Chapter Text
“Can you hear me?”
The voice that greeted him through the phone was deep… grave and commanding, with an attitude that almost seemed haughty. It rumbled through his body like a rough whisper, settling low in his gut and startling him so severely that for a moment, Aventurine stopped.
It didn’t matter that the room was thick with the bitter tang of blood and gunpowder, nor that he was huddled beneath an overturned sofa, trembling from head to toe as he tried to pretend he couldn’t see the bodies cooling around him.
For one fleeting, absurd moment, all he could think about was how good that voice would feel, crooning filth into his ear…
“… Hello?”
The voice spoke again, its allure only heightened by the irritation growling through it.
“Ah—” Snapping himself out of his spiralling thoughts, Aventurine whispered breathlessly. “—y-yes…!”
“I’m the agent dispatched in response to your distress call,” the voice grunted, still brusque and divine like dark chocolate. “You may call me Ratio. Are you still in the conference room?”
Aventurine parted his lips, but instead of an answer, his breath rushed back into his throat.
Light had just spilled across the carpet. He could see it slicing through the darkness, exposing the streaks of crimson hidden among the shadows.
Two pairs of footsteps approached, their gaits measured, silenced… professional. He could see their rifles raised, the deadly muzzles of their weapons protruding from their broad-shouldered forms.
Aventurine held his breath. The single fallen pillow in front of him didn’t feel like nearly enough to hide him from sight, but he didn’t dare move. He could hear the faint clatter of their belts as they walked closer, and he could see the beam of their flashlights sweeping across the bloodied carpet.
… They were searching for survivors.
One of the flashlights flicked suddenly towards him, blinding him as its intense light spilled through the crack. Aventurine flinched, instinct tightening his muscles as he frantically willed himself to stay quiet.
Please… please…
He held his breath. He could feel the pressure inside his chest pushing down on his heart, forcing it to beat faster.
It sounded far too loud in the silence… his heartbeat. At this rate, it was going to give itself away.
The light hovered over his face, and the muffled footsteps thudded closer. Squinting through the light, Aventurine saw the reflective tip of a boot pause beyond the pillow, its thick soles sinking into the bloodstained carpet with a faint squelch.
It lingered there for a moment, pointed towards the overturned sofa… towards him. Then… it turned away.
The flashlight followed it, swivelling elsewhere in the room.
He almost gasped in relief. Biting his lip hastily, he held it in, mindful of the fact that he wasn’t exactly safe just yet.
In the prolonged silence, a voice sighed through his ear piece. It was terse with blatant impatience, and as it swept through his insides, Aventurine felt a shiver and the sudden deranged, giddy urge to giggle.
Grimacing, he hastily berated himself.
… No good.
He had to focus, or he’d end up like everyone else in the room—face-down in a pool of their own blood.
… This was supposed to be a secure event.
The Company was in the process of appointing a new Department Head, and the leading candidate had arranged for a confidential gathering tonight. It was a tight-knit, exclusive meeting in which the candidate would unveil his future plans for the Company. Only his most trusted executives had been invited, a select few handpicked for their loyalty and value.
Extreme measures had been taken to keep the meeting’s time and location a secret. Encrypted invitations, private channels, guarded escorts… security to the point of paranoia.
But that hadn’t stopped the assassins from breaking in and slaughtering everyone.
Whoever they were, they were professionals, and their orders were clear—leave no one alive.
The only reason Aventurine wasn’t already bleeding out into the carpet like everyone else was because… well, he tended to have luck on his side.
And he sorely hoped it was still on his side now, because the gunmen were rounding up their search, and they were being way too thorough for his liking.
The flashlight beam swept over his overturned sofa again, and this time, it stayed. As he was once again forced to squint against the blinding light, Aventurine tensed and tried to quell his pounding heart.
The light… it was stronger this time. He flinched against it, unable to bear its intensity as he heard the squelch of footsteps getting closer… and closer.
The boot… it was right there. Right on the other side of his pillow, a few inches from his face. He could smell the iron and filth crusted to its soles.
Shit. They were going to find him. They were definitely going to find him—
A loud, metallic crash suddenly tore through the silence—something had happened in the atrium outside.
Immediately, the boot stepped back, and every flashlight honed in on the open doorway. He saw the gunmen turn towards each other, their postures stiff and defensive, and he saw their hands raise in silent communication.
Then, one of them turned and left the room.
The other, the one with the bloodied boot… turned back towards him.
Unconsciously, Aventurine sucked in his breath. The faintest hiss escaped from his lips, and a frigid shudder seized his body as he realized his mistake.
Had they heard? He didn’t know. It didn’t matter. The boot inched forward, slipping between the gap in the pillow. One nudge and his only shield would fall, exposing his pale and terrified face to his soon-to-be reaper.
Fleetingly, Aventurine wished Ratio would speak again. Let it at least be the last thing he ever heard—
But no, he didn’t receive that privilege. What he heard was not a silky, suave growl, nor the sound of his own pained scream… but the crisp, unmistakable blast of a gunshot.
It had come from outside, and it was immediately echoed by a second, much louder explosion—the deafening ripple of glass shattering, high-pitched and violent, like a waterfall of diamonds pouring down from above.
What in the world was going on in the atrium?
The boot halted again. It only hesitated for a second before it turned and also sprinted out of the room.
Aventurine held his breath for a while longer. He almost couldn’t believe his luck.
“… Are they gone?”
A low voice rumbled through his headpiece, and he jerked so violently that he hit his head on the overturned sofa.
Wincing, Aventurine bowed over the carpet and finally allowed himself a sigh of relief. He didn’t answer immediately, instead first peering past the cushion and checking that he was truly alone.
“I… I think so…”
His mind tingled as he answered. What impeccable timing… how had Ratio known that the gunman had just left?
… The shot, he realized. That hadn’t been luck—the owner of this brusque yet dangerously attractive voice must have fired at the building and shattered an atrium window.
Ratio had just saved his life.
“How did you know?”
“Simple deduction,” Ratio scoffed. “I asked you a question. There was no other reason for you not to respond.”
His savior’s voice was slightly breathless, like he was running, or exerting himself somehow.
Aventurine felt a thrilling pang ripple through his groin. Damnit, he really needed to configure his priorities better—
“Well?”
Ratio spoke again, his tone expectant and annoyed.
Confused, Aventurine gazed blankly ahead instead of replying.
“… Your location,” Ratio explained flatly. “Are you still in the conference room?”
Oh, right. He still wasn’t any closer to safety.
“Uh, yes…”
“I’m on my way, but I’m still three blocks out.” Ratio’s voice crackled through the earpiece again, definitely out of breath now. “Can you stay alive for five minutes?”
Three blocks out? Aventurine felt a pang of intrigue. He must be a damn good shot.
“Ah, haha…” For some reason, he replied with a shaky laugh. “That depends.”
“Depends? On what?” Ratio seemed incredulous—and a tad annoyed.
“My luck, I guess.”
There was a long pause. Then, a frustrated sigh billowed through his earpiece.
“Don’t be absurd,” Ratio growled, his lovely voice dark with irritation. “I’m not putting your life in the arbitrary hands of fortune. Describe your surroundings to me. I’ll instruct you.”
A sharp pang rippled through his chest, distorting him in a very unfamiliar way. Aventurine paused, his mind blanking again as a painful warmth stung beneath his ribcage.
… It almost sounded like this stranger actually cared about keeping him alive.
Sucking in a shaky breath, Aventurine pulled himself together and crawled out from beneath the sofa. He rose to his feet, wincing as his knees stung, and lifted a hand to nudge his earpiece more securely back in place.
“I’m in the conference room,” he huffed. “Everyone’s still here… er, their bodies, I mean.”
He glanced at the shadowed lumps and quickly averted his gaze. Turning instead to the open door, Aventurine crept cautiously up to it, lowering his voice to a whisper as he pressed against the wall and snuck a peak outside.
“I don’t see or hear them. I think they’re gone… no, wait.”
He tensed. On the first floor of the atrium, a black-clad silhouette was striding across the luxurious granite floor, boots deftly crunching atop the shattered glass.
“Someone’s on the first floor… near the front door. I think they’re patrolling the exit.”
“Can they see the conference room?”
“Yeah, but only if they really look… it’s on the second floor, it’s pretty far away.”
“Good.” Ratio’s voice remained brisk and businesslike. “The conference door was open when they left, correct? It should have an electronic lock. Do you know how to operate it?”
“Yes.”
“Listen closely. When that patrolling guard has their back turned, I need you to leave the conference room, shut the doors, and lock it.”
“But then they’ll know that I’m—”
“They already know you’re alive,” Ratio interrupted grimly. “Why else would they still be searching?”
Aventurine hesitated, his fingers clinging to the cold painted wood of the door, his gaze lingering warily on the distant assassin.
An impatient sigh shoved against his ear.
“Aventurine.”
Another shiver rippled through his body, and this time it churned all the way into his fingertips. Startled, Aventurine blinked and let the stranger’s voice echo over and over in his head.
Did they tell him my name?
“… Do as I say. I won’t let you die.”
His hand slipped from the door. The gunman in the distance had just turned their back.
Immediately, Aventurine slipped out of the conference room. Squatting down to shield himself with the bannisters, he grabbed the metal door handles and carefully pulled the doors shut, then locked it with a few swift taps of its keypad.
“It’s locked,” he whispered, a faint tremor in his voice.
“Down the corridor on your right,” Ratio replied immediately. As Aventurine hastily set off, the man’s voice continued to instruct him. “There’s a service room about halfway down.”
“I see it.”
“Get inside.”
Slipping through the double doors, Aventurine turned and hurriedly scanned the room.
His gaze flickered over the space in an instant, tracing the corners and checking the shadows. No signs of movement, no objects out of place… he was alone.
This looked like a staff utility room. There were metal shelves with cleaning solvents, spare linens, and neatly folded uniforms, but also a kitchen, and a humble lounge further back. A frosted glass door stood behind the worn sofas, leading out to what must be a balcony.
Aventurine’s gaze lingered on the door for a second longer than necessary before the husky voice in his ear pulled him back.
“Service rooms tend to have large door handles. Is there anything you can use to barricade the door?”
“Um…”
Exhaling shakily, he swivelled his head around, sweeping the room one more time with greater anxiety. There was a laundry cart nearby—it was on wheels, but if he could wedge it against the door handles, it might slow them down.
He took a step towards the cart, reaching out and brushing its metal handle with his fingers—
“Hey!”
A shout, muffled but sharp in alarm, rang across the hallway.
Aventurine froze, gasping as his heart lurched into his throat.
“What is it?”
Ratio’s sharp voice cut through the tightness in his chest, forcing him back into motion.
Swallowing hard, Aventurine stumbled back to the door and pressed himself against it. He could hear thunderous footsteps… or was that just his heartbeat pounding in his ears?
“T-They noticed the conference door was closed. I can hear them running…”
Boots thundered against the floor, fast and heavy, closing in. His breath hitched, his hands growing cold and sweaty as he gripped the door handles and braced himself—
… only for the storm to pass.
Aventurine barely had time to sigh in relief before a violent quake rattled the walls. The metal shelves shook, and the laundry cart teetered closer, as though urging itself towards him. The impact had come from the conference room down the corridor, but it had been so violent that the entire hall had rumbled.
“They’re trying to break it open,” Aventurine whispered, stumbling back and eyeing the service door fearfully. Once those brutes realized he was here, he and that door wouldn’t last a second—
“Good,” Ratio grunted, sounding completely unfazed. “They’re wasting their time. Continue doing what I instructed—you need to barricade the door.”
… Right.
Forcing himself to move, Aventurine stumbled back to the laundry cart. Wheeling it over, he lodged it against the door handles, uttering pained grunts as his own fingers stung from the force of his desperate movements. Then, timing himself with the repetitive explosions nearby, he slammed his foot against the wheels of the cart until both the shiny leather of his dress shoes and the metal wheel casings were thoroughly dented.
The muffled crack of gunfire made him flinch. He squeezed his eyes shut, a whimper slipping from his lips before he could stop it.
A second bang reverberated through the walls, then a third, then a fourth—repeating over and over until the crisp gunshots gave way to an explosive, splintering crash.
They had broken through the conference door.
Aventurine stumbled away, gulping and uttering shallow, panicked gasps as he stared at his makeshift shield. It was… quiet. He knew that, but inside his head, it didn’t sound quiet.
“… Fan out!”
A coarse voice burst through the silence mere seconds later.
“He must be nearby!”
Shit.
Aventurine lifted his hand over his mouth, muffling his own quivering gasp.
“They know I’m not there.”
“It’s alright,” Ratio murmured in his ear. It was a lovely, soothing sound, but the comfort didn’t reach far.
He could hear the footsteps storming over. They weren’t trying to be stealthy anymore.
“They’re coming.”
“You’ll be fine.”
In front of his very eyes, the door handle turned. It struck the laundry cart and struggled there for a moment, locked in place.
Then… the entire door began to rumble.
“He’s here!”
Drawing in a sharp breath, Aventurine stumbled back. He looked around, searching vainly for something, anything, that might save him.
… But the room was barren.
“Ratio, where are you?”
His voice was a shrill, quivering plea. He could hear his own terror… he could practically taste it. Cold and metallic, pooling on the tip of his tongue…
“I’m almost there.”
Ratio’s voice swept into him softly, almost gently. Aventurine felt a strange pang as he was cradled within its warmth.
“Wait for me. The door will hold.”
But as another brutal impact shook the room, the laundry cart’s dented wheels screeched against the floor, and its metal frame began to bend and snap.
“It’s not going to hold, Ratio,” Aventurine heard himself blubber. “It’s not going to hold!”
“I can see the building. I’ll be there in thirty seconds.”
“Ratio, it’s—!”
An ear-splitting screech muffled his cry as the cart’s exposed metal legs gouged deep into the floor.
“Okay—listen to me.”
Ratio’s voice rose quickly, its tone sharp with urgency now.
“The moment that door gives, shove it back, hard. It will startle them—use that opening to knock their gun aside, away from you. Do not hesitate.”
“What?!” Aventurine wailed. “You want me to fight them?!”
“Precisely. You’re going to fight,” Ratio insisted, his voice grim but firm, commanding… reassuring. “You’re going to fight them with everything you have, so that when I arrive, I can look into your eyes, and you can look into mine, and we’ll finally see each other—alive. Do you understand?”
His knees trembled, and he began to utter a pitiful whimper—but that was all he was given time for.
The door quivered violently, and with a terrible screech, the laundry cart’s handle snapped.
Aventurine hurtled forward just as the door flew open, slamming his foot into it and shoving it back with all his strength. Lurching into the gap, the gunman cried out as they were brutally crushed against the frame. They didn’t even have the chance to fire.
But a second silhouette immediately shoved their way through. On pure instinct, Aventurine ducked and dove forward, slamming his hand against the bottom of their rifle and reeling it away. A gunshot exploded into the ceiling, littering dust and flakes of debris around them.
“Aventurine!”
A voice snapped at him, muffled beneath the ringing of his ears. Was it just his imagination, or did the stranger sound a little worried…?
The gunman’s leg came forward, connecting with his chest and slamming him back. Staggering into the room, Aventurine dove at them again, wildly flinging his entire weight at the man and sending both of them crashing into the laundry cart.
Clattering metal, haphazard gunfire, and the overpowering scent of detergent erupted around him. A mighty force bludgeoned into his ribs and he choked on impact, a ragged cry of pain bursting through his lips. He fought blindly, clinging to his shadowed predator with reckless disregard even as he was struck over, and over, and over.
He knew how to take a beating. But if the gunman managed to create enough space between them for a clean shot, Aventurine was pretty sure that even he wouldn’t survive a bullet to the face.
A fist skimmed viciously past his cheek. Twisting away, Aventurine grabbed the man’s arm and grappled awkwardly at it until he managed to hook his leg around his attacker’s.
A swift lurch of his ankle sent them both smashing into the ground. Through sheer coincidence, his elbow thrust itself into the man’s wrist during their haphazard fall, knocking the rifle free. Aventurine lunged after it, but fingers clamped down around his ankle and violently yanked him back.
He yelped as he was dragged across the floor. He could hear Ratio’s breaths catching in his ear, deep and gritted, hoarse with an unfamiliar emotion.
He flailed, struggling, fighting against the limbs coming down on his own. Raw cries tore from his throat, and he briefly wondered how all of this must sound to the stranger in his ear. His pitiful, agonized voice…
Without thinking, Aventurine rammed his knee up. The shadow above him uttered a terse grunt and promptly stiffened, the grip around his neck slackening just enough for Aventurine to strain his fingertips across the cold floor.
Scrabbling forward, he grabbed the rifle by its strap and yanked it over. With a final, desperate roar, he held the weapon tightly in both hands… and cracked it, hard, against the gunman’s skull.
The man crumbled on top of him.
Trapped beneath their weight, Aventurine gasped for breath. He stared up at the ceiling, the lights blinding and painful to his wide eyes, his entire body rigid with agony. His chest struggled to rise against the weight pinning him down, and his breathing was shrill and raspy, like an animal on its deathbed.
… He couldn’t move. It hurt. It hurt so much.
“Get up.”
A voice snarled in his ear, and in its frenzy, he almost didn’t recognize it.
“Get up!”
Fighting through his snivelling self-pity, Aventurine grimaced and dragged himself free. He struggled to his feet, grunting in pain as his body stung all over.
More footsteps were still racing down the corridor behind him. He barely registered the rifle slipping from his fingers as he turned towards the open door in horror.
“… They’re still coming.”
His whisper was numb and faint with hopelessness.
“They’re going to kill me.”
Aventurine backed away, stumbling as his heel struck something solid. Startled, he looked over his shoulder – and saw it again.
The balcony.
He could see shadows creeping towards the doorway. There was no time.
Shoving the balcony door open, Aventurine backed up into the cold night. He didn’t turn to look at what was outside. He’d rather not know.
“Ratio.”
He continued to walk backwards until he could feel the frozen railings digging into his spine.
“I’m going to jump.”
“What?” Ratio huffed sharply in his ear.
“There’s a balcony,” Aventurine said, his voice breathless but eerily steady. “You’re here, right? I’m going to jump. Catch me.”
“Are you out of your mind?!” The stranger didn’t hesitate to snarl. “What are the chances that—”
“You said you wouldn’t let me die, didn’t you?”
Closing his eyes, Aventurine tilted his face towards the shadowed sky. He breathed in the crisp air, relishing what might be the last time he could enjoy the breeze.
Ah, this sense of exhilaration… he knew it well. The inhale before a coin toss, the heartbeat before the dice hit the table. The thrill… and the terror… of an all-or-nothing gamble.
Smiling broadly, Aventurine spread his arms—
And let himself teeter over the banister.
“… I trust you, Ratio.”
There was no time to debate. No time to convince this reckless fool otherwise.
No time for anything but instinct.
Left with absolutely no other choice, Ratio gritted his teeth, braced himself… and lifted his arms blindly towards the sky.
This was insane. Completely, utterly, illogically insane. There was no scenario in which this should work. No equation where the probability of success was remotely favourable.
Ratio was a man of thorough and calculated decisions, and this… this was completely beyond his comprehension.
And yet—
Like some divine joke, a petite figure plunged from the heavens….
… straight into his awaiting arms.
The impact sent him stumbling back. He grunted, muscles straining as he quickly adjusted, tightening his embrace and swinging his burden around to disperse the momentum.
Their eyes met. They became still, even as the world continued to reel around them.
It was exactly as he had promised. They looked into each other's eyes, and they finally saw each other, alive.
… Beautiful.
It was an unconscious thought. An undeniable fact, a truth beyond worlds that he couldn’t refute, an inevitable fate that he couldn’t—wouldn’t—ever change.
The gaze that locked into his own shimmered with the vivid hues of the sky, the sea, and the dawn. Ratio could see the sharp gold shimmers of his own irises reflected within that radiant, kaleidoscopic stare, and he could see his pupils flaring as he became hopelessly, irrevocably… entranced.
He didn’t know this person.
But he had listened to him fight for his life. He had heard every sharp gasp, every pained whimper, every ragged cry, echoing intimately within his ears. He had raced desperately towards the distant glow, his throat clenched in frustration, his teeth grinding in desire… his heart pounding with inexplicable terror.
And now, this person whom he had wished so frantically to save… was right here. Alive. In his arms.
He had been dispatched to save this man, so of course Ratio had hoped for his safety. But what he had felt then, and what he was feeling now…
… Wasn’t it a bit…
… more than that…?
His gaze swept over the young man’s face, taking in his tousled blonde curls, his flushed cheeks, his glittering lashes… his brilliant eyes, in an awed stupor. Aventurine gazed back, his stare silent, but innocent with a strange kind of purity.
… As though he had known, without a doubt, that Ratio would catch him.
A gambler’s faith.
An absurdly childish thought invaded Ratio’s mind. Standing here, beneath the balcony of a grand building with such a gorgeous person in his arms… he felt like a knight who had just rescued their princess.
He was saved from his own mortification by the sound of footsteps thundering overhead. Snapping back to their present circumstances, Ratio huffed and quickly stepped beneath the shadow of the balcony. He waited there, cradling Aventurine securely against him, their breaths held and their hearts pounding against each other.
He focused intently on the danger above, struggling not to be distracted by the precious warmth huddled against his chest.
The footsteps circled the balcony, and the railings creaked beneath a heavy weight. The gunman had leaned over the banister and was scanning for them.
The silence stretched for quite a while before it was finally broken by a muffled curse. The muffled thumping of boots faded away, and the world tentatively eased back into a terse silence.
… Ratio released his breath first. Aventurine followed his lead a half-second later.
As the young man’s relieved sigh warmed his nape, Ratio felt a strange shiver. Their eyes promptly locked together again, and his body stiffened as it was locked down by contrary desires.
He wanted to look away, to free himself, to hide his overwhelming fluster.
He wanted to gaze into these eyes until the end of time.
Inadvertently, Ratio’s expression scrunched up in a disgruntled frown. For some reason, in response, the beautiful young man offered back a radiant grin.
“Haha…”
Those were the first words he heard from the man—in person, not through an earpiece… the first words he had ever felt Aventurine whisper against his lips.
And as Ratio should have expected… they were every bit as ridiculous as the gambler himself.
“Oh, no… you’re even hotter than I imagined.”