Do stay alive.”
Anyway.
Aventurine has gone to this tavern a couple nights in a row. He’s trying to dig up more information on the drug ring here on Sigonia that's hurting the IPC’s investments, and the tavern is always a solid place to start. Bartenders often hear things slip between loose lips, and the past few days have gotten him more and more useful intel. He’s almost ready to write up a quick report for the IPC so they can send in backup for when he raids their hideout.
He just needs to know a little more about the location.
“So,” Aventurine turns up the charm, leaning on his hand and letting his hair fall prettily against his shoulder, “Last night, you mentioned the rise in coldsand recently. I can’t imagine that’s been fun for you, it’s enough to have to deal with drunk customers, and now people are throwing drugs into the mix.”
“Yeah, coldsand is one hell of a drug. People come in here with that relaxed, hazy look, and you just know.” The bartender motions over his face with one hand, eyes wide. Aventurine nods at this grimly, draining the rest of his drink. It’s sweet in the back of his throat.
“If they took any more, they… wouldn’t be able to move at all.” The bartender continues, and he winces, suddenly looking uncomfortable.
Aventurine traces the rim of his glass with a gloved finger. “But for some, dulling the pain is worth it, I bet. Say… where is this stuff even coming from?” He asks, leaning in. If this works, he won’t have to resort to his back up plan.
But the bartender is no longer looking Aventurine in the eye. He can feel it in his gut; something is wrong.
Then Aventurine realizes how foggy his head feels, which is strange, because he only had one drink. He wasn’t expecting them to find him so soon, but oh well. At least the drink they spiked was a tasty one.
The decision had been made for him - backup plan it was. How do you infiltrate a high security drug hide out? You let them take you to its heart.
Suddenly, there are men behind Aventurine. One of them drags him off the stool by his arms, and the chair clangs to the floor. Aventurine looks at the horrified bartender through lidded eyes, wishing he could tell him this would actually work in his favor. Then one of the men slam a bag of coins onto the counter.
“It’s been grand doing business with you.” The man grumbles. The bartender snatches the coins like a man starved, clutching them to his chest. He looks at Aventurine with complete and utter terror.
“I’m sorry,” The bartender whispers, horrified, “I have kids- they’re starving.”
Aventurine’s head droops against his chest as the fogginess really starts flooding his senses. One of the men jerk his chin up with a grimy hand, forcing him to look into his eyes.
“Heard someone was snooping around in our business.” He spits, “Then I hear it’s a pretty Avgin slut, the last of his kind.” The man strokes along his jaw, grinning. He moves closer, lips brushing Aventurine’s ear. “Do you know what people would pay for a night with you?”
This is part of the plan, and yet.
“Don’t,” Aventurine gasps, tongue heavy. They laugh boisterously at this, and throw him to the ground.
He thinks of the bartender’s kids.
Aventurine, who himself was once a kid so hungry his vision regularly blacked out and spun with stars, thinks this was a worthy bargain he’d take again and again.
—-----
He wakes up to darkness.
The dread in Aventurine’s chest crescendos, and the feeling is so familiar it borders on nostalgic.
He’s only wearing a shirt. He steadfastly ignores this fact.
He’s shackled thoroughly to a metal cot, ice-cold steel biting his wrists and ankles. When he tries to move, he has to stifle the pained noise he makes, pressing his teeth together so hard it aches, until the silent scream fizzles into a whimper. The world shifts in a nauseating bout of dizziness, like a boat toppling over a rough wave.
Well. He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth a couple times.That’s at least two broken ribs and a concussion. So that’s not great.
Once everything stops spinning, he gingerly turns his head, the side of his face kissing the frigid surface of the cot.
He surveys his surroundings as best as he can - he’s in a room with no windows, but there is the faintest bit of light coming from a crack under a door. He has to strain his eyes hard to see where the wall meets the ceiling and floor, but he’s able to conclude the room is pretty tiny, and only contains him. The air is cool and damp, so he assumes he must be underground.
This is fine. He’s still in control. He can get out of this.
He hears the door open more than he sees it.
“Look at you. Defenseless.” A man’s voice sneers at him. “You know, we had a good time together last night.” The man chuckles. Aventurine can feel his stomach dropping.
It’s fine. Don’t be stupid. You’ve been through this before. This is nothing you can’t handle.
Aventurine feels violently ill.
The man’s face looms over Aventurine, and he deliberately blurs his vision so he doesn’t have to see his ugly smile. The man continues in a drawl, “Though I doubt you remember much. Don’t worry, you’re not drugged up this time, so you can enjoy it.”
How courteous. Aventurine means to say, but the words don’t make it out.
He hears a zipper come undone.
Aventurine can feel the world turning to static as he changes the channel to anything but this.
—--
Dr. Ratio is organizing his desk in his lecture hall at Veritas Prime when Topaz opens the door with a force rivaled by a meteor strike. She storms over to him, Numby trailing behind her, and slams a file in front of him.
“Topaz.” Ratio says in way of greeting, brow furrowed at her oddly serious expression. Topaz plants her hands solidly on the desk, white hair falling in front of her face.
“Has Aventurine been answering your messages lately?”
Ratio frowns, crossing his arms. “No. But to be frank, he has cut contact with me since Penacony. I fear I may have scared him off by being too forward.” Ratio’s face remains stern, but his ears are slightly flushed.
Do stay alive.
A frivolous thing to say. Hopelessly sentimental.
Luckily for him, Topaz does not seem in the mood to tease him. In fact, she looks more agitated now.
“Shit. Ratio, we need to go to Sigonia.” Topaz runs her fingers through her hair in distress, and Ratio is realizing there are stakes here.
“Speak plainly. What is the situation?” He says. Topaz sighs.
“Aventurine was assigned a mission on Sigonia-”
Ratio looks incredulous. “What- Even an imbecile would understand the difficult position that puts Aventurine in!” Ratio grabs the file off the desk and starts flipping through it. It contains the information about Aventurine’s assignment on Sigonia - something about a drug ring.
Topaz winces. “I know, I wouldn’t have let him go if he had told me. It’s dangerous for him both mentally and physically. I only just found out when I asked around about his whereabouts. What’s worse is that he hasn’t been updating the higher ups; in fact, no one has heard from him at all the past two days.” Topaz finishes. Numby coos, and then jumps into her arms, and she squeezes him tightly for support.
“And due to the lack of communication… you think something has happened to him.” Ratio reasons, setting the file back down. “Damn it, why would he go back there? Why not ask for a different assignment?”
She sighs, stroking Numby’s smooth, black snout. “You know him. He doesn’t know his limits. Actually, he doesn’t seem to know limits exist at all.”
Ratio nods resolutely, with a “Hm.” Then he’s swiftly making for the exit. Topaz grabs the file off the desk, and hurries to follow.
“Where is your ship, we must depart at once.” Ratio says, eyes hard with steely focus. They have a gambler to find.
—--
Ratio and Topaz had to take one of the IPC’s less fancy ships, and therefore the jump to the planet had taken five minutes as opposed to the usual immediate arrival. Ratio complained about the technology and the idiocy of IPC engineers for the duration of the journey.
Ratio tapped his foot aggressively, face sour, “I am simply saying that in emergency situations, such as this one, where time is of the essence, this is an impressively bad oversight.”
Now, they stand in a village on Sigonia-IV, wind whipping around the loose fabric of Ratio’s outfit. The sun is harsh, and the sand is so hot he can feel its bite through the bottom of his sandals.
Topaz leans down and presents Numby with a piece of Aventurine’s clothing.
“Think you can lead the way?” She asks the small animal. Numby squeals affirmatively, and races off. They follow quickly behind as Numby tracks Aventurine’s scent through the winding sandy pathways. Ratio had never felt so useless.
—------
“Won’t you keep me conscious again, sir?” Aventurine looks up at the man who’s been paying him the most visits with a pretty smirk. Aventurine has heard his name from others who have paid him visits - Recnar. He rests his fingers in Aventurine’s hair, humming with pleasure.
“You really are a slut. Can’t get enough of this, can you?” He growls. “Alright. I’ll keep you awake from now on. What do you say to that, whore?”
Aventurine feels the black hole in his stomach darken, eating away parts of himself he thought he had lost a long time ago.
“Thank you.” He purrs back.
—-----
Ratio and Topaz reach a tavern on the outskirts. Numby jumps up and down in front of the door with a squeak. They exchange a quick glance. Ratio takes the lead, pushing open the door and heading straight for the bartender. If Aventurine was here, there’s no way he didn’t get a drink.
“What can I get for you?” The man asks, currently in the middle of cleaning a glass with a rag. Ratio ignores his question completely.
“Have you seen a blond man in here? Flamboyant, interesting eyes?” Ratio asks. For good measure, he takes out his phone and pulls up a picture. It’s a selfie Aventurine himself took after stealing Ratio’s phone. In it, he’s winking, holding a poker chip between his pointer and middle finger. Ratio feels a quick stab of panic looking at it and realizing Aventurine could be anywhere right now. He could be hurt, he could be-
Best not to think about that. He must stay rational. He turns around his phone for the bartender to see.
Immediately, the bartender’s face pales. He looks almost comically terrified, mouth dropped open and eyebrows fading into his hairline.
“Nooo. Nope, haha! No, I’ve not seen a guy like that in my life!” The guy says frantically, nearly dropping the glass he was cleaning.
“Sure you haven’t.” Topaz says flatly. Ratio narrows his eyes and glares at him. They simply don’t have time for this. Sighing, Ratio grabs the man by the front of his shirt and pulls him halfway over the countertop so they’re face to face.
“How moronic do you think I am? That performance was insulting. I would hate to resort to physicality, but I will if I must. What happened to him?” Ratio seethes.
The man puts his hands up, whispering in a hiss, “I can’t say, they’ll kill me! I promised them discretion-”
“Who’s them?” Ratio seethes.
Topaz has a hand to her mouth, face pale. “So someone did take him…”
“Damn it, how could you let a patron get kidnapped right in front of you?” Ratio looks furious as he realizes- “You were in on it weren’t you.” Topaz steps in front of Ratio, pushing him gently away. Ratio recedes, unceremoniously dropping the man.
Topaz clears her throat. “I’m a representative of the Interastral Peace Cooperation. We can ensure your safety-” “His safety?!” “Yes, he will be very safe in his jail cell. You will get a lighter sentence, as long as you cooperate in our investigation of the kidnapping of Aventurine of Stratagems. The stoneheart.”
“That man was- he- did you say a stoneheart? Oh Aeons-” The man squeals. “Yes, yes, it’s terrible, you’re in big trouble, now tell us what you know.” Ratio says impatiently.
The man nods, gulping. “They drugged him. I don’t know much about them - only they run a drug mill for the drug coldsand. The blond guy - Aventurine - was asking me all about them, and one of their members overheard him one night at the bar. He cornered me, telling me he’d pay me if I made sure the blond guy came the next day, and… didn’t try to stop whatever came next.”
“Where did they take him?” Topaz asks, fists clenched.
“To their hideout I assume - I’ve heard rumors that they’re stationed in the abandoned hospital in the ghost town two miles from here.”
—---------
Aventurine clenches his shackled hands into fists, missing the feeling of a poker chip digging into his skin. His nails will have to do for now. This is the difficult part, and he can’t afford to slip up. Now that his head has been clear for a considerable time, he’s finally feeling more in control of himself.
If he messes this up, he’ll never get out of here.
The door shrieks open, and there stands Recnar. He looks pissed.
“I’ve had a bad day, pet.” He growls.
“I can make it better.” Aventurine says, tilting his head flirtatiously and feeling dirty, dirty, dirty.
Aventurine swallows bile. He flutters his lashes and looks up at the man standing above him.
“Please, let me touch you back,” Aventurine simpers, “I can help you turn this day around.” Recnar hesitates for a moment, and Aventurine’s stomach swoops. He’s not going to fall for this. This is not going to work. He’s going to kill him, he’s going to-
Recnar smiles, pointy and ugly. “You really can’t get enough of me, huh? Dirty fucking whore, you want this so badly. You’re all the same. Fucking sluts.” And then, miraculously, he pulls out a key.
Then he leans in, close enough Aventurine can smell his putrid breath. “One wrong move and I’ll break all your fingers.”
Aventurine pouts. “You think so little of me? I would never.”
“Good.” Recnar huffs. And then he’s clicking the key into his shackles. One wrist drops free, then the other.
Aventurine lies there for a moment, looking into Recnar’s blue eyes as the man unbuttons his pants. Aventurine smiles up at him. He takes his now free hands and runs them up Recnar’s chest. He reaches his collar, then the edges of his cloak.
He grabs the cloak, hard.
He rolls out from under Recnar and in an instant wraps the cloak around his neck. Recnar stumbles backward as Aventurine gives it a harsh tug. Recnar chokes, scrambling as Aventurine cuts off his air supply. Aventurine kicks the back of his knees, forcing Recnar to the dusty floor. Recnar writhes for a moment as Aventurine struggles to keep him down. The commotion has his broken ribs stinging like hell, but adrenaline keeps him upright.
Recnar’s face grows red and shiny like a balloon about to burst. Aventurine feels a thrill down his spine. He leans in to whisper in his ear.
“You know, I’ve been enslaved before. By an ugly, useless, disgusting excuse for a man just like you. Do you know what happened to him?” Recnar eyes Aventurine with fury. Aventurine laughs, feeling crazed. “I killed him. Funny how history repeats itself.”
Recnar’s face is purpling. Aventurine sneers. “You’re all the same. Fucking idiots.”
When Recnar stops twitching, Aventurine releases the cloak from his grip. Recnar’s body drops, lays still.
Aventurine shudders out a breath, and his senses greet him with nearly blinding pain. He stumbles a little, leaning against the cold, grimy wall. His chest is red hot, and his head throbs with a vicious migraine. His wrists feel wet, and it’s then that he realizes they’re raw and bloody from being restrained.
He doesn’t want to know what the situation between his legs is. The thought makes nausea hit him like a train, and before he can react he’s falling to his knees and emptying his stomach on the floor. Spit drips over his lip to the floor, and he is racked with another wave of sickness.
When there’s nothing left for him to throw up, the nausea is unmerciful and refuses to subside. Still, he stands on shaky knees.
He braces himself, then stumbles to the door. He doesn’t have time to waste. He puts his ear up to the door, and hears nothing. He prays there is no one on the other side. His hands shake violently as he pushes the metal open a crack. Nothing happens. As slowly as he can, to prevent the rusty hinges from giving him away, Aventurine opens the door just wide enough to leave through. He leans on the door as he shuts it behind him. Heaving, he staggers through the dimly lit hallway.
Faintly he can make out voices coming from an open door at the end of the hall. He approaches as quietly as he can manage.
“Recnar went to see the new one, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, he’ll be gone for a while.”
Their laughter echoes around him. He clenches his fists, and peers around the corner.
Inside the room, there are rows of office desks. Only two of them are occupied, the men facing the opposite wall. All the desks are strewn with papers - there has to be something good in here.
Aventurine ducks down to his hands and knees. The motion makes every nerve ending in his body scream. He clenches his jaw. He has to get something good or this will all be for nothing.
He crawls his way behind one of the empty desks. There’s two folders laying there. As slowly as he can, he reaches for one, and slides it off the desk, bit by tiny bit. Finally, it falls down into his other waiting hand. He holds still for a moment, listening. He hears one of the men yawn.
Carefully, he rifles through the folder to make sure it has something useful.
He could cry at the jackpot he finds. Locations of other hideouts, marked on a map, and on the following pages, their floorplans. This is enough for the IPC. He looks up at the other folder on the desk.
He can do it.
The next folder falls into his hands. He doesn’t dare take time to look through this one.
Just as he begins to crawl towards the door, a guard waltzes into the room. For a moment, Aventurine thinks he will pass him. But his eyes flick over, and the man snarls “The fuck are you doing here?!”
Aventurine scrambles to his feet. He ducks under the guy in the doorway with a screech as his side careens into the doorframe with a sickening crack that makes him scream in pain. He forces himself forward, sprinting desperately down the hall. His legs are stumbling with the pain radiating up his sides, his arms, his head. He can hear the sharp cries of the men gathering reinforcements and the thunder of footsteps hot on his tail.
He clumsily throws up shields around himself as gunfire booms behind him. He’s exhausted. His throat is sore and his lungs scream in agony with every ragged breath. As he makes it to a pair of double doors, he’s sure he’s made it.
He bursts into the open evening air, but outside the door, guards are waiting for him.
All at once, they’ve surrounded him. He gasps as they throw him to the ground. Blood fills his mouth. He’s held down as they hit his face, his stomach, his groin.
Aventurine’s head pulses, and his cheek is wet, a lock of his sandy hair sticking to it.
Turns out, only an idiot escapes the depths of hell only to willingly stand once more at its gaping mouth.
Maybe the goddess that blessed Aventurine with luck has finally had enough of him, and she too sees him for what he truly is; worthless, reckless and damned. Maybe his luck has dried up with the putrid sand of the Sigonian dunes.
If only his sister could see him now.
His gaze stings with blood. Pain seers through him, his nerves sounding an alarm that something is terribly, terribly wrong. There are men around him. They’re a blur of a mass moving above him, merging and roiling like angry clouds of dark fabric over the evening sky. He tells his legs to move. He pleads with his limbs, but it’s like he’s no longer the pilot of his body.
Everything is fuzzy, pain becoming so intense it no longer has a point to measure it by. But suddenly, there are no more kicks, no more punches.
Death is kind. It smells like chalk.
—------
The world bleerily comes into focus, and Aventurine is disappointed to find that he is very much alive.
But quickly, he realizes he’s not in captivity. The bed he’s on is thick and warm, and his head and neck are cushioned by plush, squishy pillows.
Then he notices that he is not alone. Ratio startles at seeing his open eyes, and helps him sit up. Topaz gasps and hurries to pour him a cup of water from the pitcher at his bedside.
“You’re awake,” The doctor murmurs, “How are you feeling?”
“Like I was kidnapped, beat up and brutally assaulted." Aventurine says with a small smile.
Ratio scowls at him. “Don’t be flippant.”
Topaz hands him the cup. “Ratio convinced me not to hit you over the head with Numby while you’re recovering. But it’s very tempting.”
“My savior!” He says, smirking at Ratio. He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.
“I scanned the file you got a hold of,” Topaz continues, “I hate to praise your reckless behavior, but it was extremely valuable. The IPC will be able to raid the other locations listed there.”
“The other locations? But what about the one I went to?” He asks, looking between them.
Topaz smirks. “Let’s just say… Ratio took care of it. Alright, I’m heading back to my room. Ratio will tend to your wounds. And Aventurine?”
“Yes Topaz?” He asks pleasantly.
“You… really scared me.” His smile falls at her serious tone. “Please don’t- don’t go on a mission like this again.” She regards him for a long moment. He wonders what she sees. Then she sighs, and leaves him alone with Ratio, door clicking behind her
Aventurine looks past Ratio to the window, where the dessert looms behind the glass.
“We’re still on Sigonia?”
Ratio looks sheepish. “I might have ruined the ship’s engine in my haste to arrive here. My apologies. We will have to make due with the facilities here.”
“I’m surprised I’m not being lectured right now.” Aventurine teases.
“The lecture is being postponed.” Ratio says flatly. “Now how do you feel about a bath? We sponged you down on your arrival, but you may want to wash yourself more thoroughly.”
The idea of Ratio seeing his body right now is sickening. “I- I don’t know if I can stand, Doc.” He says, tiredly.
“I will help you.” Ratio says matter-of-factly.
What follows Aventurine has no name for.
Ratio, carefully helping him out of bed, and leading him to the bathroom. Ratio, running a bubble bath, warm and gentle. Ratio, helping him unravel his bandages and removing his shirt.
“Do you need help with the rest of your clothing?” Ratio asks. “Nah, I’ve got it.” Aventurine says, but makes no move to take his pants off.
“Alright. Would you like me to stay, or leave?” Ratio asks softly. Aventurine pauses, frozen. Words stick between his teeth.
“There is nothing wrong with either option.” Ratio reminds him, patient. Aventurine huffs a laugh. He never would have thought life would lead him here, alone in a room with Veritas Ratio, asking him to take his pants off, and saying no.
“I’m not in the mood for undressing for someone.” Which is too honest, so he backpeddles, “Not even someone as handsome as you. Maybe another time though.” He winks, and Ratio rolls his eyes. Though, Aventurine notes with delight, his cheeks are pink.
“There is a change of clothes on the counter. I will be outside. Give a shout should you need anything.”
And then Aventurine is alone. Getting his pants off is admittedly a struggle, as leaning over aggravates his ribs terribly. But he manages, and eventually slips into the tub. And honestly? Ratio is onto something with his love for baths. The warm water embraces him, and the bubbles make him feel like a kid again. He finds himself playing with them a bit before dunking his head under and washing his body more thoroughly.
When he’s ready, he gingerly gets out of the tub and dries himself off. When he goes to put on the clothes, he is charmed to find that ratio has selected some of his own sleep clothes. They are cotton, fit too big, and smell like comfort.
When he exits the bathroom, he finds Ratio sitting on the bed reading a book. Ratio perks up at the sight of him, getting up and getting the role of bandages from the bedside table.
“Let me see your wrists.” He says with no preamble.
“How forward.” Aventurine muses, pulling back the long sleeves of the sleep shirt and revealing angry, scabbed over skin. Aventurine looks up to see Ratio’s reaction. He does not seem unsettled by them. He just hums and nods to himself, retrieving an ointment from the table and uncapping it.
“This will help them to not itch so much. Would you like to apply it or shall I?” He asks, eyes meeting Aventurine’s.
“You ask a lot of questions, doctor.”
“Is it so odd that I want you to be comfortable?”
Yes.
“You can apply it.” Aventurine says instead.
As soon as Ratio has applied the appointment with utmost care, he bandages them back up and helps Aventurine get back in bed.
Aventurine feels pleasantly soft after the bath. He wonders what Ratio will want in return for this. He’s been in the bed for about two whole system seconds when Ratio sighs.
“I’m afraid I can hold it in no longer. What in the damned pits of IX were you thinking.” Ratio’s voice is quiet, but harsh, like a rock scraping against pavement, or the slow draw of a sword.
“Woah, are you telling me that didn’t go to plan?” Aventurine jokes.
Ratio does not smile. “You willingly went into that place. You were tortured. Drugged. I can only assume you were… violated in other ways.” It stings in ways he can’t describe. He laughs, the sound hollow.
“So, what, you’re angry I’ve been ruined? That I’m dirty now? I hate to break it to you, Doc, but I was dirty long before this.” He spits.
“What-?! No you insolent fool!” Ratio looks terribly offended. “I’m angry because I care deeply for you, and you show no regard for your own personal safety!” Oh. That stings in ways he can describe. It stings like hope, like trust, like all kinds of care.
“Sorry, Doc.” He says softly, “I’m not in the habit of taking my safety into account.”
Ratio steps toward the bed. He takes Aventurine’s hand in his own, and grips it tightly.
“Aren’t there habits worth breaking, for a friend?” His face is soft in a way Aventurine has never seen it. He feels guilty, wrong, somehow, for letting Ratio be close with someone like him.
“I will disappoint you.” He says, voice breaking.
Ratio holds his hand a little tighter. “If you can not live for yourself right now, endeavor to live for me. A temporary solution.” This brings a smile to Aventurine’s tired face.
“You’re not fond of those.” Aventurine says. Ratio smiles back.
“Like I said. Some habits are worth breaking.”