Natsu's writing dump

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

BOOM.

The ground trembled violently, the kind of shake that went deeper than the bones—one that echoed in the soul. A high-pitched whine followed, then an eruption of smoke and rubble. Debris flew past like shrapnel kisses from a dying building.

"Behind me!" Aventurine snapped, arm shooting out. A radiant, hexagonal shield of gold flickered into existence, its glow momentarily cutting through the smoke like a holy flare.

"I told you to leave," Ratio said, breath tight, as he knelt beside him, scanning their collapsing surroundings.

"And I told you to shut up and let me win this one," Aventurine retorted, his voice hoarse but eyes burning.

He reinforced the barrier with a flick of his wrist. Coins spun midair like orbiting stars, each one a symbol of his defiance. Behind them, pillars fell like dying gods.

Ratio's fingers curled around his chalk-gun. He scribbled in midair, each equation precise, and with a sound like heaven cracking, summoned a white-hot pillar that struck down on an enemy crawler.

"You're gambling with your life."

"I’m gambling with ours," Aventurine shot back. "Try to keep up."

There was a heartbeat of quiet as they stood back-to-back. A symphony of chaos surrounded them. But for a brief second, they were a single, unbroken line in a collapsing world.

Then came the explosion from below.

Blinding. Consuming.

Aventurine's last thought before blacking out: I should've told him to run.

==========

Two Days Earlier in a meeting room of the IPC...

"This mission is off-record," Topaz stated crisply. Behind her, a glowing map pulsed with marked interference zones. "Unstable coordinates, Aha cultists on the fringe. I want both combat and brainpower."

"Which is why he's here," Aventurine said, gesturing lazily toward Ratio without looking.

Ratio adjusted his glasses. "Someone has to make sure you don’t bring the ceiling down on us."

"Only when you’re in the room," Aventurine quipped, smirking.

Topaz rolled her eyes, "Boys, please keep it in your pants.”

Jade barely hid her grin.

What the rest of the team knew but didn't say aloud: the two were sleeping together. It was an open secret, threaded through quiet meetings, conveniently locked rooms, and an odd softness Ratio never showed anyone else.

Still, this mission felt... different.

Ratio glanced at Aventurine. The man was already looking at him.

Something unspoken passed between them.

==========

That night, Ratio lay on Aventurine's couch, glasses resting on the edge of the armrest.

"You’re staring," he murmured.

Aventurine smiled faintly. "Just confirming you’re real."

Ratio cracked an eye open. "You always think you’re dreaming when I’m soft on you?"

"Only with you."

A kiss pressed to his forehead. Ratio shifted, leaning into it.

They didn’t say more. They didn’t need to.

=========

In the present day at the IPC Medical Ward, the ceiling was twirling the moment Aventurine opened his eyes.

He winced in pain. Ache in his chest, ribs, a broken arm in a sling. Taste of metal in his mouth. He shifted, and a figure loomed.

"You're awake," Jade said quietly.

"Where—"

"You're safe but… the mission failed. You were pulled from the debris. We lost contact."

Aventurine's heart thudded.

"Ratio?"

Jade was silent.

Then she handed him something: Ratio’s laurel clip, bent and charred.

"We found this. No body. No signal from his phone... We’re still searching."

Part 1

“N-No… why… why do I have to… run?”

Ratio stirred from his slumber at the sound of muffled cries beside him.

Turning over, he was met with a now-familiar sight.

Aventurine was curled under the blanket, his brows furrowed, face contorted in pain. His eyes remained shut—he was trapped in another nightmare. They’d been happening more frequently lately.

Without hesitation, Ratio pulled his lover into a protective embrace.

Usually, this comfort would ease Aventurine back into peace, but tonight the younger man continued to tremble and mumble through gasped sobs.

“Gambler… hey, wake up,” Ratio coaxed gently, brushing blond strands from his partner’s forehead.

It took a few tries before Aventurine jolted awake with a sharp gasp.

He blinked rapidly, eyes darting as if still being chased by whatever haunted his dreams. Only when he recognized the bedroom they shared—and the deeply worried eyes of Ratio—did he finally exhale and collapse onto the pillow, panting.

“Are you okay? Want some water?” Ratio asked softly.

Aventurine clung to the fabric of Ratio’s shirt and shook his head. “I’m fine. Please… just stay a while.”

Ratio nodded and gathered him closer, one hand stroking through golden hair and down his back in soothing motions.

It took several minutes, but Aventurine's breathing began to steady. The weight of panic slowly lifted.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ratio asked again.

Aventurine didn’t answer right away. For a moment, Ratio wondered if he’d drifted off again.

Then—“Sorry. Just one of my night terrors. Haven’t had them in a long time. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Ratio remained quiet, unconvinced.

“Was it about your family?” he asked gently.

Aventurine looked up at him, startled. “How… how did you know?”

“You were calling out to her.”

Aventurine winced and looked away. “Yeah. But you don’t need to worry. It’s nothing new. Please go back to sleep. We have to be up early.”

He turned around, offering his back—a quiet dismissal.

Ratio hesitated, concern tightening his chest. He wanted to push, to help. But Aventurine’s walls were up, and forcing the conversation would only widen the distance between them.

With a resigned sigh, Ratio wrapped his arms around Aventurine’s waist and pulled him close. “Alright. Try to sleep. I’ll wake you up tomorrow.”

He pressed a kiss to the nape of Aventurine’s neck.

The younger man bit back a quiet sob at the tenderness.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “And… thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ratio murmured.

“…Ratio?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Ratio’s eyes widened a fraction. Then he smiled softly and pressed his lips to Aventurine’s ear.

“I love you too. Now sleep.”

===========

Later that day, when Aventurine arrived at headquarters, he was immediately called into Jade’s office.

“Diamond has instructed you to take on this mission. Review the documents,” Jade said, handing over a thin file.

Still weary from the restless night, Aventurine flipped through the pages—only for sleep to vanish from his mind completely. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the contents, then looked up.

Jade’s expression was unreadable. Calm, yet solemn.

“Other members of the Stone Hearts could’ve handled this case,” she said, “but Diamond assigned it to you directly. Perhaps because you have… relevant experience. If anyone else had gone, there may have been more casualties.”

Aventurine’s hands tightened around the file. His expression hardened with quiet resolve.

“When do I leave?”

Title: May I Have This Dance?

It wasn’t supposed to be Ratio’s evening.

He had made that quite clear to Jade—emphatically, scientifically, with charts and statistics outlining how utterly inefficient gala events were for actual intellectual progress.

And yet, despite all logic and resistance, here he stood: dressed in a fitted charcoal suit that hugged sharp lines and carried weight like armor, hair slicked back with precision, gaze colder than the crystal chandeliers overhead.

The ballroom sparkled with excess. Gilded domes. Velvet drapery. A sea of flutes filled with overpriced champagne. Ratio hated it all.

And beside him stood Aventurine.

A vision in emerald-green. His tailcoat shimmered faintly beneath the lights, his magenta eyes rimmed subtly with gold, his smile dangerous in the way that diamonds were—cold, brilliant, and worth stealing.

Ratio glanced at him, aware of the eyes already on them. Aventurine had a way of collecting attention like a magnet drawn to desire.

“Smile,” Aventurine murmured, lifting his glass as he leaned just close enough to be conspiratorial. “You’ll scare the sponsors.”

Ratio didn’t respond immediately—too preoccupied studying Aventurine from the corner of his eye.

The man looked absurdly regal tonight.

The emerald-green tailcoat hugged his frame with shameless precision, golden embroidery dancing in the chandelier light like flames caught mid-flicker. His blond hair was half-pinned back, with just enough loose strands to look effortlessly artful. It wasn’t fair. He looked like a prince from a storybook who had conned the whole court and smiled while doing it.

Ratio’s gaze lingered for half a second too long.

Aventurine noticed. Smirked. “See something you like?”

Chapter 1: Homecoming.

Chapter Text

It was nearly midnight when Aventurine finally unlocked the front gate of his apartment complex, suitcase wheels clacking against the stone tiles with every sluggish step.

The last leg of the trip always felt the longest. After eleven months offshore doing planetary audits, navigating orbital disputes, and enduring board meetings so dull he nearly filed for early retirement, all he wanted was a hot bath, a strong drink, and to pass out on his obscenely expensive couch like a man with no thoughts and no regrets.

He unbuttoned his collar with one hand and fished out his keys with the other, muttering to himself.

“A quick bath, then straight to bed…”

His place was his fortress. A sleek corner unit with a view of the city skyline, custom interior design (thank you, gambling luck), and a bathtub deep enough to drown in stress and bubble foam. The one constant that made the chaos of intergalactic work worth it.

But the second he stepped inside, he stopped cold.

There were… shoes by the entryway. Not his. Slippers—dark, practical, and positioned far too neatly.

A faint scent of unfamiliar soap hung in the air. A robe—not his robe—fluttered gently on the coat rack like it belonged.

He blinked. His suitcase thunked to the floor.

He wasn’t alone.

Aventurine had faced debtors with murder in their eyes and board executives who smiled like wolves—but nothing prepared him for the sight awaiting him in his own bathroom.

Still groggy from the long-haul return flight, he staggered toward the familiar sanctuary of his tub.

He opened the door.

There, reclining like a sculpture hand-carved by an overindulgent deity, was a man—gorgeous, naked, glaring—surrounded by bubble foam and an army of rubber duckies.

In. His. Tub.

Aventurine stared.

The man raised a brow and closed the book he’d been reading. Slowly. Like he was the one being interrupted.

“Who are you?!” Aventurine yelped. “This is my house!”

The man didn’t even blink. “Highly unlikely,” he replied, voice low and clipped. “You’re trespassing my house.”

“Tres—trespassing?!” Aventurine sputtered. “Dear mother goddess Gaiathra—are you a homeless burglar? Is this your first bath in weeks? Do you want my extra toothbrush too?!”

The stranger tilted his head lazily. Then flicked his wrist.

Something sharp zipped past Aventurine’s face and embedded in the doorframe behind him with a neat, professional thunk.

Aventurine froze. “Did you just shoot me with a gun?!”

“Zero points for mistaking chalk for a firearm,” the man said evenly. “And for assuming a man enjoying a high-end bubble bath is destitute.”

Then he stood.

Aventurine immediately regretted everything.

The man was unapologetically naked and glistening with steam—like a divine statue sculpted purely from audacity.

Aventurine slapped a hand over his eyes. “Put on a towel, you pervert!”

“I’m in my own home. You’re the intruder.”

“I am five seconds from throwing my shoe at your smug face!”

Before he could do exactly that—or pass out from rage and fatigue—the door burst open.

“Boys!” barked their elderly landlady, framed in the hallway like a thundercloud. “What in Aeon’s name is going on?!”

What followed was a rapid-fire exchange of paperwork and indignation. Aventurine waved his lease like a weapon; the stranger—Ratio, apparently—calmly countered with his rental receipts.

The landlady frowned, pinched the bridge of her nose, and muttered something about divine punishment.

Eventually, clarity dawned.

Apparently, after nearly a year with no contact and assuming Aventurine had moved out, the landlord re-rented the “vacant” apartment to a highly punctual, highly well-paying new tenant. Ratio. Who had also paid a cleaning deposit.

Aventurine’s jaw dropped. “You gave extra money?!”

Ratio didn’t dignify that with a response.

“I’m not dealing with this tonight,” the landlady groaned. “Here’s the deal: one-month trial. You two live together and sort it out. No fighting, no murder. If no one’s set the place on fire by the end of the month, I’ll revisit the situation.”

And just like that, she was gone.

==========

They stood in the living room like two rival kings surveying a betrayed kingdom.

Chapter 1

“…Gate 7A will close at 18:00. Attention to all passengers: Gate 7A will close at 18:00. Please ensure you have all your belongings and your passport before boarding. Thank you.”

“It’s time.” Ratio sighed as he closed his book and stood up.

Aventurine forced a smile, but the corners of his mouth didn’t quite reach his eyes. He still wanted to hug Ratio’s arm and cling to his warmth.

“Why does time always run when I want it to walk?” Ratio muttered with a quiet huff, glancing at the clock. It felt like only five minutes had passed since they sat down.

Aventurine chuckled, brushing his fingers over the scarf around Ratio’s neck. “Don’t get all grumpy now. If you keep scowling like that, the flight attendants might think you’re some kind of villain.”

The scarf—Aventurine’s own—was long and luxurious, and Ratio hadn’t noticed until now that his partner had tied it like a bow at the nape of his neck. The knot looked suspiciously like a ribbon on a spoiled cat.

Ratio rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t care less about the flight crew,” he said, adjusting the scarf. “You’re the only one who matters.”

Aventurine flushed, half flustered, half pleased. “Stop saying things like that. You’ll make me do something crazy.”

He rifled through his sling bag and pulled out a large, leather-bound tome—nearly identical to the one Ratio always carried, except the owl motif on the cover gleamed with a different tint.

“Here. Instead of sweet-talking me, just write it in here.”

Ratio tapped the matching tome in Aventurine’s hands—identical copies that synced ink across light-years. A gift he’d made just for the two of them. Of course, they had their phones to contact each other, but who else had linked diaries that only the two of them could read and write very private stuff in?

He smirked. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle what I’ll write tonight?”

“Nothing naughty, okay?” Aventurine wagged a finger. “At least not every night. Or I’ll buy a ticket and storm into that lecture hall.”

Ratio pulled him into a hug, tucking his chin over Aventurine’s shoulder. “It’s only three weeks.”

“That feels like three years.”

“I’m only presenting the thesis findings and sitting through some board member evaluations. I’ll be home right after. Even if I have to build a spacecraft myself.”

Aventurine laughed against his neck. “Knowing you, you’d probably build a warp gate by hand and file a patent before boarding.”

Another announcement echoed through the terminal. Gate 7A was closing.

They both went quiet.

Ratio gently cupped Aventurine’s cheek and leaned in to kiss him—slow and certain, as if sealing a promise between them.

“Wait for me,” he murmured. “I’ll be back soon.”

Aventurine nodded, eyes misty. “I know. Be safe.”

A short while later, Aventurine stood alone near the security gate, clutching the tome Ratio had made for him. He waved even after Ratio passed the checkpoint—past the guards who held back eager fans waving thesis papers for autographs—and didn’t stop waving until the sliding doors sealed him out of sight.

“I already miss him, and his flight hasn’t even taken off yet.”

He let out a soft laugh, but there was no humor in it.

“Is it too late to buy a ticket and follow him?”

Reluctantly, he turned to leave, the city lights outside dim compared to the one missing from his home.

===========

Ratio was immediately swallowed by the limelight.

From the moment his shuttle landed on the host planet, he hadn’t had a moment of peace. Handshakes blurred into photo ops, congratulations rolled off tongues he barely remembered, and every conversation had the cloying air of ambition—scientists scrambling to rub shoulders with the one who’d solved a century-old theoretical paradox.

He wasn’t used to being admired like this. Not in the starry-eyed way these interns and junior researchers did, looking at him like he held the cosmos in his palm. He hated it. Or maybe he just missed the one person who didn’t treat him like a miracle.

Meanwhile, back home, Aventurine was trying to get used to silence.

His apartment was too quiet. Cake (his cat) had been moody since the goodbye at the airport and wouldn’t leave the windowsill. The bed felt weirdly bigger than usual—he kept rolling toward the left side every night, seeking a warmth that wasn’t there.

On the third night, he found himself carrying the book—Ratio’s book—to the office. It sat on his desk like a journal too precious to open during work hours, but somehow, he couldn’t leave it behind.

Topaz, ever sharp-eyed, noticed immediately.

“Wow. You writing your memoirs already, Aventurine?” she smirked, arms crossed as she leaned against the break room door. “Or is that your diary? What’s next—locker decorations and sparkly pens?”

Aventurine didn’t even flinch.

“What, jealous you don’t have one?”

Topaz raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know you were into this.”

He just smirked in return. But when she left, he clutched the book a little tighter.

===========

Journal Entry – Day 3

From Aventurine:“Made egg toast. Burned one. Cake judged me. The side of the bed still smells like you. That’s probably gross to write. Whatever.”

=============

At the international research summit, Ratio barely managed a sip of wine between handshakes.

The formal dinner was held in a vast domed hall with holograms of constellations twinkling above. Important people talked too loudly, laughed too eagerly, and none of them were Aventurine.

He sat at a long glass table, fiddling with the ring Aventurine had slipped into his coat pocket before he left—a small token he’d pretended not to notice at the time.

Back in his room just past midnight, Ratio undid his coat and flipped open his tome—its mirrored twin now humming gently with new ink.

=======

Journal Entry – Day 4

From Ratio:“You still make terrible toast. Proud of you. Also, someone at the summit wore your cologne. I nearly punched them.”

===========

Over the next week, the book became a lifeline.

Aventurine:“Hey Ratio, sometimes I still can’t believe that this book of yours can really transmit what I write to you. I can write and doodle anything and you can see it in your pages over there?”

Ratio:“That is correct.”

Aventurine: “That’s kinda cool. Alright Mr. Genius, guess what I drew!”

Ratio: “A… donut?”

Aventurine: “No! It’s our Cat Cake! How dare you forget our daughter already.”

Ratio: “Your handwriting is terrible. I should inform Jade to re-educate you.”

Aventurine: “Shut up! And YOUR handwriting is too much like a doctor. Stop with the cursive!”

They bantered back and forth whenever they had free time. The book filled with sarcasm, doodles, to-do lists, and random late-night thoughts. But even then, Aventurine tried his best to stay cheery—he didn’t want Ratio to worry.

Aventurine:“I cooked too much food again. I forgot you wouldn’t be sitting next to me during dinner. Had to pack it up and bring it to work.”

Ratio: “Did any of your coworkers get food poisoning?”

Aventurine nearly laughed through a sob. Even when away, Ratio still found a way to make him feel better.

Aventurine: “Of course not! In fact, they begged me to bring more the next day.”

Ratio: “Uh huh, sure.”

But then the entries slowed. Ratio was busy. Aventurine was quiet.

And honestly, he was tired of being the one to always initiate the conversation.

===========

Four days passed without a word.

Ratio assumed Aventurine was sleeping through the time difference. A few times, he wrote: “So what did you cook today?” or “How’s Cake?”

But each time, he erased the message and closed the book.

Aventurine didn’t assume anything. He just stared at the blank page every night, wondering if it was worth writing if no one replied.

He thought about writing: “I cried myself to sleep again. Cake tried to comfort me. I didn’t even eat dinner.”

But he didn’t want Ratio to see that. He didn’t want to make it real.

So instead, he closed the book and placed it facedown on his nightstand—the way someone might silence a phone they were afraid to check.

The room stayed too quiet.

And the bed stayed too cold.

============

Day 9

Ratio had gone through his schedule on autopilot. The lecture hall had been packed, his presentation met with thunderous applause—but none of it stuck. He couldn’t even remember the last question from the Q&A. All he could think about was the unread page.

When he finally returned to his room, his coat hit the floor. His fingers hesitated over the tome. He hadn’t opened it in two days.

He didn’t expect anything to be there.

But there was.

Journal Entry – Day 9

From Aventurine: “It rained today. Our Cat Cake finally left the windowsill. I still cooked too much food. I still waited.”

Ratio stared at the ink for a long time. He sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of guilt settling over his shoulders like a second coat.

He waited.

He still cooked too much.

He still waited...

Chapter 1: The Stranger at the Bar.

Chapter Text

Aventurine was only half-paying attention to the card game in front of him. The clink of glass, the low hum of conversations, the easy laughter of regulars—none of it held his interest tonight.

Not when there was him.

A man sat at the bar, completely absorbed in a thick hardcover book. One hand held a half-full glass of bourbon, untouched for at least twenty minutes. He turned a page with slow precision, eyes scanning the text like the world around him didn’t exist.

Aeons, he’s so hot, Aventurine thought, lips twitching into a lazy smile.

The handsome stranger was built like a tank, tall even while seated, with broad shoulders wrapped in a well-cut coat. His dark hair fell in soft waves, almost too neat to belong in a place like this. Sharp eyes, sharp jaw, expression unreadable.

Aventurine had a type. And this man checked off almost every box.

Still, it was the vibe that intrigued him more. This bar wasn’t exactly a temple of intellect—it was a halfway point for flings, loose talk, and looser hands. Most people came for a drink, a chat, and maybe something quick behind closed doors.

But this guy?

He read. He ignored the women who approached him. He didn’t glance up when a server bent a little too low to wipe the counter. He was in his own world, made of ink and silence.

Aventurine played with his favorite casino chip between his fingers, debating his next move.

He didn’t usually go for the quiet types. But damn, if that didn’t make this more fun.

“Are you going to play or not?” one of his card buddies asked in annoyance.

Aventurine stood from his stool. “You boys play nice. I’ve got better odds over there.”

There were a few snorts, a few knowing looks. Aventurine didn’t care. He strolled over to the bar, leaned against it casually, and let himself settle next to the man with the book.

He didn’t speak right away. Just flagged the bartender and ordered something sweet, something flashy—let the glass say he was playful before he had to say a word.

Finally, the man turned a page.

Aventurine took that as an invitation. “That must be a hell of a book.”

The man didn’t glance over. “It’s decent.”

Cool voice. Low and unbothered.

Aventurine smiled, unshaken. “You come here often just to read?”

There was a pause. Then, a slow turn of the head. The man looked at him, finally.

And up close, wow. His eyes were a piercing red, the kind that felt like they could see through you.

“I come here because it’s quiet,” he said. “Or it used to be.”

Aventurine grinned, delighted. “Nice to meet you too. You can call me Aventurine.”

Another pause.

“…Ratio.”

Ratio. Even his name was cool. A little weird, a little perfect.

“Interesting name,” Aventurine said. “Like you calculated the odds of talking to me and still decided to go for it.”

Ratio blinked once, then looked back at his book. “…You’re persistent.”

“And you’re still talking to me.” Aventurine took a sip of his drink. “So I’m taking that as a win.”

To his surprise, Ratio gave the faintest smile. Barely there—but there.

And that was all the encouragement Aventurine needed.

=============

They talked for nearly two hours.

Not just banter—though there was plenty of that. Ratio was sharper than Aventurine expected, clever in a dry, understated way. His responses were measured but cutting, as though every word had weight. There was an intensity behind his calm demeanor, and it drew Aventurine in more than he anticipated.

“So, let me ask you,” Aventurine started, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned closer to the bar. “Do you think chess is really all about strategy, or do you think it’s more about patience and waiting for your opponent to slip up?”

Ratio took a slow sip from his drink, his gaze thoughtful. “Chess? It’s all strategy. The patience comes with the understanding of the game. You can’t rush a move—every piece, every move matters.”

Aventurine raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “So, you’re telling me you plan ten steps ahead?”

Ratio smirked. “Maybe not ten, but I’ve got the next few moves worked out, at least.”

Aventurine chuckled. “I don’t know if I could ever play like that. Too slow for me. I like something quicker—more of a gamble.”

“You sound like a poker player,” Ratio said, a knowing look in his eyes.

Aventurine grinned, tapping the rim of his glass. “I am. Poker’s about reading your opponent. Getting inside their head, seeing the telltale signs. It’s a game of chance, yes, but also of psychology.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Ratio replied. “Poker’s all about bluffing, right? The art of pretending you have a winning hand when you really don’t.”

Aventurine leaned back, an amused smile on his face. “Exactly. It’s the risk. The thrill of watching your opponent sweat, trying to figure out if you’re bluffing or not.”

Ratio’s expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes. “Sounds like you like the idea of risk.”

Aventurine shrugged, his fingers tracing the edge of his glass. “It’s more about the game, really. The moment where everything’s on the line, and you make the decision that either wins it all or ruins it.”

Ratio tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a half-smile. “I think chess is more about avoiding mistakes than learning from them.”

Aventurine raised an eyebrow. “Ah, so you don’t take risks, then?”

“I take risks,” Ratio replied, his voice low and sure. “But I like to know exactly what I’m risking before I make the move.”

Aventurine laughed, leaning forward with a playful grin. “Maybe you’re right. But I’ll still take my poker game over chess. Too much planning. I like the unpredictability.”

They exchanged a look that seemed to linger a little longer than necessary, a silent acknowledgment between them.

Ratio’s voice broke the silence, calm and matter-of-fact, as if he were stating a fact rather than making a challenge.

“I’d bet you’re more of a gambler than you let on.”

Aventurine chuckled, shaking his head with a mischievous grin. “Guilty. But only when the stakes are worth it.”

They both sat in comfortable silence for a moment, before Aventurine’s voice, light but deliberate, cut through the quiet.

“So, how about we take this somewhere quieter?” he asked, his tone playful but with a hint of something more. “I know a place. Just talk, maybe something more, if you’re into it.”

He expected a polite decline. Maybe a smirk. What he didn’t expect was Ratio looking at him with something unreadable—fond? Sad?—and saying:

“I’m flattered. Really. But if we’re going to keep talking… you should know something.”

Aventurine blinked. “….You’re married?”

He totally didn’t want to be a homewrecker, no matter how hot the guy was.

“No,” Ratio said quietly. “Will you come with me… somewhere?”

Chapter 1 – The First Lie.

Beeeeeep.

Aventurine’s vision blurred as he slowly regained consciousness. A dull throbbing pulsed at the base of his skull. He blinked several times, trying to focus, but the gray ceiling above him spun slightly, making his stomach lurch.

Where… am I?

He sat up slowly, every joint in his body protesting the motion. An IV tugged at his arm. Somewhere nearby, a monitor beeped in rhythm with his heartbeat. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and stillness. His body felt heavy, like it hadn’t moved in days.

His mouth was dry. His throat burned.

A door creaked open.

Footsteps echoed softly, deliberate and slow. Aventurine turned his head toward the sound, eyes narrowing against the light. A man entered the room—tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a dark blue shirt beneath a white lab coat. He looked like a doctor, but not the kind that made you feel safe.

His features were sharp—almost too sharp—and the presence he carried made the air in the room feel heavier. A lit cigarette dangled between his fingers, smoke curling lazily upward. His eyes were a deep red, intense and unblinking, with dark circles beneath them like bruises from too many sleepless nights.

Aventurine’s throat tightened. He should have felt afraid.

But he didn’t.

The man stopped at the edge of the room, tilting his head.

“You’re awake,” he said, voice deep and calm. There was something about it—familiar, but distant, like a dream he couldn’t quite remember.

Aventurine swallowed, his voice hoarse. “Where… where is this?”

“You’re in a clinic,” the man replied, stepping closer. A floating screen hovered near his hand as he checked vitals. “You’ve been unconscious for some time. How do you feel?”

Aventurine winced, reaching up to touch the side of his head. His memory was fractured—like staring at broken glass.

“I don’t… I don’t understand. What happened?” he asked, his voice weak. “Why am I here?”

“There was a client who wanted revenge,” the man said simply. “You were caught in the aftermath. You sustained serious injuries, but you were rescued in time.”

Aventurine’s brows furrowed. “I… I’m Aventurine. One of the Stone Hearts. A commander under the IPC. I remember… Topaz, Jade, my subordinates…”

His voice trailed off. He remembered titles. Names.

But the incident?

Nothing.

“I need to report back to Jade,” he said. “They’ll be worried.”

The man’s expression softened for a fleeting second—but it was gone just as fast. He crushed the cigarette beneath his heel.

“Your superiors have already been informed. You’re to remain here, with me, until you’ve recovered.”

Then, a pause.

“…Do you remember who I am?”

Aventurine stiffened. His eyes scanned the man’s face—searching for recognition. But there was nothing. Only a strange sensation, like an instinct clawing at the edge of his awareness.

“No… I don’t,” he admitted quietly. “Should I?”

The man’s shoulders straightened. Something unreadable flickered across his face.

“I’m Dr. Veritas Ratio,” he said, the name heavy with something unspoken. “I’m your lover.”

Aventurine blinked. His mind reeled.

Lover?

“What?” he rasped. “That… can’t be right. I don’t have—there’s no way. You must be joking.”

Ratio’s smile was thin. Not cruel, but not comforting either. “I wouldn’t lie about something like that,” he said. “But for now… you’ll have to trust me.”

Chapter 1: The hypothesis.

Chapter Text

The day was quiet and peaceful for the professor until a familiar triple knock broke the silence and in popped a familiar blond.

“Dr. Ratio~ Would you like to join me for lunch? It’ll be my treat! Or would you like me to get something so that we can just eat here in your study?”

Ratio sighed. He’s here again.

Ever since Aventurine returned from Penacony and made a full recovery, he had been showing up at Ratio’s office like clockwork. Uninvited. Unnecessary. Yet persistent.

The professor didn’t bother looking up from his tablet. “No, no, and no. Gambler, there’s no need for you to come see me every day.”

Aventurine let out a short chuckle, though it sounded a little nervous. “Aww, don’t say that. I thought we were close.”

Ratio’s eyes flickered up, sharp and assessing. “I’ve already explained to you that I have received your gratitude.” He gestured to the numerous small gift boxes around his office. Unopened but neatly stacked. “There’s no need to force yourself to keep up this charade.”

Aventurine’s fingers curled around the casino chip in his hand, pressing it against his palm. Charade? He wasn’t forcing himself. He wasn’t.

“I wasn’t faking it,” he said, softer this time. “I was honest when I said I wanted to thank you for being my partner during the Penacony mission.”

Ratio finally set his tablet down with a small click. He studied Aventurine for a moment. Calm, patient, unreadable. “Like I said, I’ve already accepted your thanks. You gave me more than enough unnecessary presents last week. Stop wasting your money.”

Aventurine shifted his weight. He should leave. He should drop it. But deep down, he knew. Gifts weren’t enough, his usual tricks weren’t enough. He had spent years perfecting the art of smiling through anything, of playing people like a deck of cards, yet here he was, feeling like a fool.

Why am I acting like this around him?

His first thought in the morning was Ratio. His last thought at night was Ratio. He wanted to hear that deep, unimpressed voice even if it was telling him to go away. He wanted to see that sharp, scrutinizing gaze even if it was filled with exasperation. He wanted….

Hell, what do I even want?

“I’m not really worried about the money,” Aventurine finally muttered, flicking the chip between his fingers. His voice was quieter now. Less performative. “I… I actually wanted to see you, that’s all.”

Ratio’s brow rose slightly. “See me?”

Aventurine’s stomach twisted. That sounded too genuine. Too raw. He scrambled for a recovery. “Y-yeah… what? Is that a crime now? I thought we were partners.”

Ratio exhaled through his nose, closing his eyes briefly like he was this close to throwing Aventurine out himself. “Yes, we worked together, but we are not in any way partners. I was assigned to be your supervisor, nothing more. Now that my duty is over, there should be nothing more between us.”

Aventurine’s heartbeat stuttered. The rejection was blunt. Brutal. And yet, for some reason, it just made him more stubborn.

“What if I want something more?” he blurted.

Ratio’s expression didn’t change, but something in his gaze sharpened. “Excuse me?”

Aventurine swallowed.

Shit. Did I actually say that?

“What if I want something more between us?” His voice was uneven, like he wasn’t sure if he was joking or serious anymore.

Ratio tilted his head, gaze cold with quiet calculation. Aventurine suddenly felt like he was back in Penacony, standing under that unbearable scrutiny as Ratio picked apart his every move.

Then, Ratio stood. Slowly. He rounded the desk, approaching until there was barely a foot between them. The gambler’s usual lazy smirk faltered.

“Aventurine.” His voice was steady, but there was weight to it. “What you’re feeling right now is nothing more than an aftereffect of what you experienced at Penacony.”

Aventurine frowned. “What?”

Ratio’s tone remained clinical, detached. “You’ve relieved your traumatic past, you’ve experienced extreme stress, anxiety, post-memoria illusions—all of these factors created a psychological imprint. Your brain is attempting to rationalize what happened by associating safety with a single stable element. In this case, that element was me. It’s a textbook response.” He pressed a hand to his chest.

Aventurine’s grip on his casino chip tightened. “You’re saying I’m confused.”

“I’m saying that you’re mistaking attachment for something it’s not,” Ratio corrected. “You’re associating me with stability. That doesn’t mean you have actual feelings for me.”

Aventurine let out a short laugh, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. “You make it sound like I’m sick in the head or something.”

Ratio adjusted his glasses. “It’s not a sickness. But it is something that will pass in time.”

Aventurine could feel frustration creeping up his throat. The way Ratio said it hurts. It was so logical, so clinical, like he had already solved this puzzle and was just waiting for Aventurine to realize it himself. It made him want to argue.

But arguing wouldn’t work. Ratio would just keep shutting him down with his damn rationality.

So instead, he took a deep breath and tried a different approach.

“Alright. Fine. Let’s say you’re right,” he said, voice lighter, almost casual. “Let’s say this is just some leftover brain glitch from Penacony. Then what do you suggest, doc?”

Ratio eyed him warily. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s the cure?” Aventurine spread his arms, voice shaky. “Should I just stop coming here? Should I pretend I don’t want to see you every damn day? Should I just, what? Go out and gamble until I forget?”

Ratio hesitated. It was brief, but Aventurine caught it.

“I see,” Ratio finally said. “So that’s what this is about.”

Aventurine tensed. “What?”

Ratio’s gaze was unreadable, but his voice sounded like he formed a hypothesis. “You don’t want to be alone.”

Aventurine felt something crack inside his chest.

Ratio was really seeing him as some sort of curiosity to be observe and tested rather than a human. A human with genuine feelings to him.

Aventurine quickly recovered, plastering on his usual smirk. “Pfft. What? You think I’m scared of being alone? That’s ridiculous.”

But Ratio wasn’t looking at his smirk. He was looking at his hands. The way Aveturine fingers wouldn’t stop fidgeting with the chip, the way his left grip hid behind his back when Ratio struck a nerve.

The doctor didn’t respond right away. Instead, he studied Aventurine with the same calculating gaze he used when analyzing a tough case. Only this time, there was something else in his expression. Something Aventurine couldn’t place.

“…Hmph.” Ratio exhaled, tilting his head slightly. “How curious.”

“What?”

Ratio didn’t answer. But for the first time, he wasn’t just shutting him down. He was watching. Studying.

Like he had just seen something unexpected.

And Aventurine had no idea if that was a good thing or not.

Aventurine's breath hitched when Ratio finally spoke, his voice devoid of warmth, sharp as a scalpel.

"If you truly believe you're attached to me, there's a simple way to test your feelings."

The gambler blinked, his usual cocky grin faltering. "Huh?"

Ratio leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms. His gaze was calculating, detached, like he was analyzing data instead of speaking to a person. "Sleep with me."

Chapter 1: Broken bonds.

The staff room at Penacony University was quiet, save for the shuffle of papers and the distant hum of conversation. The scent of coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the crisp smell of freshly printed syllabi and ink-stained fingers.

Aventurine stepped inside, running a hand through his hair. First day as a professor. A fresh start. No past, no ghosts, no—

This wasn’t supposed to be his life.

He had been meant for boardrooms, high-stakes deals, and the relentless climb of the corporate ladder. That was the plan. That was his future.

Until it wasn’t.

One misstep—one decision he couldn’t take back—and everything he had built crumbled beneath him. The lucrative job offers dried up, the doors that had once been open slammed shut. He had connections, charm, intelligence, but none of that mattered when a single mistake painted him as a liability.

So here he was, standing in the staff room of an old, lesser-known university, far from the world he once ruled. Teaching business instead of living it. Not the career he had imagined, but the only path left unblocked.

He exhaled slowly, forcing his hands to steady. A fresh start. That’s what he needed to focus on.

The new teacher was about to ask someone to lead him to the principal when he heard a familiar voice.

"You’re late."

The voice was unmistakable.

He froze. The air suddenly felt cold as the weight of old memories washed over him. Slowly, he turned.

And there, standing by the window with a coffee in hand, was Ratio.

Older. Wiser. Just as composed and frustratingly unreadable as ever. The light from outside cast long shadows across his face, highlighting the same sharp features Aventurine had memorized years ago.

Their eyes met and seconds stretched between them, silent yet deafening.

Ratio took a slow sip of his coffee, watching him over the rim of his cup. "I expected you to be more punctual, Professor Aventurine."

The way he said it; cool, controlled, with the faintest hint of amusement, sent a shiver down Aventurine’s spine.

The younger man exhaled, steadying himself, but his fingers twitched at his side. He scoffed, tilting his head as if trying to shake off the weight pressing down on him. "Who died and made you the boss of this place?" His voice was sharp, but the slight tremor at the end betrayed him. "I thought you taught at another university."

Ratio closed his eyes, taking another slow sip of coffee before answering. "The… scandal from back then cost me my job." His voice remained calm, but there was a weariness to it. "I was relocated here."

Aventurine’s breath hitched. His face softened, but he quickly turned away, wrapping his arms around himself like a shield. "I… I see."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The hum of the staff room faded into the background, drowned out by the echoes of a past neither had fully outrun.

When Aventurine took this job, he thought he had finally left everything behind. A fresh start at a university tucked away from the spotlight, away from lingering whispers and unspoken accusations.

But of all the places in the world, of all the people he could have crossed paths with—

It had to be him.

His ex-lover.

His past wasn’t done with him yet.

Fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor.

Five years ago, the two of them were always seen together around campus. It was an odd sight because they couldn't be more different.

Aventurine, from the Business Administration department, was the kind of student who always seemed confident. He walked into lectures late, coffee in one hand, an expensive watch shining on his wrist, and somehow always managed to get top grades.

Professors either liked him for his sharp ideas or got frustrated with his laid-back, almost cocky attitude.

"You're late again, Mr. Aventurine," Professor Ratio said, glancing at his watch.

"Just a little," Aventurine replied smoothly, sliding into his seat at the back of the room. "Besides, I heard being on time isn’t everything in the business world."

A few students chuckled, but Ratio didn’t take the bait. He simply adjusted his glasses and continued with the lesson.

Even though Aventurine acted casual, he was incredibly sharp when it came to finance and business strategy. He treated investment games like a personal challenge, making bets on stock trends and startup ideas, always seeming to come out ahead. Some thought he had inside information; others just believed he had a good sense for these things.

"Double or nothing," he’d say with a grin, placing another bet with his classmates.

"One day, you’re going to lose," a friend warned.

"Not today," Aventurine would reply. And somehow, he never did.

Socially, he was unpredictable. He knew a lot of people but had only a few real friends. Some admired him, some envied him, and some just didn’t trust him—but no one ignored him. He fit right in at exclusive networking events, making deals over coffee and chatting with professors like they were equals.

But there was one person who still surprised him and that person was Professor Ratio.

Ratio was one of the most respected lecturers in the Business Department, known for his sharp mind and serious approach to teaching. He taught Strategic Management & Corporate Ethics, a class many students found difficult, but not Aventurine.

He never missed a lecture, always choosing a seat at the back where he could watch Ratio without drawing attention. He loved arguing with him in discussions, pushing back against his theories just to see if he could get a reaction.

"You're making a big assumption there, professor," Aventurine leaned back in his chair during one debate. "The market doesn’t always follow logic. What about investor emotions? Speculation?"

Ratio remained calm. "And yet, patterns still show up over time. Even speculation follows a cycle if you look closely enough."

Aventurine smirked. "Sounds like you're making an assumption too."

Ratio met his gaze, steady as ever. "Prove me wrong, then."

Behind closed doors, things were different.

"Hnn… Ratio…" Aventurine moaned as his teacher deepened their kiss, arms wrapped around that slender waist while he sat on his lap.

Chapter 1

Ratio has always enjoyed his peace and quiet. Just spending his time playing chess with himself, reading books by himself, and thinking… by himself.

Some say this kind of lifestyle is heaven for introverts like him, but he can't help but feel that there are days when he craves some human interaction.

Maybe he should get a pet owl? But then he read that pet owls will self-harm if they lack attention from their owners, and Ratio can't promise he’ll dedicate all his time to caring for a pet when he’s deeply engrossed in his research studies.

Perhaps he should get a… friend? But the last time he went out, the sheer amount of human ignorance while he was trying to buy groceries almost caused him to commit mass murder by throwing his chalk around.

Is there really no other way for him to solve this silly problem of his? Wanting a friend but not wanting said friend to be too loud, too clingy, or too ignorant?

It’s time to put on his thinking cap. Or rather, his thinking mask.

Or would it be better to take another bath? At least that would be better than talking to the self-portrait mini statues on his study desk.

Sighing, he stood up from all these useless thoughts and did a little stretching. What a waste of brain energy for someone with eight doctoral degrees!

“Let’s take another bath then.”

knock knock

Ratio stopped in his tracks as if an apple had just dropped on his head.

What was that sound? Someone knocking at his door? The sound was so foreign to him because he almost never received guests. Perhaps he misheard it?

knock knock knock

The knocking sounded more urgent now.

Awkwardly, like a statue cracking apart to reveal a moving human within, Ratio quickly moved his body to answer the door.

He expected a deliveryman or someone who had gotten the wrong apartment number.

“Hi, so sorry for disturbing you. Um, have you seen my little brother?”

Ratio widened his eyes when he saw the beautiful man before him. Despite the distraught look in those big eyes hidden behind a pair of shades, the doctor could still see the unusual but captivating shade of purple.

The stranger became restless when Ratio didn’t respond, unaware that the man before him was stunned by his beauty and at a loss for words.

“Um, he’s about this tall.” The blond crouched a bit to show that the child was about hip height.

Ratio gulped slightly as he caught a whiff of the young man’s perfume. It was an overwhelming scent, as if he sprayed himself every half hour. Quite the contrast to the doctor, who preferred the subtle fragrance of bath salts.

“He has a cute, bobbed haircut and big eyes,” the man rambled, “a cute nose and cute pudgy fingers. He wears a purple top with brown pants. He’s a little shy around strangers, but he’s a good boy and polite to his elders—um, hello?”

The youth waved his hand in front of the motionless Ratio, who then proceeded to wear his thinking mask.

It was a bizarre sight for the stranger. “Um…?”

“Silence.” Ratio raised his hand to stop him from talking further, yet there was no hint of anger or malice in his command. “A moment, please.”

All his brain cells got to work as he concentrated behind his statue-like mask...

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Chapter Text

It had been a month since the events in Penacony. Aventurine had returned to his usual routine at the IPC. Despite nearly failing his mission and even breaking his cornerstone, he had been rehired. Things seemed to have settled down, but one thing still lingered in his mind.

Dr. Ratio.

They hadn’t had the chance to work together since the Penacony incident, and Aventurine hated to admit that he missed him. After all, it was Ratio’s bottled message that had given him the push he needed during that time. The note inside the owl-shaped bottle had been short and to the point, but it carried a depth of care that Aventurine hadn’t fully understood at the time.

"Do stay alive. I wish you the best of luck."

Ratio had probably forgotten about the bottle and its contents, but Aventurine still kept it close to his heart. Ratio wasn’t the type to display his emotions openly but that message had spoken volumes about the man’s true feelings.

========================

Aventurine thought it was about time he showed his gratitude. Ratio had always been there in his own quiet, calculated way, and Aventurine had spent enough time reflecting on that. It was time to take the plunge.

He made his way to Ratio’s office, heart beating rapidly like a drum. There was something about Ratio that always put him on edge but this time, it was different. This time, he wasn’t seeking advice or guidance. He was just… thankful. Oh, but why was he acting like a young school girl about to give her letter of confession? This is so embarrassing for his age. 

Aventurine knocked lightly before stepping inside. Ratio was seated at his desk, papers spread out around him as usual, his eyes focused on his weapon book.

“Dr. Ratio,” Aventurine began, his voice a little uncertain.

Ratio looked up slowly from his tablet, his expression unreadable as always. His eyes softened slightly when they met Aventurine’s, a brief flicker of recognition crossing his features.

“Gambler,” he said in his usual calm, composed tone. “What brings you here?”

Aventurine had never seen him in glasses and casual wear before. Covered by a lab coat. His heartbeat quickened at the sight.

Trying to compose himself, he hesitated for a moment before walking toward Ratio’s desk.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, my friend. How have you been? After everything, I mean. You didn’t even send me a letter!” He touched his chest dramatically, “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

A brief silence stretched between them and Aventurine blushed in embarrassment. Was that too much?

Ratio leaned back in his chair, reaching up to remove his reading glasses. He met Aventurine’s gaze, his eyes giving away little.

“You came all this way just to ask a stupid question?”

Aventurine winced at Ratio’s usual bluntness. “Hey now, I thought we were buddies after our mission at Penacony. Why so cold all of a sudden?”

Ratio sighed. He hadn’t meant to be so curt, but Aventurine’s arrival had caught him off guard.

Thinking of the gambler had been a major distraction to his work. Normally, he would have finished an impossible case study by now, yet his mind had kept drifting back to the attractive blond.

“I’ve been… well. Work has been keeping me busy, as always,” he lied. “And you? For what purpose do you saunter in here like a lost peacock?”

Aventurine chuckled. Ratio often made fun of his fashion sense. “I… I wanted to thank you for that message you sent. The one in the bottle. It helped me more than you know.”

Ratio stood and walked toward him, his posture still rigid, but his gaze gentler now. “I see. Well, think nothing of it.”

“Um, I’m returning the bottle case. Thanks again.” Aventurine presented the empty message bottle in his palm, though the written note remained tucked safely in his pocket.

Ratio eyed the familiar owl-motif bottle before shaking his head. “Keep it. It’s not an important trinket to return.”

Aventurine blinked, then nodded. He got to keep something of Ratio’s? Lucky!

“So…” Aventurine started again, his voice quieter this time. “Do you think we could catch up sometime? Maybe go for a walk or… a game of cards?”

Ratio blinked. He had expected Aventurine to leave after saying thank you. Living alone with very few friends had made Ratio forget how to socialize when the objective wasn’t work-related. He hadn’t anticipated being invited out.

“For what purpose?”

Aventurine hesitated before speaking again, a playful glint in his eyes. “Actually, I was thinking… maybe I could treat you to something. As a thank-you for the message. How about I buy you some new clothes? You’ve been wearing the same style for a while now, haven’t you?”

Ratio raised an eyebrow, looking slightly amused. “New clothes?” he repeated, his tone deadpan. “I can’t say I’m in need of anything extravagant.”

Aventurine shrugged casually, though there was a teasing lilt to his voice. “Well, maybe it’s time for a change. Besides, I think it’s the least I could do for you. You’ve helped me more than I can put into words. I’ll pick something that’ll make you look even better than you already do.”

He boldly reached out and brushed his fingers against Ratio’s chest. “See? This sweater you’re wearing is old and overworn. How many years have you had it? Even the color’s faded.” Deep down, Aventurine was admiring Ratio’s broad chest. What would it feel like to be in those big, strong arms?

Ratio was impressed by Aventurine’s audacity. The sheer nerve of this man! To insult his clothes while freely touching him. Yet, instead of being irritated, Ratio smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement and something deeper.

“You’re suggesting that I don’t already look presentable?”