"You know, you're not hiding your exhaustion very well. I told you to head asleep without me." He voiced out, his steady tone snapping you awake once more. You groaned.

"Nope. Nada. No chance. I want to stay with you." You mumbled, book having completely falled out of your hands. You saw him scoff slightly from your peripheral vision.

"What, are you still scared of monsters at night?" He approached you and took the fallen book, inspecting it briefly before putting it back in the bookshelf you grabbed it haphazardly from.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp tug on your cheek. Your eyes shot open and quickly maneuvered its way to him. Mhm. Just as you had suspected.

He's pulling your cheek.

"Come, we can go back now. I'm done finishing up things. You can go to sleep soon." He said casually, as though he wasn't pulling your cheek like it was a game of tug of war.

"You - ugh! I'm not even sleepy anymore! Couldn't you have told me that without doing this?!" You sputtered, arms flailing in protest.

"Doing what?" He inquired, feigning cluelessness.

"What do you mean, 'doing what'?!" You barked (not in that way), glaring daggers at him. He only chuckled, unbothered, his hand still firmly tugging at your cheek. He's not stopping anytime soon.

Not when he thought you were this cute.

You’re stuck in this town that seems so mundane only filled with puzzled irritation on why the hell you’ve been stuck on the same day 84 damn times. You watch the little boy running ahead of his parents' trip on a brick not completely settled in the sidewalk- you stopped trying to catch him around loop 15. You listen to the echoes of an alley-cat fight that lasts approximately 20 seconds; you stopped attempting to separate or prevent that one after loop 4. 

The cyclist throwing a newspapers at a parked car- loop 24. The worker coming out of a nearby bakery to flip the closed sign to open only to get clipped in the shoulder by a reckless jogger- loop 32. The baby stroller left shamefully unattended long enough that starts rolling down the pavement towards you-

-you stick your leg out to stop the stroller and baby from getting too far. You probably won't stop doing that one- despite it being the 84th time of lecturing the guardian when they come to collect the stroller with its passenger. 

The same things happen as usual every loop and you huff as you wait for the very second on the clock when the staff member of the museum opens the door. Slipping outside to announce the opening of the new exhibit inside with clear instructions on how to get there and a firm reminder to mind your manners and remember that everyone in attendance is here to view it. 

As the crowd starts shuffling in, you let out another sigh before pushing yourself to your feet. Placing yourself among your fellow museum goers, you get ever closer to the entrance before you dig out your admission ticket you had purchased when you had the chance. With the familiar scan of the ticket and same professional greeting from the ticket window operator, you're on your way. 

You’ve been in every inch of this museum by now. Some loops you didn’t even go into the new section you had originally planned this whole excursion for. Instead, you made your way to the less populated and quieter sections you hadn’t been before.

Now though?

Well, it has been 84 times you’ve been inside. You could walk around blind if someone asked you to. 

Having nothing better to do, you stroll inside and siply follow the masses. Overhearing the same conversations and complains about the crowds- and seriously? It’s the debut of a new place with new things. What else would someone expect? An attendance of none other than them? Please. 

As you glance bored along the walls of new paintings and art pieces, you wonder if you should try turning around and wandering someone else again. But then, why would you? It would still all be the same no matter where you go. 

You’ve tried leaving the museum entirely before since nothing is quiet interesting anymore- but for some reason you just can’t bring yourself to. You can get as far as the exit, but something in you makes you stop and hesitate everytime only to bring you back in as if anything could be different. 

It never is. 

Well, maybe that isn’t the whole truth. 

There is one thing that changes almost every single loop. One variable that is never the same. 

That variable's name is Veritas Ratio. 

Being the special guest for the entire event, it isn’t a surprise that he’s present. In fact, his presence is the key factor in why you even decided to show up yourself. Ratio is someone you can look up to and admire- in more ways than one. With his intellect, he’s willing to teach and (although rare) learn pretty much any and everything he can. That coupled with his hobby of sculpting and consuming different arts, he really had no reason to turn down the entire event. 

He is your constant change in every loop. 

The way that Doctor Veritas Ratio interacts with you is the only change you get from your ever-nonchanging weekday. 

The first loop, it felt normal. He greets those he must, including you. Finding you in the crowd as you congratulate him on his contributions and praising him for going through with showing up. He speaks with your mundanely and when the sculpture is unveiled, he’s ushered away by camera flashes and notepads with waiting pens to document any and everything he says. He doesn’t see you again after that on the first loop. 

The second loop, you go through the motions of your day with intense deja-vu and find solace in his difference in approach. Finding you earlier in the day and striking conversation with your first, conveying his appreciation for coming- which you feel flush at since his praise is usually something you have to strive for. When you tell him about how you feel like you’ve lived today once before, he simply begins delving into the background of deja-vu and the subconscious. 

It’s interesting to listen to and entertaining to see him in scholar mode. 

By the 10th loop, you seek him out first freaking out- justifying of course. You’ve lived the same day to the letter 10 times! Locating him, you practically yank his arm out of place as you find a secluded place to tell him about your plight hoping he doesn’t drag you to a hospital to get your brain examined. He doesn’t. But he also tells you to calm yourself down and that it must be a coincidence. You don’t buy it as you frown and whine that he clearly doesn’t take you seriously. 

What kind of coincidence happens 10 times in a row? 

By loop 27, you try telling him about it again. By now you’d started losing your sense of reality and felt like you really were going crazy. On this loop, Ratio finds you first. Seeing your distress upon meeting you, he guided you swiftly away from the crowds and into a private room set up for him as a VIP where you once again expressed your woes and anxiety. This time he wasn’t quick to dismiss you but instead listened diligently. You don’t actually remember if he offered you any advice then or not. But it was 57 loops ago and they tend to blur together. 

Since then, it was all sorts of different occurrences. Meeting you first. Seeking him out. Having full conversations and advice. Telling stupid jokes he rebuttals with lazy flicks of his wrist. Seclusion from others. Surrounded by the crowds. Theres even times he hardly says anything, just occupies your space. And you still have no idea why he’s the outlier. 

You still don’t even know why you’re looping at all! 

As you venture further into the museum, you slip away from the crowd and go directly to the area in which the statue of Ratio himself rests until a large, pure white sheet. Hiding its stone carved glory until the hour to unveil it arrives. 

Technically, no one is supposed to be in this vicinity quite yet, but you know your way around the security by now. And it wasn’t like you were here to vandalize. 

Slipping past all the blind spots and guards posted on corners to keep the event going smooth, you make it to the exhibition’s main event area. The massive, covered statue stands in front of you. Raised on a podium about as wide as a dining table and as high as your shoulders.

It truly is a marvel at how big this thing actually is. 

Looking up at the white sheet, you sigh before you plant yourself on a bench across from it. Reading the plaque with the name of the sculpture in your head, you reread it out loud to yourself next. Not loud enough for anyone to catch wind that you’re in here, but enough to fill the silence for a single moment. 

“Mold of Idolatry.” You scan the words beneath it briefly. Just your average ‘about this piece’ spiels and how long it took to sculpt. You feel a tad guilty that you don’t really care about all the little details at this point. 

You’re not sure how long you sit there just staring at white sheets, golden plaques, and pristine floors. But it was long enough that when you zone back in, there’s a distant murmur or noise.

Of a crowd. 

“Ah damn,” you hiss. Getting up, you stretch before looking for a way to slip out and mold back into the crowd like you’ve been there the whole time and totally not technically trespassing without permission in a closed off area. 

A door to your right slams open and you screech. 

Slamming your hands over your mouth, you whip around and see none other than the man of the hour himself. Veritas Ratio. 

Dropping your hands harshly back down to your sides with a bit of an attitude, you twist around fully to look at him across the room. Maybe it was because your heart was in your throat, but you didn’t really notice the different look in his eyes this loop. 

“You scared the hell out of me!” You whisper aggressively in his direction. Ratio only squares his shoulders and marches towards you without a word. Feeling sweat gather on your nape, you take a step back and think about bolting. Before you can though, his long strides close the distance between you both in a blink. His momentum never stopping. 

Grabbing onto your arm, he starts pulling you along beside him. His grip around you wasn’t tough, or aggressive. It was firm but telling. 

“Come with me.” He leads, as he continues pulling you. Before you can ask where he’s taking you, he walks around his overly large, hidden duplicate of polished stone and stops behind it. With the large pedestal in which the statue stands, it casts a perfect shadow behind that can easily conceal two bodies. 

Ratio pushes your back against the raised piece and holds your shoulders to keep you in place. Even though his actions every loop have been different, this one felt exceptionally so. He hasn’t been this bold or unexpected with his actions before. 

“Ratio, what-” 

His hands from your shoulders slide up to rest delicately on either side of your neck. His thumbs brush along your jaw and threaten to pull down on your lip and open your mouth. His face comes closer; his nose barely touches yours. You squeal as he invades your space. 

“Quiet.” He tells you, making eye contact you can’t bring yourself to break. You feel your skin heating up and you wonder if he can feel it under his hands despite the gloves he wears over his palms. “I need to think.” 

“Think?” You barely get the word out from how quiet you say it, obeying his command easily. 

“Yes. Think.” He speaks in clipped words. Like he isn’t interested in carrying conversation right now. As if he’s pressed for time for a deadline only he knows about. 

“About what?” You still whisper, but your words aren’t nearly as broken this time. You catch him almost roll his eyes. You wonder if his thumb is close enough to your mouth after all so you can bite him. 

“What actions I need to take this time.” 

“What does that-” 

“I suspect, after all this trial and error, the direct approach is all I have left. From a certain point of view, it might seem a bit abrasive, but you’ll simply have to understand. Pardon me.” 

You want so desperately to utter another confused ‘what?’ as if he’s answered any of them so far in a way that didn’t make you more confused. You can’t though. Since his apparent abrasive approach was in the form of covering your mouth with his. 

Your breath halts and you wonder if you're breathing at all as his lips slot over yours. His eyes remain open, as do yours as he stares into you like an art piece. Examining your eyes and everything they have in them until your certain he can see right into your soul. 

His lips are warm. Smooth. Not at all chapped and you can smell a very faint hint of mint- like he put on chapstick not too long ago. Or maybe lip oil? Chapstick isn’t usually this glossy feeling. Or maybe… sticky is a better word. Whatever it was, it wasn’t unpleasant. 

You think maybe you got lost in your own head, because it’s like you blink and he wasn’t kissing you anymore. Instead, he was back away from your mouth, nose to nose with you, and tapping your neck with his fingertips. His blunt nails gently tapping against your skin in short and long patterns. 

.-.. --- ...- .

Your eyes blink like a camera shutter before your mouth moves again. 

“Uh-” you unconsciously lick your lips and taste the mint that was on his mouth. Definitely glossy. Much less chappy.

Ratio’s eye twitches. “Don’t do that.” 

“Huh?” Your brain isn’t fully caught up yet it seems. One of his hands moves from your neck to cover your mouth with his palm. The fabric of his glove and the warmth of his hand under it permeate your skin. With this other, he lifts a finger to his lips, hushing you as if you had a chance to speak at all this whole interaction. 

“If we leave, we’ll be seen.” You nod. “I wish to avoid that.” You half expect him to step away and abscond. Maybe even drag you out with him before the crowd comes in with all their hustle and bustle. He doesn’t do either.

Doctor Veritas Ratio keeps exceeding your assumptions. Stepping half a stride closer, his feet between yours, knees pressing against your body and his hand that had shushed you before moves once again. His arm supports his body on the area behind you that’s behind used to hold you up since your legs feel like they may have gone numb some time ago. He’s invading your space so intimately, you place your hands on his arm and chest to try to both steady yourself and also gauge where to put them at all. 

The hand on his chest quickly gets repositioned by the man himself, sliding it up to his neck until he's cupping his hand over yours, so your touch feels his racing pulse beneath his skin. Theres not a shiver or rack of gooseflesh on his body. But his blood is racing and despite the shadows, you wonder if the skin of his ears looks pinker than usual. 

“Ratio?” You call softly. He hums short. “What was that? This?” You look away from his eyes just for a second to look down to his toes then back up again as a means of gesturing to all of him. 

“The direct approach.” 

“Yeah,” you smile, breathing out a humoring air through your nose, “that doesn’t answer anything.” 

“Do you know morse code?” 

“You know I don’t.” 

“I’ll teach you.” He taps over your hand he keeps pushed against his pulse point in the same rhythms as before on your neck. 

.-.. --- ...- .

“Was that morse?” 

“Indeed.” 

“What does it spell?” 

“Would you like to guess?” 

“Will my answer be for a grade?” You’re proud of yourself for a moment for cracking a joke despite feeling lightheaded. His forehead drops onto yours and he takes a calming breath. His hair is soft and fluffy against your skin. His ears are pink. 

“It will not.” 

“Then, I’m not guessing.” 

“Stubborn.” He smiles though. Before he kisses you again. Veritas Ratio continues indulging in your lips despite the doors opening into the room and the crowd of event goers all compiling in. But he knows the two of you won’t be seen here.

He’s investigated this blind spot thoroughly. 

The sounds and actions of Ratio’s direct approach is drowned out, even as the sheet comes off his overly large stone copy. Even as the creator drones on about how the doctor himself could not be here due to last minute appointments he simply could not overbook. And it is where the two of you remain even after the crowd thins. 

“I think this loop is going to stick with me for a while,” you mutter to yourself, knowing he wouldn’t know what you mean. His thumb swipes under your lips, past the corner of your mouth and up to the apple of your cheek to hold it gently. “Number 85 is going to be a doozy,” you lament. Knowing that when you wake up in tomorrow's today, you’ll be a mess. 

“Tomorrow will be tomorrow.” He says. You just nod, thinking that he’s trying to once again reassure you like he has in previous loops. But you're too far jaded to the looping that’s haunted you to care for his words. You don’t deny or accept them, just let them wash over you. 

You close your eyes to take in the moment, not seeing the point in having a proper conversation about whatever this is since he’ll forget it when the day resets. 

Ratio soothes you. Rubbing your shoulders and spreading his warmth to you while he pulls you into his chest as he rests his chin against your crown. 

“Tomorrow will be tomorrow,” he promises once more. He slips out with you that evening, taking you home personally. You almost convince yourself to stay awake and watch as the clock hits midnight only to tick back to the same day instead of proceeding.

But it doesn't. The next day comes. You get to wake up the next morning.

Turns out, it doesn’t take a genius to confess one's admiration to another. 

Just a borrowed curio, a mundanite, and 83 loops of botched practice. 

a/n pt.2: imagine being such a loser you have to borrow a curio from your part-colleague doll lady's space station just to confess smdh

“Is that so?” His voice appears to be a little closer this time as his arms remain folded and he leans down slightly to take a look at what’s infront of you, though not offering you much critique — he’s sure it’s the last thing you need right now. So instead, his next blink brings his gaze to you, although it’s a look you don’t meet as you continue to stare at the empty work.

“And for just how long have you been here?” Ratio asks, softly. He watches the way the question makes your shoulders stiffen.

“All day.” Your reply is tight-lipped— burnt out. But your answer makes him tilt his head at you before he stands up straight again and he takes another step to rest his hips against your desk, facing you this time as you remain looking away from his gaze.

“And if I may ask, has that given you your desired results?” It’s a straight forward question, Ratio knows that but the obvious answer to it makes you lift your head to look at him again. Despite the low drawl of his voice, his features remain gentle and maybe that’s why you can’t help but shimmy your chair a little closer, as if to seek out his presence to make you feel better.

Though it doesn’t take away the guilt that laces your answer. “No, it hasn’t.” Your voice almost shakes with it, and although you swallow it down Ratio picks up on it anyway as he breathes out a short huff.

“Then it can’t be helped.” You’re still looking at him as he answers, blinking up at him from where he’s still resting against your desk and he keeps your gaze this time before his arms carefully unwind from across his chest. The muscle moves smoothly before you feel his fingertips reach out to trace your cheek and as if by instinct, it’s a touch you don’t hesitate to lean into.

It almost makes you cry as the tension in your shoulders drops slightly. “Is it that obvious I’m struggling?” You ask, a whisper.

“Well, you’re quite easy to read in that regard.” Ratio lets his palm smooth across your features until it rests on your cheek, watching you blink slowly before he’s holding you there. His thumb swipes just short of your lips next and he exhales another breathe,

“Holding yourself to unrealistic standards is hardly the correct approach for results. I might even say it’s counterproductive, wouldn’t you agree? Last I checked taking the opportunity to unwind is just as important, lest your efforts become quite wearisome.” He knows he’s right but he still curiously watches the way his words make you think. Ratio can imagine the inner turmoil in your mind — the want to work on something, to create despite your lack of inspiration for it.

You know he’s right too, he can see that aswell. But still, you gnaw on the inside of your cheek — nervously, as if you’ll be punished for taking a break. “But, I’ve been putting it off — everytime I think about it, my brain is blank.” His thumb swipes across your cheek this time, a soothing sort of stroke that calms your next shaken breath and he steps a bit closer.

Ratio’s hips still rest against your desk, but his thigh almost presses against yours this time. “Though that may be the case, can one truly be expected to make continuous progress towards their own personal pursuits if they don’t have ample rest?” He tilts his head down at you, and you almost mirror the movement as you press yourself into his palm.

Like you would the pillow you bury yourself into every night. As if he brings you that same level of comfort.

Your lips pout, “No, but—“ And Ratio hears the slight waver to your voice when you blink up at him. “Don’t you think I’m an idiot acting like this?”

The question almost makes him scoff but he knows it’s best not to offer you such a reaction— though he does offer you a soft chuckle before he’s pushing himself off of your desk again. His palm is still resting up against your cheek but when he leans in this time, he does so until his lips press up against your temple — and he stays there for a long exhale.

“Hardly. Knowing one’s limits is not a sign of idiocy. Might I say it’s quite the opposite.” Ratio answers gently against your skin, he hears the way it makes you sniffle as you lean into his palm again and he offers you another stroke of his thumb. The rest of his fingertips rest just beneath your ear, “Even a genius cannot work tirelessly for the rest of their life.”

And then you hear him take another breath, like a sigh of sorts when it rolls across your features but there’s no frustration to it. It’s quite the opposite actually when he leaves you with a lingering kiss smeared against your forehead.

Ratio looks at you again when he pulls back, and your features almost look sleepier now. Maybe a little more relaxed now that he’s put things into perspective and he’s sure you’re still worrying in the back of your mind, it’s impossible for these things to go away immediately.

But there’s something about that look you’re wearing that brings him in again, chastely as he uses his hand to tilt you up to meet him for a quick kiss and he retreats from you entirely when he pulls away this time. The loss of his warmth on your skin almost makes you shiver, but for the first time since he’s got here — your gaze follows him when he moves.

“Do you get it now? What I’m saying is you’ll hardly be punished for taking a moments repose should it serve to maximise your potential.” You turn in your seat as he takes a few steps from you and Ratio looks at you kindly when he turns to see you still staring. Your work is still on your desk, you’re still no further forward — but you’re paying it no mind now.

It makes him smile to himself as he shakes his head at you, quite adoringly, and now you’re smiling too.

“Speaking of which, my preferred way to unwind is nearing completion in the bathtub and should you require company to combat your unrest, well… it would be quite the honour.” Ratio hums as he turns his back to you, followed by a few slow and steady steps that bring him to the other side of the room quite quickly. His huge figure is back to standing in the doorframe before he turns to you again, tilting his head and he’s surprised you can’t already smell the bath soak that beckons him.

“Enticed?” And for someone who was sulking only a moment ago, you seem to have found a new wave of energy with how quickly you seem to push yourself up from your desk. You’re almost by his side in an instant as he rests his arm on your lower back to greet you, scoffing as he begins to guide you to your desired place of rest for the night.

“Smart choice.”

Ratio couldn’t bear this anymore. Nighttime, he sat in his office chair, door locked to prevent you from entering. You were the reason he was like this after all. With his furrowed eyebrows, be buried his face into his hands, annoyed but flushed. He was extremely flustered and he just couldn’t contain it anymore!!

After taking a deep breath, the flush on his face slowly started to decrease. Now it was time for him to think back, as to why he’s so flushed! He leans back into his office chair, looking up at the ceiling — his brows still frowned. He recalled all those memories of you and him...

...

You slammed open Ratio’s office door as he was working — startling him a little. Without another word coming out of his mouth, you instantly crawled onto his lap and hugged him, resting your cheek on his shoulder. You could feel how Ratio’s heart started beating faster, and how he immediately stopped his breath. You only smiled as he tried finding words. “What are you...” Was all he could let out, before you dug your face deeper into his neck. “Nothing. Just missed you” you murmured. You could feel the heat of his cheeks rising every second.

Another moment, where you and Ratio were just walking along the sidewalk of Penacony, talking about trivial matters. Slipping your hand into his, he notices and flinches. You show him a smile and he sighs, the blush on his face undeniable as he lets you hold his hand.

Or even that moment in bed, where you had come home late, seeing Ratio already asleep in your guys’ shared bed. You instantly changed and snuggled up close to him, either burying your face in his chest or hugging him from the back. He opens his eyes after you finally fall asleep, trying to keep his heart beat steady.

...

All those times, gosh, you kept clinging to him! He didn’t hate it, no, never... But you were distracting him! It was like everytime he was in your vicinity you’d immediately interwine your hands or fingers, or you’d straight up hug-attack or pounce on him!

Lost in thought of you, he almost fell out of his chair — being startled by you breaking open his locked door. “Are you gonna sleep?” You ask him, walking over to his chair from behind and wrapping your arms around his neck loosely. Your damp hair from the shower you just took wetting Ratio’s shoulder and face slightly.

“Yes, after I finish the current project. There’s something missing in it.” He says, surprised you broke down the locked door, but feeling cooled and immediately forgetting about it by the water on his face and your hug. “Have you been sleeping enough? It seems like you haven’t.” That’s true, he hasn’t. He’s constantly kept awake, all because he isn’t used to the affection you pour onto him. Every small touch feels like he’s falling in love with you all over again, sparks that he thought could either never be lit again or lit at all — burning with every touch. “I’ve... Been distracted.” He admits, ashamedly. You pull back in surprise. “You? Distracted? Do tell why Doc!” You sit yourself ontop of his desk, taking his hand and playing around with it. His gloves, or just inspecting his hands.

He looks at you, praying you don’t notice his flush. His expression is unusually softer, he looks at you as if you’re something he just cannot figure out. He would never say this directly to your face, but, he’d like to hold you forever. “Someone has been distracting me.” He turns his head away, his eyes flickering from you time to time. “Is a co-worker bothering you?” You ask, still holding his hand but looking at him. “Not... Quite. They distract me in a way everytime they do little acts of touching me, I seem to be unable to stop thinking of it.” Your eyes widen, and he notices. “Such measly touches... Unable to escape my mind...” He repeats. You feel his hand slightly flince, going stiff for a second. “It’s... An addictive feeling...” You feel your own cheeks burn slightly. He looks at you from the side of his eye.

Your laugh fills the room, his face now turned to face you. He scoots his chair closer to you, his eyebrow slightly twitching. “Why are you laughing?” He articulated. “Nothing, you’re just adorable! Is this your way of saying you enjoy how clingy I am?” You wipe the tear from your eye that evolved from laughter, smiling at him and refusing to let go of his hand — not that he minds. His jaw slightly falls open, as if he’s unsure of what to say. Searching for the words. Only you could make him feel like this... Like an idiot... “Perhaps.” He almost denies.

You sigh fondly. Ratio immediately noticing the warmth in your smile. You jump off the table and stand besides Ratio’s chair. He looks at you, rather puzzled as to what you’re trying to do. But before he knows it, you scoop him up from his chair, your arms and hands underneath his legs and back. He’s caught off guard, he yelps.

You immediately take him to your shared room, closing the lights and leaving only one lamp with a warm dim lighting open. Then taking off any bothersome piece of accessory Ratio wears on his person and immediately cuddle him. He looks at you, surprised. But how he loved it when you held him like this, or when he held you. He didn’t say a thing, only embracing your touch in that moment — making the two of you drift into slumber.

—————————

Anon this idea of urs was so big brain I think I crapped myseld