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“You’re an idiot,” Aventurine tells Ratio.
He does not reply. He can’t, on account of lying unconscious in a medical bed.
Perhaps he will never reply again.
It ought to have been Aventurine. He should be the one in the bed right now. If only his luck was actually worth anything. If only Ratio hadn’t insisted on going in first. If only, if only, if only.
But no matter how many times he replays the moments when it all went wrong, he can’t change them.
So they’re stuck. With Aventurine watching Ratio, and Ratio in a coma.
Behind Aventurine, the door opens. There’s the tap of shoes on tiles. “… Director Aventurine,” a voice says.
He turns. Doctor Annlisa is a Pepeshi, and the fluff ball on her head droops as she wrings her hands and looks up at him. “I take it there has been no change in Doctor Ratio’s condition?”
“No,” he says, looking back at the man in the bed.
Ratio does not sleep peacefully. His eyes twitch back and forth beneath closed eyelids, his fingers convulsing where they lie neatly by his sides. Every so often, his feet kick from underneath the thin sheets.
For the umpteenth time, he wonders what Ratio is dreaming about. Doctor Annlisa had explained the situation rather well to him: the memoria on this planet has reacted to something, somehow, and memoria poisoning here results in victims trapped in an endless dream. Unlike Penacony’s - well, perhaps calling them benign would be a mistake, but relatively - dreams, this one is designed to keep people asleep, and unlike Penacony’s vast dreamscape, it does not share.
Why the memoria purposefully crafts a dream of an ideal life you never want to wake from, Aventurine doesn’t know. But finding out is the job of scientists like Ratio and Annlisa here, not him. If there even is a why.
Some people do wake up on their own, apparently. The survivors described a beautiful reality with everything they wanted from life. They all described how, at one point, the dream got something wrong and they realised they were asleep, and upon realising, woke themselves up.
As for the ones who never realised - well, there’s a whole ward full of them, still sleeping and wasting away in their beds.
Aventurine had assumed that Ratio would wake himself up within the first hour. He’s a prodigy, after all. Then the second hour, surely, Ratio is too smart for memoria poisoning. The third hour, definitely. The fourth hour had to be it. Then…
Eventually, he had asked Doctor Annlisa the statistics of someone waking themselves up after a full twenty-four hours. She hadn’t given him a number. She hadn’t needed to. The look on her face had said it all.
If only it was him in this bed instead. Ratio could be in reality, where he belongs, and Aventurine could be back on Sigonia, holding his sister’s hand again. He’d see her smile again, and they’d never be cold or hungry again.
It doesn't matter that it wouldn’t be real. Even if he did realise, he would stay asleep. There are no good things for him in this life.
Doctor Annlisa climbs the bedside steps to get another close look at Ratio, though he hasn’t changed since her last inspection. She’d told Aventurine previously that he was stable, at least. Theoretically, he could wake himself up at any time.
“I have a potential breakthrough,” she says, after seemingly satisfying herself that Ratio is still as soundly asleep as he was yesterday. Why she didn’t lead with this, Aventurine doesn't know. “If all they need to do is realise that they are dreaming to wake themselves up, yet are incapable of coming to that realisation themselves, then we need a way to force that realisation. It is untested, but I believe I have found a way to join another person into the dream. Like back in Penacony.”
Aventurine’s breath hitches. “You think you can enter his dream and wake him up?”
“No, Director Aventurine.” She hops back down her little stairs. “I think you can enter his dream and wake him up.”
Oh. No pressure or anything. It just comes down to him to save Ratio’s life.
“It is untested, as I said,” Doctor Annlisa continues. “I will do my best to ensure that you do not fall into your own dream, but the risk remains.”
It sounds almost too good to be true. If he succeeds, Ratio gets to wake up again. If Annlisa fails, Aventurine never has to wake up again.
But if he fails… he’ll have to continue on in reality, without Ratio. And while it may seem cruel to rip Ratio away from his perfect dream life, Aventurine knows for sure that Ratio would prefer reality every time. He’s not like Aventurine. He doesn’t cling to sweet illusions.
“When can we start?” Aventurine asks, and Doctor Annlisa’s little fluffball finally bobs upright for the first time since their arrival. It’s good that between the two of them, one of them feels confident.
Aventurine barely sleeps a wink that night, thinking about what he’s even going to say to Ratio in the dream. He’s sure that Ratio would want to be woken up, and solve real problems and not whatever his brain is cobbling together right now. Ratio would hate for his actual body to wither away. Aventurine knows this, he knows, but - but what if? What if Ratio hates him for trying to drag him away from his perfect life? Hates him more than he does already? How would you get over that sort of betrayal?
And what is Aventurine even going to say? Hey, doc, it’s me? Your annoying little coworker? I know you’re the happiest you’ll ever be but do you fancy coming back to reality so I can see you again? If Ratio isn’t even able to convince himself that he’s in a dream, how is Aventurine?
If the positions were reversed, what would Ratio say to Aventurine to convince him? He doesn't know. No words seem like they could be enough.
Maybe just seeing Aventurine will be enough to knock Ratio out of it. Ratio’s dream life will have no room for him, after all. He’ll lock eyes with Aventurine once and just know that there’s no place for him and wake up. Maybe they won’t have to talk at all.
Aventurine’s still thinking about it when he finally stumbles into Ratio’s room the next morning, upright only thanks to caffeine. He swallows down the seed of disappointment at the sight of Ratio still in bed, still twitching with deep sleep. No doubt reaping the rewards of Nous’ gaze. No doubt lavished with praise and fame for all his good deeds. No doubt rubbing shoulders with the universe’s best and brightest.
What hope does Aventurine have, to compete with all that? How can he really walk into that fake reality and convince Ratio to leave it all behind with him?
But he says nothing as Doctor Annlisa shows him the extra bed she’s set up next to Ratio’s. He says nothing as his hands shake so badly he can barely dress himself in the hospital gown.
“I have erred on the side of caution,” Doctor Annlisa says from her perch, fluffball bobbing. “If this fails, you will not enter Doctor Ratio’s dream at all. Better too little memoria than too much and you fall into a dream of your own.”
He says nothing, even though he wishes she wouldn’t err on the side of caution. Maybe, in his dream, he’d stay a child forever, with his sister in a better Sigonia. Maybe his mama and papa would be alive. Or maybe he’d still be an adult, but history would twist itself to keep them alive. All of them alive, actually. Maybe in that life he’d still meet Ratio.
Or maybe there would be nothing at all. Maybe he would be dead in his own dream.
He says nothing as Doctor Annlisa makes her preparations, attaching all manner of devices to both him and Ratio’s slumbering, unconsenting body and re-checking her own calculations.
Finally, she settles an oxygen mask over his face for him to inhale the memoria. He twists his head and looks over at Ratio in the bed next to him.
If he does enter his own dream, he hopes the hospital keeps their beds together. At least until the IPC manages to rescue Ratio. After that, if they don’t bother with him, they can dump his body wherever.
The memoria is sweeter than he expects, but falling asleep is the same.
Aventurine doesn’t even register closing his eyes, but he must have, because he is no longer in the hospital room.
Instead of white tiles, he’s greeted by an atrium with deep red walls. In the centre of the room there's a pool under a hole in the roof, with a marble statue of a duck mid-flight.
Despite the circumstances, Aventurine can’t help but smile a little at it. Guess that cements this as Ratio’s dream, after all.
The windows are open, offering a light breeze that brings with it the smell of grass and wildflowers. He can see rolling fields of golden wheat and hills of green vines, all bathed in a warm sunlight. In the far distance, a town of white walls and terracotta rooves, and beyond that, the straight blue line of the sea.
Something catches in Aventurine’s throat. Is this a real place that Ratio knows? A childhood home, perhaps, or maybe just a place he’s been to and dreamt of settling down in? It’s so quiet and peaceful here. Quaint. Charming.
But Aventurine shakes his head. He’s here to find Ratio, not to admire fake scenery that he doesn’t fit in. At least Ratio is probably somewhere inside this house - better than trying to search a whole city or university.
It’s not quite what he expected, but Aventurine supposes that even men like Ratio want to have some quiet moments too.
Imposter that he is, Aventurine searches the rooms of the house for signs of Ratio, but it's only when he starts climbing the stairs that he hears distant voices - a deep baritone that must be Ratio’s. Not that him being here is a surprise but then -
A second voice. Someone who is not Ratio. Laughing.
Aventurine pauses at the top of the stairs.
Right. Right. Of course, there was no reason for Aventurine to assume -
He means, he knows Ratio likes his privacy but obviously that doesn’t mean -
It’s natural that Ratio’s ideal life would include a life partner. Just because he seems happy without one now doesn't mean that it isn't a vague life goal he hasn't gotten around to yet. It doesn’t mean that Ratio doesn’t have his eye on someone already.
Right. Why would Ratio bother to tell Aventurine about his love life? It’s not like it’s any of Aventurine’s business.
And it’s not like Ratio doesn’t deserve this quiet life, if he wants it. It’s not like he doesn’t have the right to live somewhere tranquil with the love of his life. Far away from the Guild. Far away from the IPC. Far away from Aventurine.
He follows the voices through a bedroom, with a huge unmade bed and clothes strewn about as though removed in a rush. There’s one final, ajar door, and Aventurine can hear water splashing and Ratio’s deep voice telling his lover they’ve got it all wrong. Even in Ratio’s fantasies, he’s arguing semantics. Maybe Aventurine would find it endearing if his stomach wasn’t full of glass right now.
“Veritas…” Ratio’s unknown lover croons, and then there’s a wet sound that Aventurine realises is kissing.
Bile rises in his throat.
But he has to interrupt. Ratio will understand, won’t he? He’ll be grateful that Aventurine has intruded on this place of bliss and ripped him from his house and his love.
Besides, what else can Aventurine do? He can’t stand here and keep listening to this private moment.
His left hand shakes as he raises it to push the door open.
Please don’t let his lover be anyone I recognise, please, Aventurine begs. He doesn’t know if he could take it.
He opens the door.
Aventurine barely takes in the scenery. He barely notices the pristine white tiles, or the ducks, or the large window showing off the eternally beautiful view. No, his gaze lands squarely on the two figures in the huge bathtub - Ratio, leaning against the back of it, and his lover, back to Aventurine and leaning fully against Ratio’s chest, long arms intimately wrapped around Ratio’s neck and shoulders.
Blonde. Small. His back practically glows. At least - at least Aventurine doesn’t recognise the back of the head.
And for a second, Aventurine has a perfect view of Ratio’s face as he looks down at his lover, so enamoured that he doesn’t immediately notice the intruder. And he looks soft , soft in a way Aventurine didn’t know the man was capable of, soft in a way that makes Aventurine want to vomit up glass because it’d be less painful. Aventurine can see the love in Ratio’s eyes, and Aventurine wants to claw his own out.
Then Ratio realises they’re no longer alone, and he glances up sharply. His eyes widen in surprise.
“Hello, Ratio,” the one who could never fit in a life like this says. He hadn’t rehearsed anything better to say for this moment.
The one who does fit in a life like this startles against Ratio’s chest, unwinding themselves and turning around -
In an instant, all of the breath leaves Aventurine’s body.
Because - because that’s him . No one else in the universe has eyes like him. But it’s also not him. Like someone who had only heard biased things drew him to life. It’s a mockery of the real Aventurine. It’s beautiful, with flawless skin and bright eyes that Aventurine knows he does not have. And when it moves through the water, it’s with a grace and elegance Aventurine knows he does not have.
“Who are you?!” The fake, beautiful Aventurine hisses in its horrid voice. It puts out a flawless arm, as though to protect Ratio. The real, ugly Aventurine notices Ratio’s arm tighten around his lover. Protective of each other.
Maybe this isn't Ratio’s dream. It’s Aventurine’s nightmare.
A beautiful coastal retreat he doesn’t fit in. A quiet, cosy life he doesn’t fit in. A shared intimacy he doesn’t fit in. A man’s arms he doesn’t fit in.
But he could - he could, if only he was just a little bit different. If he was just a bit prettier. Just a bit more intelligent. Just a bit more classy. Just a bit more worthy, and he could have had it all.
It’s not like failing at the last hurdle. It’s like rushing to the victory line, and then realising you were never part of the race at all.
Anything he could have said next turns to ash on his tongue.
The Beautiful Aventurine is the one to break the silence. “Some sort of imposter,” it hisses, and Aventurine knows that hand movement. He flinches, preparing for the strike -
But Ratio stops it with a hand to the wrist. Aventurine stares at where their skin meets, how Ratio’s palm and fingers wrap so easily, so naturally around Beautiful Aventurine’s arm. Does he really look that small next to Ratio in real life too? Surely not.
“Wait,” Ratio says. There’s a cautious glint in his eyes, but Aventurine knows curiosity on Ratio’s face when he sees it. “Perhaps not.”
“You just feel sorry for it because it looks like me and it’s crying,” Beautiful Aventurine accuses, hand still poised to attack. But Ratio is climbing out of the tub all the same, with not a shred of shame. Aventurine averts his eyes. “Wait - what if it attacks?”
“Then you will shield me, I am sure,” Ratio says. He stops a few steps in front of Aventurine, peering down at him thoughtfully, hand on his chin. It’s barely been any time since Aventurine last talked to him - and they’ve certainly been apart for longer - but finally talking to Ratio face-to-face makes his stomach hurt. “What are you? Why are you here?”
“It’s me,” Aventurine says, stupidly. “From reality. I’m here to ask you to wake up.”
Ratio says nothing. His expression does not change.
But Beautiful Aventurine clambers out of the tub hastily, drawing both of their eyes. His nude body is more beautiful than Aventurine’s, too - all sweet, sun-kissed skin, the right amount of both firm muscles and soft fat. There’s no sign of any of the childhood malnourishment, or the scars, or where Aventurine ended up crooked.
Maybe it’s what his body would look like if he had grown up well-fed, if he hadn’t been beaten and bought and sold, if he ate and slept the proper amounts.
Beautiful Aventurine gives out a harsh bark of a laugh as it comes to Ratio’s side. “What the fuck is this? Veritas, get back in the bath and I’ll deal with it.”
Ratio taps his chin thoughtfully.
“We were on a planet together,” Aventurine says, vomiting out the words. “We were sent to assess accounts. You heard of cases of memoria poisoning and got curious, so we went out together to get some samples for you to test but you stumbled directly into a pocket of the stuff and got a full dose.”
He can still remember the way Ratio had crumpled to the rocky ground, completely unconscious. How Aventurine had dashed forward to try and catch him so he wouldn’t hit his head. How he had tasted the fear in his mouth.
How he had stared longingly at the memoria as he cradled Ratio’s slumbering body, and wished that it had been him instead. If only, if only, if only.
“Again, you don’t have to be nice to it just because it looks like me,” Beautiful Aventurine hisses, its hand gripping onto the bare flesh of Ratio’s bicep.
“I know,” Ratio murmurs. “But if another me came into this room instead and begged you to wake up, what would you assume?”
That makes Beautiful Aventurine pause. Aventurine knows there’s no thoughts running through its head because it’s not real, but it sure does put on a beautiful impression of thinking. Maybe if Aventurine could look like that, he could take its place.
He wants to. He wants to smash Beautiful Aventurine’s head open, or strangle its neck. He wants to see its blood coat his hands. He wants to see it suffer. He wants to see those cursed eyes fall dead and lifeless.
He wants to do it and slip into its role. He wants its life, its house, its partner. He wants to play pretend and get to be the successful one for once.
But Ratio would sniff him out in an instant. He’d look at the real Aventurine and see how ugly he is and how much he doesn’t fit in, and he’d just know.
“I’m not asking for a lot,” Aventurine lies. “If it’s not a dream, you can’t wake up. I'm not asking you to do anything dangerous.”
“Veritas, don’t,” Beautiful Aventurine says suddenly, and even Aventurine is taken aback by the raw note of panic in its voice. “Veritas, don’t listen to it. You can’t trust it. Let me deal with it.” It reaches up a flawless hand to Ratio’s cheek, and turns his face away from Aventurine. It looks up at Ratio with a perfect mimicry of a pleading expression. “Please don’t. You love me, don’t you?”
“I do,” Ratio says, so solemnly as though his love has physical weight.
Aventurine is taken aback by the admission though - he doesn’t know why. It’s a given, from the way Ratio looked at it earlier, from the existence of this house for two. It’s not as though Ratio is saying this to the actual Aventurine. He’s not in love with the real one, ugly and flawed. He’s in love with something so perfect it’s almost grotesque.
Aventurine doesn’t have to compete with a genius to get Ratio back to reality. He has to compete with a version of himself that he can never be. How can he ask Ratio to leave it behind for him?
“Then trust me,” the not just beautiful but Perfect Aventurine pleads.
Aventurine looks away and rubs at his eyes. He can’t stand to look at this perfect couple anymore. This whole trip is a failure. Aventurine didn’t even realise he was gambling, but he’s lost it all anyway.
Ratio sighs softly. “If this is a dream, how long have I been asleep?”
“No!” Perfect Aventurine cries out.
“Three days, more or less,” Aventurine says at the same time. He looks back at Ratio, to see that Ratio has gathered his lover’s hands in his own, holding them close enough to his face to kiss. It’s disgustingly intimate, something that shouldn’t be seen by anyone else, let alone him.
“I love you,” Perfect Aventurine pleads. It sounds on the verge of tears. “I need you.”
“I know,” Ratio murmurs between kisses to its fingers. “So does he.”
A tear slides down Perfect Aventurine’s cheek. Of course. It cries perfectly, too. It clearly isn’t feeling anything. There’s none of the ugly reality of crying, of your eyes and face turning red and the way you can’t breathe properly and the way your voice breaks.
But Aventurine gets to watch how Ratio’s expression breaks at the sight and gets to feel how his heart breaks at that.
Ratio isn’t going to leave, Aventurine knows it now. He sees it on Ratio’s face. Aventurine is going to have to return to reality alone, knowing that he was never quite good enough to earn Ratio’s love. It's desperation that makes him say it. “We can be together in reality, if you want,” he blurts out, even though as he says it he knows it’s stupid. It's vulnerable. Ratio will never want to be with him when he can remember this awful, perfect Aventurine. He’ll see all of the real Aventurine’s flaws and turn away.
But he’s said it now, and Ratio turns from his lover to look at him, wide-eyed. “We could be a couple just like in here. Or maybe not exactly the same, but we could try. Don’t stay in this dream just for a relationship, please.”
Ratio stares at him a moment more, and then his eyes harden in resolve.
He turns back to his Perfect Aventurine, and mutters something to it so quietly that Aventurine can’t hear the words. He lets go of its hands to gently cup its cheeks, and then presses his lips to its forehead. Perfect Aventurine - Ratio’s Aventurine - looks up at him with wet cheeks, and Ratio tucks its body against his, like he clearly has so many times before, and then presses his mouth to the top of its head.
Aventurine stares at this perfect couple, so clearly cherished, so clearly deep in love, that he is trying to rip apart for selfish reasons.
And then he’s blinking awake to the sterile white ceiling of the hospital. Doctor Annlisa’s chubby face soon blocks the view, peering down at him with equal parts medical concern and academic detachment.
“Director Aventurine,” she says, and then, “ow!” as Aventurine bolts up, knocking his head against hers.
“Ow,” he says too, but mostly in sympathy than pain. “Ratio - Ratio - Is he…?”
He swings his body off the bed and takes the few steps to reach Ratio’s side.
Ratio’s face is still slack in sleep. Aventurine feels his heart sink. Right. Of course it didn’t work - what an idiot he’s been. We can be together . What a stupid thing to say. Of course Ratio wouldn’t want that. Why would he want this horrible Aventurine instead of the objectively better in every way one?
He probably doesn't want Aventurine at all, anyway. He’d probably just been thinking of Aventurine when he’d walked face-first into the memoria because it was just the two of them, and the memoria had latched onto that thought, creating a fantasy that didn’t need to make sense because it was just a dream. No wonder the Dream Aventurine had been so much more beautiful and pristine, because if it had looked like the actual Aventurine even in the dream Ratio would have turned his nose up at it.
Maybe he’s just made sure that Ratio never wakes up, thinking Aventurine will try to spring something romantic on him. Good fucking going, Aventurine. He’s going to drive out into the wilderness tonight to find the most obscure pocket of memoria where he’ll never be rescued from.
But then Ratio’s face scrunches like a man trying to avoid the sunlight, and though it clearly takes effort, his eyelids open, showing slivers of that lovely wine-red that Aventurine had thought he'd never see again.
“Ratio?” He asks, holding his breath and that gaze.
Ratio blinks several times, but makes a sleepy sort of grunt letting Aventurine know he’s heard him.
“Doctor Ratio!” Doctor Annlisa exclaims, bright red circle on her forehead and fluffball bobbing excitedly, as she hops up the steps to his side. “I know you’re still tired, but please fight the temptation to go back to sleep. I have an airhorn if necessary.”
Ratio turns his attention to Doctor Annlisa and clearly makes a valiant attempt to wake up further, and Aventurine smiles to himself.
It’s probably a good thing that Ratio’s dream lover wasn’t actually based on anything other than a close proximity to Aventurine. Ratio won’t feel betrayed that Aventurine woke him up - he’ll come to his senses and see how absurd the idea of being in any sort of relationship with him is, and he’ll be relieved that Aventurine saved him from a lifetime of that.
Ratio won’t be mad, or hate him. Everything will just go back to the way it was before, and that’s for the best.
He’s just Ratio’s coworker.
In the din of Doctor Annlisa bombaring Ratio with far too many questions than the man probably wants to hear and her summoning nurses to the room, it’s easy for Aventurine to grab his clothes and slip away, no longer needed.
Just coworkers.
Aventurine doesn’t slip back inside the room until much, much later, when he’s sure Ratio’s reasonably recovered and no longer swarmed with medics.
“Hey, doc,” he says as the door shuts behind him. Ratio’s sitting in a wheelchair by the large window, working on something on a blue holographic screen. “Sorry to barge in on you. Figured I’d give you a work update.”
Ratio glances at him, and gives a small noise of assent as he dismisses the screen, so Aventurine comes closer. Ratio looks small, now that he’s standing next to him. Not just physically - even three days unconscious will do that to your muscles - but from the way he sits, too. The way his hands are clasped in his lap. The slightly lost look on his face.
Normalcy. That’s what Ratio needs right now. Aventurine can give that to him.
He prattles on about how the situation with the account reviews has been, which is not as dire as it could be - Aventurine’s always motivated, but it turns out boring admin is a great hobby to pick up to avoid your job of staring at your unconscious coworker.
Ratio doesn’t speak at all during the update. Eventually even Aventurine peters out, leaving them both in an awkward silence. They both stare out the hospital window for a long while. The sky is dark in near-perpetual twilight, the city sprawled out before them bright.
“I must apologise,” Ratio says eventually. His voice is smaller, too. “For what you saw of my mind.”
Aventurine tenses. Right. He supposes Ratio would feel the need to have this conversation sooner or later. Best to get it over with now. “No need,” he says, hoping his voice and pose stay casual and don’t betray him. “Dreams are always a little out of our control. You’ve woken up and that’s the really important thing.”
Ratio does not appear to be comforted by his words. Well, that’s fine too, it’s not as if words are all that comforting anyway. They both continue staring out the window and not at each other.
“I’d also like to state that I am not upset with you for lying to me in the dream,” Ratio continues. “I knew it was a lie when you said it.”
Aventurine swallows. It had been a lie. It really had. The real Aventurine would never fit into that picture-perfect life Ratio literally dreams of. “I’m sorry I did that. I panicked a little, and for a while there I really thought you’d never wake up. I guess it’s harder than I thought to convince someone they’re in a dream.”
“I should have realised,” Ratio says after another moment of silence between the two of them.
Of course. How many times has Ratio been fooled- by his own mind, no less? He must be a total stranger to it. Aventurine is all too familiar with the feeling of stupidity after being conned.
“It’s fine-” Aventurine starts, but in his peripheral vision he sees the semi-transparent reflection of Ratio shake its head.
“I should have realised. There was always a sense of disbelief.” Ratio repeats himself, talking like a man giving a speech at a funeral, solemn and serious. His reflection looks like a ghost tied down to the mortal plane by grief alone. “I knew that my love would not be enough to keep you happy.”
Aventurine’s stomach drops. All of a sudden, he feels like his reflection too - half present, half not, existing in a reality he doesn't belong in.
“I have been a blinded fool,” Ratio continues in that same sad tone, “and I have unwittingly forced you into an awkward position. So, for that, I do apologise.”
Aventurine opens his mouth. He closes it. What do you say to something like that? I’d like you to love me. I don’t think it would work, but I’d like to try. I’d like to try being that happy Aventurine in the bath with you in that sunny house.
He doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says, “That Aventurine in your dream wasn’t really me.”
It wasn’t him, because it was happy and loving and well-fed and smiling and loved.
“You do not need to remind me,” Ratio says.
“Sorry, doc,” Aventurine murmurs. He’d apologise for every fault if he could, every way he know he doesn’t live up to that Perfect Aventurine, but then they’d be here forever.
The ghost of Ratio shakes its head again. “Do not be. I am thankful that you were able to wake me from the dream.”
See? Ratio’s not him. He knows it was for the best. Aventurine has rescued him, and he’ll bounce back in no time and they’ll go back to how they were before. It’s perfectly normal to be confused after a three-day-long dream.
It’s perfectly normal to say nonsensical things like My love would not be enough to keep you happy.
Aventurine should smile, maybe cock his hip. Say it was no trouble. Say goodbye and leave. Maybe one day he’ll be able to leave it all behind, and stop having a fantasy he’ll never get to have gnaw through his brain.
But - because it gnaws - he doesn’t. The memories of that beautiful house encased in gold from a warm, welcoming sun that nurtured life instead of burning it all away have sunk their teeth firmly into his brain matter. He’s scared he’ll never stop thinking about it. He’s scared he’ll stop thinking about it.
He wishes he had his hat, so he could hold onto something. “That place… with the fields and the sea,” he says. “Does it really exist?”
There’s a pause, and then Ratio’s reflection nods. “Yes. Iluro, back on Veritas Prime. I miss it there.”
Ah. Aventurine wonders if he could manage a trip someday, just to stand there and feel like a ghost again. There are certainly worse graveyards to haunt.
But that would be intruding on Ratio’s domain.
“It was beautiful,” Aventurine mutters. Does the house exist, too? Maybe it does. Maybe he could find it.
But no doubt it’s someone’s private residence. He’d only be able to stand outside and try to peek in, never getting to cross the threshold itself.
“Yes,” Ratio says simply. “I’m glad you think so, too.”
My love would not be enough to keep you happy.
If only they could test it out. If only they could prove both of them wrong. What a life that would be.
He thinks again of the other Aventurine, so full on love it put fat on its bones and dripped from its pores. The Aventurine that got to be loved. The Aventurine that deserved to be loved. Less ugly. Less scarred. Less annoying.
The sudden touch of a hand sliding into the small of his back makes Aventurine flinch, and the hand rips itself away faster than it came.
“Apologies,” Ratio says, as Aventurine turns to stare at him - the real him, not the ghost in the window that’s easier to ignore. Ratio looks down at his hands. “You used to - in the dream, you found it comforting when I did that. That expression on your face made me reach out, purely from muscle memory. Apologies. It won’t happen again.”
Aventurine swallows something thick and uncomfortable back down to his ribcage where it should stay. Ratio seems even smaller than he did when Aventurine first came in, somehow.
He’s surprised the Dream Aventurine was even capable of making such an expression, or even needing comfort at all. It was just a bundle of shapes vaguely resembling him. There would have been none of the desperate facades or the bone-aching emptiness.
Did Ratio keep his hand in the small of its back, or did he run his palm up and down its spine? Did he press loving kisses to the top of its empty head?
“We don’t look that similar. Didn’t, I guess,” Aventurine says after a long, long moment. He takes a stab at sympathy. “It must be jarring for you, but I’m sure it’ll wear off soon.”
Ratio frowns, turning his head to look at Aventurine. “What do you mean? Obviously you were identical. Were it not for the clothing and general state, I wouldn’t have known which one of you was real and which one was fake.”
Aventurine stares.
“What?” He croaks.
“… Why would you look different? That would defeat the point of a dream life,” Ratio says, turning back to the sights outside the window. “You are more used to seeing yourself in a mirror than how another person would see you. It is natural it would look slightly strange to you.”
Aventurine swallows again. This time he’s not sure he’s successful in keeping whatever needs to stay in his heart down. “But - but -”
It hadn’t been him. It had looked so different to the tired, worn-down face he’s forced to greet every day. How could they even begin to look identical?
“I fail to see how it is so surprising,” Ratio continues.
“Because it didn’t look like me,” Aventurine says. He doesn’t have any other words to say right now.
Is that really how he looks to Ratio? Small, but no less vulnerable for it. Sun kissed, but from frolicking in fields rather than working in them. Unblemished, but from care rather than make up. So beautiful it almost aches when you look away.
Ratio sighs. He sounds tired despite the three days of slumber. “My brain cannot invent what it does not know. You may have features on your body I would not know about and thus would be unable to recreate.”
“No, that’s not -”
Very suddenly, Aventurine feels stupid.
My love would not be enough to keep you happy.
The dream hadn’t been about geniuses or accolades.
Ratio had dreamt of making someone happy. Him.
The setting was a real place. The house was probably a real home. The love - could it be real too?
“Ratio,” Aventurine asks, stomach in knots. “Did you love m- did you fall in love before the dream started?”
Ratio snorts softly. “Must you ask the inane?”
“Yes. Ratio, I thought - I thought the dream just made you feel that way.”
“And why would you even think that? I understand that my being in love with you makes you uncomfortable, but there is no need to go making baseless assumptions when we already have plenty of data.”
“You love me,” Aventurine repeats. “You love me?”
Ratio looks back at him, frowning lightly. He searches Aventurine’s face for a moment, then nods. “Yes. I do.”
Aventurine wants to hear him say it again, and again, and again.
“I’ve been in love with you for years,” Aventurine blurts out. It’s one of his deepest secrets - it was one of his deepest secrets. Saying it doesn’t hurt as much as he always assumed it would.
“You need not say something just to appease me,” Ratio sighs. He is not as jubilant as Aventurine had sort of hoped he would be. “As I said, I am not mad at you for lying to me in the dream. I hold no expectations of you.”
Aventurine shakes his head. “It didn’t look like me,” he says, even though he knows that doesn’t really explain it. “I thought you only liked the idea of me.”
“There will always be differences between you as you perceive yourself and you as I perceive you,” Ratio muses quietly. “That does not make my feelings less true.”
Aventurine takes a step towards him, and sinks down to his knees like Ratio is an altar he can pray at. Maybe he can. Maybe if he does, this time his prayers will be heard. “I’m not the Aventurine in your dream,” he says. “I’m messier. I don’t sleep properly. I’m worse. I won’t fit into that house.”
Ratio looks down upon him, eyes wide. Then his hand reaches out to gently brush Aventurine’s hair, shifting part of his fringe to the side. Aventurine leans into it. When did someone last touch his hair like this? “I know.” Ratio murmurs. “Real people are always more complicated. I never had to compromise with you on anything in the dream. But I would, in reality.”
Aventurine leans his head on Ratio’s knee. It’s horribly bony and uncomfortable and it’s the best pillow he’s ever used. “I want to try,” he admits, hiding his face in Ratio’s leg and holding on. He can talk or he can meet Ratio’s eyes. He can’t do both.
Not when there's still a chance that Ratio will finally see him - the real him, not the pretty version Ratio apparently perceives - and realise the gap between dream and reality is too big. He’s scared of that. He’ll always be scared of that. But there’s a chance in front of him, and he wants to sink his fingers in deep and not let go because what else is he meant to do with a chance for a better life?
Even if he only gets to be that happy Dream Aventurine for a little bit, even if it’s just for a month or a week or a day, he wants it so badly.
Ratio understands, he must, because his hand still strokes Aventurine’s hair, soft and loving. Aventurine realises his grip on Ratio’s leg must be painful, fingers digging in already weakened flesh, but Ratio says nothing in protest.
“Aventurine,” Ratio murmurs. “There is no need to sit on the floor. Get up.”
Aventurine’s fingers practically creak when he lets go of Ratio’s leg, but he stands up. Ratio’s hand is gone from his hair, but it grabs onto his hand instead. Their fingers feel good interlocking, Aventurine discovers.
“Can I hold you?” Ratio asks.
How long has it been since someone’s held him? Aventurine doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he nods. He thinks of how Dream Aventurine had looked, pressed against Ratio in the bath, or holding onto him.
He’s terrified of hurting Ratio, though, and even though he doesn’t say it, Ratio again seems to understand. They end up on Ratio’s bed, and Ratio’s trembling arms pull Aventurine into the warmth of his body. His breath trembles too, as Ratio sinks into him instead of the other way round.
“I thought I would never hold you again,” is all Ratio says, quiet enough that Aventurine likely would not have heard were he not pressed against every one of Ratio’s grooves. Or maybe Ratio’s pressed against his grooves. He can’t tell. It doesn’t matter.
Aventurine doesn’t know what to say to that. But he’s being held now, and Ratio is soft and warm and secure and safe. He wants to kiss him. He wants to be like the Aventurine from the dream, even if he’s not as good. He wants to make Ratio feel the same way he must have felt, even if it's just him.
Reality never lives up to dreams, but as he holds Ratio and Ratio holds him, he hopes that maybe there’s dreams that don’t live up to reality too.