Chapter Text
A tall-sized hazelnut latte with extra whipped cream and caramel sauce.
A short-sized black coffee and…
Aventurine pauses mid-motion and stares at the final drink order with wariness. He does not view it with disbelief, for he is fully aware of the endless, crazy possibilities that are coffee orders, but surely…
“Topaz, read out that final order to me, will you?” He asks vaguely, and sticks the order sticker in front of her eyes as she momentarily diverts her attention away from the register.
She tips her head questioningly. “…what, the ten shots of espresso with eight sugars? What about it?”
“’What about it?’ Do you want us to be sued for caffeine poisoning someone?”
“Oh, don’t worry, Stelle has done way worse.” A voice chirps from the other side of the counter. A set of intense pink-blue, perky eyes greets Aventurine as he looks up.
Well, yes, he had recognized them when Topaz was ringing their order up – he knows who and what to expect when a drink order comes in threes, because these three are apparently inseparable in this world too. He may have recognized them, and he has definitely concocted up stranger combinations of caffeine and dairy.
Topaz may have no qualms about doing so, but Aventurine? He would like to believe that there is ethical – moral? – ambiguity involved in feeding someone what is beyond the healthy intake of caffeine.
He stares at them unimpressed. March beams at him, then non-subtly elbows the more reticent-looking man standing next to her. Behind him, a grey-haired blob is leaning half-slouched against his shoulder, face hidden by the unkempt hair. Said blob appears to be breathing, Aventurine notes to himself with a vague sense of relief.
“Right, Dan Heng?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Dan Heng tips his head slightly, “we appreciate your concern. But she pulled an all-nighter, and we have a test in twenty minutes.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures! But she did consent to this, if it does help—”
Aventurine raises his hand to vaguely wave them off. “Say no more. Give me a few moments.”
College students.
His hand motions are practiced as he reaches for the milk, the tea, the caffeine, the sugar. Sometimes, he thinks he may have preferred working in a bar instead, mixing sparkling drinks and vices amidst low music and dim lights, all the while being privy to whispered secrets and promises of troubled souls.
Aventurine thinks – no, he is sure, that he would have fit in there better, but –
He assembles the three cups in a line, and slips them two cookies on the side to share. Jade does always tell them to randomly give out treats to the incoming students – something about, creating a loyal customer base – and, well, no one will know that his choices as to who to distribute said cookies to are less than ‘random’.
– this is fine too.
“Here are your drinks – thank you for waiting. And good luck with your classes.”
The trio accepts their drinks and extra goodies with some haste, and they leave the café with a cheerful wave. “We’ll need it! Thank you!”
He watches them as they leave, and then rocks back on his heels when they are nearly out of sight.
It is no surprise that they are doing well over here. The Nameless are a feisty bunch, and will thrive wherever they are.
“You’re particularly soft on them, aren’t you?”
He hums at Topaz’s question, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”
“There’s no need for you to put up an act, Aventurine. I quite like them too.” She replies sincerely without even missing a beat. “They’re always polite and patient whenever they’re ordering and waiting for their drinks, and there was one time they stepped in to help with an unruly customer, you know? When you were off for the evening.”
Aventurine doesn’t in fact, know. He says nothing, but merely hums to indicate that he is listening.
Topaz continues, “and seeing them makes me feel… nostalgic, I guess. They’re so young.”
Her voice is soft with clear affection. Topaz, too, has hardly changed much from before. She still wears her heart on her sleeve, is fond of small, questionably ‘cute’ things (don’t get him started on what Numby looks like in this world), but her personality is as fiery as it was before. There is the fierce candour, but there is also, of course, the same softness that got her demoted after Jarilo-VI.
Here, her heart does not work against her, and Aventurine is glad for it. She is instead pursing further education to get a license for social work, and Aventurine knows that she will be just fine.
His heart aches, thinking about the Topaz from before. She would be fine over there as well, of course, but—
“You are young too, Topaz.” He reminds her blithely. Before she can respond, the chime goes off as the café door swings open with a new group of customers.
Back to work.
…
The Star-Peace Café is conveniently positioned neither too far, nor too near to a college campus, which means more than half of their customer base is comprised of college students and faculty members who are willing to go an extra mile for their drinks, which isn’t a bad thing altogether.
Morning and lunch rushes occur, though not in great frequency, with a steady but not-overwhelming stream of regulars and new customers dropping by here and there. There is always soft music playing in the background, and it reminds Aventurine of the smaller cafes he had visited prior to his rapid promotions in the IPC. Quaint, peaceful, but the ‘him’ back then wouldn’t have stayed still long enough to enjoy the atmosphere.
Here, everything is brighter, Aventurine finds.
It seems almost ironic, considering that he once lived among the stars, hopping between planets and space-stations. He has played a hand in the destruction of at least one or two stars before, and not even a dip in the abyss can erase the memories of stellar explosions, or the feelings of hollow satisfaction that imbued his empty heart then.
Those days are long past now, and this is his new world. It’s somehow infinitely brighter, filled with the soft conversations and door chimes and cars driving by, the smell of coffee, of laughter and books and… simplicity.
In other words, peace.
This is not the same type of peace Aventurine was expecting when he accepted the Penacony mission.
He does not feel at peace.
~~~
The next few hours past as they usually do: making drinks, manning the register, and ignoring Topaz’s disappointed look when he has half a blueberry muffin and a cup of coffee for lunch.
(The other half will be for later, he tells her easily, and she gripes about how no one will bat an eye if he has an entire muffin now and later.
She does not know that these are his eating habits from before. Aventurine rarely gets hungry, but he can recognize the signs of when his body does require food. He’ll eat when he needs to).
Sometime shortly past noon, Lynx comes in with the fresh pastries and baked goods, and they restock the display cabinet by the counter.
She’s a cute one, Lynx Landau, the youngest out of three siblings that run a pastry shop-slash-bakery just a few blocks down, one that Star Peace Café has a business agreement with.
All of the siblings are hard workers, but Lynx has the typical youngest sibling complex of wanting to prove her older sister and brother that she is independent and reliable. This means that at least twice a week, she handles the afternoon restock on foot, with one of the shop’s workers – Pela – helping her with half the boxes.
Aventurine doesn’t have the heart to tell her that its far more efficient for her brother ‘Geppie’ to drive the short trip down. Nor does he inform her that he occasionally spots one of her older siblings peeking out from behind the café windows, clearly having tailed her.
Topaz is fond of her. He is as well.
He distracts her with a cup of tea-latte, topped with copious amounts of whipped cream that may or may not be in the shape of a bear, with chocolate sprinkles as its eyes.
(He knows who they are. The IPC has access to a wealth of information, and the then-Aventurine was a curious gambler who knew that information is power, is another useful, potential gambling chip. He wanted to know the people who swayed Topaz – all of them – so as to protect himself, just in case.
Well, it turns out the information is only fractionally useful.)
…
It is closer to half past-three when Aventurine feels the familiar prickle and burn of his eyes. The feeling is something he has grown accustomed to in the past few months of being in this world. His hand naturally twitches towards his eyes, and it is at this moment Topaz steps out of the breakroom, already changed out of the uniform in preparation to go to attend her evening classes.
She pauses by the door, and shoots him a concerned look. “Are your eyes bothering you today?”
“They’re fine. Just had some dust go into them, that’s all.” He lies smoothly while looking away from her direction. He blinks rapidly to clear the prickling sensation – it does not improve it.
“…I can stay for a little while longer until Jade gets here—”
He waves her off. “Go for your classes, Topaz.”
“But—”
“Jade will be here in an hour or so, and then it’ll be the end of my shift in two. I can handle the café just fine – it’s a quiet day today.”
Aventurine gestures to the empty café space. It is a very quiet afternoon today, but Aventurine expects things to pick up again during the evening rush. Thankfully, he’ll be done with his shift by that time, and Jade can handle it with whoever the hired help is for the day.
Topaz frowns, clearly unconvinced. “You can wear your shades if you want to, you know? Jade did say you can, if you needed to.”
That’s one of the bigger ironies in this world – his eyes are sensitive here, unnaturally so. It has something to do with the colour of his irises, of course, and their strangeness. Some type of congenital defect, Aventurine has read in his own medical file in his attempts to parse out who he is in this world. He has never had this issue before. His eyes are a sign of his Sigonian blood, after all.
Here, they are what medical books call a ‘condition’. He cannot tolerate too bright of light intensities, and doing so for too long can lead to significant irritation, headaches, or even partial blindness on the worse of days. They are all mere discomforts in the grand scheme of things, but… it seems like it is an inevitable fact of his fate that his eyes will bring him trouble wherever he goes. Perhaps it is written in Elio’s script somewhere, after all.
Regardless, it is what it is. He is alive here, and that is what matters the most. In fact, he is more than alive. Here, he is living, apparently – as a free man, unshackled from his old past that had bounded him, all skeletons in the closet eradicated and sliced away from him by Nihility’s blade.
…nevertheless: “as I’ve said, it’s just some dust in my eyes. For you, by the way,” he nods to the strawberry milkshake on the counter, and Topaz looks at him suspiciously.
After a bit, she sighs, and Aventurine’s smile widens. That’s a win—
“You know what, it’s Thursday, isn’t it? That means the doctor is coming by at four sharp. He’ll deal with you.” She mumbles while scooping the drink into her hand. His smile instantly falters, but Topaz doesn’t appear to notice. Cradling the take-out cup against her chest, she checks her watch for the time. “I might have some time to check on Numby before classes then.”
Maybe not a win, then.
The sound of bells echo in the shop space as the door closes behind her. Aventurine waits for the sound to fade before he finally allows himself to lean tiredly against the counters.
Aeons, he is tired. He doubts there will be many customers coming by before his shift ends, but Topaz is right. The doctor – Doctor Veritas Ratio, of course – will definitely be by at four PM sharp. And… Aventurine will have to interact with him, with no other person present as a buffer between him and the good doctor himself.
His eyes throb, and Aventurine presses the base of his palm against his closed eyelids. His current job is easier than his previous – all he has to do is get people’s drink orders right, for Aeon’s sake – but somehow, he still ends up in this state every other day.
Exhausted.
He shouldn’t be exhausted. There is no slave brand on his neck, he has no fear of being executed for failures on the job, because Jade is exactly how Jade is from before. Aloof, but practical. He doesn’t know if she cares about him or not, but she treats him fairly, and he hasn’t seen any signs of Diamond.
All things considered; Aventurine should be feeling rested. Years of suffering in Sigonia, then under his slave masters (all of them, the IPC included), some unmeasurable amount of time in the abyss… and he has somehow ended up in a parallel world, working with almost identical co-workers in a café, all the while meeting familiar faces.
If he is to be honest, he would very much prefer to not have this many familiar faces around him. He tolerates Topaz, because it’s Topaz, and he knows that as soon as she gets her social worker’s license, she’s going to be off somewhere, doing good. He tolerates Jade because it’s Jade, and this job is easy.
But even seeing them hurts sometimes. They may look familiar, they may act familiar, but they are not the same persons that he knows.
And then there’s all the other familiar faces. Everyone else. The Trailblazers – even Welt and Himeko come by, for they teach art and engineering in said nearby college; the general of Xianzhou Luofu has shown up in the café once, to meet Dan Heng, and there was a picture of his adopted son? Nephew? In his wallet. And don’t forget the Stellaron hunters. He has met them too – Firefly included. They show up here and there, reminders of before, and each meeting never fails to make his heart race with unnamed emotions.
That’s fine. It’s fine, Aventurine has thought to himself many times as he greets them with a cordial smile and trades friendly greetings and the occasional banter. This is all fine, because their presence in his life will, ultimately, be fleeting.
No matter the world, time will take its due course, and people, as people, will do what they do best.
People come and go, and so will they.
But not him. He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do now. He isn’t sure why he stays. He isn’t sure—
If he is supposed t̸̳͝o̷̓ͅ l̸̢̤̣̼̰͔̾̍̈́̎̉̈́i̵̖͓̼̥̺̻̓v̵̢̹̖͖͎̰͉͔̐̔̒͌͛̎̃̾͒̇͛͝ě̸̢̝͉̥̩̮̭̤̺̍͂̓̕͝?
And how does one do that – live a life with freedom, with choices? It’s much easier to watch people do so, to move on with their lives—
(He hopes they moved on with their lives. He assumes they did, after his supposed ‘death’. He hopes no one waited for him. No one would, of course, why would they? After all, his death was necessary, and his life has had no value—)
He sucks in a deep breath, and holds it for four, three, two, one. The air escapes him shakily. The sound of his blood is audible in his ears, and his head throbs to its rhythm. It’s not the first time Aventurine has worked through pain, and yet…
He’s—
Tired.
~~~
Aventurine allows himself only a few minutes of temporary weakness before he re-gathers himself, and busies himself with his job once again. It is a good thing he does, for a few customers shortly show up after that, and there is a degree of multi-tasking involved when it comes to juggling the register and pouring fresh coffee into take-out cups.
Thankfully, most proprietors of the café are cognizant enough to recognize that there is only Aventurine handling the café for the meantime, and they only offer him smiles when he finally gets to them and their drinks.
He is occupied enough that he does not process when four ‘o’ clock comes around. The door chimes as it opens, and he is efficiently popping on the lid and sleeve to the cup in his hand. Aventurine hands the drink over with a wide smile – “Be careful with it, it’s still hot. Thank you and have a nice day!” – and with a barely concealed sigh of relief that the café is nearly empty, he returns to the register.
“Sorry for the wait, what can I do for you—” Aventurine begins to greet with an energy he does not actually have, only to trail off when he looks up and notices the identity of said customer. “Oh, hey doc! What can I get for you?”
Veritas Ratio predictably does not react to his informal greeting. The doctor merely levels him a flat stare, before dropping his gaze to the menu in front of him. The whole act is unnecessary – Aventurine already knows what Ratio is going to order today, the same when he knows for how long Ratio will stay in the café before leaving for home.
In this life, Doctor Veritas Ratio does not hold eight doctorates. No, instead, he is one of the most proficient medical doctors working in this city’s largest hospital, and is famously known for completing several different medical residencies simultaneously, and is now a specialist in multiple fields of medicine.
The discovery did not even faze Aventurine when he first learnt of Ratio in this world: it seems like in every single universe, Ratio is destined to be extraordinary.
…
Veritas Ratio showed up in this city shortly after Aventurine did.
(Or, well, shortly after Aventurine became cognizant of himself in this world, to be precise.)
His arrival caused a great stir within the city. The doctor held many accolades, was actively publishing in journals while also practicing medicine, and Aventurine heard from the grapevine that Ratio was offered a position as an attending physician – one of the youngest to be made such an offer in a very long, long time. Of course, that was all Aventurine had heard of him, and the gambler-turned-barista was more than happy to live with that information and call it a day.
Except Jade was acquaintances with Ratio, and had invited the good doctor to the café one afternoon. Aventurine hadn't been ready to see him, and a part of Aventurine wanted to walk right out of the door as soon as Ratio addressed him. After before, Aventurine doubted anything could be a challenge, but he was quite wrong. Facing Ratio was hard, and Aventurine could only breathe after the man left that day.
He swore to himself that he'd no longer lament for the other Veritas Ratio. That he'd keep his distance still... but—
Ratio walked into the café the next time, and gave an order with such precise drink preparation instructions that the then still-trainee Topaz panicked and couldn’t figure out how to put in the order. Aventurine had to intervene on her behalf, and personally prepared his drink (because Topaz, the poor girl, was still flustered. Aventurine wasn’t that cruel.)
Of course, Aventurine hadn’t planned on interacting with the doctor frequently after that. Definitely, not on a personal level, but between Ratio’s regular visits before and after his shifts, Aventurine found the doctor quite entrenched in his life, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that or not.
The good doctor was apologetic (or at least as apologetic as the man could manage) about scaring Topaz during the first meeting. Aventurine remembered his awkwardness, remembered thinking to himself, why, the doctor can be human – and a very cute one at that , and extended the offer to help smooth things out between Ratio and Topaz.
So, in a way, it is also Aventurine’s own fault.
Regardless, it did not matter what Aventurine liked or wanted. In the end of the day, Ratio was a loyal customer… and also a very well-read medical doctor, which meant that it took him no time to get curious about Aventurine’s eyes.
To his credit, Ratio did not ask him what was wrong with them. Aventurine merely caught him staring on too many occasions.
“Most people with your condition wear a protective eyepiece.” Ratio eventually said one day, while the café was quiet, and Aventurine was nearby busking some tables.
Aventurine did not even bat an eye at his comment, and he neutrally replied: “’Most’ people? Last I checked, the number of people with the same ‘condition’ that I have are rather few.”
“It is a very rare condition. Most patients report differing degrees of visual impairment, but your eyesight appears more than fine. Do you not have any protective eyepieces at all? Light sensitivity is common.”
“What can I say, doctor – I must be lucky.” Then, with a quick sleight of his hand, he retrieved his tinted shades from work apron pocket and popped them over his face. Just as quickly, he takes them off, and returns them to their original position. “I do have them, naturally. Especially since I work mostly morning to afternoon shifts, so they help during my commutes. But wearing them indoors might be viewed as inappropriate by other customers, so—”
“Does your employer forbid their use? They cannot prevent you from using them since it is for medical reasons. I can speak to Jade about this—”
“Woah there, down boy.” Aventurine balked at the thought of Ratio advocating for his rights. Well, it wouldn’t be necessarily odd, but at the same time… “I’m aware of my rights, and Jade is aware of my eyes as well. I have permission to wear them when I need to, but I don’t need to most of the time, so I don’t.”
As if to make his point, he gestured to the windows. “Most of these windows are partially tinted, especially the ones nearer to the register and kitchens. Those had been done for my benefit, so… Yeah. Thanks for your concern, doc. You don’t have to worry your pretty head about my eyes.”
“What about the rest of it?”
“The rest of what?”
“The ocular migraines, visual auras – those are comorbid in patients with the same condition as you, usually at far more debilitating frequencies. You appear fine – do you not suffer from them, or are they milder in comparison?” Ratio continued to ask. His calculating gaze remained fixed on Aventurine’s face – or rather, his eyes, and Aventurine could not help but feel like he was a little lab rat being studied by a scientist.
Then again, Ratio was never the type of person to ruthlessly pursue knowledge without care of other individuals, so clearly, he did not mean to offend or overstep any boundaries. Based on the earlier parts of their conversation, this was Ratio expressing his concern for Aventurine. Either that, or… he was just being a typical medical researcher.
“I usually give out that information on the tenth date, you know.” He jokingly answered instead. The doctor tilted his head slightly, as if in thought. On his table, his pager began to blink, and the man eyed the device before sighing.
“I will return to this café in two days, and then five days from now. Will you be working on those days?”
Although he did not fully understand, Aventurine answered, “…Yes?”
“That would make it my tenth time meeting you here. I look forward to your answer then.”
“—woah, doc, what—”
The man was gone by then, and Aventurine could only stare at the table he once occupied. Had Ratio missed the entire bit where Aventurine said the ‘tenth date’?
…Right. Aventurine was simply going to return to work. He might as well clean up the doctor’s table as well. As he reached forward to clear the glasses and dishwear, his fingers caught the edges of a stiff card partially hidden below a clean napkin.
It was a name card.
Veritas Ratio, M.D.
Below his name was the name of the hospital, an office number, and then in a handwritten scrawl, was another set of numbers. And below that: ‘my personal number. Call if emergency.’
Aventurine stared at the card for a solid two minutes before slipping it into his pocket.
…Okay.
…
Several months and countless of meetings later, Aventurine can confirm that Ratio’s mannerisms haven’t changed much from before – he is still stoic and to the point, and he is acerbically intelligent to the point of being rude, although said rudeness is never truly deliberate. He still holds high expectations for everything – from the medical students that he oversees, down to the liquids that he consumes, which is why Aventurine preens at the thought of the doctor choosing to return to this café every alternate day of the week.
Of course, Ratio likely comes by frequently because the café is located along his path from home to his workplace – and yes, the man walks/runs to his workplace, rather than commuting via vehicular transport like a normal person. Something about exercise – unless his pager goes off due to a work emergency.
Aventurine isn’t going to entertain why the doctor gave Aventurine, specifically, his personal number. He isn’t. It isn’t like Ratio to get attached to people… is it?
Ratio maintains a rigorous routine despite his insane working hours, and that is the primary reason why Aventurine has all of the man’s drink orders memorized.
He also knows that when the doctor drops by on Thursdays, he does so on his way home from a very gruelling 24-hour on-call shift, so Aventurine is patient when Ratio does not immediately recite his usual order.
Despite the man’s impeccable appearance, the slightly darkened circles beneath Ratio’s eyes do not go unnoticed by Aventurine’s eyes. Tea it shall be today, then, otherwise it would be black coffee.
“…Linden tea.”
Yup. The doctor is tired.
“For here?” Aventurine makes a show of keying things into the register, but he has already completed Ratio’s order.
The other confirmation that it was an exhausting shift, is that Ratio has forgotten to give instructions to serve the tea bag on the side. The man is a stickler for brewing times, after all.
“Yes. Also, an additional g—”
“Glass of lukewarm water, yep.”
Ratio goes silent, but waves his card in front of the reader when Aventurine gestures for him to do so.
“You know my order.”
Aventurine has Ratio’s visiting schedule memorized.
“I know most of them, yes.”
“Yet you asked what I want.”
“It’s always best to check with the customer, dear doctor.” He gestures towards the vacant seats in the café. “Have a seat, I’ll bring you tea and water to you soon – and I’ll make sure to serve the tea bag separately, of course.” Aventurine adds a teasing wink for good measure.
…
No one summons the most complex set of emotions within Aventurine better than the doctor himself. For all the familiar faces that he has seen, Aventurine can make easy predictions on their personalities and behaviours based on his prior interactions with them, and therefore adjust his own interactions with them accordingly.
Theoretically, the same can and should be said for his interactions with Ratio as well, but Aventurine knows better than to assume that he knows how Ratio’s mind operates and thinks. Even from before, Aventurine had operated on the assumption that Ratio merely viewed him as a colleague at most – better than what most people thought of him, but most certainly not a friend. It baffled Aventurine as well, knowing that the man considered him an efficient communicator, given how the last of their interactions revolved around them not saying what needed to be said, and then gauging each other’s actions and plans via calculated predictions (and chance).
…Aventurine misses the Ratio from before, in a way. Perhaps it has something to do with how the mudanite never judged him based on his past, but rather who he is – was – and his motivations. It made dealings with the man easier. Honesty has never been Aventurine’s best virtue, but it was Ratio’s, and Aventurine finds that admirable. He can only wish he could be as honest as Ratio himself, and perhaps be honest to the man as well.
It is too late, of course. Aventurine is stuck in this world now, and that world from before, and the people in it, is no longer at reach for him. Not unless there is a way to way to reach the abyss once more, but again, what is the point? It is far easier to search for death – his parents, his sister, his people will be waiting for him there… assuming that death operates across the multiverse, that is.
But he was told to live.
Do stay alive. I wish you the best of luck.
Well… here he is. Alive.
And he continues to live, but— is it truly living, if one spends their days pouring coffee drinks for others, and is routinely haunted by people from his past?
(Aventurine has not forgotten that the Aventurine from this world was a person as well – someone who attended college and majored in economics, had friends. Although Aventurine has assumed his role with his own memories of before intact, he also possesses contextual information and memories of the Aventurine of this world.
He tries not to think too hard about what that means. He is a liar, a gambler, a murderer, a loser, a thief. And now… he is an imposter, having assumed this role of an Aventurine that is not himself.)
The Veritas Ratio in this world is… intense, for the lack of a better word, but this should not surprise anyone. Aventurine finds him easier to read, but at the same time, more difficult. This Ratio is softer, for one – less bitter, perhaps because there is no Nous here to reject him, to ignore his successes – although a lot of people would likely look at Aventurine as if he is insane if he were to openly describe Ratio as soft.
He’s not soft. He is simply softer than before.
Or maybe, Aventurine has lowered his guard down enough to allow himself to perceive kindness where and when it is given.
There was also Ratio addressing Aventurine’s work conditions, and although Aventurine tries to avoid the topic, Ratio has an unusual obsession with looking over his health, of all things.
(This is precisely why Topaz knew to not push on the matters of his eyes bothering him. If she couldn’t get him to prioritize his own body, then Ratio was going to make him – but not if Aventurine can do something about it (read: act like nothing is wrong).)
Aventurine does not know why. He attributes it to Ratio being a medical doctor this time round, and that Aventurine is someone with a rare condition, which naturally makes the intelligent man curious.
It's just curiosity. He is simply a medical curiosity. That’s better than being worthless, Aventurine supposes.
…
“Here you go, doc. Be careful of the temperature.”
He sets the man’s ‘drinks’ down – essentially a mug of hot water with the tea on the side, another large glass of tepid water – and then a plate holding a freshly warmed almond croissant, with its associated cutlery.
“I did not order—”
“It’s on me. A treat, for your hard work today.”
“I do not need to be rewarded for the work that I do. Saving lives is enough of a reward itself.” Ratio states matter-of-factly, and it’s a line Aventurine has heard multiple times. He airily waves off the doctor’s protestations. The doctor may be stubborn, but so is he.
“Then consider it a token of our friendship. Whatever makes you feel better about it, doctor.”
Ratio’s mouth opens, then closes without a single word passing through his lips. Aventurine’s smile widens, but his eyes simultaneously soften. That’s another difference between this Ratio and that one. Aventurine can win a little more frequently against this doctor. After a moment, Ratio sighs, and shakes his head. “You’re always so stubborn.”
“Pot, kettle, dear doctor.”
…Aeons, he actually does miss the Veritas Ratio from before. He misses the banter, the sardonic remarks, the mutual exasperation—
Pain lances from behind his eyes, and his vision spots momentarily. Thankfully, he has always been good at masking his pain, and the only outward expression of his discomfort is a small eye twitch that is usually unnoticeable to others.
He plasters on a smile, and averts his gaze away from Ratio lest the doctor catches onto something. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your drink before it cools, doctor.”
“Aventurine.”
Aventurine pauses.
“Look at me.” Ratio commands, sounding exactly as Aventurine remembers him to sound like. He is tempted to say, ‘no, why should I?’, but thinks twice of it.
He raises his eyes to meet an intense gaze. Ratio’s dawn-coloured irises are unusually dark – perhaps with concern. There’s a crease between his eyes, a clear sign that he is deep in thought. The Aventurine before would hop onto that single tell, and use it as a diversion.
Are you concerned, doctor? That’s unusual for you, isn’t it?
There’s no need to look at me with such an expression. Why, I’m flattered, if anything.
Instead, he offers the man a hollow smile. "How can I help you, doc?"
The crease between Ratio's eyes deepens. “Are you alright?”
“Perfectly fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” He spreads his arms, much like a peacock, a man trying to put up a show, and internally, he curses at himself. An old habit from before – he slips up all the time, falling back into this cocky persona every time he speaks with Ratio. It’s easy for him to remember that he is speaking with a different someone with the others. With Ratio? He forgets.
Who is he kidding – Aventurine has long forgotten which is his true self. They are all masks, in the end of the day. The IPC slave, Aventurine of Strategems, and Aventurine, the barista in Star Peace Café.
Fortunately, the doctor does not appear fazed by his behaviour. Instead, he clarifies, “you appear exhausted.”
“Gee, doc. I don’t know how that would make me feel, given that you’re the one who just finished a 24-hour shift at the hospital.”
“30.”
Aeons. And the man is still functioning.
“I stand corrected – 30-hour shift in the hospital. My point still stands. I imagine between the both of us, you’re more tired than I am.”
The words come out of his mouth smoothly, unaffected, but his vision is doing strange things. The room appears as though it is growing brighter by the minute, even though there should be no change in the illumination levels of the café.
It’s like staring at the sun – except that the sun is everywhere, and he is but a shadow that requires the dark to persist in.
“Irrelevant. My condition is not the subject of this conversation. Yours is.”
Aventurine remains silent. Ratio’s eyes search his form, cataloguing things he cannot see.
(Aventurine doesn’t know why this Ratio is this concerned about him. He has noticed that in their prior interactions. Ratio watches him often. Hell, he has the man’s personal number, given to him by the man himself, and he doesn’t understand why.
He’s probably just a medical curiosity.)
“Your eyes are bothering you.”
Among other things.
Aventurine loosens his grip on his mask ever so slightly. “Are they now?”
“…” Ratio does not answer.
“Would you like a present for guessing the answer correctly? A little star sticker, perhaps—”
“Where are your shades? Put them on.”
…Aventurine reluctantly does. It’s far too late for them to be effective as a preventative measure – the migraine is inevitable now, but post-work Aventurine can deal with it. He sighs in relief as the tinted lens cuts a majority of the brightness.
“Sit down.”
“…You are aware that I’m working right now?”
“You are working, yes. You currently have a single customer, that is me, and I do not mind if you sit.” Ratio sets a timer on his phone as he drops the teabag into the hot water. “Frankly speaking, I am tired of having to look up towards you.”
“It’s an excellent view from my end, though.” Aventurine mumbles under his breath, but decides, fuck it, he is tired anyway. When Ratio does not show any signs of having heard him, but continues to look at him flatly, Aventurine gives in and slides into the seat opposite of Ratio – at least Ratio has chosen a window seat, so he can see if someone is going to enter the café.
As soon as he plants himself into the chair, a hand reaches cross the table to grip his chin, tipping his head up ever so slightly. Aventurine swallows his protests as his glasses are plucked from his face (why did Ratio even ask him to put it on in the first place?) and gently set on the table.
Ratio raises his index finger next to his own head, and in a soft murmur, instructs Aventurine to follow its motion with his eyes. Aventurine follows his instructions obediently, only because he knows the doctor would only cause more trouble if he does not cooperate.
The check is quick. As soon as Ratio’s timer goes off, he drops his hands – both of them, the finger, and the one that has been gripping his chin – to prevent his drink from steeping for too long.
Aventurine sighs, and re-dons his tinted glasses.
“Your care is unnecessary, doctor.”
“Silence. Where is Jade? You should be resting, not working in this state.”
Aventurine raises a single eyebrow. He has a headache, he’s not dying.
“I can work perfectly fine in ‘this state’.” He makes quotation marks with his fingers, but crosses his arms on the table and rests his head in its cradle anyway. If he is given the opportunity to rest while at work, he is going to take it.
“You’re at least experiencing something equivalent of an ocular migraine. Some type of visual aura, perhaps, and if you aren’t experiencing an actual migraine now, you will in several hours.”
“And that’s a problem for me to deal with, after work.”
“It will be a problem for many people if you accidentally injure yourself because you cannot see clearly, you fool.”
“What’s there in this café that could possibly hurt me? A fork?”
“Scalding water.” The doctor pointedly taps at the rim of his glass with the fork he is currently holding. Aventurine returns Ratio’s glare with a lazily blink, and the doctor continues to talk as he furiously slices the croissant into two. “And that’s just within this space – what would you do if you had to go home while half-blind in pain?”
“Then I’d go home, half-blind with pain. It’s not rocket science, doc.”
Ratio’s expression twists. “Your self-preservation skills are non-existent. How do you think people would feel if you got hurt?”
“Who are the ‘people’ you speak of?” Aventurine closes his eyes, but not quick enough to miss the way Ratio leans back, as if stunned by his words.
This Ratio doesn’t know. Aventurine doesn’t have anyone in this world either. No family to speak of – and friends? Well… the closest people he knows are those he works with in this café, and perhaps his regulars. A lot of those relationships are one-sided anyway.
Nothing much has changed between this and the previous world. He is still alone.
Thankfully, Ratio does not attempt to answer his question. At least the doctor has enough graces to know that he cannot. Aventurine breathes deeply, slowly, as he hears the soft clinking of cutlery against dishware. Even if their conversation ended in such an abrupt manner, Ratio’s company is still comforting somehow, as short-lived as it may and will be.
The cold edge of a plate nudges against his hand, and Aventurine opens a single eye.
He is greeted with half a croissant. Ratio’s glass of water sits closer to Aventurine’s side of the table as well, positioned within his reach. The doctor isn’t looking at him when Aventurine gives him a curious look.
“Eat.” The doctor states gruffly. “And drink something, at least.”
Aventurine stares at him.
…How sweet.
Instead of saying thank you, he reaches for the fork, and obediently does as he is instructed to. Somehow, Aventurine has a feeling that Ratio would prefer that.
~~~