Chapter Text
“Gerte’s Gross Planetary Product for the third quarter has reached twelve point eight billion Gertex—”
Clink.
“—a significant fifteen percent increase from the second quarter—”
Plink-clink.
“—driven by robust agricultural exports and advancements in mineral extraction.”
Clack.
Aventurine flicks his coin again, the rhythmic clinking sharp against the drone of the presenter’s voice. From across the table, he can feel Topaz’s glare burning into him, warning him to stop. He won't, of course—not when every obnoxious metallic note grates against the growing tension in the room like spiteful nails on glass.
No one in this could-have-been-an-email meeting room will try to stop him. Topaz wouldn't waste her energy on such an unprofitable investment, and the rest of the attendees don't have the ranking to dare. Clink. The coin hit his rings on the way down, the sound ricocheting through the silent room. Plink-clack-clack-clack.
“As you can see here—”
Clink.
“—this is the breakdown for our Gerte revenue streams.”
To his credit, the presenter doesn't even flinch, though the stiffness in his shoulders betrays him. Instead, he focuses dead-eyed on the apathetic clock at the far end of the room, as if willing it to move faster. The slide shifts to a colored bar graph—more vibrant than the life in the room.
“Selective agriculture has produced over seven point sixty-eight billion Gertex—”
Plink.
“—up more than twenty-two percent quarter-over-quarter—”
Clink-clack.
“—supported by increased demand for nutrient-dense root crops—”
Clack.
Aventurine’s gaze flicks to the clock. Five minutes left.
“—renewable energy products have cost the IPC just under one point six billion Gertex to maintain stable power supplies for growing urban centers—”
Plink. Five minutes have never felt so long. He checks again. Two minutes left. Is that damned clock on the wall dragging the time out of spite?
“—examining some of Gerte’s key economic indicators—”
Clunk.
Aventurine flips the coin again, but this time he catches it in midair, lazily turning it over between his fingers with deliberate slowness. The room tenses. Topaz's eyes narrow. He leans back in his chair, an easy smile spreading across his face as his eyes glint like the coin in his hand.
“Is this really necessary?” he asks, his bored voice breaking through the monotony like a blade through butter.
The presenter freezes, words dying in his throat. Across the table, Topaz’s glare sharpens, her knuckles whitening as her fingers dig into the edge of the table. “Director Aventurine,” she hisses, so scathing the nearby attendees flinch.
Aventurine’s grin widens, unbothered. Irritating Topaz wasn't his intent, but it's always a welcome bonus. “What?” he replies lightly, his coin flicking once more into the air. Clink-clack. The sound fills the deafening silence like a bomb. The woman to Aventurine's left stares pale and thin-lipped at the traitorously slow clock. “We can all agree, can’t we? The numbers suggest continued growth in Quarter Four, Gerte’s economy is stabilizing, and selective agriculture will remain their strongest sector thanks to IPC funding. Yes?”
The presenter swallows, hesitantly nodding. “Th-those are the projections.”
Aventurine cheerily claps his hands together, the noise jarring in the stillness. “Well, there we go!” he says brightly, rising smoothly to his feet. He adjusts his jacket with practiced ease and flashes a smile that would almost be kind, if not for its razor edge. “If that’s the case, I’m sure you can summarize the rest in an email. Some of us,” he adds, glancing briefly at the clock, “have more pressing matters to attend to.”
“Director Aventurine,” Topaz snaps again, her voice a low warning as he turns for the door.
Aventurine doesn't even pause. With a leisurely wave of his hand, he leaves the meeting-that's-definitely-now-an-email. “See you next quarter.”
Topaz will make him pay, he's sure. She is the debt collector. But right now?
Aventurine has a date to catch.
__________
By the time Aventurine’s sleek black chauffeur-driven car glides to a stop outside the University of Veritas Prime, the main entrance is already a small spectacle. Ratio stands at the heart of it, easily commanding the attention of a crowd of students. A few are completely enraptured by his lecture—Ratio's tome in hand as he sketches luminous formulas in the air with deft movements of chalk—but the majority are there out of sheer curiosity, drawn like inquisitive moths to a curious flame by the rare sight of the illustrious Veritas Ratio outside his usual haunts.
The moment Aventurine steps out of the car, every head turns. His arrival is far from subtle—sharp lines of his tailored teal coat catching the light like peacock feathers, confidence radiating like a second sun. He tips the driver generously and flashes a dazzling smile, parting the crowd with ease as he strides toward the center of the storm.
Ratio’s eyes meet his before Aventurine can even speak. With a sharp motion, Ratio snaps his tome shut, waiting as a few quick-thinking students snap photos of the equations still glowing faintly in the air.
“I'm afraid I must attend to other matters,” he briskly announces. “If you have any further questions, my office hours or tomorrow’s lecture will suffice.”
The students begrudgingly disperse and Ratio turns to Aventurine, scowl sharp enough to cut glass. “You're late.”
By three minutes and eighteen seconds—yes, yes. “Sorry, Ratio!” Aventurine sing-songs, unbothered, as he slips easily into place at Ratio’s side. He doesn’t miss the wide eyes and poorly veiled gawks from the students still lingering nearby. It's always cute that they think they're subtle. “My meeting ran a little late.”
Ratio rolls his eyes and turns, striding toward the university with a curt flick of his finger, a silent keep up. Students scramble to clear a path for their esteemed Scholar King like a scattering school of fish. How adorable.
(Aventurine remembers the library, and hm. Now that’s a wonderful idea.)
Step by step, Aventurine presses closer to Ratio’s side, until the distance between them disappears entirely. Boldly, he slips an arm around Ratio’s waist, hand sliding into the pocket on the other side. Ratio pauses for the briefest moment but doesn’t pull away. Encouraged, Aventurine leans in, resting his cheek against Ratio’s bare arm, the skin warm and the muscles firm to the touch. He hides a growing smile, feeling Ratio’s subtle exhale of resignation in the movement of his shoulder.
Behind them, the students erupt into a sea of whispers, excitement bubbling over into audible murmurs. Aventurine’s grin grows wider.
“Why are you smiling?” Ratio asks, exasperation softened by the faintest trace of amusement. He ignores the increasingly frenzied student body, instead shifting his arm to rest a hand against the small of Aventurine’s back—a gesture so absentminded that the crowd nearly combusts.
Aventurine tilts his head up, meeting Ratio’s gaze, and smiles even wider—teeth sharp and eyes glinting with mischief in the sunlight. “No reason.” Before Ratio can ask further, he tosses out a distraction. “Do you want to hear about the manga I brought?”
Ratio sighs. “I doubt I have a choice.”
Aventurine laughs, entirely unapologetic as he leans in closer, thoroughly entertained by the students snapping hasty photos before he and Ratio disappear into the department building.
__________
“Sunrise Embrace” is a bit generic. Aventurine will be the first to admit that. Boy meets girl, love at first sight, high school misunderstandings, sunset confession, happily ever after—it’s all there.
But it’s a manga. He wasn’t exactly searching for groundbreaking originality when he started combing through the genre months ago.
(Then again, he wasn’t exactly searching for anything romantic back then, either. Yet here he is—romantic manga and all.)
“The art style is rather pleasant,” Ratio remarks, flipping through the pages with an objective eye. “It’s a shame. Had the plot or characters possessed more nuance, there might even exist an adaptation.”
Aventurine leans over his shoulder, peering at a panel of a quaint, hand-drawn town. The cobblestones are colored in a soft, splotchy gray-brown-green, delicate brushstrokes dusting the neatly lined rooftops with moss. The detail makes this colored anniversary edition well worth the money. “At least the plot is good, even if it’s not exactly groundbreaking,” Aventurine offers. He’d much rather have generic than another Detective Robin disaster.
Ratio wrinkles his nose, evidently thinking the same. “Agreed,” he mutters, closing the volume with a soft thump and passing it back to Aventurine. “Do you have any particular preference for the setting?”
Aventurine hums, thumbing through the pages again. Both of them are clearly more invested in the scenery than the story, so...
He stops on a vibrant sunset panel, where fields of wildflowers sway in the imagined wind. “Here,” he says, tapping the page with a grin. “The view’s nice.”
Ratio nods his agreement. Book and hand, down they go.
__________
The flower field stretches endlessly around them, a vibrant patchwork of cherry reds, royal purples, and buttery yellows blending into a watercolor haze. Each bloom sways gently in the summer breeze, rippling like a living sea of color. The soft rustling of grass and petals harmonizes with the distant song of unseen birds, carried by the warm, lazy wind.
Below the hill’s gentle slope lies a picturesque town. Timber-framed houses line cobblestone streets, their chimneys sending lazy spirals of smoke into the air. The misty gray tendrils curl upward to blend with the pink and gold hues of the evening sky. Moss-clad rooftops shimmer under the touch of the setting sun, their weathered tiles aglow like sticky dewdrops in the morning light.
To the left, the field seems to defy nature, grass and flowers stretching impossibly close to the water’s edge. The lake itself mirrors the sky, waves painting its surface with a fleeting dance of silver and gold.
“It’s a beautiful view,” Aventurine remarks, his gaze lingering on the horizon where the sun begins its descent into the shimmering lake.
“It is,” Ratio agrees, gently guiding Aventurine’s face away from the lake’s blinding brilliance to the flowered fields and the town below. “Though highly implausible from an ecological standpoint. Shorelines typically have transitional zones—wetlands or rocky stretches—where flowering plants rarely thrive. This seamless beauty is a rarity in true nature.”
“Always the scholar,” Aventurine laughs, sitting down amidst the flowers and patting the grass beside him. Ratio adjusts his sashes and moves to join him. “Then we better enjoy it while it lasts.”
Near the town’s edge, two figures stand in the flower field, close enough that their noses almost touch. Aventurine watches with mild amusement as the boy fumbles over his confession, the girl's blush catching the soft light of the setting sun.
“They’re adorable,” Aventurine muses. They're all the things he imagines a childhood romance would be—earnest, awkward, and hopeful in a way only sixteen-year-olds can be, when given that chance at a leap of faith.
Still…
“We’re better than them,” Aventurine declares in his purely unbiased opinion as the boy stammers his way through an endearing confession.
Ratio scoffs, shaking his head. “How bold of you to assert our relationship’s superiority over a fictional romance crafted for the consumption of sentimental readers.”
“But you don’t deny it,” Aventurine teases, elbowing Ratio lightly. The girl gives the boy a quick kiss on the cheek. Hand in hand, they wander back toward the town, leaving Aventurine and Ratio to bask in the peace.
The sun sinks lower, painting the flower field with a gilded glow, every petal kissed by Midas’s fleeting touch. Slowly, Aventurine leans back, resting his cheek against Ratio’s shoulder. Their bodies align, arm to leg, like the inevitable pull of a magnet. He doesn't take his eyes off the horizon, where the sky dissolves into hues of amber and violet.
“Are we going to keep doing this?” he asks, voice mingling with the whisper of the breeze. “Our little book rendezvous, I mean.”
Ratio stills, the weight of the question settling in the faint tension of his skin, the pause in his breath. “A single developed planet with a functioning educational system typically possesses around one hundred thirty million published books,” he begins, steady and deliberate, like the measured cadence of the setting sun. “In my lifetime, I have read approximately two thousand one hundred and three works, excluding articles and excerpts.” He shifts slightly, lowering his head until their eyes meet, his next words quiet but resolute. “I would be a disgrace to my discipline if I did not endeavor to explore the breadth of knowledge still beyond my grasp.”
Aventurine blinks, his chest tightening at the simple promise of the reply—so characteristically, entirely Ratio. “Millions of books, huh?” he murmurs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “That’ll take an awful long time.”
Ratio’s gaze softens, drifting to the edge of Aventurine’s cheekbone as though tracing constellations of freckles there. “Most certainly.”
Aventurine feels his grin spread wider, warm and unstoppable. “And that’s just this planet. How many others are there, in this galaxy alone?”
Ratio clears his throat, turning his face toward the sun now nearly hidden below the horizon, the faintest pink tinting his ears. "A few billion, at least."
A laugh escapes Aventurine, light and unrestrained, as he shifts to face Ratio fully. His golden hair catches the dying sunlight, a corona of brilliance. “You realize you’re stuck with me forever, right?”
Ratio’s expression tightens in what might pass as a frown, but the edges are far too gentle. “I do not mind,” he responds, the weight of those four words carrying more than Aventurine could have hoped for.
This impossible, brilliant man.
“Alright, then.” Aventurine stands, extending a hand toward Ratio, his smile fond and unstoppable.
“Show me the world, Ratio.”