im due to start my new job soon 🥲 im (still) waiting for a start date, but it's a slow process. my internet and phone just got cut off. I managed to get my net back, but i cant afford my phone ;;;
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// End 🩵
I've been hankering for some hurt/comfort lately and ughhh I just started writing idly and then a drabble was born hsjkfs

“I suppose the IPC got something right for once,” Ratio says dryly as they part. But he’s smiling. “We are compatible.”

Aventurine, reckless and blessed as he is, decides to bet everything on it.

When it comes, it’s slow, tentative. And then it’s deep and languid, sharpened only by the ache of months of restraint.

Aven pulls him closer and a muffled sound catches in his throat — not performative, but the raw, desperate truth of needing him.

“Hey,” he says, shooting a charming smile for good measure, softened only by the sincerity in it. “Since we’ve established that we’re both just idiots—”

He’s kissed.

His hand flexes before he can stop it. He cups Ratio’s cheek in his palm, thumbing over the sharp jut of his cheekbone. Perhaps he’s pushing his luck here, but Ratio isn’t pulling away, and that has to count for something.

Slowly, a fragile understanding knits back into place.

“Nobody else could,” Ratio says simply.

Hah, if that isn’t just the truth. No one else sees past the shine of the dice, the gilded mask. There's no one else but the man in front of him, refusing to look away.

Aven snorts then, thunking his forehead against Ratio’s shoulder. “Nobody else would put up with us, huh?”

Ratio’s mouth twitches. He doesn’t move away. On the contrary, his hand comes to rest upon the small of Aven’s back.

“I suppose so,” agrees Ratio. The doctor doesn’t say what he doesn’t mean, Aven reminds himself. “We’re still the best team the IPC has. Not because they say so, but because we understand each other.”

Ratio steps closer, one foot in front of the other. It’s the first time in months they’ve breathed each other’s air for the sake of breathing.

“I suppose that makes us both fools,huh.” A shaky laugh bubbles up. For all his games and his bluffs, Aven has no defense against this.

“The faith you put in me,” Ratio says carefully. “Perhaps you should learn to accept that my feelings mirror yours. If you saw yourself through my gaze, you wouldn’t dare question your worth.”

The chasm between them closes in, slowly but surely.

/Your standards for yourself were always much too high,/ Aven wants to say.

“You?” He gives a wry laugh. “Ratio, you— Nobody could ever find you lacking. Not me. Not ever.”

“You think I didn’t have doubts of my own? Worries of my own?” Ratio murmurs. Where his words are curt, his voice is soft. His eyes, too, are soft. His posture. Him. “You think I don’t wake up every day knowing even the Aeons find me lacking?”

“You deserve better, Veritas,” Aven says. It’s pathetic, but it’s the only card left in his hand. “I know you know that, too. You let me go so easily.”

Ratio’s mouth twists. “Do you believe me foolish enough to walk into this unaware of your faults? Perhaps I don’t know the full extent of the life you’ve lived, but I chose you anyway. Unconditionally; against all odds.”

“You’ve met me, haven’t you?” Aven laughs again, because old habits die hard. “The universe hasn’t exactly favoured people like me. Historically speaking.”

(/I’m not worth the trouble/, he thinks. /I don’t want the world to take you from me, too./)

Aven knows well enough that Ratio has been reading him like a well-worn book this whole time. It’s there in the way he acquiesces so easy. “So you left before I could.”