When it was all over and the dust had settled, things were quiet for a while. Aventurine did not know much about quiet. He never had. His life had been too many things, too many noises constantly assaulting his senses, all of them resembling some semblance of melancholy or agony… and maybe—if fate allowed it—the pitter patter of rain, and the harsh brashness of thunder. If rain did happen to grace the world with its fall, lightning would follow. It always followed.
So, when Aventurine could breathe again, he tried to forget. It was what he was good at... Although, perhaps good was not the best way to put it. It would be better to say that forgetting is what Aventurine was used to doing, that he had programed himself to forget and repress all the bad things that have ever happened to him so he can go through his day and not feel phantom sharp pains or piercing waves of nausea… lest he remember how the chains scraped against his wrist, how the blood felt in his mouth, nor the silent aftermath when he felt nothing at all, which was somehow worse than everything else. If Aventurine let himself remember, then he would start to feel, and if he started to feel, then the bravado and showy sleight-of-hand he liked to perform would fall apart in an instant… and he cannot be sure how much of himself was left to pick up the pieces. So, if he regressed for a moment, perhaps it was always bound to happen.
However, you do not go to the Land of the Dead and come back the same as before, especially when you chose to return yourself. Perhaps if someone had forcefully yanked him back on his feet, if someone had pushed air into his lungs again when he did not ask for it, he might have felt differently, but what ifs are pointless, and reality is what sticks around anyways. Ultimately, he thought about his life, faced it like he never thought he would, and after looking at every horrible stain that chose to bloody itself all over him, he chose to live. And so he cannot forget. It would do him no favors, and perhaps he owed himself one of those.
However, he could no longer stick around Penacony’s dream, regardless of how it had resolved itself. The Harmony would probably always leave a sour taste in his mouth, and there was nothing for him there anyways. Aventurine could not be a person stuck in a dream, and so he left as soon as he was able.
The doctor was the one who found him on some small, practically desolate planet… playing slots in a hotel casino.
“You cannot be serious,” Ratio said when he found him. He sounded less than amused, and the sound was all too familiar.
Aventurine would be lying if he said he was surprised to see the doctor there, behind him somehow like he always managed to be. The truth was that there was nothing surprising about Ratio finding him across the galaxy, though perhaps there should have been. “Ah, Doctor,” Aventurine responded, a sly smile on face. “You always have the most incredible timing.”
“Spare me with that nonsense.” Ratio waved his hand as if Aventurine’s behavior was something he could swat away like an annoying bug: a thing to kill just for the sake of convenience. “You have a problem.”
“ Please , tell me something I don’t know.” Aventurine swiped his card into the machine. The place was relatively deserted, but he had a few interested eyes watching him around the room due to his winnings. This was not the kind of place that drew crowds, but Aventurine tended to do so regardless. “If I had a penny for every time someone told me that —”
“You’d be drowning in them I assume?” Ratio shook his head, exasperated. “ You should consider consulting a professional about that.”
“I don’t think there’s any professional that could help me .” Aventurine smiled tiredly as he watched all three symbols on the slot machine line up, one after the other. On this planet, a jackpot was three birds, as they were considered lucky here. When he saw all three appear and the lights from the machine light up in congratulations, he searched for that sense of contentment everyone seemed to think they could find when they finally won against all odds. He did not find it of course. The casino rarely offered anything so profound. “What are you doing here anyways?” he asked, turning to the doctor. “I chose this planet hoping I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew. Don’t tell me the Intelligentsia Guild is doing work here.”
“We are in fact. The Guild is interested in collecting research on this planet’s relationship with its moon, as it's rather unique.”
“Ah yes, the first man-made moon: Creo.”
Ratio crossed his arms. “Yes. It’s good to know you’re not completely void of relevant knowledge.”
“You say the nicest things.”
Ratio rolled his eyes. “Yes well, our current information is outdated by at least an Amber Era, and in this current age, it has become quite a popular idea to save a planet rather than destroy it. The creation of Creo was no small feat.”
Aventurine thought about planets and destruction. It was a little too personal, so he shrugged. “It’s impressive, sure. But the reward gained from the risk was small in comparison. This planet made a moon , but their population never recovered from losing the first one. Now all that’s left is birds and rain. The value left here is questionable.”
The doctor looked at him for a few seconds, and his expression was like it always was, yet there was something else there that Aventurine could not place. Ratio was assessing him on some level, though which level exactly was hard to tell. “Just birds and rain?” he asked eventually. “It’s a good thing value is not dependent on your opinion of things. We as a society would be neck deep in trouble if it were.”
Aventurine smiled, the same smile he’s practiced too many times to count. “There’s probably some truth to that,” he said. He looked down to his card with his deposited winnings, and it was almost poetic how little he cared about them. He thought about Ratio’s note then, the one he opened up and read whilst facing nihility itself. Aventurine sighed. “As much as I’d like to continue debating worth with a mathematician, I think I’ll be taking my leave. I’d like to be the one to disappear first for a change.”
Ratio rolled his eyes, and he looked to the side for the briefest moment, like he was remembering something before shrugging it off. “You always remember the most unimportant things. Bad habits are hard to break, you know. You should begin attempting it immediately in order to have a chance at normalcy.”
“Yes, yes, those doctor's orders, are they? Normally I’d play along but I guess I’m not as fun as I used to be.”
Ratio only stared at him. “You were never fun.”
Aventurine waved him off. “Pot calling the kettle black. You don’t get to tell me that, Doctor. You’re about as fun as an IPC handbook.” He turned to leave with a wave and a lazy expression. “Do have fun looking at the moon. Not my pastime of choice, but you do you.”
As Aventurine walked away, he did not hear Ratio say a word in return. Aventurine thought about turning around, just to see what expression the doctor wore, but he knew Ratio would be gone, and the feeling of isolation burned him too much these days.
Aventurine sighed, and he wished he had been more surprised to see the doctor, but the truth was he had been playing with this idea from the moment he left Penacony: that they would see each other again, for as much as he felt in his bones that the doctor hated him, Aventurine twiddled a notion through his fingers like a pebble, a thought that there was chance Ratio did not. Hope was dangerous in his hands however, so he buried it deep… just enough so that the rain could not wash it away.
-
There was a bird that existed on 53 different planets. Sometimes it was called the arctic tern , and other times it was called the moon laridae . It adopted this name due to its infamous migration: a migration so long and far that no matter the planet, it would fly tens of thousands of miles from its breeding grounds. On one planet, it was said that for the tern’s size, its migration over its lifetime was enough to go to the moon and back three times, thus the name Moon Laridae . It was a bird that persevered impossible distances, and survived things that living beings perhaps should not have to survive.
The planet Aventurine was on was called Pen-Ah, and it was a plant that survived its own destruction. It had always been a rather frigid place, with its arctic climate and its strange magnetic field variations, and thus it attracted a population of researchers. They would come to Pen-Ah just to study and experiment, the miles and miles of deserted land perfect for testing machines and tapping into what should not be touched. The Erudition ran strongly here, but not strong enough. Perhaps there was something to be said about a planet that only wished to discover and not to preserve, and the moon would be the thing that paid the price for it.
Once the moon had left the sky, it would not be long before the ice began to melt and the climate of Pen-Ah became unrecognizable. Species that could adapt would do so, and those that could not would die. Somehow, the Arctic tern would survive all of this, that small little bird with an even tinier heart that constantly and frantically beat inside its chest. Perhaps it was used to living when living should be impossible, but either way, it flew, and it never stopped flying.
Aventurine knew this when he made his way to Pen-Ah. He knew all about the history of the moon and the IPC’s involvement with its creation, though once they realized the planet’s natural resources were slim, they lost interest and turned it into an official research site in order to justify the funds that went into making Creo . Now, researchers still roamed here, the wind chilly like it had been thousands of years ago, the Amber Eras that had passed too many to comprehend.
Aventurine was staying in a hotel by the mountains. Tourism was not popular here but Aventurine could not understand why. Pen-Ah’s ecosystem was left almost completely untouched—a rarity in this galaxy—the tall spruce trees lush with a green that only existed in gemstones, and the lakes so clear it was like a mirror rather than a pool of water. You could see the stars reflected in its surface at night, the lake wearing its perfect pear freckles scattered across its crystal clear skin. The moon was perhaps the only imperfect thing about Pen-Ah. Even from the distance in which all humans stood looking upwards, it did not quite resemble any naturally occurring moon, its color not the right shade of cottage cheese and its ghostly reflection just slightly unnatural. It was man’s attempt to imitate God—or whatever was out there waiting for all of us… Perhaps it was fitting that you could see the difference, however slight it was.
After Aventurine’s slots debacle in the hotel lobby, days would pass in which he would do nothing but sit and watch the strange sky, occasionally partaking in the planet’s scenery. Despite what others may think, he did not gamble his days away. Gambling was as much a hobby as it was a habit, and he did know what this particular habit had made him into, so he thought perhaps it would be a good time to see who he was without it. It left him in a strange mood, and one night, he found himself staring at the moon outside.
He was leaning on the railing of the hotel lobby, his chin resting on his hand and his eyes counting the stars. He heard footsteps approach him from behind, and it was a little annoying how he knew exactly who they belonged to. Only one person walked like that .
Aventurine turned with an apathetic smile on his face. “Y’know, if you keep showing up uninvited like this, I might start to get the idea that you want to see me… We can’t have that, now can we?”
The doctor only crossed his arms in response. He did not seem to find this kind of comment funny, but in all honesty, he never did. “I thought you were leaving.”
Aventurine recalled their most recent conversation.
I think I’ll be taking my leave. I’d like to be the one to disappear first for a change.
He smiled. “The planet?” Aventurine asked, almost amused. “Believe me Doctor, it’s quite tempting, I’ll give you that… but I’m not so easily scared off.”
“No, unfortunately for everyone else, you’re not.” He sighed and took a few steps forward so the two of them stood side by side, both of them facing the moon. “I was also under the impression that Creo didn’t interest you.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Which is why you were staring at it like a long lost lover… yes, very believable.”
Aventurine scoffed before turning away. “You exaggerate,” he said, and he tried not to sound like a pouty child when he said it, but as luck would have it, it's a harder task than you would think. His tongue felt rough and heavy in his mouth, and he did not like confronting his own discomfort but there are some things that can only be done once the sun has gone down. He sighed, and he hated how deeply genuine it sounded. “Sigonia-IV had no moon, you know,” he said.
Ratio was quiet for a moment, and it was hard to tell if it was due to surprise or some other emotion that made people hold their breath. “I’m… aware.”
Aventine smiled something sad. “It was a planet known for being hit by meteors amongst other things, but no one talks about the irregular climate and bombardment of natural disasters… or how impossible it was that any of us were able to live there. It was a miracle anyone survived it before the Mass Extinction Event.” He paused for a moment and ignored the way his stomach hurt within himself, like a wound that would self inflict the more he kept talking. He kept going anyway. “I never understood why our planet hated us so. It wasn’t until I saw a moon for the first time that I understood our fate had always been sealed since the moment we were born.” He looked up at Creo, that treacherous thing. “This moon…” he said. “I hate it.”
The doctor did not say anything to that, and Aventurine could not make out his expression. Most people probably thought Veritas Ratio only had one expression, but that was not true. He wore many, but the differences were subtle, all of them a centimeter width apart. Aventurine took note of them as they showed themselves, but this one was new, and he wondered if the doctor had always had it stored away somewhere, only to be revealed under a false moon.
Aventurine smiled. “Nothing to say?”
The doctor sighed. “Not particularly, no. Unlike you, I know when to stop talking.”
“I’d argue against that, but that’s just me.” He laughed, and he hoped it did not sound as sad as he felt. This night was too much for him… so many nights are. Aventurine thought about heading in to finally get some sleep for once, but his thoughts were running rapidly and his nightly rehearsal for death was not looking like it would come easy. “... I need a drink,” he said eventually.
“That sounds like a horrible idea.”
“Personally, I’m rather interested in horrible ideas at the moment.” He removed his arms from the railing and turned to his body to leave. “Please don’t check up on me,” he told the doctor. “It'll only embarrass both of us.”
Ratio rolled his eyes in that bored manner he liked to do. “Gambler, you must know I care little about your feelings on the matter.” He turned to Aventurine then, that look in his eyes that was oh so hard to read. “Be careful,” he said, and perhaps a part of Aventurine was still in the dreamscape, for Ratio almost seemed… sincere. He had said the words carefully, the same way you hold a baby bird in your hands.
Aventurine knew he was not doing a good job holding back his surprise. He felt the way his lips parted the moment it happened, his throat tightening dry like it was holding on for dear life. He swallowed, and the action felt loaded with resistance. “I make no promises,” he said eventually. Then, before he could do something out of character—like cry or make agreements—he walked off, not allowing himself to think about the past few seconds for longer than a moment.
-
Many drinks later, Aventurine was feeling sleepy. That always seemed to happen, regardless of the type of drink or time of day when alcohol was involved. Slowly but surely, the stool beneath him began to feel rather comfortable, and Aventurine did not hesitate to lay his head down on the surface of the bar, his eyes heavy, every blink slow and difficult.
He heard some conversation going on around him, something vague and possibly important, but all he wanted to do was fall asleep right then and there, if only because staying awake was proving to be an annoyance rather than anything else.
When Aventurine felt an arm reach around his waist to help him up on his feet, he tensed up almost immediately, but did not have the strength to do much else. He turned to find the doctor, his hand warm at Aventurine’s side.
Aventurine could not remember when his own arm had been slung over Ratio’s shoulders, but the sensation was foreign though not unpleasant. “I thought I told you…” Aventurine started, his words slurring together. “…not to… do that…”
The doctor did not acknowledge that comment’s request. He only began to walk Aventurine back to his room, however slowly. “Stop talking,” he said lowly, like the light in the room.
Aventurine tried to keep up with the doctor as they walked, but his body was nothing more than deadweight, his drowsiness winning the consciousness battle. The doctor felt solid against him, his body firm and not at all drunk. It was so easy for Aventurine to lean against Ratio with all of his weight, to allow himself to let the doctor do all of the walking whilst Aventurine stumbled over his own feet. Aventurine realized this at some point, and as far as revelations go, he had to say he hated this one in particular. He rarely let himself get like this, because the last thing he wanted was to be pulled by the whim of another person without any power to stop it. That was dangerous, and not in a way he liked. Yet he did not feel anything dangerous pressed against Veritas Ratio… and that was a realization he did not care to ruminate on. “I think I’m going to throw up,” Aventurine said.
The doctor sighed tiredly. “Please don’t.”
When they were back in Aventurine’s hotel room, some time passed, and he somehow found himself sitting on the edge of the bed. Then, he felt a hand start to remove his jacket. He flinched. He couldn’t help it. Instinct always wins when the mind cannot keep up.
The doctor noticed, for of course he did. Aventurine could see it in the way he hesitated afterwards, but he did not let that stop him and continued until Aventurine’s jacket was cleanly off.
Aventurine was dizzy—from the alcohol yes, but the doctor’s touch was a far more dangerous drug. He was gentle as he took off Aventurine's hat and accessories, the brush of his fingers soft against Aventurine’s skin like a shooting star: brief and hot all in a single second, then it was over before anyone could register it had happened at all.
Aventurine knew touch like he knew pain, and he knew pain well enough to be it. Touch and pain. They were similar, almost one in the same, and oh. Yes. He could still remember how it felt to kill his own master, how the chains felt in his hands as he struggled and choked. Then, he wasn’t the one choking, and there was blood between his fingernails by the time he was done.
Aventurine blinked and he was back in his room, Ratio removing his rings before Aventurine remembered to tense up again once more.
“How can you still be on guard, even like this?” The doctor muttered to himself. At one point whilst removing Aventurine’s gloves, he scoffed. “The amount of rings you own is severely unnecessary…”
Aventurine thinks he remembers smiling at that comment but he could not be sure. He was too sleepy, and the brush of the doctor’s fingers was too intense to think much of anything else. He knew it was pathetic, and he felt pathetic as it happened, as the doctor removed Aventurine’s earring so carefully that the sensation of not being in pain almost hurt. Aventurine could feel it in his toes, and he wondered what face he was making that made the doctor look at him in such a manner.
Once Aventurine’s accessories were finally removed, Ratio let him be, stepping back once like the other needed the space to breathe.
“Sleep,” the doctor said, and Aventurine cannot remember what happened afterwards except that he closed his eyes and dreamed of feathers and tiny hearts.
-
Aventurine saw an arctic tern in the distance. It was alone—which was unusual for a bird that flocked—and it had a tiny tracker wrapped around its leg, the tag neon orange, making it easy to spot for whichever researcher had placed it there. There was a number there too, though it was too small to read, and Aventurine had long grown used to the brand on his neck but for a moment, it felt just as hot as it had the day it was placed there.
The bird looked at him for a moment, tilting his head quickly in that way birds often did, and Aventurine looked back, and he wondered what it was about him that the bird stopped to stare at. The bird opened its beak as if to speak, and then suddenly, Aventurine woke up, a polite knock at his hotel door taking out of the dream.
It took him a few seconds to realize he was awake, and even more to remember he was in a hotel bedroom, but when he did, the night before came rushing back to him one moment after the other. He did not realize Ratio’s presence—as simple as it was—would be the thing to push him over the edge and into the arms of the bar and waxing poetry about the moon. It was that damned note that started everything, the thing that warped Aventurine’s reality without his consent, and all the happenings that occurred afterwards were just another nail in the coffin… more salt in the wound.
Slowly, Aventurine shook his head clear, not bothering to fix the buttons on his shirt that had come undone in his sleep, and he got up to answer the door.
When he opened it, the doctor was on the other side, his arms crossed and a bored expression on his face.
Aventurine stared at him for two seconds before the surprise settled in, and that foreign feeling that came with the doctor and his soft touch and strong body clung to the inside of Aventurine’s stomach. It was like a virus—that thing—the kind of bacteria that grew in warm conditions, and when Aventurine could no longer handle the feeling of it any longer…he slammed the door in Ratio’s face.
Many moments passed before the doctor spoke on the other side of the closed door. “Please tell me that you’re suffering from some kind of seizure… It’s the only thing that will justify what you just did.”
Aventurine waited until his stomach was not threatening to regurgitate his insides any longer, and fixed the buttons on his shirt with haste. Ratio could wait a few more seconds… the wretch.
Once Aventurine no longer felt like he was standing on a thin layer of ice that was about to break apart beneath him, he opened the door with a smile. “Sorry. The knock on the door was so polite, I thought it was someone else. Your face surprised me… and I’m not a morning person,” he said, and was thankful it sounded as nonchalant out loud as it had in his head. “I’m surprised the Intelligentsia Guild is still here. I must say, this isn’t very efficient of them. Someone might have to write a complaint to the IPC.”
Ratio narrowed his eyes. He looked like he wanted to address the door slam, but decided to spare Aventurine’s pride… for now. “The Intelligentsia Guild left Pen-Ah yesterday. Data collection is not so serious nor is it so complicated that we need to linger for more than a few days. Most of the work can be done elsewhere.”
That… took longer than Aventurine would like to admit to comprehend. “Then… why are you here?” he asked.
“To make sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit while you slept. Frankly, I don’t have a lot of trust in you when it comes to these matters. You can be rather senseless… like a child.”
Aventurine’s mouth felt dry, and normally he would say something back to a comment like that but he had nothing to say. It was always easy to argue, always easy to retort, but Aventurine had little experience with people who did not want something from him. For the moment, all he could do was stare at the doctor and wonder what exactly he wanted.
Ratio was not amused. “What?”
Aventurine frowned. “I didn’t choke on my own vomit. I’m a little luckier than that… You can leave now.”
Ratio’s expression soured, and Aventurine recognized it as a mixture of annoyance and suspicion, like he could not believe the other party's audacity. Eventually, the doctor shook his head, and he seemed both tired and unimpressed. “You… have a plethora of issues.”
Aventurine scoffed. “Heard that one before. You’re going to need to work on your originality, Doctor, unimaginative insults don't suit you.”
“Just what exactly do you think I’m doing here?”
Aventurine paused. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb. Why do you think I’m here now?”
“To prove a point about my many bad decisions? To make me feel like an idiot once I inevitably go through with them? I don’t know Ratio, you tell me. Why are you here, because from my point of view it almost seems like—”
“Like what?”
Aventurine closed his mouth. There were too many emotions rushing through his blood and into his head, and it was affecting his ability to stay calm. He couldn’t stand it, and that forbidden notion was so bright and apparent that Aventurine did not know how he was supposed to ignore it any longer. And because he is as emotionally unavailable as he remembered himself to be, Aventurine slammed the door once again… the doctor on the other side.
He could hear Ratio tick his tongue.
“You can’t keep getting away with that. The hotel staff will kick you out for the noise.”
Aventurine took one breath in, then out again. He did not like how out of sorts he’s been since his return from Nihility's End. What should have been easy has become impossible, and he is no Arctic tern. He cannot fly to the moon and back three times. He can only push down his pain and hope it goes away, because the other option is to hope, and he cannot remember the last time he did that.
When Aventurine opened the door, a part of him prayed that he was being difficult enough so that Ratio would leave, but alas, the smaller part of him that bet the doctor would stay had won.
Ratio touched his forehead like he could pop a blood vessel at any moment. "I swear, you are the most dense human being on the planet… no matter which planet you’re on.” He shook his head, though mostly to himself, and when his eyes fell on Aventurine again, he only sighed. “You make bad decisions like you’re getting paid, and you never worry about the aftermath.”
Aventurine smiled, and it was self deprecating at best. “Of course I do.”
“No you don’t,” Ratio said. “Your eagerness to risk everything and anything would be impressive if it were not so worrisome.”
Aventurine pressed his lips together, and he cannot remember when he started feeling angry, but he supposed that came with the territory when you started hoping for things that did not belong to you. Maybe Ratio didn’t want him dead, sure, he can admit that. But this , whatever this was, Aventurine could not accept, not after everything. He almost laughed the way people who’ve lost everything laugh, but he settled for a scoff instead. “Am I just supposed to believe that you’ve suddenly started caring about what happens to me?” He did laugh this time. “As far as lies go, I must say, it's not very convincing.”
“ I’m not the liar between the two of us… or have you forgotten that?”
Aventurine looked away, and the color of the wall was incredibly interesting to him all of a sudden. “Force of habit,” he retorted. “You said it yourself… They’re a hard thing to break.”
Ratio crossed his arms again, and his expression relaxed into something more neutral. “Then you better start working on that immediately.”
Aventurine did not watch him leave, but he did think about the note when he was at Death’s door: That silly thing he still kept in his back pocket, and he remembered the way the doctor removed his earring so carefully, as if he were handling a butterfly’s wing or a rabbit’s foot, and when Aventurine came to a conclusion at the end of all it, he let the feeling wash over him, and tried not to shudder.
-
The creation of Creo took an army. The IPC drew their attention to the destruction of Pen-Ah due to the amount of researchers that had made such a planet their home, as the Amber Lord’s organization had bought and acquired much of the research that had been discovered there before the moon blew up. And so, their involvement in its recovery was simply them protecting their own investments and assets. It was always about results when it came to saving planets for the IPC, so perhaps Sigonia-IV simply had nothing left to offer. It would be a lot like its inhabitants if that were true.
Aventurine never thought much about other possibilities when it came to what happened to his home world. Never resent the poverty you’re in was perhaps always destined to be engraved into him, and thinking about what could have become of his life if the IPC had decided Sigonia was worth something did not seem like a worthwhile venture. That was then, this was now, and fretting about things that already happened was not very productive, especially when all you had the time to focus on was surviving. However, that did not mean resentment did not bury its way deep into Aventurine’s heart, that it did not crawl into the darkest, most hidden depths of himself and sink its claws into him, not daring to let go until it was satisfied from the amount of blood it drew. That much was true, and Aventurine knew if he let himself wallow, he would burn from the inside out until there was nothing left but ashes.
So, he did not wallow. Instead, he took action, and did what he wished with his own fate. He gambled it away just to prove that he could, and he did not let himself think twice about it, nor what such a thing meant about him. There was no room for hesitation when committing to an all-or-nothing risk, and there was certainly no room for his own self-pity. Regardless of what the doctor said about Aventurine’s bravado and how it was all a lie, Aventurine felt safe behind the face he had created for himself.
Going to the in-between limbo where death was just on the other side changed that… The extent of how much it changed things was still unknown.
Once Aventurine had recovered from whatever fiasco had occurred in his hotel room, he started to walk. He ignored the call of the casino and instead sought out the view of the mountains and the snow that was just beyond the horizon. To others, it might seem as if he picked Pen-Ah at random, that he paid it no mind when he chose to travel as long as it was far, far away from Penacony—and though that might be part of it, the other side of that decision had nothing to do with its size or distance, and everything to do with the planet itself. The moon, the climate, the birds… Aventurine longed for lots of things, but those in particular felt the most like dreams.
The next time Ratio found him, Aventurine had placed himself on a patch of grass near the base of one of the mountains and was just… sitting. Sitting and watching, looking at the sky and trying to get used to the silence.
The truth was that Aventurine knew researchers loved Pen-Ah, that they were attracted to it like moths to a flame, and because of this, Ratio’s first appearance in that hotel was not surprising. Aventurine had expected it, known it would happen even. Maybe he picked Pen-Ah because he hoped the doctor would be drawn to it like all the other researchers, that he would feel the pull there and show up on its surface inevitably. Yet unlike the rest of the Intelligentsia Guild, Ratio remained here and they did not. The implication of that felt heavy.
When the doctor sat down next to Aventurine, the moon was out because of course it was.
Aventurine did not want to say anything at first, mostly because acknowledging the doctor’s presence meant he could no longer ignore it, and it if he kept ignoring it, he would never be hit with the wave of hurt that could possibly follow. However, Aventurine was never good at staying silent.
“You were right…” Aventurine said, and he almost laughed at the irony. “... I’m sure you hear that a lot.”
Ratio let out a quick breath through his nose, something akin to amused acknowledgment. “Naturally.”
Aventurine shook his head, smiling, and he’s sure it looked as sad as it felt. “I lied. About the moon,” he admitted. “I just wish it had been mine instead.” There was a beat of silence, and Aventurine—having dropped what was the equivalent of a bomb onto the conversation—could no longer bear the feeling of sitting up, so he dropped his back onto the grass and closed his eyes… and oh , how tired he was of it all. When he opened his eyes once more, the moon stared back at him. “Did you know a group of researchers tried to save the arctic turn when all of Pen-Ah went upside down? They kept them in captivity and attempted to teach them to eat different food, the kind of stuff that was easy to sustain whilst the world tried to kill them all. And even when kept in captivity, they continued to fly in circles, even though they didn’t need to anymore.” He paused, and he listened for birds but did not hear any. “I think I get that stupid bird more than ever now.”
The doctor was quiet, but Aventurine could feel his eyes on him… and that was not fair, because Veritas Ratio did not get to stare at him like that , with those all-seeing eyes that made you feel naked in the presence of them.
Aventurine turned away. “Don’t look at me.”
The doctor scoffed. “That seems a little excessive.”
“How am I supposed to react then? It would be easier if you just told me you hated me and that you never wanted to see me again. It would hurt less… I’d believe it more too.”
Ratio let the silence throb for a moment, let it pulse like a heart, and it was like he was waiting for his thoughts to gather themselves before he uttered them out loud. “Sometimes I think you cannot get any more ridiculous than you already are, but every time you manage to surprise me.”
“I do have that effect on people.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.” He sighed, and it aged him if only slightly. “You are far too troubled for your own good.” He said it softly, almost as if he did not dare to let his voice carry any louder, lest he break the night apart like glass. He moved closer, lowering his head so he was looking down at Aventurine who was looking up, blocking Aventurine’s view of the moon. The doctor inched closer, so that they were only inches apart, and when Aventurine did not flinch nor move away, he spoke, and Aventurine could feel his breath on his mouth. “Is it so hard to believe?”
Aventurine swallowed, and he felt his eyes widen for a moment before they settled into something sad. “It is, because if you lie to me, I don’t think I’d survive it.”
The doctor smiled. “Another lie,” he said, and he almost looked amused. “You would.”
Aventurine breathed, and he knew that Ratio could probably taste his breath, could probably savor the way it felt against his tongue if he so desired. Aventurine swallowed, and he cannot remember how he allowed the other to get even closer to him, but when he spoke, Aventurine felt his lips lightly brush the doctor’s, and the feeling swelled something hot and deep at the bottom of his stomach. “Still…” he said with mostly breath, and yes, that was his mouth brushing against Ratio’s. “You of all people can’t do that. It wouldn't be very nice.”
The doctor smiled again, and Aventurine felt it against his lips. Ratio brushed his mouth against Aventurine’s top lip—not quite a kiss, something closer to a question—and their noses touched like the way two puzzle pieces slotted together. When the doctor breathed, Aventurine could taste it: mint and a misty warmth. Ratio felt like silk. “It’s a good thing you’re the liar then, not me,” he said.
When the doctor finally kissed him, Aventurine shut his eyes tight. Truthfully, it was to stop himself from crying, as the last person that left a kiss on his skin was his sister as she placed a peck on his forehead right before she ran off to meet her death. Since then, Aventurine has known no kisses, and this one felt more personal, more intense despite how soft and gentle it was. It was like the doctor knew, like he understood that Aventurine would need to be eased into it, and truthfully, Aventurine would not put it past him.
Ratio pulled away for a second before leaning in a second time, and Aventurine could not help the noise he let out… he really couldn’t. The tenderness of this touch, the lingering longing, the press into his skin that made the whole world tilt on its side, it was like fire and it was like smoke, like lava and lavender and the fluff of lace. Aventurine parted his mouth and felt more warmth from the doctor’s mouth, and when Ratio took his hand to touch the inside of Aventurine’s arm, Aventurine shuddered, and whined. It was so much, too much yet not enough, and then Ratio kissed him more, kissed him right in the center of Aventurine’s mouth, right where he could feel it the most. Aventurine forgot who he was for only a moment, but the grass beneath his body caught him when he returned and remembered.
The doctor moved his mouth to the corner of Aventurine’s lips, then to his cheek, then down his jaw, and before Aventurine could even begin to think, there was something like love being placed down the side of his neck… it felt like love anyways, from what little he remembered about it.
“Don’t…” Aventurine started but stopped, his voice weak in his own throat. He was a wreck. “Don’t stop.”
Ratio kissed the spot right below Aventurine’s ear, and his mouth lingered, like he could stretch the seconds out until they were thin and hardly recognizable, and oh, did he try. “I have no plans that include stopping.”
Aventurine laughed, and it sounded broken, but he knew that already, “Good,” he said, right before turning his head to catch another kiss that was meant for him.
The doctor complied, and on and on they went.
-
Back in Aventurine’s hotel room, he let the doctor inside. There was a want that was growing within him, and Aventurine felt it in the way his cheeks flushed red, the sensation more personal than he expected. He wondered how warm he looked and if it was as obvious as he felt.
When Aventurine closed the door for privacy, he did so slowly. He wasn’t sure how to act anymore now that everything had changed (though perhaps nothing had changed and this was how it had always been… except now there was room for more honesty, and Aventurine had never been one for that ).
Ratio noticed. He always noticed. Observant scholars were awful because they always took the time to look when others could not be bothered. He saw Aventurine so clearly it was difficult to look back. Ratio’s eyes were telling in this way. “It’s unlike you to hesitate,” he said.
Aventurine laughed short and with mostly breath. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re not very nice?”
“Yes… in many different creative ways.” The doctor moved closer, but the distance was still there. “I thought you liked making bad decisions.”
Aventurine pressed his mouth together, and he shortened the distance between them with two steps. They were close now, and Aventurine could reach out to touch if he wanted. “This… isn’t a bad decision.”
Ratio smiled. “So you can say something sensible for once.”
Aventurine replied by taking the edge of the doctor’s shirt between his fingers and tugged him closer.
The doctor brought his hand up and caressed the side of Aventurine’s face in turn, and his fingers drew circles in the locks of Aventurine’s hair. His expression might have appeared neutral, but there was something else there too, that unmistakable sign of interest. “May I?” he asked.
Aventurine nodded, and he let the doctor kiss him. This time, it was familiar and no longer a surprise, but it still felt tender and sweet, and Aventurine thought if he were made of another type of matter in this moment, he could be unraveled and pulled apart easily, because there was nothing left to hold him upwards save for the doctor’s body that he was clinging onto.
Ratio used his other hand to touch Aventurine’s waist and hold him there, and Aventurine leaned in closer to make it easier for him. The doctor kissed soft and kind, and it was like he knew how intense it all was for his partner, how each touch was lightning, electric, and euphoric.
Aventurine let out another noise when Ratio kissed him deep, and another one when the doctor’s mouth traveled down his neck, mouthing there in a way that sent goosebumps up and down Aventurine’s arms, and he swallowed hard. “I thought… if this ever happened, you’d be rougher…”
The doctor kissed him on his neck once. “You think I’d want to hurt you,” he mumbled into Aventurine’s skin, saying in a way that was not asking, but confirming a thing that he always knew to be true.
Aventurine smiled. “Well… everyone does.”
“Lie,” Ratio retorted as he kissed up his neck and along his face slowly, taking his time as if to drag out the sweet agony. “Not everyone.”
Aventurine pulled Ratio back to meet his mouth once more, and they kissed something soothing, like liquid wax falling into a delicate mold, and Aventurine did not know much about quiet, but there was something about the way it felt to be savored by another person that had all the unnecessary thoughts in his head go silent, and maybe, just maybe, he did have it in him to go to the moon and back three times.
-
When Aventurine woke, he felt himself being held by another person. He tensed for a moment—he could not help that part—but when he saw it was the doctor that had his arms around him, he relaxed… or tried to.
Aventurine would be lying if he said he had never had this dream before. The doctor’s opinion of him had always mattered more than most, and their working relationship only made things more complicated. He liked playing with Ratio’s expressions, like being the kind of person who said ridiculous things simply to be a pill and get a reaction. It was fun, but also Ratio was different. He made it clear that Aventurine’s presence was something he dreaded, mayhap even disliked, but he always returned, and he never made things hard for him. He challenged Aventurine with his gaze, the kind of eyes that always appeared to be able to see through any act, and Aventurine—the perpetual actor—often fantasized about letting his walls down, just to see if the doctor could bear him enough to stay.
And here they were. Here was now, the light of the morning capturing the whole thing. Aventurine breathed in, then out, and tried to keep up with his heart. He was mostly successful.
Eventually, Ratio’s eyes blinked open slowly, and Aventurine stared and watched the doctor regain consciousness, his awareness coming back in waves.
Aventurine knew he was being watched in return, and there was something unnerving and exciting about being seen . “You stayed,” Aventurine said.
The doctor smiled sleepily. “You sound surprised.”
Aventurine smiled back. “Well… everyone leaves.”
Ratio gave him a look.
“Right. A lie,” Aventurine corrected. He laughed with the short exhale of his nose, a little thing mostly to himself, and used his fingers to trace the outline of the doctor’s collarbone. “Not everyone.”
Ratio closed his eyes as Aventurine did this, as if he liked the feeling of the skin to skin contact. When he opened his eyes once more, he stared at Aventurine for moments that lasted, looking at him like he was searching for something unsaid. “I can leave,” he suggested.
Aventurine inched closer. “Don’t,” he said. “I like it when you stay.”
The doctor complied, and he pulled Aventurine near so that they were breathing next to one another, their foreheads touching.
Aventurine cannot remember how long they stayed there like that. All he knew was that he liked being held, liked the feeling of knowing he was safe for the time being, and that at the end of this day, maybe there was a person that could accept him and all the broken pieces that made up who he was. Maybe he could not be put back together now, but Pen-Ah did not recover in a day. It took time, numerous Amber Eras and lots of pain pressed and suppressed, until a new moon rose in the sky, and the planet once again sang with the birdsong of the tern. If time was what it took, Aventurine could accept that. In fact, it might even be something he was willing to work with.
“How long are you staying?” Ratio asked him eventually, breaking the silence.
“On the planet?” Aventurine replied. He had not thought about it much. All he knew when he arrived was that he needed to leave Penacony and go somewhere different, somewhere that was not Nihility's End nor an uncanny dreamscape. He wanted somewhere real, somewhere where the air did not taste sour or false, somewhere he could breathe. However, he did not need Pen-Ah anymore, nor did Pen-Ah need him. Aventurine thought about it for another moment, then answered. “I think I’m ready to leave, but I still want to see one thing.”
“Oh?” Ratio asked. “And what would that be this time?”
Aventurine smiled, and for the first time since he arrived, it felt genuine. “Take a guess.”
-
There was only one place to see the Arctic tern in Pen-Ah during their migration, at least one place that was easy enough to reach.
Aventurine walked along the shores of Pen-Ah quietly, so as not to disturb the birds that were feasting on the fish nearby. There were so many of them, dozens of little white terns flying and walking on the beach, feathers ruffling the water off their bodies in droplets, some diving into the ocean completely then back out again with fish in their beaks.
Aventurine watched, and yes, he was shallow. He liked expensive things and gaudy accessories. He enjoyed endlessly spending and living in luxury if only because it made him like he was something rather than nothing, but perhaps there was still some remnant of his humanity left, a part of Kakavasha that still lived, for the flock of moon birds could have been a painting, the kind of thing that takes a person's breath away and never returns it. These birds could travel to the moon and back. They would leave this shore and fly through storms that would try their best to kill them, this bird that persevered impossible distances, and survived things that living beings perhaps should not have to survive. They would travel thousands of miles only to come back here at the end of it, and even if they were flying in circles, at least they lived knowing they could survive.
Aventurine was a lot of things, but he knew something about surviving.
Ratio stood next to Aventurine as he watched, and there was nothing to say about the birds that shouldn’t even be alive right now. They lived through a planet's reconstruction, and now there was probably no storm in this galaxy that could beat them.
The doctor crossed his arms. “They’ll be here again next year… in case you’ve forgotten how migration patterns work.”
“Doctor, you do say the nicest things.”
Ratio only shook his head, but there was a smile there if you squinted. “Are you ready?” he asked.
Aventurine watched the birds and listened to their cries. It was the sound of a species that persevered through a dying world, and Aventurine felt it vibrate right through his bones. “Yeah,” he said, something like contentment taking a hold of him and not letting go. “I think I’m ready.”
