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jhyoos · 27 days ago

Text

Off Limits

chapter one : cold hearted snake

soccer player vi x talis reader

mentions : player vi, besti ekko, romance, lesbianism, modern au, college au, drama, abby tlou, ellie tlou, cheerleader reader, mention of sex, mentions of overdosing

notes: semi long chapter so get some snacks, turn your fan on and rub your feet together

edit: i ended up changing nyu to asu (arcane state university)

next chapter ->

"Jayce… don’t piss me off," you mumbled groggily, swatting at the air as you turned away from the light creeping in through the curtains. Your brother had this awful habit of waking you up early, and this time, it was no different. You groaned as you felt the edge of his foot on your nightstand, a clear sign that he wasn’t planning to leave until you gave him the attention he craved.

"Please, sis. Just tell me if they go good with my outfit. It's my junior year. I gotta look fresh," Jayce said, his voice high-pitched and over-the-top, just the way it always was when he was seeking validation.

You blinked open one eye, then the other, squinting up at him. The sight of his goofy grin—complete with his messy hair—did nothing to help the headache that was already forming. He was holding a pair of sneakers in one hand, his new must-have shoes for the school year.

You rubbed your eyes and sighed, giving him the most unimpressed look you could muster. "Yeah, Jayce. You look good," you said flatly, trying to roll over and go back to sleep.

But Jayce, of course, wasn’t done. He let out an exaggerated sigh and plopped down on the edge of your bed, his body taking up far too much space. "Don’t go back to sleep, c’mon! It’s your first day here at ASU. You gotta make a statement," he said, wiggling his eyebrows, clearly proud of his well-meaning, annoying attempt to motivate you.

You cracked open an eye again, giving him a deadpan stare. "I don’t want to hear it, Jayce. You’re lucky I’m even awake right now."

Jayce chuckled, nudging you lightly with his foot. "Get up, you lazy bum. I need to know if this shirt works with my new kicks or not. It’s important!"

You sighed, sitting up slowly, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Looking at him—his eager face, his ridiculous outfit—wasn’t helping your mood. You glanced at his sneakers, then his shirt, then his whole vibe. Jayce looked like he was trying way too hard to impress everyone on his first day back. He had his typical “I’m cool” swagger on display, and you weren’t sure if you should laugh or just roll your eyes harder.

"Yeah, Jayce. You look good," you muttered, not really caring but knowing that was the answer he wanted to hear.

Jayce leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, all dramatic as he asked, "Really? I mean, really? You sure about that? ‘Cause I need you to be my fashion consultant today."

You shook your head, not even bothering to reply to his antics. You were too tired for this. But he wasn’t backing down. He was, after all, Jayce—a master at annoying people to no end.

"Don’t make me get Mom on the phone, you know she’s got the best opinions," he teased, but you could hear the hint of excitement in his voice. He wasn’t just annoying you for attention; he genuinely seemed to need your approval.

You shot him a glare. "If you don’t stop, I’ll tell Mom you’ve been wearing the same pair of socks for two days."

Jayce’s grin faltered, just for a second, before he playfully shoved your shoulder. "Low blow, sis. Low blow."

Finally, you could hear him sigh in defeat. "Fine. I’m leaving, I’m leaving. Get up, though! Or I swear, I’ll drag you out of bed myself."

You stared at him as he got up and headed toward the door, but not without another remark. "Oh, and don't even think about that raggedy bus today. We’re taking my car. And you're making a statement whether you like it or not."

The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, there was silence—glorious silence.

You glanced at the time on your phone. 5:47 AM. With a groan, you threw the covers off and rolled out of bed.

The thought of the first day at ASU made your stomach churn with nerves, but you couldn't show it. Not after all the teasing and endless talk of “making a statement” from your brother. You needed to at least pretend like you had it all together. So, with a loud sigh, you shuffled into the bathroom for a shower, hoping the cold water would wake you up enough to deal with the day ahead.

As you stood under the stream of water, you tried to clear your head. You'd never been one for drama, but here you were, starting college at one of the most prestigious schools in the country. It was supposed to be exciting. New people, new opportunities, new everything. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into something much bigger than you were ready for.

Still, there was no turning back now.

You had spent your freshman and sophomore years in Italy, a place you quickly grew to love. It was a dream come true—walking cobblestone streets, sipping espresso in tiny cafes, and studying architecture and art history in a country that felt alive with culture and tradition. At first, you were nervous about being so far from home, but Italy embraced you with open arms, and soon, it felt more like home than your actual home ever had.

The plan had been simple: you would study abroad, and Jayce would come with you. Your mom had made it clear that he had the option to join you. “Think about it,” your mom had said, “two years of sibling bonding while experiencing a whole new world.” But, of course, Jayce had shrugged it off.

"Pass," he'd said without hesitation. "All my friends are here. Plus, who's gonna keep the soccer team alive without me?"

You’d rolled your eyes when he said it, but deep down, his refusal stung. He didn’t even consider it. And as much as you hated to admit it, part of you had wanted him there. Sure, he was annoying and constantly in your space, but he was also your big brother—the one who always knew how to make you laugh when you were stressed, the one who looked out for you when no one else did. Without him, you felt a little more alone than you were ready to admit.

But Italy had been a journey all its own. You’d found your rhythm there, made lifelong friends, and grown in ways you never expected. You learned to navigate bustling markets in Florence, spent lazy afternoons sketching by the canals in Venice, and even picked up enough Italian to argue with locals over gelato flavors. It wasn’t just a study abroad experience; it was a transformation.

Then, two years flew by faster than you thought they would. And just like that, it was time to say goodbye to everything you’d built in Italy. The narrow alleyways you knew like the back of your hand, the corner cafe where the barista always greeted you with a warm "Ciao, bella," and the friends who had become family. It wasn’t easy leaving it all behind, but the opportunity to finish your degree at home on a full-ride scholarship was too good to pass up.

There was one silver lining to returning home: Ekko. Your best friend since middle school. He’d been the one constant in your life before you left for Italy, and as much as you loved your new friends abroad, no one quite compared to Ekko. He was like a brother to you, but cooler than Jayce ever could be—not that you’d ever tell Jayce that to his face.

Ekko was in ASU with a full ride scholarship majoring in Engineering, balancing school with being on the soccer team alongside Jayce. The two of them had always been close, despite being complete opposites. Jayce was loud, confident, and always seeking the spotlight, while Ekko was more laid-back and analytical, content to let his skills speak for themselves. The idea of seeing them again—especially Ekko—was one of the few things keeping you grounded as you prepared to face New York after two years away.

After your last class wrapped up, you decided to head over to the campus coffee shop to grab something to eat. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods hit you as soon as you walked in. You ordered an iced coffee and a bagel sandwich before making your way outside, where small tables with umbrellas dotted the courtyard.

Finding an empty table near the edge of the patio, you set your things down and took a seat. The campus buzzed around you as students chatted or hurried to their next destination. Sipping your coffee, you opened your book and began reading while occasionally taking bites of your sandwich.

As you lost yourself in the story, two hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders, making you jolt and nearly drop your sandwich. Your head whipped around, your heart racing, only to be met with a familiar face—Ekko.

“Holy—Ekko!” you exclaimed, standing up with a wide grin.

He laughed, his grin just as big as yours. “Surprise!”

Without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I missed you so much,” you said, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“Missed you too,” Ekko said, his arms wrapping around you firmly. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he took a good look at you.

You twirled around dramatically, giving him a full view of your outfit. His brows shot up in surprise as he took it all in. “Damn… Italy changed you in more ways than one. What happened to my (Y/N) who wore oversized hoodies and partied like a rockstar every other weekend?”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “She’s dead, but I still love a good party,” you quipped.

Ekko leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed and a playful smirk on his face. “There’s gonna be a first-day bonfire tonight. Good music, new faces, and…” he paused for effect, “…Caitlyn Kiramman, the cheer captain, might be there. You could ask her about whether there’s a chance you’re on the team since you submitted that video for tryouts.”

Your face lit up with excitement. “You always come in clutch,” you said with a grin. “Only if you’re taking me, though.”

Ekko shook his head, his smirk turning into a sheepish grin. “Can’t. I’ve got a date for the bonfire.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Aw, really? Who’s the lucky girl?”

“A girl named Jinx. She’s in most of my classes. Thought she was cute, so I asked her out,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “She surprisingly said yes.”

“Surprisingly?” you teased, folding your arms and leaning toward him. “Please, Ekko, you’ve got more game than you think. Good for you, seriously.”

He chuckled, his cheeks dusted with a hint of pink. “Thanks, I guess. What about you? Got your eye on any girls here yet?”

You grinned mischievously, your voice dripping with confidence. “Always.”

Ekko leaned in slightly, his eyebrows raised. “Oh, really?” he asked teasingly.

“Yup. Vi,” you said with no hesitation. “She’s really hot—pink hair, tattoos on her back. God, I would love to take a ride on h—”

“Oh, fuck no,” Ekko interrupted, his voice sharp as his expression shifted to something between disbelief and warning.

You blinked, startled by his sudden tone. “What?!”

Ekko groaned, running a hand down his face. “She’s a player, (Y/N). I should know. She’s on the soccer team with Jayce. Don’t mess with her—you’ll get hurt. Real shit.”

You frowned, confused by his sudden seriousness. “What are you talking about? She seemed fine when I talked to her earlier.”

He pushed off the wall and crossed his arms again, his expression dark. “I’ve seen it happen. She’s got game, yeah, but not the kind you want. I don’t like the way she moves. I used to hang out with her, but I stopped for a reason. The only time I’m even around her is when Jayce is.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Okay, but maybe she’s different now.”

Ekko narrowed his eyes at you, unimpressed. “Look, I’m just saying—don’t let her mess with your head, (Y/N). You’re better than that. Just…be careful, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, though a small part of you appreciated his concern. “Fine, Dad.”

When you got home, Ekko’s warning was the last thing on your mind. Vi was texting you, and there was no way you were going to ignore her. She was too hot not to respond to. Balancing your bag on your shoulder and your coffee cup in one hand, you pushed the door shut with your foot. As soon as the door clicked behind you, you checked your phone again, a grin spreading across your face as you read her latest message.

Heading upstairs, you scrolled through the playful back-and-forth between you and Vi, feeling giddy. The attention she was giving you was addictive. You were so lost in the conversation that you didn’t notice Jayce stepping out of the bathroom until you nearly bumped into him.

He stood there with a towel slung around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. He raised an eyebrow as he noticed the stupid grin on your face. “The fuck are you smiling about, dopey?” he teased, crossing his arms over his chest. “You look a little too gay right now.”

You rolled your eyes and brushed past him. “Ha, ha, hilarious,” you muttered, holding your phone a little closer as you tried to move toward your room.

But Jayce wasn’t going to let it go. He reached over and snatched the phone right out of your hand.

“Jayce! What the fuck!” you yelped, spinning around and reaching for it.

Jayce held it out of your reach, laughing as he glanced at the screen. But his laughter quickly died when he saw the name at the top of the conversation. His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You’re fucking around with Vi?” he asked, his tone dripping with judgment.

“It’s the first day, so not yet, clearly,” you snapped, grabbing your phone back with an irritated glare.

Before you could retreat to your room, Jayce stepped in front of you, blocking your path. His expression shifted to something more serious, almost protective. “Whatever you’re doing with her, stop. She’s a close friend of mine, and she gets around, (Y/N). It’ll be awkward as hell, and on top of that, I’m not trying to get embarrassed by you.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him. “Whatever,” you muttered dismissively, though his words stung.

Jayce didn’t move from where he stood, following you with his eyes as you turned toward the stairs. “Hey, wait. Are you going to the bonfire tonight?”

You stopped and turned to face him. “Yeah, Ekko has a date, so I need a ride. Can you take me? Mom and Dad still haven’t gotten me a car yet, so I’m stuck.”

Jayce shook his head immediately, folding his arms again. “Oh, you’re not going. No way. Vi’s gonna be there, and that’s officially off fucking limits.”

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “What? What the fuck, Jayce! I can’t even go socialize?”

Jayce gave you a hard look. “You’re not going to socialize, (Y/N). I know how you are when it comes to alcohol and…other shit. Or do I need to call Mom and tell her you need to go back to Italy after I let you relapse?”

His words hit you like a slap. Your stomach dropped as anger flared in your chest, and your eyes burned with unshed tears. “Fuck you, Jayce,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of rage and hurt. “What a low blow.”

You yanked your arm out of his grip and stormed up the stairs, slamming your bedroom door shut behind you. You locked it for good measure, leaning against it as hot tears began to roll down your cheeks.

Outside the door, Jayce’s voice softened, guilt creeping into his tone. “Wait, sis… I didn’t mean it seriously,” he said, knocking lightly.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t even look at him right now.

When it became clear you weren’t going to answer, Jayce sighed. “Let me know if you want anything to eat when I get back,” he said quietly before walking away. The sound of his footsteps faded down the hall, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

While you sat on your bed, still upset over the argument with Jayce, your phone buzzed. You glanced at it, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was a text from Vi.

Vi: Are you coming to the bonfire party? I wanna see you.

You hesitated for a moment before typing back.

You: Can’t. My brother’s not letting me go. And I don’t have a car. He was my only ride.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Vi: Well, I have a car. Give me your location and get ready. I’ll pick you up, beautiful.

A grin spread across your face despite everything, and you quickly sent her your location. Tossing your phone onto the bed, you sprang up and went straight to your closet. You scanned your options until you finally settled on a black fitted mini-dress paired with, a denim jacket draped off your shoulders, and chunky black boots. The look was edgy yet flirty—perfect for a night out.

You glanced in the mirror and realized your makeup was a mess from crying. Grabbing a makeup wipe, you cleaned up the smudges, reapplying your eyeliner and lipstick carefully. After smoothing out your hair and giving yourself one last look-over, your phone buzzed again.

“I’m parked outside the complex,” the text read.

“Shit,” you muttered, scrambling to find a cute bag. You tossed your phone, keys, wallet, and lip gloss inside, then rushed out the door.

As you left your apartment complex, you gave the doorman a quick wave. “Goodnight!” you called, like always.

“Have fun!” he replied with a knowing smile.

Outside, a sleek car idled by the curb. You spotted Vi leaning against the driver’s side, her pink hair glowing under the streetlights. She grinned when she saw you, and as soon as you slid into the passenger seat, she leaned over and kissed you.

You froze for a second, caught off guard, but then you melted into the kiss, returning it shyly. When she pulled back, her smirk was devilish.

“Nice place you live at,” she said, glancing at the complex as she started driving. “A friend of mine stays in one of these apartments. You must have a lot of money to live here.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Vi gave you a quick side glance, her smile softening. “Well, good for me. I like spoiled girls,” she teased.

As soon as you and Vi stepped onto the sandy beach where the bonfire party was in full swing, she casually draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. The heat of the fire reflected in her smirk as she held you there like she had no care in the world.

Immediately, you pulled away, glancing around to make sure no one—especially your brother—had noticed. “Stop,” you hissed, swatting at her arm. “You’re going to blow my cover. I’m not even supposed to be here, remember?”

Vi chuckled, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her ripped jeans, clearly enjoying your paranoia. “Fine, fine,” she relented. “But text me when you’re ready to leave.”

“Where are you going?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m gonna go find Jayce and keep him occupied,” she said with a smirk, already scanning the crowd. “Don’t worry, princess. I got you.”

“Cool,” you said with a nod before slipping away from her, weaving through the bodies of drunken students and the glow of the bonfire’s flickering flames.

Your eyes darted across the party until they landed on Ekko. He was in the middle of a crowd, dancing with a girl who had strikingly light blue hair, her movements wild and carefree as they swayed to the music.

“Hey, Ekko!” you called out over the sound of the music.

Ekko turned his head at the sound of your voice, a grin forming when he spotted you pushing through the crowd toward him. “(Y/N)!” He gestured for you to come closer. “This is Jinx. Jinx, this is (Y/N), my best friend since middle school.”

You smiled, sticking out a hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Instead of shaking your hand, Jinx’s face lit up, and she immediately pulled you into a tight hug. “Sorry, but I’m a hugger, girl,” she said, squeezing you before letting go. “And middle school? That’s so adorable!”

You chuckled. “Yep. We used to do chemistry projects together in high school and blow shit up. My parents had to pay millions.”

Ekko laughed, shaking his head. “Yup, we were menaces,” he agreed, nudging you playfully.

Jinx grinned, eyes flickering between the two of you. “I like you already.”

The party was loud, the music pulsing through the air as laughter and shouts filled the night. You were mid-conversation with Jinx when suddenly, a random frat guy shoved an opened Cayman Jack into your hands. The condensation from the bottle chilled your skin as you instinctively curled your fingers around it.

“Chug, pretty thang,” he slurred, grinning like he had just offered you the holy grail.

“Oh, um… no, it’s okay. I’m taking a break from drinking,” you said, trying to hand it back to him.

Instead of taking the rejection, he popped the cap off with his thumb and shoved it back toward you, his eyes wild with excitement. “Chug!” he chanted.

At first, it was just him, but soon, others joined in, the word picking up like a wave, echoing louder and louder around you. "Chug! Chug! Chug!"

Ekko shot you a worried look, his lips parting as if he was about to intervene, but before he could, the pressure of a dozen eyes on you—waiting, watching, expecting—became too much. Without thinking, you tilted your head back and downed the entire drink, the carbonation burning your throat, the alcohol hitting your stomach like a rock.

“There, happy?” you said, shoving the now-empty can into the frat guy’s chest.

He let out a cheer, eyes gleaming with drunken satisfaction. Then, in a final act of bravado, he crushed the can against his forehead with a loud crack and stumbled off into the crowd.

Ekko’s hand was on your shoulder in an instant, his grip firm but gentle. “Fuck…” you muttered, your stomach twisting. Your fingers trembled slightly, your body already remembering the ghosts of your past. “I haven’t had a drink since I…”

Ekko rubbed your shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll get you some water.” His voice was calm, but you saw the worry in his eyes. He turned to Jinx. “Watch her for me?”

Jinx gave a quick nod, her face uncharacteristically serious.

Ekko disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there with the taste of alcohol still lingering on your tongue.

“What’s wrong?” Jinx asked, tilting her head.

“I—I just…” Your voice faltered.

Before you could finish, a voice sliced through the noise, sharp and furious.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Your stomach dropped. You turned to see Jayce standing a few feet away, his face twisted with anger, his fists clenched at his sides.

“I’m just hanging out, Jayce,” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

Jayce scoffed, stepping closer. “(Y/N), I can smell the alcohol on your breath.” His eyes darkened, his voice tight with frustration. “Shit, dude—not even a whole two weeks and you’re already relapsing?”

Your throat tightened. “I’m not relapsing. I was just pressured into taking a drink by those stupid frat boys,” you argued.

“Bullshit,” Jayce snapped.

Ekko returned just in time, a bottle of water in his hand, but he barely had time to process what was happening before Jayce was right in your face again.

You barely heard him, your mind spiraling as the weight of his words sank in.

Yes, you were an addict in high school.

After your dad’s death, you took it harder than anyone else in your family. You fell in with the wrong people, numbing the pain however you could. The night you overdosed, you had been left in an alley, a needle in your arm, your body convulsing, vomiting, barely clinging to life.

Your mother couldn’t handle it anymore.

Instead of sending you to rehab, she sent you to Italy—far away, somewhere new, somewhere she hoped you could start over. And you did. You got therapy. You worked on yourself. You fixed yourself.

But now, standing here with Jayce looking at you like you were a failure, it felt like all that progress meant nothing.

His next words shattered whatever was left of your resolve.

“Go home,” he said coldly. “I don’t care how you get home—just go.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your vision blurring with tears.

Ekko’s hand found yours, squeezing it gently. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

Jinx nodded, stepping closer. “Yeah, I’ll come too.”

You swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in your throat. “Thanks. Just—let me say goodbye to someone first.”

Ekko nodded. “Cool. We’ll wait by the car.”

He took Jinx’s hand, leading her toward the parking lot, leaving you alone in the middle of the party, feeling like the ground beneath you was slowly cracking apart.

You pushed through the crowd, weaving between sweaty, drunken bodies, the pulse of the music thrumming in your ears. The fire in the middle of the yard crackled, casting flickering orange light over the partygoers gathered around it. Your breath was shallow as you scanned the area, searching for Vi.

And then you saw her.

She was standing by the fire, her red hair illuminated by the flames, her toned arms flexing slightly as she laughed at something. But she wasn’t alone.

A girl with long blue hair stood close—too close. She traced her fingers up and down Vi’s arm, her nails dragging over the inked skin like she had every right to touch her. Vi smirked, that signature, cocky grin that made your heart race earlier in the night. But now, it only made your stomach twist.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, Vi grabbed the girl by the waist and pulled her in. Their lips crashed together in a deep, messy kiss—not just a casual peck, not like the ones you and Vi had shared. This was something more. Their bodies were flush, Vi’s hands gripping the girl’s hips, their mouths moving like they’d done this before.

You felt a lump in your throat, but not because you were heartbroken. No, this wasn’t heartbreak. It was disappointment.

Because everyone was right.

Vi was a player. A flirt. She wasn’t the kind of girl to settle down—not even for you.

Without a second thought, you turned away, pushing through the crowd with more force this time, ignoring the people who grumbled or stumbled in your wake. Vi didn’t even see you.

By the time you reached the car, Ekko and Jinx were already waiting.

“You good?” Ekko asked as you slid into the backseat.

You didn’t answer. You just stared out the window, watching as buildings and trees blurred past. The streetlights flickered across your face, casting shadows that stretched and disappeared.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t even feel angry.

You just felt disgusted.

For the first time in two years, that familiar, suffocating feeling crept back in—the one that made your skin crawl, the one that made you want to disappear.

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harmonysanreads · 2 months ago

Text

Chiaroscuro

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Dr Ratio x [ Gender Neutral ] Reader

Synopsis: There is a wilted daffodil resting between the pages of Ratio's memories. Tags: POV Dr. Ratio, Fluff and Humor and Angst, Hurt/Comfort (?), Slow-burn (oh my), Right Person Wrong Time (oh dear), Strangers to Friends, Reader is Older than Ratio, We speak in the Language of Flowers here, Literary References and Allusions, Exploration of Academic Struggles, Jealous!Ratio, Exploration of Grief, Slight Yandere!Dr Ratio, My Interpretations of Ratio's Past and Ideologies (because hyv won't tell me), Brief Aventurine Appearance TW(s): Toxic Relationships, Toxic Family Dynamics, Implications of Physical Abuse (not condoned by Ratio) Author's Note: At long last, my ‘thesis’ on Dr. Ratio is finished :') I've been working on this fic since June 2024 and finally gathered enough willpower to push through the rest of it. I started this fic with the sole goal of torturing Ratio but ended up falling in love with him halfway through this fic- as such the direction may have shifted orz Please forgive any unintentional errors and get cozy <3

「 Word Count : 11k 」「 Artwork Credits 」「 Read On AO3 」

i. Panorama.

They say, the best years of a human's life are spent before boards painted with chalk scribbles and around those of one's ages, filled with careless laughter and weaving hopes for the distant future.

Veritas Ratio has always disagreed with this belief and backed his own with a multitude of reasoning. For one, those so crowned ‘best years’ are not to be wasted through wishing your fantasies would come to fruition on their own. Secondly, his experiences run contrary to the images illustrated by the majority of the population. Which, fall as it might within the grounds of personal grudge, has enough weight to not be disregarded entirely, he'd argue if necessary.

If confronted on his bitter feelings regarding the schooling years of a person's life, there is a possibility that the erudite Doctor will falter and then incoherently mutter something about it not being a downright horrifying experience.

The chances of receiving further clarification from that point decreases significantly and will be entirely dependent on Ratio's mood, which, isn't perceived to be the most agreeable on most days.

In the rare case that luck shines upon the inquirer and Veritas Ratio's stern edges soften with nostalgia, there will be but one name that'll leave his lips in an uncharacteristically somber cadence.

If certain events had transpired differently, the recollections of that day would've been far sweeter than it is now — but still, the parasite known as nostalgia begs to alter his memories. It attempts to soothe the cuts gained from reaching towards aspirations far beyond his capabilities with cursory glances from the sun, and daisy petals hidden in the crevices of dusty tomes.

In the days Veritas Ratio treaded in an environment where nearly everything was twice his height, carrying expectations no one would bother to understand, he'd pledged to himself to not fold before irrational demands just because he wasn't a sight one would normally see in an institution full of burgeoning adults.

He was no stranger to the attention his genius brought, far more so the unwanted part of it.

Which was why he'd stubbornly made his goals clear to his titular peers within the first week of his attendance, much to their bewilderment.

Any suggestions for free ‘assignment completion service’ was shut down curtly and neither did the prodigious new student bother to partake in other youthful activities — but surprisingly, Veritas's distant countenance hadn't succeeded in putting a dent to his overall popularity.

Perhaps that is the reason the requests for private tutoring sessions and borrowing of notes never did cease, because despite his attitude, no one could deny his intelligence. And that, ultimately became his label in that university. Consequently, no one went out of their way to seek him out unless it concerned academics — except one person.

Ratio thinks he might've been witnessing a meteor streak the night sky instead, because relatively speaking, he couldn't trace where you appeared from with just his bare eyes.

(Though now that he thinks again, it might've been because he'd not bothered to look beyond the white board of the lecture halls, haughty as he'd been.)

—And as momentary as said event, you'd stunned him with an inquiry that did not match any of the others that'd preceded your kind.

“Why are you all alone during lunch, little boy? Whoa, you're studying even now?”

He’d barely missed the astonished gleam in your eyes when he parted from marking an important section from his book in a flinch. The unacquainted sight beside his desk had put the functions of his brain at a temporary standstill, before resuming with a barrage of questions as you observed him rather amusedly.

The small smile that appeared on your face next halted any of those inquiries from gaining voice as Veritas's reflexes worked to catch the objects tossed his way.

“Take these for now. Skipping meals isn't good for you, you know? You can't achieve your dreams if you don't take care of your health first.”

Veritas blinked owlishly at the apple and sandwich now resting on his lap, the words of advice you stated in a rather sing-song tone barely registering in his head as he vacillated between demanding your identity and scoffing at your audacity.

Much to his chagrin, you evaded his burning stare and waltzed out of the vacant lecture hall before he could even open his parched mouth, again.

(What he recalls first before this peculiar interaction now is how the usually mundane sunlight had embraced your form that day.)

He only saw more and more of you from then onwards, much to his initial displeasure. For some mysterious reason, you'd made it your hobby to nag at and subtly coddle him in ways that made any other passing student raise eyebrows.

Whether it be dragging him to places and sometimes forcing him to eat lunch or separating him from his beloved books to 'refresh his mind' at some other corner of the campus, you never faltered ; despite all the scowls and passive aggressive quips he sneaked in.

Only after some research did Veritas discover you to be one among the seniors and, he'd admit it somewhat begrudgingly, you were a senior in every sense of the word.

Although, that knowledge did not aid him in answering the most begging question: why were you going out of your way to guide him through the perilous terrains of university? He'd initially suspected you to demand recompense in the same ways the others coveted.

Perhaps you were an expert manipulator, struggling to wrap up your last year in the institute and as a result, decided to prey on the genius through teasing words and coddling.

Ratio was fully prepared to face you when you showed your true face — except, his hypothesis ended in utter failure as that expected unravelling never came.

So, on another of your usual kidnappings meetings under the old oak tree at the far end of the campus, Veritas decided to soothe the scorching paranoia in his head.

“It’s because you remind me of my little siblings! It's been such a long time since I've seen them and I just really miss them, you know?”

He doesn't know. Neither the sentiments that are apparently driving you to take care of him nor whether you're being sincere.

Here's the most annoying thing about you: despite how much of a genius Veritas is crowned to be, he's experienced repeated failures in deducing what lies beneath that benign smile of yours.

At least there are formulas and theories to explain or, get closer to the enigmas of the universe. But whatever and whoever moulded you into your present state had clearly forgotten to leave a loophole behind for curious minds like his to decipher.

“Besides, I understand how you must be feeling in this environment where everyone is half a decade older than you — even though you like to act tough. I know that there's a seed of loneliness that's ready to burst into a giant tree with the right incentive and you're just holding onto the last of your sanity to not let that happen.”

Ratio's fingers halt midway through flipping to a different page of his book. Your observation silences him long enough to make the rustles of leaves permeate the atmosphere, before he forces his brows to furrow and his lips to quirk down.

“It’s rude to make assumptions about someone you barely know.”

The purple head watched as you leaned against the palm of your hand, as though the sneer on his face was nothing worth fretting.

“Aww, did I catch little Veri off guard? No need to be in such denial, I saw you gape like an owl at my words. But owls are my favorite bird, don't worry!” The hostile expression on his face morphs into surprise as you ruffle his hair with your free hand with more enthusiasm than required.

“Rest assured, I'll take care of you for as long as I'm here, little Veri.”

“I’d appreciate it more if you don’t.”

That earned him a laugh and messier hair.

ii. Anamorphosis

Little Veri.

If there was something he despised more than the shrill voices of his classmates, it'd be that nickname. You might've been accurate in your choice of words in a literal sense, but for the first time, honesty had bruised his ego.

The prodigy was not accustomed to being treated his age, he was always commended as ‘mature’ and being ‘beyond his years’. Yet you had never even bothered mentioning this and instead, always poked at the suppressed child that slumbered at the deepest corner of his heart.

What he loathed even more was how every repeat of that ridiculous nickname actually made him feel quote-on-quote ‘little’. No, how you allowed a leeway for that teenage heart to peek through from under a canopy of knowledge and caution.

Intentionally or not, you carved a shelter for that little boy to crawl beneath in moments that no one would care to glance at.

It was a matter of great shame although, while his teachers had handed him the basics to deciphering the laws of the universe, no one had bothered to teach him how to respond to such kindness.

Upon further digging, the genius was surprised to find that your merit resided in the top five of your entire year. While he hadn't taken you for a dimwit (he'd rather eat dirt than utter such sacrilege) his astonishment stemmed from the fact that he'd never seen an academic material accompanying you on campus.

He’d even thought your sole task was to bother him with your half-a-decade years old wisdom upon a particular session of agitation. But after clarity grasped his mind, he realized that his suspicions were simply baseless in an institution as competitive as Veritas Prime.

Instead of journals and papers concerning your major, Veritas often saw you seeking refuge in musings soaked in fantasy and your rationale behind such escapades puzzled the mind of his younger self greatly.

“And then the male lead gave a bouquet of bluebells to the female lead, declaring his feelings! Isn't that so romantic?”

Ratio scrutinized your form hunched over from giddiness derived from materials that appeared alien to his eyes, stacks of textbooks wept at the corner of the table in abandonment.

“Bluebells? I thought people gave roses for matters like this?” sunset orange eyes swept over the incredulity blooming on your visage.

You sighed as though he was the most exasperating person you had the misfortune of dealing with, “It’s because bluebells are the symbol of eternal and undying love. Roses are undoubtedly lovely but as you said, if anyone was to give roses to someone, everyone and their grandmas would have an inkling about what is happening between them! Giving someone a bouquet of bluebells on the other hand, is far more secretive and exciting.”

“I don't really understand but alright.”

Ratio almost drops his pen at the flick to his forehead, “So unromantic! You're never getting a girlfriend if you continue being like this, kid!”

His free hand whips up to shield his skin against further damage, he feels the muscles of his temple twitch in profound irritation. “I don't need—”

“Yes yes, you're too preoccupied with the pursuit of knowledge to bother with fickle things like romance blah blah blah.” Ratio's eye roll almost synchronizes with yours.

Veritas knows and he isn't ashamed to admit that he's not a romantic person. The path he walks on has no necessity for abstruse emotional attachment and sentimentalities.

On the contrary, what he abstained from seemed to be the centrepiece of your interest.

Your eyelashes flutter as you rest your elbows on the table, eyes searching for a trace of your wishes among the litany of bookshelves, “But if anyone was to confess to me, I'd want them to give me a bouquet of bluebells instead of trying to articulate their feelings.”

Ratio raised a brow as your sigh echoed throughout the grand library, “And how, pray tell, would they know of your preference?”

“That’s the thing, little Veri!” you snapped your fingers as though you'd solved the greatest dilemma plaguing mankind, “I wouldn't talk about these fantasies to just anyone. If someone was to give me a bouquet of bluebells, it'd mean that we're close enough to know these secrets and then there'd be a high chance that the feelings are mutual. No awkward moments, we'd know what we are without even speaking!”

The purple head observed as you rambled, the light from the sinking afternoon sun filtered through the stained glass shone on you. A scoff escaped him before he could stomp it down, his arms crossed almost derisively.

“And is that your sole ambition in life?”

“Of course not,” your reply was brisk and simple, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You met Ratio's perplexed gaze with an unusual calm, “If by ambition, you mean what I want to do after all this studying, well — I want to be a teacher.”

Veritas couldn't hold back the surprise from soaking his words this time, “A teacher? Why?”

But you seemed to find great entertainment in his reaction, if your twinkling eyes was anything to go by and the genius isn't even taken aback this time; your sources of amusement would never be the guesswork of anyone.

Your shoulders shifted as you shrugged, “Why not? Teaching is one of the most noble professions out there, but it warrants great caution and wisdom. Hmm, come to think of it— what do you want to be, Veri?”

Ratio nearly flinched as you expertly shifted the attention to him, glossing over it with a fake cough. “I…” his throat constricted as you leaned in ever so slightly, “—don’t know.”

“Whaaaat?” you backed away just as quickly, dragging the syllables of that word to emphasize your disappointment. “Tsk tsk, so you're just studying blindly without any clear goal? That isn't going to get you far, regardless of how intelligent you are.”

He knows that, but what is he supposed to do if his mind blanks when he tries to envision himself in any conventional field? In fact, he considers it as one of the flaws of the educational system. How a student is always urged to find their place in the grand scheme of matters but never guided through them ; or, at least, given clear pointers.

It'd also be careless to label Veritas completely clueless about his situation. What he does cradle, or was compelled to bear was not borne of his personal wishes. But with time, his mind accepted it as his own, though a part of his heart always ached with emptiness.

You cleared your throat upon noticing that a great conflict had rendered the genius speechless, “Well... as for the reason as to why I want to be a teacher, it's because I want to help those students who struggle to find their way in this vast world. Regardless of where they rank in the merit position or what ‘status’ society has assigned them. Granted, this struggle may continue even after someone has graduated and while I may not be able to help every single person, I still want to try my best. After all, that should be the goal of our educational system — in my opinion, at least!”

You chuckled somewhat bashfully afterwards, remnants of it settled on the way your lips curled. There was something so succinct yet undoubtedly natural about that smile, like petrichor and he felt a pang of regret hitting his ribcage for not noticing it before.

Although it might not appeal to some, to many it brought solace even before the sun could sweep aside the canopies of darkened clouds.

Something that's appearance was preceded only by the tears of the skies, it stunned the mind that such beauty could be unearthed from a phenomenon so seemingly insignificant.

And that realization appalled the young scholar.

iii. Tenebrism

Ratio did not comprehend the value of your presence until he was deprived of it.

Due to certain circumstances, the genius had learned to be contingent with the fact that he'd have to navigate the majority of his life all by himself. Of course, ignoring simpletons and self-centered personnel came easy to him as well.

What the scholar wasn't conscious of, or was too prideful to acknowledge was the harrowing vacancy in some obscure corner of his heart that yearned for a deeper connection. It would take little effort for him to rationalize this longing with his age and return his attention to far more pressing concerns.

But it seemed that the more he tried to silence the wails of his feelings, the more cacophonous they became.

You'd spoiled Veritas a good amount, with your willing enthusiasm to tail after him whenever you had the reprieve.

So, when you abruptly stopped your usual pursuit in exchange of accompanying another person whose face he couldn't bother to remember, the young scholar was left to deal with a surge of emotions he had little control over.

Said emotions, were tame enough to be kept under check within the first few weeks as he learnt that the purpose of this sudden acquaintance had been for the completion of a group project.

Where the scholar's composure did start to falter was when you maintained your distance from him even after the fulfilment of said project.

And Ratio despised the sparks of resentment that'd flare up in his chest each time you'd pass him by while chatting so deliriously with that no-name stranger.

He was thrown in a limbo the first time he witnessed someone else in the position that he held and although he stubbornly convinced his mind that it was for the best ; each time the scene would replay in the corridors and crevices of the university, Veritas could see yellow hyacinths bloom in his peripheral.

He's certain now that he must've been losing his mind, or at least was on the verge of (and for such a childish cause at that) because he took shelter in a superstitious practice and ignored as many meals as he could in the futile hope that you'd come back and reprimand him again.

Ratio would have applauded you if he hadn't been so consumed by all those unsavory chemical reactions in his mind.

It didn't help his case that the first time he'd bothered to take in the environment, he was reminded of the fact that, you had others who'd accept you, but he only had you.

His frustration must've reached a new peak, because not even the most persistent of his irritable classmates were brave enough to approach him as he continued to brood hopelessly.

It wouldn't be long until he would gather the motivation to finally propel himself out of that dark space, but the method his younger self employed to do so, embarrasses the present him to no end.

“They did what?”

Veritas needn't open his eyes to picture your visage colored in shock, he opted instead to maintain his somber facade, arms folded, and brows furrowed to complete the act.

“But I never thought them to be that kind of person, quite the opposite, in fact.” followed your reluctant admission.

Ratio outstretched his palm as though enticing you to accept the news, “One can deduce so much about the ocean by gazing at its surface. The facts are before you, with substantial evidence. Whether you believe them or not depends entirely on you. I only thought I should inform you before it reaches the Principal, that is.”

He could envision your eyes oscillating between his firm countenance and the unseen prospects proposed by his words. Discreetly, he peered at your fidgeting and unconsciously held his breath.

He'd done the calculations before approaching you, the worry oozing from your gaze confirms that you've heard word of it from his ‘associates’ already and the fact that you didn't try to defend the person further tells him you've done some digging through the news portals of the university yourself.

Step by step, you've unknowingly assisted in concluding this problem.

The young scholar silences the quivers of his conscience before they can rage and foil all progress. As for this friend of yours, there were embers left behind from misdeeds of long ago. He merely reignited that flame so that those crimes would face proper punishment — although which was not his principal goal. To make sure you don't get caught in the inferno was, or at least, that's what he tells his conscience.

A half-resigned hum from you saves the scholar from spiralling, “I’ll believe you and will avoid them for the time being. Though I have my own theories, you have a point. There is no telling what is beneath a person's exterior.”

Veritas simply nods to that conclusion.

Your eyelashes flutter as you drift into a brief reverie, before fixating on his rigid person. “Ah, but what is going on with you, kiddo? You've been skipping meals again, haven't you?”

The young scholar blinks in stupefaction at the shrunken proximity between you two, the single finger beneath his chin with which you scrutinize his visage nearly burns his skin. He can hardly process what observation you're making through the dizzying fragrance of jasmines.

“I am in perfect health, as you can see—”

“For so long! It's only a matter of when that you'll faint while calculating nonsense.” you sharply interject and withdraw the searing contact. Strangely, Ratio makes no face this time.

“Come to think of it, it's been a while since we've had lunch together. Oh, I have so much to share with you! Let's not waste anymore time, let's go!”

There is good cause for why the wise warn against temptations. Bit by bit, piece by piece, oh so painfully obstinate — you fed him that poison, rendering his sharp mind a mess of inebriating chemical reactions.

You were none the wiser to the impact your fickle gestures made on him and soon, Ratio's biggest weakness, curiosity silenced the prodding of his conscience.

He gained little incentive to step far away from the leering shadows, as the brilliance of the sun made it so his fixation wouldn't stray towards the darkness.

iv. Tachisme

“Suffering is part and parcel of extensive intelligence and a feeling heart. A man who is really great, it seems to me, must suffer considerably here below.”

Your sigh weighs down on the silence of the university's library, a dull thud causing a crack on it as you set down the tome on the dark wooden table.

“I couldn't help but think of you while reading this novel.” bright orange eyes watch the way you cushion your cheek against your knuckles minutely.

“Suffering, misery, sadness, whatever you name it is inconsequential to any human being. But I feel like, those who are labelled as being ‘different’ than the majority experience a certain kind of those challenges. The ones that are weighty on the tongue when they attempt to express it, perhaps inscrutable to even themselves.” Ratio mulls over your musings, briefly closing his eyes.

“Everyone’s experiences are bound to be different.” comes his easy response.

The furrow in your brows suggests the conflict his words stirred instead of assurance, “You take everything so coolly, but I can't help but worry for you. You may be calm and certain about everything now but there's no guarantee you'll always be this way. On top of it all, you reject close relationships, thus narrowing your options to lean on someone should a sizable problem come.”

Ratio catches himself before his eyes can roll sideways, “Surely you didn't drag me out of a lecture just to nag me again?” his subconscious notes the reduced exasperation that prospect stirs within himself.

You often worry for a future that has yet to seize anyone. While the young scholar commends your far-sightedness, he really cannot understand the use of losing one's mind over events that haven't happened yet.

Thinking ahead is helpful, turning that habit into an obsessive frenzy is not.

He observes the way your frown expands, deepens and ultimately loosens up with a sigh. You refrain from broaching the topic further, another quality he appreciates.

Though you don't make an attempt to defend yourself, you refuse to voice out anything else as well, settling your eyes to a distant point in existence.

For once Veritas is ruffled by the silence, so he makes an attempt to change the subject — because counting your eyelashes isn't the most productive thing for a scholar to do.

“It’s not everyday I see you carrying something that doesn't have hearts and glitters on the cover page.” his eyes settle pointedly on the book before you.

You scoff, “One does not survive in Veritas Prime simply from reading light novels.” there's a trace of pride in your admission.

“Oh? So, what does ‘one’ do to maintain their spot in the top five?” Ratio quirks a brow, holding your gaze.

The witty response he anticipates gets replaced by another sigh, puzzling him for an instance, “I’m assuming this is about me never studying within campus. Well, I just like keeping my study space and my socializing space separate. Listening to lectures here and doing the heavy lifting in my room. It's what works for me, in any case.”

There's genuine interest in his next questions, “And what do you do when you get bored while studying? Or when you feel like you can't concentrate anymore?”

You twirl a stray lock of your hair, cheek still resting on your knuckles, “Take a bath to sober myself up, I guess. When your mind is full of garbage, your body will likely not be the cleanest either.”

You shrug, your nonchalant attitude renders his mind to a blank slate. For a while he does nothing but think about your words, though the response he gives matches none of the context.

“I feel like there is so much I don't know about you.”

It's your turn to be surprised, but unfortunately for Ratio, the sight is still too brisk. You break into a fit of laughter, wiggling your brows as though you know something.

“Silly little Veri, let me tell you something. People are like icebergs! We can only see their tips with our bare eyes but to know them in their full capacity, we have to dive down.”

“But the waters are cold.” the young scholar pushes.

Your giggles soften to a smile, “That’s exactly the point.” and you refuse to elaborate further, again.

To reach the heart of the iceberg, one must push through the freezing depths of the ocean. Whether Veritas Ratio has that willpower, is a question left for his future self.

v. Sotto in su

As the days lapsed, more and more memories anchored themselves in Ratio's mind. They brought with them a different seed of emotion, every exchange with his enigmatic senior nurtured and coaxed it to sprout tender leaves.

Before his syllabus could be replaced, the fact had been known to everyone regardless of their relation to the prodigy. If your recurring appearances in Ratio's life and his noticeable tolerance for your presence was anything to go by, it was apparent to anyone with a conscious mind that his opinion of you was at a level above everyone else's.

Exchanges between different years wasn't an uncommon phenomenon, but a friendship with the notoriously detached prodigy was an understandable bewilderment. Though, the students at Veritas Prime quickly learned to use it to their advantage rather than criticizing it — a unanimous realization that Ratio was just a bit more agreeable in your presence.

Not that Ratio was unaware of their schemes, the fact that they construed that he'd tolerate them solely because of your connection further cemented his belief that all these wannabe researchers were still light-years away from the truth they speak to seek.

Albeit, after noticing that he'd been more approachable for students who genuinely wanted to learn rather than to fulfill some pecuniary purpose — he begrudgingly admitted that, there was an influence taking place.

Veritas swiftly ignored the rumors. While not one to waste his time, being with you brought along perspectives that challenged his thinking style. To him, truth has always been beautiful because it will not change, even through the failures in understanding it.

But you're a human being, change is rooted in your constitution.

The cycle of erosion and accretion that makes you you hinders even a brilliant scholar like him in grasping the characteristics of your soul. This form of beauty he was not acquainted with before, admittedly.

Relying too much on either rigidity or malleability will pose problems. It is through the search of a balance can we discover the answers.

It may not be obvious at first glance, but you aspire to guide others through the murky depths of ignorance while pondering this apparent equilibrium — since neither extremes can be eliminated. As strange as that selflessness initially appeared to him, Ratio has developed a sense of respect for your ambitions.

Unfortunately, or fortunately for him, it seemed as though you knew exactly what was transpiring.

In fact, you were conscious of a lot of things ; it's just that you preferred to pretend that you didn't for reasons that he hasn't comprehended yet.

For the longest time he interpreted that thoughtful sparkle in your eyes as just another play of light. Whenever his reactions to your teasing would come off as more animated than last and the flush that he'd try so hard to not let extend to his cheeks do just that — you'd have that nearly imperceptible realization reflected in your eyes. It scratched at the parchedness Ratio hadn't even recognized to be there.

His fear was confirmed to be true one afternoon in a vacant lecture hall, though not through words.

“Is this for me?” sunset orange eyes shone against the shadows that fell on his back.

“Well, do you see anyone else here?” your huff and his eyeroll synchronize.

You patiently held the book covered in elaborate illustrations of flowers for his taking, though what captured the scholar's attention most was the single yellow bloom tied atop with a violet ribbon on the book. He recognized the book to be a copy of the floriography manual he often saw tucked between your collections.

“You’re probably wondering ‘what value will this book bring to you’. Well, as I've said before, studious scholars should never limit their perspectives.” you almost shove the gift into his hands in response to his stunned countenance.

“And,” an accidental brush of your fingers against his hand sends an unwanted shudder through his arteries, “Happy birthday, little Veri.”

You withdraw just as quickly, the hues of the setting sun softening the smile on your face.

Ratio forces himself to look elsewhere, "You're still going to use that ridiculous nickname, huh? What a way to welcome me into adulthood." he mutters, the words leaving a bitter aftertaste that he tries to mask with sarcasm.

He feels your chuckle probing at his heart, taunting the quickened pace in which it revolts against its cage. You shift your gaze to the golden petals resting atop the book, a somber sigh tumbling from your lips.

“— Fair daffodils, we weep to see

You haste away so soon ;

As yet the early-rising sun

Has not yet attained his noon.”

Many see fit to celebrate their first step into adulthood with enthusiastic celebrations, Ratio's eighteenth birthday brought with it a clinging bittersweetness — not that he allowed himself to dwell on it for long, his future plans taking precedence over sentiments.

The lone daffodil had been tucked between a random section of the book you gifted, hidden away from his sight. The border between cowardice and courage was thin, nearly translucent in the manner the result dictated what it would turn out to be.

The journey of uncovering the mysteries of the universe is a similar pursuit. Emerge victorious and you'll be brave, fail and you'll be heralded foolish. Ratio was far from a coward or a foolish man, sometimes not going head-fast into uncertain territories is the mark of intelligence.

He allowed the daffodil to wilt and turned not a page, for he knew in some deep crevice of his subconscious that it'd blight the clarity of his mind with another flood of emotions he did not have the capacity to process.

Luckily, his agony met a premature end as you departed from Veritas Prime by the end of the year with a certificate in hand.

Who knows how many sleepless nights and crushed dreams paved the path for the ink lines on that single piece of parchment. Ratio had been there as the first to congratulate you, it was the least he could do.

He did not proceed farther than that, as you'd made it clear that there would forever be a line he would be unable to trespass.

Ratio was fully aware of the limitations the silly crush that accumulated over the time in your acquaintance brought and he expressed no interest in pushing those boundaries either.

He found solace in the fact that he'd met you at all. He wouldn't say you illuminated his life, for even you always believed it was the individual themselves who possessed that power.

You nudged him towards the path to find his light and that lesson, he wanted to honor all his life.

The memories of your time would stay treasured in his mind and the curve of your smile would be preserved in marble. Without the echo that his ears yearned to capture, he saw fit to isolate his senses from unnecessary stimulation.

Though you'd never grace the corridors of Veritas Prime again, the footprints of your presence etched deep in the genius's memories would never fade.

vi. Trompe l'oeil

His next encounter with you was a tad unexpected, just at the horizon of Ratio putting the full stop to his years at the university.

Veritas’s fingers slackened around the handle of his umbrella, a page or two of the manuscript of his thesis slipping past his grip and drifting along the roaring wind — but his eyes couldn't chase after them. Much too fixated on the way your shoulder bumped with theirs, not at all by accident.

The rain soon cloaked your figures from his spying gaze, the droplets soaking the ends of his clothes failed still to snatch his attention away. In spite of the thunderous cries of the sky, the echo of your laugh was all he could hear.

—

Time never ceased its relentless march; life followed its direction and events moulded more memories.

For the sake of productivity, he had no choice but to push back his curiosity and stay away from your life. His studies and workload helped generously in keeping his mind from wandering to frightful territories at inconvenient instances, though a certain spark nestled deep somewhere in his subconscious.

Before long, his name resounded far beyond the gates of Veritas Prime.

Veritas Ratio, now Dr. Ratio, felt his nerves flare again as he looked at the latest discussions on the university’s online forum, the words “Dr. Ratio Will Surely Snag A Place At The Genius Society, Won’t He?” in bold only tickled his annoyance further.

Ordinarily, he would stay as far away as possible from discussions concerning himself — which was easier said than done.

Aggrandizing anything always leads to disappointment. Ratio's surroundings loved to goad his path, but he knew, such chatter would morph to whispers the moment their expectations were proven false.

Dr. Ratio’s brooding came to a halt at the collision, his reflexes acted and he clasped onto the stranger’s arm before they could fall. He heard leaves crunching under his boots, strangers threw cursory glances at the near-accident.

His lips parted in what a spectator could assume to be the beginning of an apology, but paused upon noticing the words resignation letter on the paper in the stranger's grasp.

Orange eyes flickered, trailing upward, within the fabric of scarlet you burrowed deep in search of comfort from the scare.

You mimicked his earlier attempt, craning your neck for a second to meet his gaze and halting in recognition.

“Veritas… Ratio?”

The addressed scholar blinks, blurting out before he could think, “That’s not what you used to call me.”

There's a scintilla of surprise in your eyes at his unintentional jest, he anticipates a laugh next, but only an awkward quirk of your lips greets him.

Your eyes dart around your environment, before returning to his grasp. Feeling the weight of your stare, he releases his hold with a fake cough.

“I… apologize.” his hand found refuge on the nape of his neck.

“It’s okay, accidents... happen, you know.” you wave him off with your free hand.

A breeze passes through the gap between you two.

It might've just been Ratio’s misjudgement, but he felt as if you were about to run away for a millisecond. Your fingers tightened around the paper in your hold, you gathered yourself with a deep inhale.

“Congratulations on obtaining your fourth doctorate degree! I often discuss your papers in my classes, you are an inspiration to so many people.”

A flicker of sunlight filtered through the leaves above fell and there appeared that smile he knew. Years had gone by, yet the mystery in it remained still out of his reach.

“Thank you,” he tilted his head downward, “I’m glad to hear that you pursued your dream.”

Ratio sneaked a glance, your nod faded into silence. His gaze lingered on your face, the concentrated flush on your right cheek made his brows furrow.

He was no fool to the tension in the air and your unusual fidgety demeanor. He briefly contemplated if he should just depart.

However, he couldn't deny the fact that questions had accumulated throughout the interval of your absence from his life. The differences between the you before him and the you from his memories begged him to probe, to study and learn.

He felt himself drawn to the paper in your hand again, a glint on your ring finger caught his eye. Among the myriad of inquiries battling to escape his lips, the one that’d warred the longest emerged victorious.

“Did they…” he began, uncertain.

“Give you a bouquet of bluebells?”

Your flighty gaze froze to confusion for a moment as you tried to decode his words, Ratio mirrored your gaze as you failed to answer. You quickly blinked away any hints of shock, a forceful bite stopped the trembling of your lips.

(He felt a twist somewhere in his heart.)

“Can we… talk somewhere else?” you suggested. Despite it being the middle of autumn, there's a storm brewing in your eyes.

—

Veritas could see splinters on the cup in his grip, the dark beverage within threatening to spill.

A passing waitress threw the table a concerned glance, but could not find the courage to intervene. The sight of your antsy wringing of hands in his peripheral alerted him to breathe. He loosened his grip on the poor cup of coffee just in time, a burdened exhale following suit.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “So, what do you intend to do now?”

You fiddled with the band on your ring finger ; within the vacancy of the cafe, to Ratio, it felt as if even such an insignificant gesture gained voice.

The insistence of your silence prompted him to continue, “The culmination of your hard-work, one that stole almost all of your life ; all of those sleepless nights, unsaid sacrifices for the sole wish of helping others — all of it, you're going to let go, just like that? Just because an idiot claims they know better?”

Dr. Ratio could not understand, no matter which angle he looked at it from. The answer to your dilemma was crystal clear to the scholar, he’d be willing to bet it’d be clear to anyone with a functioning brain — and yet, you hesitate.

You continue to shuffle and avert your gaze, sometimes parting your lips to speak but withdrawing the next second.

A person that's found the tunnel’s end should run towards it, but you remain at the precipice of darkness.

“I…” The purple head straightens up at the sound of your voice, it is weak, hopeless ; a complete stranger to who you once were.

You abruptly gather your things, “I’m sorry, please forget I ever said anything —” an innocent glass is knocked off in your haste.

Cold, your hand is chillingly cold as Ratio grabs it, preventing you from running away. The unnatural temperature of it temporarily unsettles the man, but the situation at hand prompts him to push the observation back.

You try to force your wrist out of his grasp, but he presses on, “Can’t you see, that they are ruining you? This is not who you used to be! Your so-called 'fiance' is destroying you, they’ll not stop until you're nothing but a shell of yourself and they can reshape you to their liking!”

“I really have to go —” a vein pops on Ratio’s forehead, the wanton glass hits the floor.

“And why go? To receive another slap from them?” he feels your palm dampen from sweat, pieces of shattered crystal splaying across the tiles.

You look at him in disbelief and he blinks, the sharpness of his words finally cutting him.

The incipiency of an apology gathers at the tip of his tongue, but you halt it from escaping.

“Whatever happens between us, is none of your business, Veritas Ratio.”

If your hand was simply cold, your glare is freezing. It stuns the scholar enough to make his clasp loosen, you quickly snatch your hand away.

You’re two steps in when Veritas rushes to add, unwilling to back down, “But it was still you who reached out to me.”

The scholar hears the pause in your heels, you don't turn to address him and he doesn't move to obstruct your path either.

The bell signals your departure as the waitress from before rushes to clean the broken glass, leaving Ratio alone with his thoughts.

—

Veritas Ratio has had scarce attachments to worry about in his life.

For better or for worse, it appeared as though the direction of his life was steered towards one particular destination, everything else proved to be transient.

While his surroundings eroded and flourished within the touch of mortal delights, he remained but a spectator, destined to observe but never indulge.

Love. A simple word, yet any singular meaning behind which could still not be agreed upon.

He saw it in the way parents cradled their children, in the eyes of a couple that brushed past him in the streets. Flighty like the union between another pair of his former classmates, strengthened like the wrinkly hold of that couple that sold flowers down the street ; its form, just like its definition, is infinite.

The scholar thinks he's felt it somewhere in his past, or at least the vestiges of it — within the glow of a cryptic smile and a mind that did not yield.

Troublesome as it’d been, it did not conquer him. Ultimately, he wielded enough willpower to move on.

Some say, brilliant minds that toil too long in the territories of the unknown, become dense to the simpler aspects of life. Ratio did not see the inconvenience in this notion for a long time, not when it aided him more than burden him.

That is, until the encounter at the cafe.

If nothing else, it was clear to the prodigy that you had changed, for the worst at that.

The 'you' he’d known would know how to pick yourself up, or more accurately, that ‘you’ wouldn't have allowed things to escalate this far at all.

You would've left this rotten excuse of a relationship the first time they raised their voice, you would never concede to that fatal act of disrespect, under no circumstance would you let such an excuse of a human have such control — he… he hoped.

Ratio leaned back in his chair, a frown creeping in to his face.

For all these outrageous claims that he's been making of the you he was familiar with, how much did he actually know?

Is a year’s observation enough to grant him that badge of familiarity?

It is as you said, who is he to judge you at all?

Within the gloom of his study, his eyes unconsciously met with those etched in marble, the curve of a sun-kissed smile. He hand moved on its own, turning the table-lamp towards the sculpture and indeed, the light has always suited you more than him.

His recollections backtrack to the hazy gaze he saw that day, the encumbrance in them hoisting him up to chase after the itch for answers.

An uncounted number of hours passed, only after perusing a decent pile of tomes did it finally click in his head.

Ratio had no excuses or motivation to defend himself, he most certainly handled the situation poorly.

When the average attempts of leaving such relationships is between seven and twelve, it was insensitive of him to confront you like that.

Cognitions clouded in rage, he ignored the questions he should've asked, the sense of security he should've provided — the one you sought from him — and cornered you abruptly.

Foolish foolish foolish — he felt his fingers tug at his hair, breaths stuck in his lungs. Rationale does not always succeed in helping others see reason, how could he be so careless with you, of all people?

He didn't even know what stage of this hell you were at, how many times you’ve attempted to leave and what leverage they have over you.

Well, it would be most accurate to say he didn't know anything at all and yet, he arrogantly told you to 'just leave'.

The purple-head forced himself to breathe, the self-loathing could be shelved for a later day, what's more important now is finding you again.

He stood up from the heap of tomes, only to pause, does he deserve to seek you out again?

He betrayed your trust and you shut him off for good, should he even bother now?

A distant tug held him back.

Much like before, there is that line between you two that he cannot cross, must not cross.

He’s no longer a teenager in documents, but he doubts you see him as anything more than that ‘little Veri’.

—

The echoes of passing vehicles ricocheted around the streets, but Dr. Ratio’s attention stayed transfixed on the ivory petals in front of him.

A week or so had passed, the ruminations of those doubts kept him away from the confrontation and stole his nights.

It would be easy to cure this ailment, finding you would be but a matter of a few swipes. But that uncertainty, the ghost of a past insecurity, clung to his resolve. As such, peace abandoned him for a while.

A zephyr whispered to him, “Asphodels,”

He hummed without much thought, sunset orange eyes tracing the dulcet lines in those blooms.

“ ‘My regrets will follow you to the grave’, it's not everyday you see someone looking at these flowers with such care.”

If anyone looked straight into the scholar’s eyes at that moment, they'd for sure be able to witness the cogs turning in his brain in them.

Ratio finds you startled once he whips to his left, your presence finally registering in his head.

A prayer, a yearning, your name escapes his lips. But any further speech is obstructed from taking shape.

You’re the first to recover, “I apologize for running away like that the other day. It… was cowardly of me to tell you to mind your own business when I was the one who confided in you first.” your head lowers in appeal.

He’s sure of it now, you must be on the quest of giving him a heart-attack, what with these continuous surprises you’re throwing at him.

Well, if not a fatality, they're at least doing a wondrous job in preventing him from processing the fact in its entirety — you're here, you’re here, you're here.

You found him, again. Just like all those years ago in the lecture hall, all those times he was skipping lunch, on his eightieth birthday and that other day ; it was always you finding him.

(Has he ever broken through his pride and cowardice and tried to find you instead?)

The scholar hastens to join you, “No, it was my incompetence in failing to understand your situation that pushed you to leave. I completely failed to provide you with safety when you trusted me. For that, I beg your forgiveness.”

He couldn't see it, but he could picture your disbelief at his behavior. Your fist mirrored his, “No, it was clearly my stupidity—”

“Nonsense!” his exclamation earned him a flinch from you. He subconsciously straightened up to drive his point across, “It was me who —”

In the hurry and flurry of emotions, your head bumped with his, ending his tirade prematurely.

Your eyes settle on him, a car runs past your perplexed figures and then, the streets get cloaked in quietude ; before being filled with your giggle.

Against his control, his lips twitch and laughter bubbles in his chest. He allows them to gain voice and join yours.

You fan your face with your hand as the chuckles skid to an end, Ratio feels his cheeks warmed when he inhales. But none of you bother addressing the previous argument, its result apparent.

You take a deep breath and exhale. The scholar sees sun-glitter in your pupils, “I left them, by the way.”

That sobers him.

“Your…”

“Fiancé, yes. Or well, ex-fiancé now.” as if on cue, Ratio catches your now vacant ring finger.

“They tried to beg me to stay. But to be honest, it was not the first time they appealed to my sympathy.” you find interest in the pavement, searching for the remnants of your memories in their cracks.

“... But I really put my foot down this time. And oh, I didn't quit my job either, in case you were wondering.” you heave, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“And where are you residing now — if you don't mind me asking?”

“I’m temporarily staying at a friend's house. Don't worry, I’m at a safe place.” you reassure, detecting the underlying concern in his inquiry.

Ratio’s shoulders sag as he exhales, the receding adrenaline dulling his worries. Turns out you didn't really need his help, not that he's astonished. It was in your nature to extend help towards others but thinking twice before asking for help.

(Although he's in no position to criticize, he so wished that you’d find it in yourself to rely on him a bit more.)

“If you ever need anything, just give me a call or a text. You still have my number, correct?” he glances down to gauge your expression.

When you nod, he murmurs a faint ‘good’ and silence takes over. He contemplates if he should add anything else, but the serenity in the atmosphere prompts him to push back those concerns.

“Well, goodbye for today?” you suggest, snapping him back to reality.

He raises his hand to do just that, but a different thought alarms him.

“Let me walk you home.” he pushes back the cringe at the excess firmness to his tone, rushing to add, “Please?”

For a blink or two, you looked at him as though you’ve just sighted an alien. He assumes it's the ‘out-of-character’ tendencies he’s been portraying that has you double-check. It seems that he was not the only one comparing the present and the past.

Luck appeared by his side — or perhaps it was just your pity — and you conceded without any complaint, letting him join your steps. The scholar barely hid his glee through his gait.

The planet that housed Veritas Prime would get decorated in the lovely shades of ripened maple leaves around this time. Civilians gathered in groups beneath these scenes, some enjoying a leisurely picnic, others focused on getting their desired pictures.

Ratio noticed your wanton glance at a pair on a picnic mat, his lips tugging down at the tell-tale signs of where your thoughts ran towards.

But before he could do anything, you turned away and picked up your pace ; the pair’s laughter but background noise.

With some haste, he caught up to you. Racking his brain to distract your mind, he found himself empty-handed.

Four doctorates and yet, his mind goes blank when he needs it the most. He couldn't be any more disappointed in himself.

Just as he’s about to start a mental berating though, you side-step a rock and Ratio’s hand bumps with yours, their frigidity alerting him.

He stops in his tracks, and you do too, looking up quizzically at him.

He extends his palm, “Give me your hand,”

Your confusion only increases, “What? Why?”

“It’s too cold. Are you certain you aren't sick?” he thinks back to the encounter he had with you at the cafe, the chill he felt when he grasped your hand. He initially thought it a coincidence, but now, he was really concerned.

“Ahh, this, you see,” you flex your fingers, a feeble attempt at warming them up. “My hands kind of respond to the temperature? Don't ask because I don't know exactly why either, during winter, they're usually cold like this. But in summer, they're very warm.”

Ratio quirks a brow, “Just the fact that it tends to happen doesn't make it any less uncomfortable, does it?”

“No…” you trail off, “But! That's what my fiance— I mean, ex-fiance would always tell me, to just get used to it.”

Your eyes flicker back to Ratio’s, the disbelief in them telling you enough of what you need to know.

The scholar ran a hand through his hair, he shuddered to ponder what other garbage they had fed your brain.

His sigh is carried by a passing breeze, “It’s okay. They aren't here to dictate your life anymore.” he once again offers you his hand, another hope-filled prayer.

You look at his extended palm and back to his patient gaze, your fingers fisting in themselves for a moment before loosening.

He sees the ebb and flow of doubt and hope in their movements, inching closer and closer to his.

He cradles your hand when it reaches him, your fingers slipping easily through the gaps of his. The difference in temperature alerts his reflexes for a second before he calms them down.

He stuffs your intertwined hands in his coat pocket — your gasp fades behind you as he resumes his gait.

Ratio does not dare glance in your direction, but he knows you're watching, scrutinizing him. It reminds him of the look you had at the end of your university days, the memory of the incident that followed makes his throat parched.

Your grip is unusually weak, combined with the knowledge of your situation, the scholar can't stop himself from adding.

“Have you been eating well? Tell me if you haven't, I'll take you to have a proper meal. But don't lie about these matters, you can't achieve your dreams if you don't take care of yourself first.”

You freeze at his words and Ratio makes the mistake of returning your stare.

Seeing no change in his serious expression though, you shake your head with a chuckle, assuring him of your health.

The clicking of both of your shoes against the pavement is the only thing keeping his heart-beat at bay, his attention from focusing too much on the feel of your hand in his and the myriad of chemical reactions flooding his reward system.

When the coldness in your hand has been completely replaced with the warmth from his, you gesture to him that you’ve reached your destination.

He feels an unexpected reluctance in letting you go, something in his gut pushing him to hold on — but he ignores it.

You pause before opening the gates, glancing at him from over your shoulder.

He looks up in time to see your smile, it's not like all those times you’ve smiled before — no, no. This time, lilac petals cling to its corners.

Ratio covered his mouth with his hand, hiding the stupid curve of his lips from anyone's eyes. The lingering warmth from your hand finally allowed his heart to beat with fervor.

He wanted nothing more than to give you a bouquet of bluebells at that moment.

vii. Sfumato

The day Dr. Ratio returned to your side with the pledged bluebells, was beautiful.

The canopy of winter had begun to be swept aside as nascent leaves heralded spring, twitters of birds ornamented the breeze.

When fresh fountain ink meets parchment, it spreads with a thin halo of blue — the sky of that moment brought back this image in his mind. The sun found amusement in steering behind ivory clouds ; a cheeky, one sided game of hide and seek played with light and dark.

The sun made a mistake, a sidestep allowed rays to escape and fall on the lace ribbon of the bouquet.

Sun-glitter followed the lead of Ratio’s arm, over the arch of his wrist, finding their way from beneath the crevices of his fingers — shining, glimmering, as lapis petals caressed the tombstone.

How strange, didn't it usually rain and roar for scenes like these in those light novels of yours?

Veritas could not feel his breaths, it's as if the mechanisms of his respiratory system halted for that matter, he couldn't even feel his eyes flutter.

Idiocy.

He contemplated turning away altogether, what was he even thinking, bringing bluebells to the cemetery like a young lover?

A dead leaf crunched from his retreating step, the note stunning him in place.

Perhaps he should've brought the chopped off, bleeding excuse of a skull of that man — if only, if only if only any being, any listening existence in this wretched world would reassure him that it’d bring you back.

The scholar felt his fingers lax from their cocoon, but he knew, that would be impracticable. If a life for a life resurrected the other, his fingers wouldn't tremble in usurping that leverage and bringing justice to your final moments.

But he knew, oh how the erudite scholar despised knowledge for the first time in his life — that it’d soothe him, but leave a hollow far worse in his heart.

A sigh forced its way past his lips, onerous was its euphony. Windswept locks of violet poked at the way crystalline orange held onto the engraving on the silver stone ; the name, once his boon, now his bane.

Splinters of marble flew, papers, pens, innocent objects were tossed aside like fickle trash. Rouge flecked once pristine alabaster. Midst the carnage, a book fell betwixt Veritas’s path.

A withered daffodil lamented rationality’s fall.

Newspapers and channels boldly flashed the incident for a week — individual apprehended for the charge of murdering their ex-fiancé — before being swallowed by other, more fascinating pieces of events.

Ratio found himself scoffing at their tone, picking apart their every word and spacing, frowning at how quick people's interest moved on.

Indeed, the world waits for none. The ones lingering are always tormented.

With the last person in close association with you behind the bars of the psych ward and your acquaintances grieving, the scholar took it upon himself to deliver your files and belongings to your family.

But that decision turned out to be a lesson, the universe once again pointing out without mercy the mediocrity of his knowledge.

“Does that mean we’ll have to turn to the streets now?” whispered a little too loudly, a little too carelessly, your step-mother to your father.

Ignorance.

Perhaps Ratio’s disbelief had been too loud on his face, for your father shushed her quickly and attempted to smooth over the slip-up with a barely-strung lament.

But the scholar had learned what was to be surmised from this family, all of their next speeches effortlessly ignored by him.

So the reason you ultimately didn't quit your job was for them, Veritas's eyes dimmed. Feelings were never his forte, this messy heap of them he had no clue what to do with.

And the siblings you used to so dearly miss back in your university days? The second-oldest after you put back her headphones after he finished delivering the news and the youngest couldn't even recall your name.

Ratio seldom used the phrase, but it was truly a miracle he left that fetid establishment without causing damage.

He decided against disclosing your remaining belongings to them and instead, gave them away for charity as written in a journal he accidentally stumbled upon while sorting through them.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew this would happen.

But you refused to confide in anyone, tolerating the farce of a content life.

Ratio could not understand, did not even know where to begin in decoding what was going through your head when you lied to him and what had coerced him into believing it.

Of course you didn't leave them, that would've been too perfect and too merciful an end and clearly, the universe would not allow it. Of course he needed to be shown how much of an idiot he still is, the extent of his wishful thinking.

Ratio concurs he deserves it.

But did you deserve to meet such an end? No, your life shouldn't have been shaped this way to begin with! And yet, it had been.

For long did he stare off into vacant space, casting aside the need for slumber, attempting to answer what was to be done now. The silence beckoned him, that it was nothing.

Perhaps, you were at peace now at last.

Perhaps the craving for this serenity was what had prompted you from not fighting off that axe.

Perhaps, you had closed your eyes without any regrets.

When the haze in his head cleared a bit, he visited your grave again. Dust had gathered on the lifeless petals of the bluebells he’d left, the scholar tenderly rid them from the surface.

He dug a section beside your resting place and planted fresh asphodels. An elderly woman saw the scene in passing but did not comment, pity clung at the edges of her eyes.

Foolishness.

In fear of the tides of time burying the traces of your foot-steps, Ratio chased after them. The places you spoke so fondly of, the flowers and stories you cherished and the students you stood proud beside.

They spoke of your passion, your vision and your resilience to him.

They say, even a lifetime of ‘knowing’ someone is not sufficient in knowing them.

Although he’d known you for a miniscule timeframe, he squandered no effort in trying to understand you. Only at this juncture, did your nature become clear to him. You were an expert in keeping your lips shut, a seasoned performer of half-truths and no stranger to the art of survival.

It was no coy act, you trusted no one with your actual thoughts and motivations — that was the naked truth.

So then, it begs the question, what exactly did you try so hard to eradicate?

Supposing that this universe suffers from a common ailment, and it is so persistent, so adhesive, so elusive that it plagues the dullest to the most brilliant mind — that despite all attempts at curing it, only its surface has been scratched. And this truth had been so frustrating, even you could not stand back.

Ratio tapped his fingers against his desk, what other malady does an educator aspire to cure other than ignorance?

Foolishness? Idiocy? Stupidity? All synonymous, yet capable of clasping and corrupting irrespective of a person’s standing in the path of life.

To rid them, scholars, researchers and teachers attempt to disseminate knowledge with the vow of indiscrimination.

But Dr. Ratio knew, the oasis of knowledge is but a mirage in the desert of ignorance. For the populace to reach that base awareness, to recognize that mirage — that, is what is needed.

The scholar saw the early light of dawn from betwixt the crevices of his window, the hinges groaned as he pushed them open and for the first time — the sun embraced him and the shadows fell behind his form.

But the meteor that briefly illuminated his sky, is gone — as tends to be their destiny. He can do nothing but carry the memories of its glow.

—

Light glinted over the edge of the cone, approaching footsteps reminded the doctor to tuck it away from prying eyes.

Ratio tsk-ed upon feeling the absence of his headpiece, cracks on the alabaster had demanded a remake.

The scholar’s eyes met with the ones cradling the remnants of a bygone sunset, melting into hues of ocean blue.

“Doc! Didn't expect to see you here.” drawled an unfortunately familiar man. Ratio offered a blink in greeting.

“Yes, how astonishing it is to see a member of the Intelligentsia Guild in its corridors.” the doctor muttered plainly, the Stoneheart in the spotlight merely maintained his smile.

Ratio noticed his other hand to be occupied, “And what about you? Busy squandering your time as usual, gambler?”

Contrary to his expectations, the quirk of Aventurine’s lips widened as though he’d struck gold, he smoothed over the lapels of his suit. The erudite scholar subconsciously braced himself for whatever trick was to be brought next.

“Now now, it's not squandering if you're spending it with a dear person.” he winked.

Veritas caught a silhouette peeking from behind the blonde, “Meaning?”

“Ah, how uncourteous of me.” though there's a note of glee in his voice. “Allow me to introduce you to…”

Dr. Ratio observed as a figure emerged from Aventurine’s shadow, the passing question of how he hadn't noticed them sooner was pushed aside as they joined the Stoneheart in the spotlight.

“My dearest, precious jewel or— how did you prefer it again? Hmm I can't seem to remember~” an elbow to his side and huff broke through his theatrics ; the vacant halls gained life through laughter, petrichor bloomed in their notes.

“Just kidding, my bluebell.”

A meteor crossed the orbit of Ratio’s life again.

Thank you so much for reading!

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