It was quite abrupt, but it was worth speaking about. That was one of the thoughts that was also lingering around in your head as well.

Sunday had a strong reaction when he had seen you speak with Aventurine. And said blond had the same feeling, as even the mention of Sunday had the Aventurine sour. Clearly they had a history together, but there was only so much one could uncover about their past when both men were so closed off.

“Y/n, you know better than to stick you nose into other people’s business.” He did not even bother to look at you, instead watching a slime video on his social media feed.

“I’m just curious. You guys don’t seem to like each other.”

His ear wing twitched in annoyance. Slowly, his golden eyes glided toward yours, his face staying neutral as he took note of you. Whatever he was taking note of; maybe your determination to find an answer from him, or the fact that you were so out of the loop that you were likely ignorant as to the landmine this conversation was going to be.

“It’s best you don’t pry.”

You prepared to open your mouth, not caring that you were definitely going to step on said landmine. Not even step, more like dance on it. You were going to tap dance on it, not caring that the man’s body language stated “back off” in every single way it could.

“If I may recommend you one thing,” He didn’t let you do that. Instead he turned his face toward you fully, the most he had done to acknowledge the subject at hand. “It’s that you drop that friendship with him. That shrewd business man will only bring you trouble.”

And just like that, he stared down at his phone again, moving away from one social media app to the next. The slime videos were now replaced with an add for ridiculously cute pens. Sunday quickly tapped on the purchase button, not even acknowledging the ridiculously high price for said pens.

The subject was not just dropped, but clearly stomped on. The man had little interest in acknowledging his strange relationship with Aventurine.

It had you thinking a bit. The idea that maybe he simply hated the IPC that much – although that was not a complete theory, as he was attending a university that is funded by said company. The next idea that floated around in your brain was the idea that maybe they got into a fight some time ago.

“So. Do you know anything about what happened at the party?” Best to not focus on the subject for too long. You were not going to get answers directly from the man.

“Ah, I can’t say much,” This time when he looked up from his phone, he fully acknowledged you. This was a subject that he was perfectly fine speaking about – which was weird, since people tended to shy away from such a serious topic. “I knew the guy, but considering his reputation, it’s hard to say who killed him.”

“So the killer is still out there?”

That was something that had begun to scare you to no end. How can a man shoot such a high profile individual, at such a prominent school and not get caught? It was such a large event as well, so there were more than enough witnesses who could pinpoint who he was.

“Yes, but it’s not necessarily any of our concern,” Whenever Sunday said that, it meant more that he cared little for that man’s life.

Now Sunday was not some cold-blooded sociopath, but the man’s priorities did seem to leave his value for human life a lot lower on the totem pole. Only if it involves Penachony or his sister did he seem to care.

Said sister was still in the bathroom, now humming some classical song as she was banging something against the wall. Likely was the medicine cabinet, as she stored a whole plethora of whatever skincare products in there, which were now part of her getting ready.

She was only going to the mall. This was far more effort than it was worth, but there was no point in saying that to her.

“Yeah but he….died, ya’ know?”

Without taking much of a pause, Sunday moved to refute your argument – this time, his phone was turned off of social media, with his face and body facing fully toward you.

“He was not a good man. Can’t say I feel any sympathy for him.”

-

You know, maybe you should have put as much effort into your outfit as Robin did. Although that was rather useless, as you were going to take it off anyway.

Right now, you were standing in the large arts room entirely naked, with only a pair of slippers and a robe covering you. It was freezing, and your robe didn’t like covering your skin, so you had your arms wrapped around your chest as you finally stepped out of the small changing area.

Although again, it was rather pointless. Veritas was going to see you naked anyway, so what was the point of trying to cover yourself up?

“...so like, no one is going to walk in here, right?” Slowly, you walked toward the man. He was busy setting his work area – charcoal, an old pencil, and a sketchbook that was sitting on an easel. Instead of his usual strange outfit, he was clad in something more comfortable – sweatpants and a cotton shirt, covered in paint stains.

Weird, since he said this would be a sculpture. Maybe you were too ignorant about the process, but surely there should be the big block of stone somewhere in here, right?

“I booked this room for the evening. No one will be walking in, I promise you that.” He did this weird thing where his eyes shifted between you and whatever his hands were doing. As if he was trying not to stare. “I would not jeopardize your dignity in such a way.”

Awkwardly, you just kind of stood there as you waited for his directions. Behind you there was a small stage of sorts, covered in blankets and with a small heater tucked between them. Thank the aeons, as you were already covered in goosebumps thanks to the cold.

There was a small moment between the two of you. Since Veritas had finished setting up his little drawing station, all he had to do now was to move you into whatever pose he needed you to be in.

Which required you to take off your one source of protection.

Obviously, you had already gone this far. There was no way you could back out now; not when his eyes were piercing down at your form, as if trying to cut the robe off of you with only a look.

Steeling your nerves, you released your arm from your side and untied the string that held it together. You could feel how your nipples were perked thanks to the cold, and you tried your best to just ignore the feeling.

Looking to the side, you slipped off your robe, dropping it down onto where the blankets covered the floor. You toed off your slippers as well, kicking them right beside it.

It felt like you were being flung into the air by a catapult. Your body didn’t feel real – it was like it was made of paper, nearly weightless as you were overly aware of how exposed you were. Looking up back to Veritas’ face, it felt like you were going to collapse and die.

Seriously, his stare was intense. And he was still doing the thing, where his eyes moved from your body to behind you. His usually small slit like pupils were huge now, allowing you to see a reflection of yourself in them for a moment.

“Will you let me touch you? It’s best that I simply move you into the pose.”

Without fully comprehending what he was requesting, you nodded.

As if you were made of glass, he only pressed the tips of his fingers against your shoulder, pushing you to stand in the small stage. It was a small elevated oval, which was only a little bit warmer than the cold tile on the ground.

You turned back to him once you stood in the middle of it. He was now a little aways, his hand on his chin as he stared up and down your body. The awkwardness of being naked was fading now, as the man now put his thinking face on. His brows furrowed, his eyes squinting as his index finger slowly traced his bottom lip.

It was still cold, and you were becoming quite aware that you hadn’t shaved in a while. Especially since Veritas kept glancing down at them – hopefully not out of judgment.

The man stepped toward you once again, with one leg onto the oval and the other just below. It had him just a little closer to your height, although his crotch was scarily close your own. You were likely just overthinking – he had to have drawn naked people before, so this had to just be part of the process.

His hands cupped around your shoulders, pulling them back. Veritas’ eyes were staring down at your form, his fingers grazing down your body to now hold your waist, using a little force to twist it. You accommodated the position by shuffling your feet slightly – although not satisfying enough for the man, as he grabbed the top of your thigh and moved it just a little further.

You could feel how your knee touched his thigh, the warmth of his body thawing away the goosebumps there.

Whatever his vision for this piece was, it left you in a bit of an uncomfortable position. Although it seemed to satisfy him, as he walked back to where his sketchbook was, beginning to draw.

It took forever by the way. Or maybe that was still the lingering nerves in your system. While that fear of being so exposed was beginning to die down, your body was still in this weird stage of feeling nonexistent. Like you were in VR and trying to maneuver your character, with your movements always lagging behind.

The one way you coped with this was by flexing one of your muscles. It was grounding and helped you focus on not moving out of your pose, which was beginning to become a monumental effort. Time seemed to not exist anymore, as you were unable to think about anything but keeping your body.

“Sit down.”

Words of an angel.

Without looking back, you sat back. Your ass was instantly cold thanks to the ground, and holding your legs together only did so much. It was not as hard as concrete, but it was not at all soft.

You watched as Veritas approached you, his hands now covered in charcoal. He was much quicker this time, and was far less hesitant when touching your body.

He grabbed onto your shoulders once again, using more of his strength to move you around. You were pressed back a little bit, and then he motioned to a pillow that had come from absolutely nowhere. Veritas pat it as if it were a horse, showing that it was not nearly as comfortable as a pillow ought to be.

“Lay down.”

Taking a step backward, there was a small sound from his throat as he was thinking. You moved to lay down on it, using the pillow to hide your chest. It was still cold, and your nipples were still peaking out, as if to embarrass you.

And then once again, hands were on you. Due to the angle you had been placed in, you could not really see what he was doing. Instead you just moved wherever he told you to move – your hips were taken off the ground and moved to face his direction, and your knee was moved forward, your leg now resting entirely onto your other.

It was far more comfortable than the one you were in previously. But there were still some places that were unusual. But again, far better than before.

“How long do I lay like this?”

Veritas was still above you, his legs over yours as he leaned over to where the heater was. His thigh was against your own, the muscles there almost completely solid as it rubbed against your body.

“For a while,” He left you once again, although now you were beginning to feel warmer as the heater behind you began to work. The unfortunate part was that it was angled directly at your ass, which felt a little more than odd. That was the place that needed it the least right now.

“Just read this.” Veritas gently slapped a book against your arm. Taking it into your hands, you could see that it was a beat up paperback – a classic novel that you had been looking at for a while.

You turned your head to look at him, but Veritas had already walked away, scratching away at his sketchbook with an intense focus. In the corner of your eye, you could see how his neck had turned a dark red, peaking out from underneath his cotton t-shirt.

-

...were you stupid?

The answer was likely yes, you were. Ignore the fact that you were in one of the best universities in the universe – you had to be stupid. Maybe clinically so, because why was it that you couldn’t just be normal?

Since the sculpture, which involved hours of sitting naked in front of Veritas, you felt like you were becoming dumber by the minute. For one thing, the man had touched you. Not inappropriately, but there was so much skin contact between the both of you that it was haunting your dreams.

Seriously, you had woken up to thinking about it. The feeling was so real, so pleasant, that you found yourself dozing off and feeling it again. His hands were both rough and soft and you wanted them to touch you even more.

You couldn’t focus on writing because of it. Every time you tried to sit down and work on one of your stories, you found that your mind was just...never there. Before you could live through your characters, and experience their world. But now, every time you tried, you found that instead of wanting some lone, brooding and rough man, you wanted to write something….soft.

The one chance you had at escaping it was writing something else. You didn’t really know where the story was going – it honestly wasn’t really fiction, more just a retelling of events. It started the same way you had met Veritas, with two people in a library and talking about books. Although instead of writing fiction, it was more about classic literature.

A more fantastical side of your brain wanted to make it a mystery – because it seemed to be the only way you could come to understand Veritas. He had become so indecipherable to you, because every answer you came too didn’t seem to be real. It didn’t feel real.

Trying to understand the man honestly required a PhD.

He had been the first to seek you out. In fact, when you looked back on the times you’ve spent with Veritas, he had been the one to initiate most contact. He had always been the one to reach out to touch you, and he had always messaged you even when you would leave him on read.

And that statue….

Without thinking anymore, you kept your pen to the paper and kept writing. Half of it was illegible, but you found the words finally flowing. Even if it meant that your fingers were going to be covered in ink, it was worth it as you found that the creative muscle in your head was working again.

The man in your story was seeking out the girl because she was from a painting that haunted him since childhood. Because that worked better than whatever the hell was going on with Veritas.

You didn’t really understand just what about you had him so...interested. In fact, you weren’t sure you could believe that he really did find you someone worth talking too. The only other people in his social circle were all significantly better than you – rich, attractive, and didn’t seem to live in a fucked up depressed cycle like you did.

Well, maybe Aventurine did. That man was a mystery too, given just how strangely inhuman he acted. In many ways, he and Sunday seemed similar in that regard. Ironic that they disliked each other so much.

You wished you were a smooth talker in real life and not just in your stories. Maybe then you would really understand just what the hell was going on with the people around you.

-

Today was rather uneventful. There was nothing different about what you were doing today than any other day – it was writing, editing and hanging out with Veritas. Well, ‘hanging out’….that was what was different.

Finals were finally approaching. There was a tension growing on campus, especially in the library. Every conversation heard on campus was about studying and projects, nothing more. And you and Veritas were no exception.

The two of you had managed to book a room on the quiet floor of the library. It was typically reserved for grad students, but given his special treatment as an honors student, he had no trouble getting it. He had checked out several thick books, all opened and taking up space on the small table in the room – physics, chemistry, biology….how he managed to balance the different subjects at once was a mystery to you.

It made your side look empty in comparison. All you had was a small laptop, your messy handwritten notes and your usual coffee. And because his books took up so much space, the only space for his own drink was right besides yours. One which he reached over for, his knuckles brushing against yours as he took the paper cup into his hands.

His eyes were a bit more tired than usual, with his eyebags beginning to sink in more and more as finals headed closer and closer. His hair was also a bit messier, clear that he had started to care less and less about his helmet hair as the days went on.

“Is there something the matter? You’re staring.” Veritas glanced at you, his hand still writing in his codex. He was drawing some sort of chemical, quickly scratching lines to connect the hexagons. There was a label there, but he wrote in a language different than common galactic, leaving you rather clueless as to what it was.

“It’s really cold in here.”

“Well. Can’t say that I feel the same.” Just like that, he went back down to his paper, slowly sipping his coffee.

Of course he didn’t feel the AC. This man was a walking furnace, which was probably why he always wore such revealing clothing. Maybe that was why he chose this university, since this planet was always so miserably wet and dreary. It was perfect for a man as hot as him.

Standing up, you stalked around the table, moving to stand nearly in front of him.

Without giving him time to respond, you began to crawl onto his lap. Given that he was still focused on what he was writing, he didn’t move his arm in time. You held onto his shoulder, stepping over his arm and straddling it for a moment.

“What are you doing?” Thankfully, he moved before it could get too awkward. Him seeing you naked was one thing, but accidentally rubbing your crotch against his forearm was a whole other issue.

With the space you needed now, you moved to sit down. The back of your legs hugged his, your ass sitting right against his lap. You moved your head back, right at eye level of his lower jaw.

“I’m cold. You’re warm. Do the math.”

And you simply stayed there. You adjusted yourself a little bit, trying to avoid sliding off the chair. It had your back pressed against his chest, your body practically melting against his.

“….are you comfortable?”

“Yeah.”

-

Finals season must have made you really tired. Because the next thing you knew, you had woken up in the same position, although having slid down enough that your ass was against the wooden seat of the chair. An arm was holding your chest, and you could feel hot air against your cheek.

Opening your eyes, you unfortunately couldn’t tell how much time had passed. Your room was quiet but had no windows, so it could have been minutes or hours of you laying there.

You adjusted a bit, looking for your phone to check the time.

And holy fuck. You had been there for over 2 hours. Past sunset and past the usual time you would walk yourself back home.

“Oh fuck. Why didn’t you wake me?” Veritas probably had more important things to do. That man was always busy with something.

“You seemed like you needed it.” The man stated this matter of factly, not even bothering to change the position you both were in. His face was leaning against your own, his eyes still focused on the book right in front of you both. Moving on from chemistry, he was now deep into his physics textbook.

“….I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You started to move your body away from his, trying to slide yourself out as if you hadn’t just been in close contact with him for hours.

Aeons you were terrible with making moves.

“I would have said something if that was the case.” His arm did not let you go. Instead, he brought his face away, making eye contact with you in a way that could not be comfortable. Certainly wasn’t for you, as you tried your best to keep your neck and head far enough away that you were not kissing the man. Sometimes you wished he wore his mask, since right now it felt impossible to maintain eye contact.

“Do get off though, now that you’re awake. I can’t feel my legs.” He turned his face away at last, his arm pulling away from you. Without his hold, you had already began to slide, forcing you to grab onto his thigh in order to balance yourself.

“Well then why didn’t you wake me-”

“No.”

He offered no room for arguing. Already standing up, Veritas took a moment to stretch, freeing himself from your weight at last. Which was a little rude quite frankly, he could have just told you that he was uncomfortable. Didn’t he know you well enough at this point?

Reaching for your coffee, you glanced back at Veritas. Not so subtly, he was circling his palm around his heart, as if he were about to have a heart attack. It was plausible, given the more than usual amount of caffeine he had taken today.

“Are you feeling alright?” His face had started to flush, his eyebrows pinching together. There was a frown written on his face now, his eyes moving back and forth as they stared at the floor. “Is it the coffee?”

“...perhaps.” He pat down at his heart once again, as if to check that it was still there. Then he looked to you, with eyes that were both hopeful and nervous.

Caffeine wouldn’t have such an effect.

-

“Where are you?”

“….at home?”

“I bought you coffee, I was expecting you to be in class today.” This might have been the first time you heard Veritas so….offended? Upset? At most he would sound annoyed, but this was a rather new emotion for you.

Your brain was still trying to understand just what was occurring here. Vaguely you understood that you had a headache right now, and that you were very comfortable lying where you were, and that you really wanted to close your eyes again.

“….oh fuck. I was, wasn’t I?”

Your workshop course usually had mandatory attendance. After all, you couldn’t workshop a story if you weren’t there to give your feedback. Thankfully the professor allowed you to make it up over email, but that was not something you were physically even capable of doing at the moment.

“You sound rather ill.”

“I feel like shit.” At the moment you had fallen asleep on top of your couch. Well, technically a couch, as it sat where couches usually belonged, the living room. It was a large beanbag you had found in the university garbage bins, thrown out by a wealthier student. There was duct tape on the sides in order to keep the beans inside. It also had no warmth for you, which you sorrily needed as your whole body was shaking with chills. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

“What are your symptoms?”

The symptoms were everything sucks and everything hurts. Your nose was so stuffy you couldn’t breathe and your brain felt like you were swimming upside down in a freezing lake. And yet, you were so hot that touching any surface felt like you were touching ice. The phone was warm though, which had you pressing your face against it as if it were sunlight.

“Um….the usual. I think.”

“The usual what?”

“You know. The sick stuff. Feeling like shit and all.” For a writer, you really couldn’t explain the feeling you had. Of course you weren’t going to get published when you couldn’t even form your thoughts during a simple cold.

“Whats your address?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know what your ‘usual’ looks like. I want to check on you myself.” Veritas sounded worried. Not an obvious kind, but in the anxious kind. Like a cat seeing their owner bathe for the first time. Or sitting at the doctors waiting for a test.

“Don’t you have important stuff to do? I’m fine, I’ll just sleep it off.”

“Your health is important to me.”

He said it in such a way that you had to pause. Those words were surprisingly intimate. So soft, as if he truly meant to come off that way.

“...I’ll text it to you. I live pretty far from campus though, so really, you don’t need to bother yourself.” The sickness was making your brain so scrambled that you had to have been making it up. Or simply reading too much into it.

“You are not a burden. I’ll arrive promptly,” What do you even say to that? No one just says that right? Unless they’re like your therapist and are simply being paid to tell you that. But you weren’t paying Veritas, and he didn’t just say that to anyone. “While I have you, be sure to take care of yourself. Do you feel well enough to make something for yourself? Or to take medication?”

“I think I have ibuprofen somewhere.” Wherever it was. The bottle tended to travel with you, which meant that it frequently got lost. Your best bet was that it was now in your bedroom, sitting on your desk alongside your laptop and newest rejection letter.

“….I’ll bring you some. Don’t strain yourself.”

-

The next time you came too, you were in your bed. If you had gotten there yourself or if you had been brought there was a mystery. Likely the former, as you vaguely had the memories of stumbling all the way to your bed, using the wall as a support. Now you were swaddled in every blanket you owned – which was the grand total of 2. Perhaps you should check the donation bins for some more, so you weren’t as cold as you were now.

There was a ripping sound from behind you, which didn’t let you fall back to sleep. Turning around, with your hair pulling in all the wrong places, you found that Veritas was standing there, standing on his tiptoes as he tore at the tape that stuck to the wall so stubbornly. The one that held all of your rejection letters there.

“What are you doing?” When did he even get here? He didn’t call you that long ago. And it took a while to get to your apartment from campus. Unless the man secretly had a car.

“Tearing this down. It’s atrocious.” Having finally picked at the tape that held the top portion to the wall, he tore down your wall of rejection with force. There was a loud rip as some other pieces of tape stuck themselves onto the wall, refusing to budge while the rest fell down into Veritas’ hands.

“No, no. Put it back up. I need that.” You forced yourself to sit up, which was futile as a cough racked through your body. Your throat felt as if it were being torn, and your nose decided to begin to drip out snot like a leaky faucet.

Seriously, there was a lot effort put into that wall. All of that crying, tape and frustration….what were you going to do without it?

“….for what purpose would you need such a thing?” Veritas did not stop his destruction, merely slowing down. He crumbled what he had taken, with the large amount of papers shrinking down into a compressed paper ball. There was a force behind it, his hands flexing as he forced the ball to shrink smaller and smaller.

“To remind me that I’m stupid. It keeps me humble.”

When you said it out loud, it sounded kind of stupid. But you didn’t trust any of your thoughts right now, as any words coming out of your mouth were lacking in critical thought.

“You do not need a reminder of your failures. This is just mental torture.”

“Nuh-uh.” Despite your argument, he continued to tear down your papers. His nails would scratch at the tape, which was then followed by a loud ripping sound. Your feeble request was continuously denied, the only response being his face curling more and more into a frown.

“What good has any of this done for you?”

He sounded as if he were talking through an old television to you. Reality was not something entirely tangible to you, so his anger was something you didn’t fully understand quite yet.

“Like you said. Reminds me that I’m a failure.” What was the point in being so mad over your rejection letters? Everyone gets rejected, this is a normal response. Who wouldn’t wear failure like a cloak?

You moved to bury your head underneath your blankets. They were warm, providing a cocoon of safety and warmth, stopping your body from shivering.

“Are you a masochist?”

“No, I have a praise kink.”

Closing your eyes, you felt your mind wander farther and farther away from reality. Already you were not laying in bed, but entering a new world. You were walking somewhere, a place that began to be more and more focused as your body slipped into slumber...

“….while you’re awake, you ought to eat.” A heavy weight sat next to you, dipping the bed so much that you slid to them as if you were in a blackhole. Whatever place you had been walking toward was blurry again, as your body reminded you of what you could feel and touch.

“I don’t have anything in the fridge.”

“I’ve noticed.” Your hips were falling into the hole, sliding down until they were pressing against Veritas’ thighs.

“What have you done with the funds Aventurine gave you?” He sounded taut, and loud, and was forcing you away from that mysterious place you were walking toward. More and more as you indulged the conversation, keeping your eyes on your hands and Veritas’ ass, you struggled to breathe at a pace that kept you awake.

Your chest took a long and deep breath, before exhaling slowly. With closed eyes you would force them open again, listening to Veritas speaking. It was as if he was dragging the conversation on just to torture you, to deprive you of the sleep you oh so desperately needed.

“That just pays my rent. I don’t really touch it besides that.”

“Aren’t you on a scholarship?”

“Yeah but that just pays for school stuff.”

“How do you afford to eat?”

“I figure it out.”

“You’re likely sick then because you don’t have enough nutrition,” He sounded really upset. It was keeping you awake, as you had begun to fear what it was you had done to him. Was it because you hadn’t washed your dishes? Or because you didn’t have anything to eat? “If you ate better than your immune system would be able to fight this.”

“It’s fine. You don’t need to sit here and worry so much.” You hated how upset he sounded. But your brain was so tired and you just wanted to run to that unknown place your brain kept telling you to go too. With little forethought, you brought your arms to Veritas’ leg and waist, pressing your face against the closest part of him you could.

This man was always so, so warm.

And finally, you fell back to that place. You knew you were in your room still, laying on your bed and with a weight carding through your hair. But you saw the place. It was a park, the one on your campus.

Someone was saying words but you didn’t understand them quite yet, as you simply wandered through. It was a warm feeling, as if your spirit itself was being held. An unsaid I love you.

-

“I figured you were smarter than this.”

“What?”

You were more in touch with reality now. At some point you must have taken medication, as you now felt significantly more human. And reality was hitting you like a brick.

There was a loud silence that filled the room. The papers that had been taped to your walls had acted as an insulator against sound, muffling the typical loud sounds of an apartment. It was like cleaning your ears, making everything just a little bit louder.

And there was also less….stuff.

Your desk had been a mess. Always was. There were old and dirty cups stacked usually, all stained with coffee. It wasn’t something you weren’t aware of – no, you knew that you needed to throw away the paper cups you had collected throughout the year – but it simply hadn’t been done.

And now they were gone. All entirely gone, as well as the many receipts and old pages lying around. Now there was only your laptop and a neat stack of paper on your desk.

Fuck. Veritas saw how disgusting you were, didn’t he. Like you were some unruly child he had cleaned up after you. Did he think you were some lazy bum?

An ice cold wave hit you, making every breath you took more and more difficult as you realized that you couldn’t feel your own skin. You were sweaty and still lying in your bed, one that was starting to feel disgusting. After all, you had been the one to lay in it.

Veritas had moved from the bed, his hair pulled back with one of your small hair clips and hands cradling two takeout boxes. They were placed onto your now clean desk, taking up the space that your mess had originally had.

“Refusing to take care of your health is beyond idiotic. With the way you live, I would believe that you’re suicidal.”

Like a hammer striking the head of a nail. It almost physically hurt to hear those words, as listening to them had your arms feel numb and a sharp pain ring in your head. It reminded you of when Veritas had first seen you naked in the bathroom, that sharp feeling of vulnerable.

His face was turned into a deep frown, his eyebrows pinching together as he looked at you. The first thought in your mind was that he was truly and utterly disgusted with you. All you wanted to do now was to run.

“….I apologize.” Perhaps he recognized how harsh he was in that moment, or worse, being too honest. There was a shift in how he moved, now awkwardly shuffling from one foot to the other. His hands moved to be busy, opening the takeout boxes. It was simple – white rice, chicken and stir fried veggies.

It looked as if he didn’t want to be here anymore.

“No, you’re right,” What could you say? You were stripped naked once again, only there to be scrutinized by the man in front of you. Something you were beginning to hate. Why did you keep letting this over sized nerd from putting you into such a position? “I am being stupid. It’s just….”

You bit your lip. This sucked. You had greasy hair, you could still feel the sweat that clung onto you, and you were both hot and cold at the same time. You were hungry and yet just having this conversation made you want to heave until your guts came out. The look on Veritas’ face – uncomfortable, staring at you as if you were something stuck onto his shoe – it made you want to hide underneath your blankets and never come out.

“I don’t know how to get better, Veritas. I don’t want to feel this way.”

It was so completely and utterly pathetic the way you couldn’t hold back your tears. Like you were a snotty little kid, crying because you scratched your knee.

This was such a stupid problem to have. An adult who was unable to handle take basic care of themselves. Stuck in an endless fantasy of imaging that your writing could get you anywhere. As if a story could cure whatever was wrong with you.

“I don’t know how you can manage so much. I don’t even do half of what you do and I can’t even get the energy to wash dishes,” There were tears pooling at your eyes. You felt yourself squinting, as if it would prevent the inevitable. As if hiding them would mask your watery voice. “It’s so pathetic. I know it is. I call myself a writer and yet I can’t even get published.”

And it’s true. Yes you were aware that it was normal, that not everyone gets accepted. Or that most are constantly rejected. But dear aeons, you just wanted at least some validation. That you would be treated like a human being if only you could accomplish something to your name.

It was so stupid to say this to Veritas. He was so weird, so strange, but yet he managed to accomplish so much. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was accepted into the genius society at this rate.

Like the fools that he hated so much, you found yourself in the culmination of your cycle of self-pity. With your head in your hands, you bent down and wept. Didn’t this play out before? Whoever was writing your life must’ve been getting lazy. Or they liked to see you tormented.

“Getting published is not an end all or be all.”

With a sigh, he approached you.

You, whose hands are now covered in your tears and snot. Which you wiped onto your sweaty shirt, past the point of caring after having embarrassing yourself again. Emotions were never your strong suit.

And based on the look on Veritas’ face, it was clearly not his as well. Again, like he did before, he put his hand onto your back, doing his best to soothe.

Although unlike before, he brought himself closer. Your thighs were kissing one another, with his head touching yours. As if he were a large cat.

Shouldn’t he have left by now? Checking on someone’s health surely didn’t take this long, this much touching.

“You’re putting all of your eggs in one basket. There’s more to life than accolades and career.”

This fell flat when it came from him. If he wanted to he could get published tomorrow, and it wouldn’t even affect him. All of this was just optional to him.

If you failed to achieve anything, then surely your life would end. What would all of this work have gone towards?

“….like what?” Maybe you’ll hear him out.

You really didn’t want to be like this anymore. Your wall of rejection was far from mentally healthy, and you knew that. The pointless stress you put on yourself, the forgoing of basic human needs….it was not a good way to live. But you didn’t know what else to do.

What could you do?

“Perhaps, spending time with the people you love.”

“I thought you were above cheesy lines like that.” Yeah you should’ve expected such a response. He was majoring in philosophy, but somehow he could only conjure a stupid line like that.

It was so bad you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

Maybe you were just hormonal. The sickness was still fogging your brain, and any thoughts you could conjure up all passed without a filter. Because that answer felt far more acceptable than acknowledging that you were indeed feeling these kinds of things.

“Speaking of spending time….thanks for coming over. I know I’m a mess but I appreciate it.”

You finally got up. There was a lot you needed to do in order to feel functional, but Veritas had gotten you food and that would be tackled first. Opening one of the boxes, you turned to look at him.

He was large, so having him sit on your rather small bed was kind of comical now that you looked at it. Your bed only fit you, just barely. He wouldn’t even have enough room to stretch out his legs.

It seemed that he had designated who’s box was whose. He got up and took the opened box away, grabbing a spoon and digging in as quickly as possible. Did he wait until you woke up?

“I would be a bad partner if I didn’t, surely.” Veritas said this with a mouth full of food, swallowing with barely any chewing. The previous tension had washed away, now replaced with his desire to consume as much as he could in that moment.

You decided to follow suit. Your mouth felt dry and uncomfortable, given how you hadn’t had the mind to brush your teeth just yet, but it wasn’t enough to stop you from eating.

Xianzhou take out. The rice was plain, the meat was salty, and the side veggies matched perfectly. While it was not to your exact taste, it was food and you were more than happy to eat it. Your sense of smell was still inhibited by your stupid cold, which made the taste more plain than usual.

The both of you had moved back onto your bed in order to eat. Once again side by side, a silence resting over you both as your mouths were only used to consume food.

Your slow and careful bites made your progress through your meal significantly slower than his. The body was hungry but still too sick to understand the severity, but the mind had forced you to continue. You were still digging through your rice, picking out the parts that had no been touched by the sauce on your meat and veggies, feeling each individual grain on your tongue as chewed.

Besides you, Veritas only had his plain rice left to eat. All packed into a single corner, where his spoon scrapped the edges to pile them all into one eatable ball. You could see how his face cringed at the sound of plastic rubbing against Styrofoam.

He looked at you as he took in his last bite, his jaw barely moving as he swallowed quickly. Then he took your tray from you, putting his container underneath yours. You don’t know why, but he did one of those exhales, the ones done when someone is scrolling through memes on their phone and see something amusing. You hoped it wasn’t your face.

Standing up, he took his long strides and went back to his bag. It was a black backpack, neutral, with only the his duck charms to differentiate it from anyone else on your campus. The one you had gifted him was peaking at you, lying right beside an obnoxiously yellow duck.

“Where are you going?” You let yourself chew through the food that was already in your mouth, instead of trying to shovel in more. The grains stuck to your teeth, which you tried to lick away to no avail.

Veritas was pulling out a clothes that were an odd shade between lavender and sea foam. Medical scrubs, as you could never find clothes that touted such an odd color anywhere else.

“One of my clinicals is scheduled overnight. I need to go to that soon.”

“Oh, shit. I forgot, you’re busy busy.” Genuinely, how does he survive through all of that? It’s hard to believe that he achieves so much while being almost completely sober.

“It’s no worry,” Without looking at you, he headed to the door, presumably to the bathroom. His voice drifted, the sound muffled by the door as you could hear his clothing drop to the floor. “I’ll come back in the morning to grab my things.”

Stepping out, you could see how the clothes stuck to his body. The color did not match well with his hair, as it made his natural indigo appear darker than it was. He had tied it into a small ponytail, leaving his next exposed to the world, letting his trapezius muscle peak out from underneath the collar.

It fit his body well, despite the ugly color. Showing his strong forearms and his built chest, no longer obscured by his typical exotic forms of dress.

Your face burned at the thought of knowing how he looked underneath it. Fuck, he managed to look good even when wearing such a hideous uniform.

“Okay, have a good time at your clinical or whatever.” You stared holes through him as he left, trying your best to focus on anything else besides his body. Which was a very tall ask quite frankly.

-

You were feeling significantly better now.

The food was good, you had finally showered, and with your room cleaner you felt as if a weight had been lifted. What had replaced it was this growing guilt that ate away at your mind.

Guilt, because Veritas had picked up after you as if you were a hopeless child.

Guilt, because you kept reminding yourself that he had done it out of his own volition, as if that somehow excused how useless you were.

Guilt, because he had done so despite his busy schedule, even missing class just for you.

And guilt, because you weren’t sure that you could ever return the favor.

At best all you could do was try.

“You look terrible.” Standing at the sad doorway of your shitty little apartment was Veritas. He was dressed in the scrubs he left in, still looking as gorgeous as before, just with added stains and messy hair.

He really didn’t look as spiffy as he usually did. The bottom of his scrubs were wet, likely from having to trudge through tall grass and dirt in order to get to your apartment. You could imagine that he walked alongside the busy road, then having to drag himself through the tall grass that obscured the entrance of your building. And there were spots of brown on him, which given he was at a hospital all this time, meant nothing good.

“I haven’t slept in over 24 hours.”

Already walking past you, he headed to your shitty beanbag couch. He dropped his weight onto it, his hand falling onto his face as he took in a deep breath. He was not relaxed just yet, but he was taking in that moment as if he were a drinking water in a hot desert. A small groaning sound came from him, as if the exhaustion caused him physical pain.

Whatever his clinicals were like, it must have exhausted him. Usually he handled everything in such a cool, collected manner, that it must have taken him a lot to end up in such a way. That or his 8 PhD combination was simply wearing him down.

Surely, you should return the favor. It was your turn to care for him.

“Do you wanna sleep here?” The walk from your apartment to his dorm would be over half an hour. Even longer, as the morning had just begun, which meant traffic. And that meant there was a higher chance of him being hit by a vehicle, given how stupid and inattentive the average college student was.

“….your bed is rather small.” He didn’t entirely argue against it though. He was slowly sinking into the beanbag, his body closer and closer to your floor. You worried that his weight would force the tape off the sides, which was all that prevented the beans from spilling out onto your floor.

“It’s fine. I feel a bit better, so I’m gonna just sit at my desk and do work.” The bed indeed was small. And with two people, it would be like sleeping on a skateboard.

Or maybe he was just uncomfortable with that. You had both had your fair share of physical closeness, but sleeping together….

Jeez. What were you, a virgin?

“No, no. You should rest.” Sitting up, he started his attempt at an argument. The eyebags that hugged his eyes had turned darker, more prominent after the busy night. You could see some lingering stains on his scrubs – you only knew about hospitals thanks to medical dramas, so you had to assume it was some sort of bodily fluid.

“Nuh uh.”

The two of you stared at one another. Veritas was already blinking slowly, beginning to close his eyes and fall asleep right there.

On the opposite end, you felt wide awake. While not in peak physical health, you had enough mind to stay off of your bed.

It was a stare down, where you loomed over him and watched as he poorly attempted to stay awake. His body had already begun to relax the longer he lay there, forcing him to sit up despite how desperately he did not want too. He shook his head – he knew better.

“Do you have any clothes I may borrow?”

-

Your argument with Veritas had ended with the man crashing out onto your bed, clad in a shirt that fit just right onto his chest, and shorts that looked closer to pants. Old clothes that on you would fold around your body as if you were a child, but on him seemed a better fit. At least the shirt was, which stretched to accommodate his biceps and chest, showing how much dedication he put into building his body.

The shorts would fit no one on this universe unless they were 7 feet tall and weighed over a ton. One of the most bizarre clothing items you had found at a thrift store, that had become the perfect item for the few guests you’ve ever had in your apartment.

He had left his clothes and his dirty scrubs on your bathroom floor, and in the same way he had done so before, you had taken the liberty to wash them. They were tumbling around in your washing machine with the pile you had meant to take care of weeks ago – yes, even his rubber duck boxers were there.

Right now you were spending your time grinding on your finals project, the novel you had promised to a professor before the semester had even began. Like many of the people in your workshop, you had a story that would culminate to a complete novel by the end of the semester. However since you were stupid enough to wish to purse creative writing as a future, you had promised to make this one of your best projects yet.

The cyborg story had evolved, as you had gone out of your way to focus it onto something….more human. You still thought about the man you had met at the party, with the cowboy look and the metallic body. He was weird, suspicious, strange, but so utterly human that you felt like he deserved a story to be told. You gave him an adopted daughter, and he had started to shape into a strange amalgamation of the creatures you met on your campus.

For some reason the lasting illness had inspired you, with your fingers smashing the keys on the keyboard at a furious pace as you tried to complete your story. You had just a few weeks before it would be officially due, and the fear of the deadline had begun to weigh on your mind as you rushed to complete it.

Time had passed by, the sun moving the shadows on your wall without you noticing. That was, until you started to hear groaning from behind you.

You saw Veritas’ body shifting, the pillow that he clutched in his arms hiding his face but not the noise.

Fuck, you were probably typing too loud.

“Sorry.” You whispered to him, observing as his chest took a large breath in.. His initial response was a groan, with him sitting himself up so his eyes could reach your own. Despite the sleep, he still looked exhausted – he had only gotten to sleep for maybe 4 hours so far. Given it was Veritas, you were surprised that he would allow himself to sleep in like this and destroy his sleep schedule.

Turning back, your hands moved back to your keys, looking to continue the scene you had been writing. You were stuck describing a futuristic city, filled with botched plastic surgery and killer robots, but the vision you had was lost. Like a white TV screen, with no signal to be found.

Two arms wrapped around your shoulders, trapping you underneath a body. Veritas brought his face to your own, his lips touching on your forehead.

“You’re feverish. Did you take the medication I gave you?” The heat he felt from your skin was likely caused from how close he was to your body.

“Yeah,” Honestly, the medication only added to your awakeness. You didn’t really know the exact ingredient list for it, but it was said DAY in large lettering. The woozy unaware feeling you had when you were usually sick had lessened, with the mucus that had threatened to choke you now only clogging one of your nostrils. “I feel fine though.”

The man pulled your chair around, from facing your project to facing him. By the aeons, this man looked tired.

“Do not tell me that when I can see on your face how ill you are.” It seemed that after having seen how terribly you take care of yourself, he no longer trusted your own judgment on your health. Having a handsome man care so much about you seemed like a dream, but your brain was right now less focused on such a thing and more about your looming grades and deadlines.

Or maybe he was just cranky about having been woken up so abruptly.

“I’ll just sleep on the couch.” That seemed a more peaceful option. While he could go back to bed, you would just move your work to your living room. He didn’t need to know that you weren’t sleeping.

“You do not have a couch, you have a beanbag.”

“It’s couch enough-” Two hands grabbed at your body, lifting you from your chair and making your stomach flip. Veritas was still tired, as while his hold on your body was strong he was less careful about his placement – you could feel his fingers brush against your armpit, while his other cradled the bottom of your ass.

“What are you doing?!”

As quick as the manhandling came, he quickly dropped you onto your bed. And then proceeded to fall on top of you.

It seemed that you had replaced the pillow he was cuddling with earlier, as he wrapped his arm around your body, his head falling right between your shoulder and chest. His breathing had already begun to even out, his tired eyes closing again as he relaxed against your body.

“You’re so warm.”

“You say this often, you likely have an iron deficiency.” His voice had turned deeper, quieter, as his lips brushed against your bare skin. It seemed that a really sleepy Veritas was more touchy than he usually was.

“I can’t afford that.”

There was a pause, where you could feel how his chest moved alongside yours as you breathed. While you did not feel all too tired, you took the moment to relax, letting your mind quiet down as your body remembered that it was a live.

A loud yawn came from Veritas, a cat-like sound contrasting the large man he was. He groaned, his voice quietly humming in agreement with your words.

-

So, there was a new part of your routine with Veritas.

Now knowing that your apartment was closer to the university hospital, it seemed that he enjoyed taking advantage of this fact. Now at least three times a week he would come by – he had started to settle into your space, one small artifact at a time.

First it was shampoo. Then it was a spare shirt or two. Now he had books and papers piling up on your small dresser, ones that he would read while lounging on your bed. He would sometimes fall asleep with you in it, sometimes not. Sometimes you would be brave enough to crawl next to him, your body getting used to sleeping beside another.

Although of course, his apartment had started to suffer the same fate. On fridays you had a night class, which typically had you walking home during the early night. Before you would take the bus back to your place and walk through a few sleezy streets, and then passing out on your (perfectly fine) beanbag couch.

Now you would spend those nights heading straight to Vertias’ apartment. It had been three weeks of doing this, but you had started to stop by there so many times that you memorized the way.

His apartment had started to make space for you as well. The large desks in his living room had made a space for you, one where you could plug in your laptop and work on your assignments in peace. On Saturday mornings you would both work on your projects side by side from one another, a companionable silence that would surround you both.

His coffee pot would stay completely full now, enough to feed both of your starving academic minds. There would be snacks in his fridge, the ones he knew that you liked. And as an offering, you had started to take care of the mess you would leave, ensuring that the perfect order of his apartment remained undisturbed from the hurricane that was you.

It was so much all at one time. As if you were water behind a dam, the buildup of the last few months starting to culminate into an overwhelming feeling. One that you weren’t sure you could tackle yet, as you still thought about the potential acceptance or rejection letters in your email, the constant editing and writing on your stories, and what you should write next.

There were so many moments, with your now near constant physical proximity to Veritas, where you would think back to words he had said. To when Aventurine called you stupid for the way you acted around Veritas, to how said man had insinuated so many different times what he thought about you. How he felt.

Those moments terrified you.

When Veritas would bring his body close, his eyes staring you down and your lips only centimeters away, you would cower in the moment. As if he had burned you, and as if two adults being so close to one another was inappropriate.

In your mind you could not comprehend the idea that he truly did feel those things for you. That it would be safe to be so vulnerable with him.

When you slept beside him, parts of you still wondered when the other shoe would drop.

This was some sort of trauma that you likely had never unpacked. The exes you had, who would grab at your skin in painful ways, who would say “I love you” after berating you for hours, who would blame you for the misfortune that your presence had caused. The family members who you saw do the same thing, as if such a life was normal and desirable.

It was something you had avoided thinking about for so long. Your body craved those gentle touches, the warm feeling of a heart beating against your own, the relief of lips against your own.

Your mind had also learned to associate those things with the pain you received in the past.

When you wrote, you knew what the steps were when it came to love and romance. There would be gentle touches, that burning feeling, and a sweet release. But in real life it was as if all your previous knowledge, wisdom and experience had been thrown out the window.

Being beside Veritas so often, it created this dark cloud in your brain. You knew how badly you wanted to be close to him. Part of you understood that he was desiring the same thing as well; honestly, you could practically taste the disappointment that radiated off of him every time you pretended to be aloof in those moments. He had become more careful with you, watching you like some sort of conjecture every time your mind reminded your body of the years of hurt from before.

With all of this avoidance, your best attempts at avoiding the situation itself, you were surprised that he still let you walk into his apartment. That he felt comfortable enough to sleep in your bed, to clean up after you, to spend money on you.

You were beginning to realize that writing was not the best therapy for these moments. As much as you thought you could figure it out, the dam in your mind was still building up, the wall not relieving any of the building pressure.

-

RobinOfficial: Y/n, may I ask something of you?

TheCourtofDumbfucks: Um. Sure

RobinOfficial: Would you like to attend my birthday party?

RobinOfficial: I know what you’re thinking. It’s not off-planet, it’s going to be at the hotel in downtown. And it’s on a weekend

TheCourtofDumbfucks: Who else is going?”

RobinOfficial: Many people. I’ve invited the IPC, the knights of beauty, the astral express ….your boyfriend. ;)

TheCourtofDumbfucks: Your brother doesn’t seem to like the IPC

RobinOfficial: I have hope they will put the past behind them.

TheCourtofDumbfucks: Can I ask um. Why your brother dislikes them?

TheCourtofDumbfucks: Specifically Aventurine?

RobinOffical: Ah

RobinOffical: They were once together

RobinOffical: together together

TheCourtofDumbfucks: Like, business? Or in the gay way?

RobinOffical: The latter

RobinOffical: Please don’t look at my brother differently for it

TheCourtofDumbfucks: No, no. Not at all.

TheCourtofDumbfucks: Just surprised, I wouldn’t think they’d get along in that way

RobinOffical: Me neither. But I hope that it can be put behind us all sometime

TheCourtofDumbfucks: Are you sure it’s a good idea?

RobinOffical: I have a plan.

RobinOffical: I have planned games that will force everyone to collaborate with one another

RobinOffical: I’m going to need you to help out with this

RobinOffical: You don’t network or create tension. So I need you to keep the peace

TheCourtofDumbfucks: What a nice way to call out my social life

RobinOffical: I’ll make sure you get to spend time with Ratio ;)

Tags: @silvermah @arimelancholy @sylviatherosairy @haphuowngg @snailsposts@coffee-ii @odysswaffle @gabile18 @hertadore @marzopan-art @cjafjatkstke

My spring break is about to end, and after I got this wonderful comic of one of the scenes in this fic. Thank you sm @idk-lolol cause this gave me the kick in the ass to finish this chapter lol

Learning more and more about the inner life of Veritas had you feeling...rather small.

It was your own fault – locking yourself away in a room and writing some ‘grand’ novel did nothing for your social life. Every party and every club had been avoided with careful precision, given that in your own head, it never felt as if it would do much for you.

Sure, go talk to people who you didn’t know and who didn’t care to know you. Tell them your major and then listen as they tried to brag about their internship at the IPC or their research project that was going to do some random scientific bullshit. You didn’t even have the chance to share your stories or accomplishments; the moment you had brought up the arts, you were nothing to them.

Or worse, they were also in the arts. The snobbiest bastards in the entire university in your experience – it made you hope that they would suffer a brutal unemployment, as nasty as that thought was.

It was usually bullshit anyway. Those internships were nothing more than paper pushing and the ‘research’ they did usually added up to nothing. And the “poetry” they wrote was as deep as a puddle. But of course, you could never say that to their faces.

Veritas had been the exception.

While you only knew whatever he told you, it was obvious that he was actually capable of things he said he was. He wasn’t just a guy using words – deep into his heart, you knew that he was a nerd who was more than honest.

Sometimes he was a little too honest.

He seemed to know just about everyone; for one thing, he knew more than one stoneheart at the IPC. He also knew just about every single professor at the university, which really did add to his celebrity status. Even the dean liked him.

Although at the very least, he was kind of a bitch, so it made being around him more comfortable than you usually would be. There was a flaw he could find with nearly everyone – typically it was along the lines of calling them a moron.

And yet, he had yet to say anything straight to your face. From the one friend you could tell he had (or perhaps two, since Topaz seemed to know him quite well), he never had a problem throwing an insult while he was in the room.

He didn’t seem the type to say things behind people’s backs. So the fact he had yet to say anything to you was...interesting.

There was a chance that your only flaw to him was what he had found in your writing. Which made you want to jump off of a bridge if true – you liked to think that your writing was your best quality. It had been the one thing to get you through life; like the claws of a crab, it was your most honed weapon.

But if he had nothing else to critique on you, then there was a chance that he just didn’t care.

Dear the aeons you hoped that wasn’t true. That would make him seeing your bare ass even more weird. Yes you were not over that – there was a chance you never would be.

It made you dread seeing him in person again. Slightly.

Or maybe it was because you were being forced to socialize. Or because whatever party Aventurine had dragged you into attending was far more than you expected.

Veritas Prime was known as one of the greatest universities in the universe, and by god did some of the buildings show it. Some, not all, because in many of your classes you had more than a few complaints about the facilities. Moldy walls, broken ceilings… the list could go on.

But the ballroom was fully IPC-funded; some grant that was given some amber eras ago. It was a pinnacle of beauty, made by some of the best artists of that time.

Despite having been invited to these types of events before, you never really had bothered to attend. Which was your fault, given that self-isolation hadn’t done much for you so far.

Now you felt like a freshman marveling at the place – it was more like a feast for the eyes than just candy.

“Here’s the invite. You probably won’t need it, but just in case, ya’ know?”

Speaking of a feast, the guests here were certainly a feast for the eyes. While Topaz helped you look presentable, you were sure you looked nothing like her. She looked like she belonged amongst the social elite, already finding a woman she had to be friends with. They were talking like they were even forgetting about your presence. At most, they waved to you, their bobs swaying in sync.

You weren’t brought here to tag along behind her anyhow, but navigating the space had you feeling dizzy. There was just so much going on – there were several exhibits of all kinds, a crowd of what must’ve been half of the galaxy, and things that you had only seen in movies.

Plates of exotic foods and drinks were being waved around on golden trays. Some you could recognize – the expensive wines you would see in the grocery store, and the classic rich people food you would see on TV.

The event moved you around as if you were caught in ocean waves – you could see groups forming and people floating in between them, and the paths that were cleared were constantly shifting and changing as people found others to talk too.

From what you could pick up from the conversations, most of it was just bragging and selling.

Students subtly begging to work with scientists and companies, companies trying to sell some bullshit product or another to some other company, and the occasional conversation that was far too personal to be had in public.

They all spoke in bushiness speak, which had you feeling as if you were trying to translate a foreign language. If you hated the classmates of yours who spoke like that, then this was even worse. Your synethesia beacon was no help here, as you forced to listen to words that meant nothing.

What the hell was an assistant marketing data analyst anyway? Those were just words. There was no way that they actually meant anything.

You forced yourself to find ground. There was a spot by some popup art gallery – statues and sculptures, lying down a hallway where the crowd had started to thin out. Accidentally brushing your elbows against a few too many suits and dresses, you managed to find refuge there. The assistant marketing data analyst’s couldn’t attack you there – their stares and sneers were far too away from you now to affect you.

Right behind a statue of some mythical bird, you found a spot to breathe. There were still people passing by, but they had given you enough space to relax in your own personal bubble.

The smell of alcohol, strong cologne and sweat had finally left. Despite the event’s rich clientele, they were no different than a backyard punk concert. The smell and selfish attitude was rather similar, despite the drastic difference in language and dress.

With how bad it had been in only a few minutes, you were starting to convince yourself to just leave. Save yourself the social agony while the night was still young, right? There was even a convenient exit at the end of this hallway, less crowded and leaving you less likely to be seen by Veritas.

“I didn’t know you would be here.”

From a rather polite distance away from you, there was a familiar figure. Robin was wearing a dress just as fancy as the rest of the party, the difference was how it was trademarked with the usual colors and style the family would wear.

Pastel blues and purples were covering her, matching her hair and skin in a complimentary way. She was beautiful, as she always was. It made you want to eat glass tonight though, as you were sure that your makeup had already started to melt and flake off of your face. The mascara on your lashes was practically blinding you.

Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, but you felt as if you smelt like sweat and mold. You had put on whatever perfume you had gotten from the dollar store, but the smell of clean laundry and vanilla had faded quickly, instead leaving your skin smelling like dirty chemicals to your nose. The nervousness from the already large crowd hadn’t helped your case, making you sweat when you had only just got here.

“I’m just a plus one. It’s kinda last minute.” You kept your arms close to your side.

The ballroom was both too hot and now too cold, which left you feeling like a dirty pig wandering around in a show pony barn. In your mind, it was obvious that you did not belong here.

“Shouldn’t you be prepping for your performance?

Perhaps Robin was giving you space because she could smell you too. Or maybe you were dumb and overthought too much.

How the hell were you going to talk to Veritas when you were already such a mess? There was no way you were ever going to impress him in such a state. The fact you cared so much when this was such a stupid idea had you scowling at yourself.

“I would like to view the art as well. There’s much to learn.”

Gently, Robin took your hand. Hers were gloved and fit your hand perfectly between hers – it was a soft and warm embrace, tugging you to follow her along as she gazed at the statues. She had the beautiful dainty hands that reminded you that the writing callus on your knuckle and the small scabs that littered your hands stuck out more next to hers.

Obediently, you followed. It brought you away from the crowd and Robin was too much of a comforting presence to simply let go of. With the amount of time she was always studying, singing and working, this was a nice reprieve from your usual habit of being a socially inept loser hiding in your apartment.

She led you along, bringing you to a large statue, one that had been hidden behind the busts of famous dead men and the framed artworks that were obviously made by students. Most of them didn’t stick out – despite being an elite university, it was obvious that some of the work was only accepted because of connections or because they pandered.

Art pieces that didn’t really make one think of anything profound, in your own opinion.

However, as you walked through the gallery, one stuck out to you. A marble statue of two lovers – a man kneeling before a woman, his hands cradling the back her calves. It was rather intimate, with the both of them nearly in the nude and with a vulnerable facial expression carved onto the man’s face. His face was nearly pleading, something twisted into desperation, despite the way his hands barely graced along her skin.

The woman was facing away from him, staring somewhere off in the distance as her hands laid on the rock behind her. There was a book lying across her lap, face down as it nearly threatened to slide off and hit the man’s head. She did not appear to have that same pleading expression on her face, but mere indifference as she ignored the man at her knees.

And strangely enough, you found that there was an uncanny resemblance to both you and Veritas. Creepily so, actually.

While you found that you couldn’t relate to all of it – your body was not as...voluptuous, as the statue – but there was something about the face that seemed similar to your own. It was styled the same way to yours, the kind that you couldn’t replicate; the way your smile would look different during a candid than compared to a selfie.

The man looked exactly like Veritas, so there certainly was no doubt about that one. Down to the strong nose and happy trail, you couldn’t deny that the resemblance was truly uncanny.

“I wasn’t aware that Veritas would be showing his sculptures here.” Looking down at the artists name and sure enough, his name was plastered right there on a little placard.

While you had figured that they were lovers, the statue was simply titled “Longing” – no description, no artist statement. Just a simple title and an artwork to dissect.

One that featured you, for some reason. Or at least was crazily, coincidentally, just like you.

“We had an artist drop out. He was kind enough to allow us to use his works for this exhibition.” Robin filled in the information for you, noticing your interest with a keen eye.

You forgot. He and Sunday took a sculpture class together.

While there hadn’t been much evidence of it when you had been inside of his apartment, you could see that it would be a hobby of his. Although you didn’t expect that he would sculpt people – maybe a rubber duck or some sort of machine that he planned on building soon.

This seemed like a far more intimate view of human relationships than he had ever portrayed in his writing. At least, his earlier drafts. It was dramatic but also felt natural – the expressions and pose portrayed so much, really defining the word ‘longing’.

“This statue looks like me. It’s kinda uncanny.” There wasn’t a date on the statue, all you knew was that it was created this year. So the resemblance to you was truly bizarre. After all, you’ve only known each other for a few months. There was no way that he had managed to make this within this time, right?

Well, maybe Veritas could. But the fact that it looked like you was just strange.

Robin was literally right there, she made for a much prettier model.

“...you didn’t pose for it?”

“Nope. First time seeing it.” Robin fell silent after that. Your eyes glanced at hers and her face was...well she was certainly twisting it in a strange way. Not a look you would associate with her – she looked awkward, her eyes avoiding your own as her eyebrows twisted themselves into her forehead.

So she found this weird too then, didn’t she.

You put your hand to your chin, now contemplating. Either Veritas used a model that looked like you or stalked you.

While this seemed like good evidence for the latter, one issue was that when you had been inside of his apartment, there did not seem to be evidence of such a thing. No creep shots, no collection of hair or used straws, and well...it also just didn’t seem like him.

No way was Ratio a yandere. He was way too blunt about fucking everything.

But the idea of him staring at a naked woman….that wasn’t you….

You were not a jealous person. Especially over someone you weren’t even with. It was stupid to feel like you ‘owned’ Veritas when you were just friends….

And yet, it had your skin feel cold and your bones boiling. He was a grown man who could do whatever he wanted, it wasn’t like you could tell him what to do. But the feeling was unshakable; It was a deeply uncomfortable feeling.

More so than the thought of Veritas being some long, dedicated stalker.

That thought needed to be shook away. Veritas was not the type and even if he was, what would be so noticeable about you that he would even want to stalk you? The only time you went outside was for your workshops and lectures, and you weren’t pretty enough to get catcalled anyhow.

Which was a good thing, since it meant you could exist without blatant harassment just because of your gender, but in your sick mind you sometimes wanted the validation.

“You’re here as well?”

Aeons, speak of the devil. Aha must be coordinating this, because only they would find such cruel entertainment in a situation like this.

Or because it was horribly cliché. Seriously, these turn of events were becoming as boringly predictable as the bad fanfic people sent in your class workshops. Soon you’d find out that you were a princess and had powers.

You turned around to meet Vertias – he was in the suit you had seen in his closet, with stitched laurels that hugged his shoulders and a striking blue. The shoes he wore were likely the same he had gotten soaked in the rain, but you wouldn’t be able to tell that they had gone through such a thing if you hadn’t seen it first hand.

“I didn’t realize I was so easy to miss.”

The man huffed, shaking his head to wave off your words. He had some sort of product in his hair, as his hair stayed in place – it didn’t frizz up, nor did it turn into the wet curls that you wished he could keep. It made him look like he belonged among the sea of people, albeit in a rather plastic sort of fashion.

Still handsome, still perfect. But it did not look like Veritas. No, he looked closer to his plaster head than the man you had come to known.

“Nothing of the sort. I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

Aventurine’s dream date setup was…kind of awkward. You found it hard to look Veritas in the eyes, which were boring down onto you, so you instead forced yourself to look at the sculpture. Which had his face, which did little to help how you felt so strange at the moment.

“Sorry I didn’t say anything about it.” In your peripheral vision, you could see Robin walking away. She waved and then was gone – her dress and the feathers of her wings flying behind her with the swiftness of her feet.

The only presence by you at the moment was Veritas’, who was both too close and not enough. You could almost feel the warmth that radiated from his body, but yet it was not close enough to warm your skin, which had started to numb from the building’s strong AC.

And he had yet to say anything else. You could feel his stare – it was boring down on you, and you were scared to see the expression on his face. In your mind, you imagined disappointment. It was that little demon in your head that said: “You’re tolerated at best.”

It even gave the more terrifying thought that his face would be written with disgust. That he would smell your cheap perfume and strange dress and cakey makeup and think of you as no better than a little girl at a boy band concert. Your heels were not tall enough to make you sexy, instead just tall enough to make you put more effort into walking. And your dress seemed like it fit better on anyone else but you.

“You look good in a suit.”

The longer you stared at the sculpture, the more you realized that you could see how it was not entirely smooth – it gave the illusion from afar, but a careful look could see the small edges that existed. Like tiny scars, or the infinite edges of a circle.

“To you as well.”

Veritas had moved closer to you. His voice was right above your ear, close enough that if he leaned down he would be kissing the shell of it.

“Would you like to walk with me?”

Of course, without asking, he had already placed his hand on the small of your back. It was a light touch, the kind that would not fight you if you stepped away. It merely stayed there, waiting for your response.

Stupidly, you turned toward him, taking a look at his face.

Unlike the one he had carved out of stone, his natural face was quite something. It registered as something perfect on first glance, but the more you looked at him, the more things you noticed.

His cheeks had a natural flush to them, a light pink that stood out compared to his clear skin. It at least made him look more human, reminding you that this indeed was your Veritas and not some strange faker. And while his outfit was perfect, there was a small wrinkle in his collar, the corner tucking itself into his neck.

Carefully, you pulled your fingers around it. Slowly, you smoothed it down, tugging a little as you made sure the even both sides with one another so they framed his tie like a crown.

Now he really looked perfect.

“Can you tell me more about your art?”

“What would you like to know?” His hand moved a little, his fingers traveling down to your hip. There was more weight, as he subtly brought you closer to his body. He took a casual step closer, as if readjusting himself.

“You didn’t explain your piece. Just a title.” You could feel how Vertias’ suit jacket was brushing against your bare shoulder, with your body nestled into his armpit again, like the day you were in the rain. As he always was, the man was warm and you were cold. It made you hungry in a way you didn’t really know what to do with.

“It’s...this one I find rather difficult to put into words. I feel that doing so has me sounding like a poet.”

His face was staring at the ceiling, as if reading his own thoughts and trying to make sense of them. His amber eyes were moving – right to left, as if reading sentences that he had to translate into spoken words.

“The good kind or the cringy teenager kind?”

“And do tell me, what makes a good poet?”

When he looked down at your face, there was nothing you had expected to be there – no disgust and no discomfort at having to look at you. The flush was still there, now accented by a small smile that hugged his cheekbones. There was a shine in his eyes, as the golden light of the chandeliers made his eyes appear brighter than usual.

By the aeons, he was unfairly pretty. Nanook must have made him just so he could destroy you.

“Well, I would say a bad poet is the kind that is only words and nothing else,” Once again you were reminded of your classmates, who made you a little glad that they would end up as a starving artist. Even if you would end up there too. “The good kind is the one that makes you feel with the words. Deep meaning, ‘ya know?”

There was a poem that you wished would come to your mind at the moment. It had words that made you truly feel something – imagine a different, more beautiful world. But you were sure that you could not quote the words right and the title had simply escaped you in that moment.

“I’m kind of surprised about this piece. Your writing never really reflects emotions like this.”

You meant it as a joke. Just a lighthearted jab – the two of you had worked on his manuscript for months now. But his face made it clear that he did not take it as one. It had you cringe at yourself, watching as his eyes avoided yours now, instead staring at his work with his brows furrowed.

“Am I truly that incapable of expressing myself?”

“In words? Perhaps,” That might be one of the worst things to say in this situation. It was clear that part of what you said had upset Veritas, but you had no idea what. He was a confident man, particularly in his abilities, so a jab shouldn’t be so upsetting, right? “You can express concepts very well but I feel like you focus too much on being right.”

“What would make you feel then. When it comes to writing?”

“My preferences are trash, don’t take them too seriously,” The dirty fanfiction and novels you had piled in your room spoke for themselves. Literature was fun but it had nothing on some good smut.

Based on the look on his face however, it appeared that he didn’t really like that answer. He analyzed too much, and once again you felt the scrutiny that came with his gaze.

“But I think it’s more about being wrong. You have a strong sense of justice, and I think that clouds you from realizing that people can be wrong and yet still right.”

“...you mean this in a philosophical way, right?” The hand that had once been in his pocket was now on his chin, cradling it as he took his time to think through the words you said. Subtly, his hand squeezed your hip ever so slightly, the tips of his fingers pressing against your hip bone in a mindless way. It seemed that his mind was more focused on the argument he was writing in his head instead of the way he had touched you, making your face redder than it should be.

“One philosopher spoke of how people will understand their beliefs through the lens of what they know and understand about the world. Even if it can be viewed as wrong to most people, it is still correct to that person’s mind.” You spoke quickly, hoping to make your point clearer. If you didn’t speak now, then Veritas might plow through you with whatever argument he had started to cook up in his mind.

“I think I know what essay you’re referring too,” And of course he did. Only Veritas would know the old political essays you referred too off the top of his head. It felt like he was flirting with you when he did that; an attentive man really did make your knees weak. “I don’t mean this in a political sense, just as in… a people way.”

“I understand. I’ve never really thought of his work to be interpreted in such a manner.” His eyes turned back to you, and it felt so good to have them there; Veritas was truly thinking about what you said. You had to hold yourself back from jumping for joy in knowing that you had actually made a good, intelligent point.

It made you feel awkward though. You could feel how your leg nearly stomped involuntarily, while your hands had to make your natural shaking excitement into a more natural motion; instead of acting like a stupid, excited dog, you forced your arms to fold, your fingers tugging at the fabric at your armpits.

“Don’t I make a good philosopher?” Talking to Veritas made you a little too happy. Feeling smart was great but feeling smart next to him was a whole other world.

“...quite.”

The hallway was close enough to hear the noise from the ballroom; it was not as loud as standing in the middle of it, but it was a sort of ambient sound that allowed you both to have a comfortable silence. Both of your feet moved on their own, walking alongside Veritas’ as you simply enjoyed the moment.

People occasionally passed by the two of you, with their steps softened by the carpet. Even women’s heels were made silent, which made the rather intimate closeness the two of you had all the more.

You had walked only a few feet away from the ‘longing’ statue; now you were face to face with a life statue of Veritas, posed like the statue of David.

It was shirtless, although thankfully he put pants on this one. They weren’t hung low either, so his happy trail was hidden from the public eye. Not like it made you jealous or anything.

“Can I touch it?”

Staring at the thing had made you curious as to the texture. Would it be cold and smooth? Or just a little rough? Maybe it was slightly powdery.

“As long as you promise to be gentle.”

Slowly, you moved your hand; first you gave a testing poke at the statues wrist, seeing if it may jump at you in some way; Maybe it would fall down and shatter. It looked so life like you might’ve actually believed it was Veritas in the flesh, if the real one wasn’t standing right by your side.

Of course, the statue was just simply hard and cold. It was not perfectly smooth though; unlike a granite counter top, the statue had some texture. When you instead dragged your fingers across his chest, you could feel it; a dry texture, not powdery but more like a terracotta pot. You could feel how his muscles were carved in, your fingers dragging across the valleys of his abs.

Veritas was being true to life when he made this. Which made you want to eat him, because why was he so casually perfect?

The statues belly button was also carved, with a particular attention to the small details inside. You were getting a little too close to fondling it however, so you quickly moved up to his face.

As subtle as you could be, you took glances between the statue and the real Veritas. The statue looked nearly identical, besides being chalk white. The hair moved in the same manner, falling across his large nose; the eyes even had the cat-like pupil that Veritas had.

There were no lashes however. You could feel none as you gently pressed the tip of your finger across his eyes. Unfortunate, given how beautiful they were on the real Veritas.

Who by the way, was still holding onto you waist. He had not left your side during this, instead merely watching you. When you turned to meet his eyes, you could see that his face was becoming a few shades pinker. His thick brows had shot up on his forehead, causing wrinkles that were not visible on the stone-faced statue of him.

...did you make it weird somehow?

“You appear to be cold.” Veritas said this as if he didn’t look feverish. He always ran as hot as a furnace but right now you were sure that he was overheating – perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to stay so close to him. Stealing his body heat was nice but not at the expense of his own comfort.

“Oh...a little bit, yeah.” He had yet to move away so you took that as an invitation to keep your body touching his, nearly digging your hipbone into his side.

He didn’t seem to mind your closeness, anyhow. While his face was still pinkish, he didn’t dare to move even a centimeter away from you.

“It ought to be warmer down the hall. The air conditioning is not as strong there.”

Perhaps you had made him so uncomfortable that he was too scared to say anything about it. The thought was killing you, but you beat it away – Veritas was not the type of person to allow such a thing. He spoke his mind, even if it meant hurting a girl’s feelings.

Honestly, he either assumed everyone was going to be on the same step he was or would berate them if they did not try too. Since he had yet to tell you anything, then you were probably in the right direction.

Wherever Veritas was leading the two of you was…. somewhere. You had no idea where the hell he was taking you.

When before you would have a few passersby, now there was basically no one. The art showcase had ended, instead leading to one of those long hallways that the university was full of. It was a strange sort of liminal space. There were doors that led to rooms you hadn’t been in, and they were all empty. Dark, quiet and stale. And if it weren’t for Veritas at your side, you may have believed that the hallways stretched forever.

You were close to an exit – large, open glass doors, showing how your were both so close and yet so far from the main event.

As sneakily as you could, your eyes crawled up Veritas’ form. The man holding you didn’t seem to act any differently – this location was rather lonely, or perhaps intimate. If you were in a horror, this would be the perfect place to lure in a victim.

Of course, you life was rather too boring for that. Veritas wouldn’t kill you, even if the idea that he was some secret psycho stalker was rather enticing. It was an easier thought to swallow than the possibility that maybe….perhaps, he did enjoy speaking to you.

Because you couldn’t help feeling guilty for enjoying this moment.

You were stealing his time, surely. Veritas was here because he had important people to talk too – in fact, he was one of those important people that had guests tripping over themselves just to talk too. Surely there were people looking for him, wishing to discuss one scientific article or his research.

But instead of talking to them, he was walking around with you in empty hallways. You didn’t want to assume things, because you’ve come to learn that your assumptions on people’s thoughts were usually wrong, but….did he like you?

As in, enjoy your presence in the same way you did with his?

Aeons, you were thinking too much.

“I’m not taking your time, am I?”

“No, I quite like being next to you,” When he said this, you felt a weight lift off of your shoulders. Perhaps just for the moment, but you could feel how your body loosened at his words. Yes, you sounded like a boring protagonist in a teen romance novel, but you couldn’t deny just how good those words made you feel.

He didn’t view as a burden. At least, you believed that you weren’t for this moment. Tonight you weren’t a pig with lipstick on like you had earlier – no, this felt just the same when you were in the coffee shop with him, simply talking and sipping away as you both always did. If you were a dog you would be wagging your tail right now.

“This event is filled with dishonesty, so you’re a breath of fresh air.”

He brought the two of you to some old painting that sat abandoned in this hall. It was a portrait of some great man a few hundred years ago – his name sat on the placard, with a small paragraph telling the tale of his life.

The man’s face was wrinkled, although you could tell from the spots on his pale skin that he must have lived somewhere warm – perhaps he had moved later in life to a warm planet, after he had done his job with the intelligensia guild.

It was covered in dust, which showed just how much they really respected him. When you dragged your finger across the glass, you could see the difference – the dust was so thick that it had distorted the colors on the piece, making it appear duller than it really was.

“Dishonesty in what way?”

Veritas looked as if he was trying to choke without making any noise. He punched his chest, clearing his throat in a way to shake it off. But based on the way his eyebrows pinched one another, it didn’t seem as if punching himself had done anything to help.

His eyes looked the painting up and down, too fast to truly be noticing any of the finer details. His head was turning toward you however, as if he was trying to force himself to make eye contact with you in this moment.

“….many people only see accomplishments. But you see people for what they are,” Finally, he managed to bring his eyes to yours. They dragged themselves so slowly, as if looking at every part of you like you were the painting instead. “Next to you, I feel undeniably human.”

Rather awkwardly, he shifted his hold on you. He faced you fully, his hands now moving to take yours. They were both so gentle and yet firm, as he moved between squeezing your hands and simply cradling them like a kitten.

And you were right about the fever thing – his hands were sweaty and warm, and they felt far warmer than they should be. His face as well, as while earlier he had a healthy pink to his cheeks, now he was becoming almost beet red.

His breathing seemed heavy as well….

“At this moment I dare say that-”

The words died in his mouth.

Like a dying fish, he stared at you and said nothing. His lips parted, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as if he was trying to say words, but his tongue kept swallowing them instead. At one point you though that maybe he would finish his sentence, as his jaw lowered just enough to give the impression of words, but he quickly shut it again, a loud breath of air being the only sound between the two of you.

Quickly, his plaster head popped back onto his face like acne on a teenager. You couldn’t tell what had changed – you looked around, and you could see nothing that would cause such a reaction.

Given that his hands were still holding yours, there was not a whole lot you could do to break free from the absolutely bizarre moment that Veritas had created. You shook his hands, watching as his arms moved stiffly while still holding onto you.

It felt like forever in that moment. His mask was looming over you, now hiding the man who was just about to finish a sentence.

“I’ll return to you.”

And just like that, he left. One moment you were staring into Veritas’ eyes and the next you could feel nothing but sweat and cold air as he rushed away from you.

-

So, Veritas did say that he would return to you. Maybe finish his words, or explain himself for the entirely bizarre reaction he had just showed you.

But it’s been 20 minutes and still. Nothing. Not another appearance as you stayed in the hallway, your eyes merely gazing at old and dusty paintings.

You could have gone to the main event – maybe find Robin again, or try and see what Aventurine was up too. But you didn’t really have it in you at the moment.

People in general were just never your thing. So why would you bother talking to a bunch of people who did nothing but zap your energy and make you want to curl up in your bed even more?

Really, you wanted to just find Veritas again and pester him for answers. It was eating at you – unfinished sentences were never a good thing. At least, in movies and shows and books and all sorts of media.

When someone leaves an unfinished sentence, there was something that was going to happen. They leave without the warning they wanted to give, or only half of the answer as to how to defuse a bomb.

What if he had something so important that you may never figure out? When would be the next time you saw him again?

In order to calm yourself from the irrational train of thought you had gone on, you moved to stare at the windows on the large exit you had passed earlier. There were still people entering and gathering from what you could see – you could hear the festivities far away, but it did not entice you as much as you ought to have been.

There was also….was it a person?

Outside the doors, there was something walking through the bushes. The light was not as good as it could be, so you could only vaguely see the shape of a person peaking out.

They were dressed like a cowboy, but tonight wasn’t halloween so you had no idea why they looked like that.

And then, they fell. Hard. They tried to crawl out of the bushes but something caught – it led to a nearly cartoonish fall, as the person fell entirely flat onto their face.

“Are you okay?”

You pushed the door open, looking at the cowboy who fell. Despite the long hair, you could now tell this was a man – given the lack of a real jacket to cover them and the fact that they groaned like a man.

“Yea, just peachy,” He kicked off the twig he had tripped on, trying to stand up as fast as possible. It was a messy affair, as he nearly fell onto his elbows as the twig stayed stubbornly attached to the spurs on his boots. “So...I lost my invite and they won’t let me back in. See, I left my wallet in the bathroom and I gotta get it back.” Wow, what a terrible liar this man was.

Even you could tell that he was lying through his teeth. The awkward laugh and the way he awkwardly folded himself to your height said enough. He was like a big dog trying to make himself appear as small as a chihuahua – it looked a little ridiculous on a grown man.

Despite the terrible lie and the way he awkwardly moved, you couldn’t find it within yourself to care about his real intentions.

He was probably just another strange guy trying to meet a celebrity or some other important person. By the looks of him, the man didn’t come from here – in a way it reminded you of Veritas.

Who mind you, still hadn’t returned to you. It upset you a bit more than you ought to admit.

You took on big step away from him, holding the door open for the cowboy. His steps were bigger however, as he took his long legs and stepped up right to your face, leaning down to look into your eyes.

“Well, thank you little lady.” As if you were a dog, he pat your head, his cold mechanical fingers heavy on your scalp.

That was a detail you didn’t notice till now. He was a cyborg – almost entirely, as the only human skin you could see on the man was his face.

It reminded you of the story you were working on. A cyborg, a gruff man….but a cowboy on top of that? You couldn’t even conjure up the idea of such a thing, but here he was, right in the flesh.

His clothes were whorish and his body was almost entirely crafted out of metal. You wanted to memorize this so you could write it down later – there was so much happening with him, and you couldn’t help but feel insanely curious.

Men like him don’t come to planet Veritas that often. This man was clearly not an academic – he must have come from some planet far away, like Robin and Sunday were.

“….I know I’m quite handsome, but I fly solo.”

“Oh no, not that.” He probably thought you were weird for looking at him for so long, but he was equally as weird for standing so close to you this entire time. “Where did you get your arms? I’ve never seen a model like that.”

Nothing that you had seen in your research at least. Maybe you should ask Veritas, because this seemed like something that he would have experience with.

“Oh, uh….” He took a step back as if you had burned him. Inwardly, you cringe – being a cyborg was likely a touchy subject, and now here you were asking an invasive question. “They were a gift from a friend. Custom made.”

“That’s neat….”

“I’m going to head out now. Uh, thank you for the help sweetheart.” Turning away, he waved at you and walked away quickly. As if he wasn’t there at all, he turned down one of the many empty hallways and disappeared from your vision.

-

Once again, you were left alone. No cowboy, no Veritas, and no one else passing you by.

It was rather peaceful though. You had found a bench to sit at and started to write the important parts of tonight.

This was something you had picked up from your classes. When you had an idea, you found the notes app on your phone and started to write what you wanted to remember. So your hands started typing away; the strange cowboy, the loudness of the event, how Veritas held you throughout the night, how Veritas had cradled your hands so gently….

There was a lot of Veritas in your thoughts. There was so much that he had done to peak your interest that you realized that most of your document was filled with him.

Veritas, Veritas, Veritas….

You were getting annoyed with yourself.

In the distance, the party got louder. There were screams and pounds – they must have kicked it up a notch. Veritas was likely annoyed if he was in the noise….if he was there. Maybe he left the party all together?

How the hell were you going to get home? You had no idea where Robin was, and while you could maybe find Topaz, it was awkward to ask her for a ride back to your shit apartment. It was so far from campus and making her drive so far just to see the shit shack that you lived in was horribly embarrassing.

Aeons, why did you even agree to this. Did this really beat a night at home? You probably could have finished an essay or turned in one of your many overdue assignments. Maybe go back to sending your work to more magazines and see if there was a chance that anyone in the universe was willing to publish your story.

Even just thinking about it made you feel like a loser. You were like Cinderella, except instead of having a romantic dance with your prince charming, all you did was fondle a statue of him and watch him run away from you.

Veritas wasn’t really a prince charming, but it was close enough.

Jeez….maybe you should go find him yourself.

You put your head in your hands, squeezing the temples of your head with the heel of your palms as you tried to think. Tonight seemed worse than usual – large groups of people were really not your thing.

“Y/n? What are you doing out here?” A strong hand landed on your shoulder – gloved and slender, and when you looked up, you could see Sunday’s face looming above yours. He seemed a little out of breath, as the wings on his head were ruffled and his chest heaved with controlled breaths.

It looked as if he was running, and particularly looked panicked. His head was turning around, searching for something, perhaps surveying the area for something.

“Um. I figured it would be best to stay put.”

“The building is being evacuated. We need to move.”

“Wait-” Without explaining anything more, he pulled you up from your seat, walking before you could even think.

What you had thought was a loud party was really screaming. It hadn’t even registered to you from the spot you were in – it was only when you walked back to the party did you see the chaos that was unfolding.

As you passed by the art gallery, you could see paintings that were knocked over in a panic. With your small view of the ballroom, it was visible that it was a large panic that had occurred. There were missing heels and dropped purses, broken glass and splattered food all over the ground. People were clustered around the main exits, running to their cars or searching for friends.

“Robin is waiting for us at the east entrance.”

Sunday was not necessarily a tall man, but he was certainly taller than you. His steps were faster, which made it more difficult to match his pace with the heels you had on. You had nearly fallen twice, your ankles so close to rolling and dropping you onto the ground.

“Y/n!”

“Ah, I see,” While his face was appropriate for the occasion you were both in, his voice was not. There was a teasing tilt as Sunday watched Veritas approach. “You were waiting for your boyfriend, I take it?”

“This is an emergency.”

The look of complete and utter panic was not one you could predict on Veritas. While you would think it would be something similar to constipation, it was actually closer to his thinking face. He had his brows scrunched and his lips were in a tight frown, his face looking away as if to read his invisible thoughts.

Like a bird, Sunday had practically flown away the moment he had the chance. It was almost comical to watch how fast he ran – his halo was almost struggling to keep up with his speed.

It was a little too distracting. Like Sunday had done to you earlier, he was pulling you to run at a speed that you couldn’t keep up with. You had nearly tripped him as your body fell uselessly against him in the haste.

“Can you walk faster?” His voice was frustrated, the tone he had when he was grading his student’s papers. He was looking at you so, his eyes looking you up and down in an intense fashion.

“Sorry, I don’t wear heels often. This is as fast as I can go.”

It was horribly embarassing. Here you both were, in what seemed to be a real emergency, and you couldn’t help but flop around like a dying fish. You were no better than dead weight.

You tried to force yourself to walk again. Veritas had let go of you, so you had sped up to overtake him.

Well. You tried.

For a moment, you felt as if you had fallen again. Although – Instead of falling right onto you face like you should have, meeting the cold hard ground face first – you found that your chest was awkwardly buried into Veritas’ shoulder.

Without asking you, he had thrown you over his shoulder, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other was on your thighs, just below your ass.

It was hard to find your own balance. Like a scared cat, your hands were grabbing at his jacket, grabbing at the fabric and digging your elbows against his shoulder blades. You pressed half of your face against his shoulder, your eyes struggling to adjust to the world moving upside down and faster.

He really could be an athlete. Even with your extra weight added on, he still moved much faster than you could.

The hand that had been just below your ass was in a rather awkward place – to keep you from falling, Veritas had his fingers curled around your thigh, curled into the fabric of your dress.

“Your dress is short.”

“Is that why your hand is on my ass?”

“Would you rather expose yourself to the entire venue?”

You could hear from his voice a building panic. In your head you still hadn’t really understood the situation – there was something bad happening and everyone was evacuating…..but what the hell was it?

While your body was focusing on the weird discomfort of your position – the way the wire of your bra dug into your skin, how you could feel your ribcage press against Veritas’ body and the way his cheekbones dug into your waist….geez, you might not really mind dying right now if it meant that you would get to stay like this forever.

Of course, you never got to enjoy things for long. As quickly as he had picked you up, he had already moved to put you down.

You were both a good distance away from the building, although not too far from the growing crowd of confused guests. Veritas had kneeled down to put you on the ground, making sure that you didn’t break your ankles as you were forced to go back onto your heels.

Perhaps he was on the ground for a bit too long. His fingers were still curled around the end of your dress, and his eye level was just above your midriff – if he kneeled down a little more, he would see your underwear.

He pulled your dress down, thankfully. It had ridden up during the debacle, so he made sure to pull out every wrinkle possible to spare you some of your dignity.

As if you had any left. You were practically melting at the moment – this might have been the first time you’d been in physical contact with another human being since….you didn’t even know when. And standing there, just watching as he dragged his hands downward your body had you reeling.

“Good to see you two lovebirds.”

Veritas was so strange. Just like earlier, he practically became a different person. His mask popped back onto his face, hiding the blush and look of pure terror on his eyes.

Aventurine strolled slowly, as if he wasn’t part of the terrifying event that just happened. His smile stayed the same as before, although he had a weird shake to him. It was subtle, given that the moment he had seen your eyes watching, he threw his hands into his pockets. Now he walked with a sort of swagger, as if it was natural to act so.

Great. What a way to ruin the moment.

“I wasn’t aware that you two knew each other.” Sunday decided to doubly ruin the moment, with his freaky way of appearing silently behind you. Seriously, how long was he there? How much did he see?

Oh aeons….what did he see?

“We’re friends.” Aventurine stepped closer to Sunday in a way that felt….tense. Yes, very tense – he leaned in, with his face closer to the man while his legs were a good step away, as if ready to jump away at a moment’s notice. Reminded you of a horse weirdly – head outstretched in some sort of curiosity, but skittish enough to know not to get too close.

“Why didn’t you tell me Y/n?” With the way the man spoke, you couldn’t really tell if he was hurt or not.

There was definitely a history between these two. You didn’t know what, but you could practically taste the tension between them.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“No, not really.”

-

It’s been almost a week since that night. But despite that, life felt as if it was both the same and yet changed.

Your schedule did not change – you went to your workshops, you did your dishes and did your laundry, and you did your homework. You would write until past midnight and would trudge through your day in the same usual way you had done.

But there was a subtle feeling that had begun to creep up on you. Every time you passed a corner or passed by a crowd, you felt it – there was that rush of adrenaline. As if you were a deer in a forest, you would find that your entire body was prepared to run. Somewhere in that night, the world had become a little bit clearer, as now the people whom you once ignored had become potential enemies.

Although still, you did not really change anything about your life. But change did chase you.

Veritas was also different since that night. In a small way – he would express more, smile a little more and would meet your eyes a little less.

Your meetings were the same. But there were these strange moments, as the touch that he seemed naturally inclined to do had suddenly ceased. As if you had burned him. There were some things that remained unsaid however, such as the way he had acted so strange that night.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.” The two of you were spending your monday morning together at a small corner of your campus. Your usual place at the library did not make you comfortable, given the crowd.

It was not all bad however. The little gazebo was rather romantic – the flowers were at the end of their bloom, but it did not make them anymore beautiful. They sang when the cold breeze would pass through them, and you could feel comfortable wearing one of your thick sweaters. It had sat in the back of your closet for so long, and it was unfortunate as it was one of the best pieces in your closet.

“...I feel like your female protagonist is a lot like me.”

This was something you had been meaning to confront. After seeing the statue, it had been hard to ignore the glaring issue with Veritas’ story – the fact that the character you had most fault with seemed to be based off of you.

She was an artist, and you were a writer. She would touch Veritas in the same way you had touched him – he had described multiple times the exact moments that the two of you experienced. The times you had cried in his arms, the warmth you two had shared, and even the feeling of skin on skin.

Throughout your time with him and with your complaints, you found that his character had started to mold itself in a shape of you.

“That isn’t a question.”

“Well. Is it on purpose?” You leaned in closer to the man. His face was almost buried in his book, his eyes pointedly avoiding yours in favor of the page he had not turned.

“I find you inspiring.”

The closest to eye contact he made was when he moved his eyes to stare to the side of you.

“How?”

“You are honest, brave, and willing to admit your faults.”

Slowly, his eyes trailed their way toward you. How unfortunate as the wind blew your hair in front of your face. You were too busy fighting your hair to see what expression Veritas could have made.

“Personable as well.” He leaned over to help clear your vision. He curled the strands around the shell of your ear, gently carding his fingers down your skull to keep it as tight as possible.

And it was made quite obvious to you now that he was seeing you. As in, really looking at your face – he had his study face on, the one he wore when it was something important to remember. His brows pitched and his irises shook a little, as if reading your face like a novel.

“Sounds like you’re confessing to me.”

“Why don’t you draw the conclusion?”

The world was coming to a still that moment. It was like the shock of being shot in the chest but without the pain. There was silence, your body fell completely still and all you could think about what Veritas’ eyes and the fact that you weren’t sure if you were breathing.

That was a scary thought. He wanted you to solve this? On your own?

The conclusion you were drawing was certainly not right…

How he had been so comfortable touching you, speaking with you, treating you as if you had known one another for years before rather than months. Veritas even let you call him by his first name, something that had been notably odd by every person who knew him.

The man really did like you. And he had thought of you before – he carved your body, he wrote down your bad jokes, and he had written how your bodies seemed to fit perfectly into one another.

Your face was heating up thinking about it. How you felt about was no mystery to you; no, cause it was a torture you went through every time you thought about something more. It was a war in your head whenever he would put his hand on your body, as you could only imagine if it traveled just a little further, or if his face came just a little closer….

Aeons. Was he being tortured the same way?

“So what are you doing this weekend?” You had no idea how to address that. How hopeless of you.

“Ah...I actually wanted to request something from you,” Veritas seemed weirdly satisfied with your response. You had addressed nothing, but his face seemed to glow. A smile spread on his face, his eyes crinkling alongside it. “There’s a series the university is doing on women and the arts.”

“I have something I wish to sculpt for it, but I need a model.”

“Like, naked art?”

“Only if you would wish too. I prefer to work as much as possible with the human form, but I understand if that makes you uncomfortable.” From the way he said it and the way he looked at you, it didn’t seem like he was expecting a no from you. The words were more for show, but the eagerness in his voice seemed as if he had a full expectation to see your body.

“You’ve already seen my bare ass, I guess it’s not much of a difference.”

The words left you cold because holy shit you just agreed to that.

-

“How are you guys smart when you’re so stupid?”

“What?”

“He self-inserted himself as your lover in his book. Is that not romantic?” Once again, you were having lunch with Aventurine. Once again, without your consent – he had bribed you with xianzhou-style noodles this time, which was both horribly spicy and amazingly delicious.

Although this time you were both in a private booth. It seemed that he was just as on edge as you had become, as he would shift his occasionally to scan your surroundings. Every person that walked into his vision was scrutinized, and every loud sound had him tense.

“That was literally a confession!”

“I don’t know!”

The blond in front of you had red lips and a creeping red face, burning as he continued to eat his spicy noodles. You probably looked no better, honestly.

“...he made a sculpture of me.” Not something he had come to explain to you yet. The fact it was made before he had known you, and the fact that he had never bothered to reveal it to you. How he had been cradling you in the statue as well…. “And asked me to pose for another one.”

He said it was about women. But was it exclusively women or was he going to self-insert himself into the statue again?

“...and get naked for it.” Dear aeons, thinking about standing naked in front of him was making thinking impossible. You were going to blame the blush on your face on the noodles.

There was a loud groan coming from Aventurine.

“Can you guys just fuck and get together already?” For added dramatics, the man gagged as if to vomit.

“Why does this concern you anyway?”

You threw a napkin at him – tearing it piece by piece, rolling it into a little ball and aiming the pieces toward his hair. He dodged each one, laughing a dry laugh as he did so.

“Playing cupid is fun! Also you guys seem to be allergic to the words “I love you” and it makes me sick.”

Once again he gagged. It seemed like he was more invested in your and Vertias’ affairs than either of you seemed to be.

“Also also. I promised you I would make this happen.”

“You haven’t really done much. Sorry.”

“Oh, so you didn’t like it when he was groping your ass at the party?”

So he did see then. And if Aventurine was paying attention, then that meant a lot more people saw it. Which really, why was that surprising? It was a large event and Veritas was a popular man…. Maybe someone even took a photo and posted it online, just like that time you had gotten pushed. Oh god.

“It was not groping. He was protecting my dignity.”

“Are you stupid or in denial?”

For a small moment, there was a slip. His eyes were not just dull and lifeless, but seeing through you, like looking out a window of a spaceship. They reminded you that you were not just existing in your head, but a real, tangible thing. That if he wanted too, he could reach across the table and touch you, like any other physical object in this world.

“...I don’t like that question. I will not answer it.”

That idea made you feel naked. If only you had a jacket to cover you up, to hide you from his gaze and to let you pretend that you were merely a spectator to the world, and not part of it.

For a long moment, a silence fell over the both of you. It seemed as if Aventurine was satisfied to let the conversation die – or perhaps was just lying in wait until he could press you again on the subject.

A perfect time to go back to your noodles.

“Since you’re here, I have a question I want to ask.”

“Is it how he feels for you?” Like a shadow person lingering just in the corner of your vision, the perception he had just revealed was whisked away. Now he had gone back to being a little strange and a little silly, his face upturned in a smile to reflect the image he wanted to portray. “Because oh I heard a lot.”

“Actually, this is about Sunday,” This was a total mood killer. The man seemed to be a sore subject, but it’s begun to really eat at you. The party really showcased it – Sunday was actually offended that you even were friends with Aventurine. He hid it so poorly, but it was obvious. “Why do you guys dislike each other?”

“It’s a business thing. But also he’s just kind of an asshole.”

“Oh. I’ve never seen Sunday like that.”

“He’s a dickhead.” Hissing those words with a smile, Aventurine went back to his own noodles. He still had the fortune cookie besides his bowl, taunting you.

“So why do you want to talk to him?”

“Not telling yet. I need to solve your problem first.” He spoke with a mouthful of food, somehow not choking as he shoved more in his mouth. It was like he was just as hungry as you were.

There was a small silence that followed. With the both of you engrossed back into your bowls, the conversation took a pause as you focused on chewing and grabbing the noodles correctly. You had terrible chopstick skills and Aventurine was using a fork and still struggling, so there was little judgment over the droplets of soup broth all over the table.

“...I have to get naked in front of him this weekend.”

“This is literally a dream set up, why are you upset?”

Were you upset? The emotion you felt at the idea was strong, but you weren’t sure if upset was the right word for it. Maybe it was regret, because now you had to follow through. Or fear.

Yeah, maybe fear. Your own emotions were kind of hard for you to understand, but it was probably fear. Being naked was scary, especially in front of someone that you found yourself feeling a lot around.

“It’s scary.”

“Virgin.”

“Hey! I’m not-”

“Virgin.”

Tags: @silvermah @arimelancholy @sylviatherosairy @haphuowngg @snailsposts @coffee-ii @odysswaffle @gabile18 @hertadore

For everyone keeping up with this fic I love you all very dearly, as I read the last three chapters and they had so many grammar and spelling issues. and probably this one too. I should probably edit it cause holy shit what am I doing with the plot here

The visit here was also because Veritas was forcing you to stop using your phone. You’re surprised he had even noticed it – how often you checked your email, waiting to get a reply back from any publishers, both relieved and terrified that there was nothing. You had done it so often that it became an unconscious habit of yours, fingers moving to pull out your phone without even thinking.

Thankfully, had taken it from you. Now it was in his pocket, too far to reach. Unless you were willing to fondle him in public for it, and honestly, you were a little too tempted to do so. Your anxieties were battling each other, and the fear of getting another rejection was almost winning.

“What?”

“You defined it as peace,” He wasn’t looking at you when he said it. His gaze was focused on a strange green butterfly, the wings flapping slowly as the butterfly sat on one of the artificial flowers the university had created. It was strange to think that almost everything on this very planet was artificial – the plants, the bugs, and even some people. The fault of living in a scientific hub, as lovely as it was. “I think love is more grand than that. Love is closer to purpose.”

“What do you mean?”

“Love is more or less a chemical reaction. But when you experience it, the effects are as strong as heroin.”

As he spoke, Veritas’ hand followed two birds. They were chasing each other in a strange dance, singing a song as they flew around the botanical area. It was a beautiful sight, as if they were animated to move perfectly with one another.

“Yeah but I don’t think heroin gives you a sense of purpose. It’s just euphoric.”

“I’m not creating a direct comparison to it. Just stating that they are both equally powerful.”

The birds were now out of sight, which left the two of you to search for something else to watch. Rather, Veritas would search for an animal he knew far too much about and then you would listen to him. It never bothered you, but it was astounding just how much he knew – his mind truly was a library that just never ended. You would be surprised if there was something that he hadn’t learned about in his lifetime.

“How is love similar to purpose?”

It was selfish but you let your shoulders brush next to his. Nothing was said about it and he didn’t move away, so you felt comfortable to take up more of his space the longer you spent here. It was starting to become a habit, bumping yourself closer to him with each step the both of you took.

Your bare skin liked his warmth. At the moment the air in the garden was both cold and hot – a strange mix of humidity and cooling wind, leaving you cold in the shade you both were in. If he ever asked why you kept your body so close to him, you would simply tell him that you were clumsy and he was warm.

“Do you not feel like you belong when you are next to someone you love?”

For the first time since you had gotten here, Veritas had made direct eye contact with you. Unfortunately it was hard to read what he was thinking – both because the sunlight on your face was making it hard to see, and because you couldn’t tell if he was upset with you or not. His voice stayed the same as always, but his face was warmer than you would expect. A small smile, just barely lifting up the corners of his lips, was the only hint that he gave you as to what he was thinking.

However much he was thinking, it was probably too much.

“Ah. I think so,” Actually you didn’t think at all. What he was saying felt like gibberish – belonging and love sounded like the belonged together in a sentence, but in practice you weren’t sure if there was a person on the planet who had really made that true. Love was more of an action to you, just things people did in order to fit in. But of course, you had never had the proper definition of such things.

Unfortunately, love in real life was nothing like the romance novels you devoured in your free time.

“Like everything makes sense, right?”

Instead of giving you a verbal answer, he nodded. His hair was curling in the humid heat, which brought it closer to his scalp and revealing more of his perfect jawline. What a shame that he never walked around like that.

Honestly, a shame that he wore his plaster head most of the time. You figured that this time was a rare occasion – the humidity would choke him, so you had to savor the view as much as you could.

“Did you put this in your book?”

“I’ve been struggling to find the right words for it. Your definition had me contemplating.”

This part of the garden was rather cold. It was far from quiet, given the constant buzz of insects and other such creatures, but it was as if the humidity couldn’t reach you. The trees blocked out most light, and the only thing that passed through them was the wind, cold enough to make you feel the sweat that had started to build on your skin.

It made you almost numb, your skin and your joins starting to lose the feeling that they should have had. Veritas might have noticed. While he wore as little clothing as you, he had wrapped an arm around your shoulders. The man truly was a walking furnace, as his bicep warmed the back of your neck and stopped the shivering that had started to wreck it’s way through your body.

His fingers traced themselves along your bare arm, trying to spread his warmth to you like a blanket. It was faint, but he smelled like fresh deodorant and sweat – the kind that made you want to shove your nose onto his skin and breath it in. The desire was so strong it almost felt perverted, as if you were going to pick an innocent flower of all of it’s petals.

No one really prepared you what to do in this situation. The prideful part of you wanted to step away, to freeze and maintain your dignity. But there was a childish voice in your head that forced you to stay there – your feet stayed in step with his, your eyes absorbing the scenery without thinking as much as you ought too.

It felt safe. The both of you had fallen quiet and the direction you both walked felt rather aimless, not heading toward anywhere in particular. Veritas had stopped pointed out random things and speaking facts, and you had stopped listening to anything but your own speeding heartbeat.

-

Life played games with you. The moment you had a good experience, then the world was sure to come and crush that feeling like a bug.

Days were always better spent when nothing happened. Nothing bad, nothing good. That way you weren’t forced to be disappointed by reality again.

Writing had always been your escape from that. It was your happy place, away from people who hurt you or from remembering the bad things you’ve experienced. Unfortunately, trying to turn it into a career was ruining it. Might have been one of the worst ideas you’ve had, quite frankly. That and crushing on unattainable people.

You were rejected. Again. As expected.

Every writer gets rejected, all of the time. It was what you were told to expect. But by god, for some reason today it just...hurt. You felt like nothing but a failure.

The email had stated your flaws once again – like the ones before it, there was always something to critique when it came to the stories you sent. This one had been especially bad, which made you want to eat bricks.

Last time it was because they believed that you lacked a good plot, now it was simply the story in general.

You had originally thought that your story was rather lame – there were a million stories about futuristic cyborgs after all. But apparently your crude humor was just not up to snuff, neither were your existential thoughts.

The time you had spent on crafting it felt all for naught.

This had to be the curse. This morning you had woken up happy, actually excited for your day – after all, you were looking forward to hanging out with Veritas again. And you had a great time. A little bit too much of a great time, since now you were crying underneath a tree like some dramatic loser. It was nothing like walking in the garden with Veritas – the cold wind was colder, and the humidity had turned to ice cold rain.

You could have been underneath the overhang at the bus stop, but for some reason that one had a hole in the roof and was not covered whatsoever by the onslaught of rain and wind. Nature was your friend here, since at the very least you could blame your shabby look on the awful weather.

Well. That’s what you hoped. You makeup was likely smeared and your wet hair definitely made for a bad look. As bad as a tangled wig.

As if he had a tracker on you, Veritas had managed to find the exact tree you were under. Perhaps it’s because he was smart and realized that the tree was better than anything else nearby.

Silently he had moved to stand next to you. He had no umbrella – which was surprising, given that he was always the type to be prepared – and was doing his best to shield himself with his codex. It did a grand total of nothing, as the wind had forced the droplets to cover his face.

His hair was now sticking against his skin, the water sticking onto his eyelashes as if they were tears. You watched as he tried to wipe them away, only succeeding in smearing his red eyeliner across his face. It gave him the appearance of a tribe getting ready for war, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of it, one strong enough to break through your throat swollen with tears.

To your luck, he had good enough hearing to catch that sound despite the rustling of the trees. The rain made most noise drown out, but Veritas heard you well enough to give a long look at your face.

Your very red, tear-stained face.

“Are you alright?” Fuck, of course he noticed. What did you expect? He was too observant for his own good.

With little hope, you tried to dry your face. The mix of tears and rain had made your mascara bleed, leaving a dark smudge on your hand. Now you were matching Veritas, at least.

“This is embarrassing, you didn’t see anything.”

The rain was loud enough that you had to speak louder than you would like. You forced yourself to stand closer to him as he leaned down, the both of you working together to try and have a conversation in the horrible weather.

“I take it that something upset you?” Droplets fell from his hair onto your face as he hovered above you. In the blue light of the rain, his amber eyes stuck out like a sore thumb. They were staring your lips, intensely focused on what your response would be.

It was of little use really, but he pulled off his soaked jacket and tried to shield you both from the rain. His arm found its away around your shoulders, his clothes as soaked as yours were. Like the morning in the garden, his body was warm and his smell made you feel like a dog.

Now if you were stupid, you would have spent your time admiring the new outfit he was in. More business like, with an embroidered white collar shirt that had been entirely soaked through, and dark pants that had started to stick to his skin. It had revealed more than his usual outfit would, which made it even more obvious just how even his body was blessed by the universe.

Because you were smart, you decided to look away. After all, you respected Veritas and staring at his body was rather uncouth of you. That and your face would not be able to contain your true thoughts on it – you already could feel how your face was warming.

“It’s fine.” There were bigger problems than this, really. Such as the fact that your shoes were entirely soaked through, leaving your body colder than you would like. Or how your wet clothes were weighing you down with every second they were stuck to your skin. “I’m fine.”

“If you stand in the cold like this, you’ll fall ill.”

“I’ll just wait for the rain to stop.”

“That is an hour from now.” Veritas swung his head around. You couldn’t see what he was exactly looking for, given that you were practically buried in his armpit now. He likely didn’t notice just how close he was holding onto you, but you weren’t one to complain.

If you liked how much he touched you, then that would stay between you and whatever dead aeon that was watching you. If you had to guess, it would be Aha, since no one else would think up of such a cruel joke to put you in.

“Where is your dorm?”

“I don’t live on campus.”

You lived quite far, actually. It didn’t really matter, but the face Veritas pulled at that was almost comically offended.

“We’re right by my apartment.” Without a moment to let you answer or think about his statement, he was already pulling you both out into the rain again. Your only option was to follow, given that his body blocked half of your vision and that his arm was wrapped so tightly around you that leaving would be a struggle. Also because quite frankly, you didn’t really want to leave.

Unfortunate that he had longer legs than you, as his pace was hard to keep up with. While he was speed walking, you felt as if you were running.

Veritas was leading you to a part of campus you hadn’t been before. It was a large school, so you had yet to explore everything, but this part was entirely foreign to you. These dorms looked completely different from the one you had stayed in before, and the buildings all looked so similar that you couldn’t really pick out which one he was bringing you towards.

Maybe past 6 of the same buildings, you finally ended up at the front entrance of one – numbered 111. Something easy to remember thankfully.

Unfortunately, he pulled away from you, keeping his warmth all to himself. Leaving the rain had you feeling colder than before, with the cold wind blowing on your soaked cloths and wet hair.

You tried to wring out your shirt, squeezing to get at least some of the water out. Numb fingers didn’t make the action easy whatsoever, as you couldn’t feel if you were squeezing hard enough to do much.

“People are going to think we’re sleeping together.” Veritas was not looking at you, instead focusing on the way his jacket was soaked. He squeezed it as much as possible, his fingers flexing and brow creasing with concentration. The cold must have affected him as well, given how red his fingers were.

“I do not care what people think. I care about you.”

He wrapped the jacket around your shoulders, his eyes only looking down at you for a moment – his stare felt like an eternity, his eyes focusing on something that you could not see – before he pulled them away.

-

Veritas’ dorm was more like an apartment than anything else. It didn’t seem as if he had roommates, given that the entrance was devoid of belongings that you could say were not his.

Everything was screaming that it was Vertias. Unsurprisingly, it was nearly spotless. His jackets all were all lined up perfectly in the small closet in the hallway, in a way that it was easy to tell which was which. All were some shade of white, blue and detailed in gold.

His shoe rack was the same, with one pair of shoe for every occasion – his regular sandals, running shoes, and a pair of thick boots. The fancy shoes that belonged there were discarded to the side, given that they were still soaking wet from the rain.

Without knowing what to do, you pulled off your beaten old shoes and placed them next to his. Sitting side by side, you felt small – his shoes easily dwarfed yours. They were also much nicer, given that the soles were not peeling and they did not appear nearly flattened with overuse.

Even his socks were nicer than yours. They didn’t have holes nor were they threadbare – it was clear that they were much newer than the shabby fabric that you had to rip off your toes.

“This place is nice.”

Honestly, this was rather awkward. Veritas was already peeling off his soaked shirt and socks, left only in dress pants that sat a little too low on his waist. He even took your wet socks from your hands, which had you over thinking. While yes you had been touching each other earlier, handing the man your dirty wet socks felt like a step above that.

Oh how you wished for your overthinking brain to simply shut up. Wet socks were the least of priorities right now.

“Here. Go shower, you were out there longer than me.”

“Um. I don’t have anything else to wear.”

He didn’t give you a choice, he was already walking deeper into the apartment, looking back and waiting for you to follow. Pointedly, his eyes raked up and down your form, his face twisting into something of a frown.

“You’re getting water on the floor.”

Looking down and, yes indeed you were. Your jeans were nearly dragging on the floor, leaving two wet streaks on the tile. As if two large snails had gone and invaded his home.

“Is this the bathroom?” That was a stupid question. What other kind of room has a toilet? It was obvious. You could see it when you first entered.

Aeons you weren’t able to think properly. Your skin was still numb, and you were feeling more and more off-put by the wet underwear trying to become a thong with how tightly it stuck itself in between your ass cheeks.

Without looking back at Veritas, you rushed yourself inside the small room.

Taking one look in the mirror, you could tell that you looked...well, fucking horrible. Your makeup had smeared itself across your face, your hair stringier than spaghetti noodles, and now it was obvious why Veritas was giving you weird looks.

Your shirt was practically invisible. Your bra was clearly visible from underneath it, even from underneath his large jacket.

Carefully, you stripped the offending clothing items off. For one, they had now angered you beyond reason – what the hell was the point of wearing them when they didn’t even bother to protect you? That and also because you had become more and more aware of just how heavy they were.

With the bathroom light, you could see that your skin had wrinkled from the rain, making you feel somewhat like a shedding lizard.

It was kind of frightening to be somewhere so...intimate. You were able to search Veritas’ things, judging him on such small details. Such as the fact that he used an extremely expensive cologne, or the fact that he had rubber ducks haunting his bathroom. In your search for a comb, you’ve counted at least 12 – from tiny to bigger than necessary. Even his soap holder was a rubber duck.

The man really liked them. A lot more than you realized.

“Give me your clothes.”

You froze as you brushed through your wet hair. Thankfully he owned a regular comb and not one of the round ones that Robin used. Those always got stuck in your hair often, since apparently you were useless when it came to knowing how to do hair correctly.

One issue was that you were currently entirely naked.

There was enough space for you to hide yourself behind the door as you opened it. Your ass would be terribly close to the wall, but it was the best option.

Slowly, you opened the door, making sure to lean so your bare chest was covered by the door. You stuck out your arm, handing you balled up wet clothe vaguely in his direction.

In one arm he had a towel – unsurprisingly, covered in a rubber duck pattern – with some dry clothes on top.

Veritas kept his gaze locked to the side, right past where your bare shoulder was. He didn’t look at you as you awkwardly traded. It was hard for you to maneuver and keep your chest covered, which left you doing a balancing act on your arm as you slithered back into the safety of the bathroom.

The man said nothing else, walking away faster than you thought possible.

Closing the door, you turned to the spot he had staring at. All you were met with was your reflection. Of you naked. Which likely entirely visible from the crevice that you had peaked out of .

Which meant that he had likely seen your bare ass.

By the aeons, this day could not get worse.

-

After trying to wash the memory of the last few hours out of your head by aggressively scrubbing your hair with Vertias’ expensive shampoo, you slithered out of the bathroom.

He had had given you a t-shirt and boxers. Which had you almost curl up and die in the corner of his rubber ducky bathroom. Not only were they big enough to be shorts on you, but it was also the fact that he had likely worn these before. Which was a train of thought you weren’t going to keep going on.

Thankfully the shirt was big enough to look like a dress on you. The only complaint was the fact that your chest was still noticeable. The pattern distracted from it, but your boobs were still very noticable, especially when you moved too fast; there was no point in complaining though, since Veritas likely didn’t own a bra that you could wear.

The apartment was now warmer, if only slightly. Your hair was still damp, and your legs were far from being entirely covered by your shirt. Much of your body was exposed to his frigid air conditioning, but it was survivable.

At the very least, he wasn’t seeing your bare ass again.

Speaking of the man, the moment you had walked out of the bathroom he had gone and made it his home. It was as if he was waiting for you to walk out, with a towel and dry clothes in hand.

He had left you alone in the apartment, leaving you to explore.

Walking in further from that hallway, you found the living room. And kitchen. They were connected, leaving only the tile and wood floor to tell them apart. There was no kitchen or living room table strangely – neither was there a television or a couch.

It didn’t seem like he hosted people often. The focus piece of the living room was a desk that took up nearly an entire wall, with a large computer and other strange electronics lying around it. You were not the most technologically literate, so most of what littered there was rather unknown to you. The most you could pick out were wires; an ethernet cable attached to a rather frightening looking mishmash of motherboards and switches.

On the other half of the room there were bookshelves that nearly reached to the ceiling. The books in there ranged from textbooks to countless binders, all labeled in a language you didn’t understand. It was the same as his office, just somehow taking up more space. There were boxes filled with books, because apparently the bookshelves weren’t enough for his greedy mind.

You could stand forever reading the titles. It wasn’t just the binders that were labeled in the langauge, but many of the books as well. Some looked well-loved, the spine looking as if they barely held the pages inside. These had to be more personal copies – the ones in his office didn’t have as many sticky notes sticking out from them, not did they have such eclectic bookmarks peaking out between the pages.

It was a small space truly. Made smaller by the hoarding problem Veritas had. He had far too many projects and books, if it were anyone else you were sure it would take a lifetime to get through them all. The subjects seemed to vary greatly, from philosophy to mathematics to biology...it followed all of his PhD’s, asides from the stray book on literature and history.

And the ones that you simply couldn’t understand. The spines showed nothing, especially the ones that were broken in like peeling faux leather.

“It might be best you stay the night.”

Those words made you jump in your skin, your head turning to stare at the man.

His hair was as damp as yours, his body clad in an old shirt and gray sweatpants. While the shirt he gave you draped over your body like curtains on a window, his fit rather snugly. The sleeves kissed his biceps, his chest visible every time he breathed. It was the ends that stood out, has instead of being tight like his usually outfit, it instead hung loosely on his body. Every time he lifted his arms you could see how far his happy trail went, stretching to his belly button and peaking at you from his clothes.

“...yeah, you’re right.” No point in arguing. You had already gotten comfortable, and the rain had yet to let up – it was still battering down on the windows, loud enough that it sounded like a steady drum.

“We’ll make dinner now, then.”

“We?” Once again, he gave you no choice. He was already in the kitchen, pulling out a pot and various foods. He was already chopping vegetables by the time you made your way to the kitchen. Looking over his shoulder, you watched as his hands worked to chop the tough root vegetable, the veins in his forearms becoming more visible with the strain.

“If you wish to eat then you have to help out.”

“I figured you’d hate if someone messed up in the kitchen.”

“This is nothing complicated. Just soup.” Veritas handed you the pot, motioning to the sink. Of course, he gave you the task of a child. Next your job would be to stir, surely.

Of course, if you were going to be making food with him, then you were going to add in your own flavor. Leaving the water to boil, you moved to sift through his cabinets.

It was a pleasant surprise to see that he had actual seasoning. While a tub of protein powder and various packaged workout shakes took up most of the space there, there was a nice selection of both common and exotic spices. The kinds that grew in this galaxy and then the ones from planets you had only ever heard of.

You took your time opening and smelling each container, testing to see which ones went together.

Cooking was not something new to you. When you weren’t crying to yourself or working on a story, you would stress cook. You and Robin had shared more than a fair share of nights eating in your kitchen – particularly because the both of you would stay up late for a variety of reasons.

It had become a sanctuary to you.

Glancing behind you, Veritas was staring at you, a confused smile on his face.

You didn’t bother to ask. If your ass was visible again, you’ve chosen to ignore it. Food had become more important than any sort of embarrassment. Pointedly, you opened another spice container, taking a big whiff. And then proceeded to sneeze, as your nose had inhaled far too much pepper than it should.

Behind you, Veritas laughed for perhaps the first time since you had met him.

-

“Your writing is excellent.”

This was the second time you had seen Veritas laugh. Of course, you had him read your personal work – the one that had followed you for nearly 2 years now, haunting your dreams and your showers.

You had over thought a lot of your jokes and jabs. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem that he laughed at your well crafted jokes, but instead of all things, at the way you had described various types of electronics.

If it was in mockery or not, you weren’t sure.

“...not good enough to get published, I guess.”

“This is what had you so upset, correct?” All you responded with was a nod. It was stupid – you got rejected for the thousandth something time and the best response was to cry in the rain like a dramatic novel character. If you wrote a scene like that, you would cringe at how corny it was. Especially if it was in a romance.

Seriously, why would you be upset over this? It was just a story. A few pages that you had spent 2 years on. Nothing more.

“Since you’ve given me feedback, I thought I would return the favor.”

Well, now you regret letting him read it. As good as critique was, at the moment you just wanted to lay down and cry thinking about what could be wrong with it. Perhaps everyone was lying to you about how good your stories were, because they pitied you or maybe wanted to sleep with you. Who knew what other people thought honestly, it was impossible to tell.

“While you write scenes well, your plot was rather lacking.” Of course he kept talking anyway, in spite of your plight. Why couldn’t he read your mind?

“In what way?” You brought a pillow to your chest, hugging it close enough that you could tuck your face into it and ignore the fact that water was already starting to pool into your eyes again.

“I suppose it’s the issue you see with romance in my story. Your characters are active and move the story forward, but I don’t see what exactly compels them to do so.”

“Not enough agency?” Forcefully, you swallowed the cries that were threatening to spill out of your throat. It was so stupid to be emotional over something like a rejection. Or critique. After all, how does someone get better if they don’t know what they’re doing wrong?

“Yes. Perhaps they need more push as to what they do, instead of merely describing their lives as is.”

He turned to face you, his full body moving to give you his entire attention. Which wasn’t hard, given that the both of you were seated on his bed.

There was enough space for two people, but it felt small. His bedroom was also overtaken by strange projects and bookshelves, every place your eyes landed on had something take up the space.

“I would like to note. This story is quite macabre for a comedy.”

“They always turn out like that.” There was a look on his face that you certainly could recognize. He was studying you, like some sort of psychologist. It was the same look he gave to a scientific paper that had interested him, or his own story after you had criticized his poor take romance once again.

He was trying to understand something, probably finding the answers as you spoke. Veritas was extremely good at problem-solving, so whatever answer he was looking for would likely come quick to him.

“I wanted to write a romance originally.”

The man wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it. He had his hand to his chin, stroking his invisible beard. Next he was going to put on his reading glasses and stare at your face, you were sure he was that unsubtle about it.

“This story relied on rather juvenile humor.”

“I’m young at heart.” That was a common thing stated about your stories. Since you had started writing there was always one person or the other who had something to say about your choice of words and humor. Apparently using the word ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ didn’t make for a great work of literature, but when did that matter?

Veritas would be the wrong person to tell this too though. He used eloquent words, ones that gave his story the appearance of a scientific paper than something to be read for entertainment. Although given his audience was likely fellow professors, it wasn’t surprising that he would write like that.

Unfortunately, none of what he had said was necessarily helpful. It was the same thing you had been told over and over again, and it was becoming frustrating. No one knew the right place to point too, the right sentences to add in or take out. There was just something wrong.

Hopelessly, you groaned into the pillow in your arms. It felt good to let out the emotion in that moment, given that it was becoming more and more of a struggle to keep it in.

For the second time today, you felt yourself crying. You were trying to keep it in, to swallow down your tears, but you just couldn’t. The fact that you couldn’t even do that made you cry even more, because why were you being such an embarrassing mess at Veritas’ own apartment?

This was the worst place to cry quite frankly.

“I take it you’re quite frustrated with this piece.” A hand carefully placed itself on your back, warm and gently tracing your spine. It felt good, but it made the inability to stop crying even more frustrating.

You wanted to pull at your hair, but before you could Veritas had already pulled it away. Uselessly you fought him, his hand dominating yours as he stopped your feeble attempt at becoming bald.

“I just feel stupid. It’s dumb but,” you struggled for air, sobs forcing themselves out of you like bullets. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Perhaps it’s not you.”

His attempts at comforting were rather….poor. At least, his words. In your mind they just felt hollow, since honestly, anything felt like another reason to just sob your heart out. But his hands were an easy thing to focus on – the way he touched you felt soothing, as if you were a cat. It was warm and distracting, which was what you needed as your body was still heaving with your cries.

“You can do everything right and still fall short to others. Don’t blame yourself for such a thing.”

-

Today was one of those rare days that you would find yourself alone.

Veritas had been spending nearly everyday with you for nearly the entire semester. It had become a habit of yours – every time you had gone to the library or the cafe you would nearly feel him by your side. He wasn’t today though, given that he was swamped with his work when it came to his PhD’s.

With all of the time you spent with him, it was hard to imagine that he did anything else besides standing by your side. There was a presence there though, but it wasn’t the man you really wanted – instead, this man was much shorter and smelt like a perfume store.

Turning your head, you were face to face with vibrant eyes and a plastic smile.

“Oh, just the woman I wanted to see!” Aventurine said, as if he hadn’t just been breathing down your neck a second ago.

“...me?”

“Who else?” He quickly swept the seat in front of you with his hand, plopping himself down after a dramatic sweep of his coat.

In his hands was two coffee’s and a large takeout bag. Without asking you, he dropped one of the coffee’s in front of you, then moving to pull out more than enough food.

A sandwich bag was placed in front of you, as well as a small fancy box – chocolates, you assumed. One from the fancy pastry store that sat at the mall right next to the university, made especially for the rich students and visitors. You could never afford such a thing, but it was obvious that Aventurine could.

“So. About our deal.” With no subtlety whatsoever, he gestures his hand toward his offering. The very tasty offering, as the smell had already started to make your mouth water.

“I never really agreed to it.”

“But you aren’t opposed. That’s basically a confession.”

You didn’t wait to take a bite out of the sandwich he gave you. Unlike the ones around campus, this one was both warm and made with good ingredients – nothing that was premade or tasted like chemicals. This tasted as if it was made by a kind grandmother, and you couldn’t help the pleasure that ran through your body as you tasted it on your tongue.

“...how do you know that I like him?”

“It’s obvious. Painfully so.” He took a sip of his coffee so slow that you were sure that it hadn’t even reached his tongue. More like an act of drinking than an actual commitment.

The way Aventurine moved and acted was curious – it was similar to Sunday, in that it was nothing more than a constant act. As if he had attended theater courses just to sit in the perfect way, perfectly calm but appearing natural. Well, natural if he was in front of a camera.

“I have a brilliant idea.” With his tone alone, you were sure that the next words that were going to come out of his mouth were going to be almost stupid.

“So, there was only one bed-”

“Nope. Not doing that.”

“What? Why not? Don’t you want to do it with him?”

“Not like that.” You had already done that, and it was nothing romantic or dramatic. The trope had completely failed you. After you had cried your heart out for a second time, you had fallen asleep next to Veritas in his own bed. There was no nervous touches or accidental cuddling. You had woken up wrapped up in his blanket and with the sound of Veritas singing in the shower. He sounded beautiful singing songs from a children’s show, but it didn’t feel any bit of what a ‘romantic’ morning should be.

“Lame. The both of you.” He took another slow sip of his coffee. With the way he looked to the side in contemplative thought, you could start to believe that he wasn’t just pretending to be human this time.

The way he acted was simply bizarre sometimes. Veritas’ plaster head was strange, but Aventurine was somehow worse with his mannerisms.

“Okay, another idea. There’s a networking event-”

“And you want me to go so I can amaze him with some fancy dress?” You could already tell where he was going with it. A makeover, where you do your hair and wear nice makeup and get put into a dress that was tight and sexy. Something that was not close to being your style.

Nothing wrong with any of that, but tight dresses didn’t help you feel warm and your feet were too clumsy to wear sexy heels. If anything, it would be less sexy and more like a clown show. Not what you wanted when trying to woo someone over.

“Well, yes!” From the way he smiled, it was obvious that he knew you were actually contemplating his stupid idea. Which made you want to choke him, if only slightly. “It’s obviously a surprise, we can make it like something out of pride and prejudice.”

That didn’t happen in Pride and Prejudice, but you let it slide. If anything, the dress is more akin to a disney princess movie. Maybe that would make the weird blond your fairy godmother in this scenario.

“Your eyes meet across the room, and suddenly there’s no one else but you two.” He was already setting up an imaginary scene inside of his head, his smile only there to convince you to see it with him. “It’s exactly like this one novel my sister would read to me. It’s perfect.” That could be any bargain bin romance novel.

“So what, am I going as your plus one?”

“Nope. They didn’t invite me, so I’m going as Ratio’s plus one.” How close those two were was a bit of a mystery. If they were friends, then Aventurine must be as equally bad at communicating normally.

“You’ll go with Topaz.”

“I don’t know who that is.” Personally, there was little excitement at the idea of meeting another Aventurine. Nothing personally against him, the man had paid your rent after all, but his mannerisms made you feel like you were playing a game rather than an actual conversation.

“Don’t worry, she’s nice. She’ll deliver you to your prince charming.” You weren’t sure if Aventurine even understood the concept of a prince charming.

“You guys can both go and talk about nerd stuff and then kiss or whatever.”

“That isn’t really what our relationship is like. We bond over nerd stuff all the time, how is that going to change how he feels about me?” Talking about lizards and crying in his arms because of a stupid rejection wasn’t that romantic. Perhaps it made you closer than just classmates, but there was no romantic undertone to anything like that.

“Cause you’ll wear some sexy tight dress and heels that kill your feet. Changes everything.”

“I feel like you watch way too many romcoms.” This was becoming completely predictable. The idea he was cooking up was quite frankly terrible. All it would do is leave you an embarrassed mess by the end of it.

You already had cried in your crushes bed, cried in his arms, accidentally showed him your bare ass, and he’s judged your work. No amount of body you showed would be able to overcome that.

“Yes but I know from experience as well. Trust me, I’ve seen it’s effects.”

“This is stupid.” You had no better arguments to bring up against it though. Saying ‘I don’t like parties’ only made you sound like a loser, and you did like seeing Veritas.

Also, being a shut in has not helped your social prospects. A networking event might actually be good for you, as much as you hated to admit it. Connections mattered in every field, as much as you hated to admit it.

“Stupidly brilliant.” Aventurine knew he had you hook, line and sinker. Which made you want to choke him, because he kept a smug smile on his face. It also didn’t help that he could watch as you gladly chowed down on his peace offerings, like a stray cat allowing a human to pet them for the first time.

“Trust me, I never lose.”

sorry for the cliffhanger. idk when I'll upload next chapter, my uni is starting next week so I'm gonna be swamped ;(

Tags: @silvermah @arimelancholy @sylviatherosairy @haphuowngg @snailsposts @coffee-ii @odysswaffle