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Aventurine eyed the singular large bathtub and marble statues scattered about the living room. Dr. Ratio’s apartment was every bit as eccentric as he was.
Aventurine had stretched himself out on Ratio’s couch, softly petting the cat cake that had scrambled up to join him. He found himself anticipating how the doctor would react to finding him in his space.
Would he furrow his eyebrows and say nothing? Would he hurl a sharp insult or a piece of chalk? Would he let him stay as usual, or would this finally be the moment where he got sick of Aventurine? Whatever the reaction was, it would be honest and entertaining.
That’s what Aventurine liked most about the doctor. Compared to scripted, masked dance of the corporate world, the improv show he got from Ratio was incredibly refreshing. Somehow, this man also knew how to survive the corporate world in spite of some of his off-putting personality traits.
Being in Ratio’s strangely curated space made Aventurine’s mind indulge in a little personal fantasy. Someday, when he could build a place to distinctly call his own, just as Ratio did with his, he would take a gamble on inviting the man in.
Aventurine’s place would be as flashy as he loved all his things to be. Ratio would say something about Aventurine being too gaudy, but then he would settle down right next to him on the couch. With his eyebrows still slightly furrowed in deep concentration over an academic topic that had occupied his mind, Ratio would place whatever book he was currently reading on the table beside them.
He would then reach out, not for comfort or relieving pity, but for companionship, and Aventurine would melt right into his touch.