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The bathwater was warm.
Warm like the desert.
Aventurine closed his eyes.
“I wonder about your family sometimes,” Ratio said. “The Sigonians were a very interesting people, and I wish I had more than one subject to learn from.”
He didn’t say, I know you miss them. He didn’t say, I wish I could give them back to you. He didn’t say, I could be your family, if you like.
“Yeah,” Aventurine laughed. “Yeah, I think about them too.”
They sat their in silence, and it was … comfortable. Aventurine felt … safe?
He hadn’t felt this way around anyone since his sister died. It made him laugh a little, to think it had really been that long. How many years now? How many years since he was last able to set down the mask and just … be himself?
Aventurine didn’t know.
“You’re crying,” Ratio said quietly. His thumb brushed Aventurine’s cheek, tenderly. As if one wrong touch would send Aventurine shattering. Maybe it would. Aventurine wasn’t sure anymore. He didn’t even know who he was now. He’d spent so many years pretending that he’d forgotten who he really was.
“Sorry,” Aventurine muttered. “I—I didn’t mean to cry.”
Ratio frowned. Aventurine looked away. He couldn’t handle seeing Ratio look at him with disappointment like that, as stupid as it was. Plenty of people had looked at him with disappointment before. Jade. His coworkers. Most people, he knew, really. They all expected something of him, and he could never seem to give it to them. It shouldn’t be different when it came to Ratio. It shouldn’t.
He wiped his eyes and held his breath.
“You can cry,” Ratio finally said. Aventurine looked at him in surprise.
Most people ignored him when he cried. Waved him off with the flick of a hand. It was easier for them to just not pay attention to it, and he’d thought Ratio would be the same. He was perfectly happy to ignore it, too.
Somehow, Ratio made all his emotions raw again. The mask he slipped on around everyone else seemed to falter and crack. It was weird, because he felt safe around Ratio. So shouldn’t he be happy?
Apparently, he’d muttered that last part aloud, because Ratio said, “Since you feel … safe around me, I believe your body is letting itself feel all the emotions you weren’t able to feel before.” He coughed into his fist.
“Oh,” Aventurine said quietly. “I guess that makes sense.” He laughed. “You’re smart, you know that, doctor?”
“I do,” Ratio said quietly. He sighed. “If … if you’d like, I could … hold you. If that might make you feel better.” They were in the bath, but Aventurine was lying next to Ratio, rather than in his arms.
Aventurine blinked in surprise. “Okay,” he said quietly, and he crawled into Ratio’s arms.
He felt … safe. Safer than he ever had. Ratio’s arms were warm. They squeezed him just the right amount, as if Ratio was protecting him from the outside world. As if he was saying, I won’t let anyone else but me see you like this.
“Kakavasha,” Aventurine said suddenly. “That’s my name. Kakavasha.”
It’d been so long since he’d said it. So long since he’d even thought of himself as Kakavasha. He’d thought Kakavasha had died a long time ago, but apparently not, because right now, Ratio was holding Kakavasha in his arms.
“Okay, Kakavasha,” Ratio said.
And Ratio cradled Kakavasha to his chest like he was a little kid again, running his hands through Kakavasha’s hair like his mother used to do.
Aventurine let himself cry. He let Kakavasha come out, because he felt safer than he had in a long time. And Ratio didn’t judge him, just held him silently and wiped his tears. And Aventurine thought, I love him.
Aventurine had thought that a lot of times, about many different men. It’d never been real before.
I love him, Kakavasha thought.
I’m sorry, Kakavasha, Aventurine thought as he cried silently. I’m sorry that this happened to you.
He buried his face in Ratio’s chest.
“I love you,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure if Ratio could hear him. Maybe he wasn’t ready for Ratio to hear him yet. But Ratio pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, and that was answer enough.
You feel like home, Aventurine thought.
It hurt, because no place would ever be home again. Or, at least, it wouldn’t be the same. But maybe Ratio could be a new kind of home, and that was okay. Maybe Aventurine was alright with it being that way.
Aventurine used to be terrified of love. Of really being loved for who he was. He was okay with being loved for his mask. Everyone did, of course. The mask was perfectly crafted for that purpose.
He didn’t know what to do when he was truly loved for who he was. What was he supposed to do when Ratio had seen all the ugly parts of him, and he still loved him? Most people would be turned away. It was so easy to scare them off just by showing them a little bit of what was underneath. But Ratio wasn’t like that. He’d seen everything, and he didn’t care.
He stayed.
“Don’t leave me,” Aventurine whispered. It was pathetic. So pathetic that he was terrified of being left now that he knew he couldn’t chase Ratio away before he was abandoned.
“I would never,” Ratio said firmly. “Who do you take me for, gambler?”
Aventurine looked up at him. Ratio was serious, as always. He could feel his face twist into something ugly and sad. Ratio cradled his face in his hands and kissed his forehead gently.
“I care deeply for you, Kakavasha,” Ratio said.
“Fuck,” Aventurine laughed. “How do you—do that?”
“Do what?” Ratio asked.
“Make me feel so safe.”
Ratio smiled softly. “It’s what you deserve,” he said.
Aventurine didn’t believe him, really. But maybe, someday he would. “Okay,” he said quietly, and let himself be held.
Let Kakavasha be held, safe in Ratio’s arms.