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Chapter Text

"Thank you all for your attention, and a special thanks to Mr. Ratio for the presentation. Very informative and, as always, top-notch," – Veritas himself said nothing in response to the outright flattery, exiting from behind the lectern with a stony face. – "All works that haven't been demonstrated yet will be checked in the next class."

Aventurine surveyed the audience with an empty gaze. Topaz, snuffling beside him, showed the first signs of life only when Veritas particularly loudly slammed shut a worn-out book that had clearly seen his parents in this academy in their better days. The other students bustled about, gradually leaving the room. She, however, stretched widely and smacked her lips contentedly.

"I'm gonna hang myself if I don't have a smoke," Aventurine stated displeasedly, gathering his things into his bag and anticipating the long-awaited end of the class. Days like this had already become simple routine. A four-hour sleep; a critical lack of lifesaving cigarettes in his pocket; and, defying circumstances, a perfectly completed home project that he had presented today, one of the first.

"I'm starting to think his speeches are bad for your lungs," she nodded towards Ratio, then noticed the bruises under his eyes, vainly hidden by cheap foundation. "And they provoke suicidal tendencies. Did you even sleep this week?"

"Sleep is a privilege for the rich." Topaz shook her head, handing him a worn lighter and was about to add something, but from the other end of the auditorium came the voice of the professor, who until that second had been vigorously discussing something with Veritas. Or rather – with his proud and displeased face.

"Aventurine, could you also come here for a moment?" Squeezing between Topaz and the desk, he smiled widely and slung his bag over his shoulder, walking measuredly closer and almost colliding with Veritas, who was striding widely out of the auditorium. Aventurine watched him with a attentive gaze but said nothing. Seems someone definitely got out on the wrong side of the bed.

"You wanted something?"

"Yes, first I'd like to note that your presentation today was wonderful, very interesting work," a displeased sigh was heard at the auditorium exit, and it didn't take a genius to figure out who it belonged to. "But..."

"But?" he ran his thumb pad over a row of golden rings again, as he did every time he anticipated bad news.

"You are already aware of the reduction in budget-funded spots at our academy, I assume? As far as I know, you should have received an email."

"Yes, and it said the reduction would be insignificant and I wouldn't be affected if I keep up the good work," he closed his eyes, expressing absolute, unshakable calm, and most importantly – confidence in his own skills and eloquence.

The professor clasped his hands in front of him, looking at the invariably radiant smile and provocative appearance. Sighing heavily and taking off his glasses, he handed him a sheet of paper.

"A new decree came from the dean's office yesterday. For next year, there are only three budget spots left, and unfortunately, you are not on that list."

Lovely.

"Oh, interesting. And who, may I ask, is included?" – from behind came quiet shuffling from Topaz, who hurried to retreat from the auditorium, away from the time bomb that was the tired – she had understood that perfectly well since morning – Aventurine.

"Mr. Ratio, and Sunday with his sister."

"Oh, that's just wonderful! After all, budget spots were created precisely for such students, right? Such generosity from the academy can't help but cause delight," not a bit of sincerity was heard in his voice. Fatigue, innate charisma, and a desire to finally have a fucking smoke? Perhaps.

"I sincerely understand your concerns, but... These students have put in no less effort than you throughout the year. It's just that their GPA and participation in certain projects exceed your indicators."

Leaning his hands on the desk, Aventurine bent down a little closer.

"How much time do I have?"

"Until the final list is formed, there are four months left. You have the opportunity to team up with stronger students for the final competition project, which could attract the attention of potential sponsors to our academy. Moreover, it will also increase your chances of success."

"Stronger" – echoed in his head as a personal insult, but he just shrugged. All these years he had managed to stay in the top of the academy's best students, and yes, undoubtedly, he had been lucky in many ways. He was lucky and valued his luck an order of magnitude more than his own health and physical capabilities. Anyone besides him knowing about this was completely unnecessary. A bright, shining, and honey-perfumed image fit perfectly into the concept of an exemplary and self-confident exchange student from the Faculty of Graphics and Design. The kind you're used to seeing in pictures, at academic exhibitions, who wouldn't raise unnecessary questions. He was really lucky. Just lucky to be in the right place at the right time to fight his way from scratch to the strongest group in their year.

"Magnificent! Well, I'm sure I'll manage on my own, as always. Thanks for the lecture, the information, and have a wonderful day,” smiling sweetly, Aventurine pushed himself off the desk with his hands, turning his back and feeling in his pocket for the lifesaving, but rather crumpled, like himself, pack of Richmond.

"I still recommend you listen. You need to find a partner for the project in the coming days. Doing such a large-scale work for an international competition alone will be almost impossible to achieve the results you need. I sincerely wouldn't want the academy to lose such a talented student in his final year."

"Don't worry, Professor. You won't lose me."

He had been lucky up until this day.

***

In their favorite spot, as always, there was almost no one. Aventurine knew perfectly well where to find the still sleepy but already quite talkative Topaz with a cup of strong espresso and a half-smoked cigarette. On the exhale, he leaned his back against the facade next to her, extending his palm in a silent request, immediately feeling the familiar cold metal of the lighter with funny golden pigs and a lukewarm latte. With caramel syrup, of course.

Only when the third drag rolled softly down his throat, allowing him to forget for a moment about the numerous projects he still had to prepare, did a warm palm pat his shoulder friendly.

"So, is it that bad?"

"Well, how to put it," he took another drag, dropping the bag from his shoulder. "In theory, if I push hard, there's still a chance to pull the situation out. The question is – for the right result."

"So you're not planning to work in a pair?"

"Haha, yeah right, I can just see the richest boys of our academy lining up to work in the same team with some dubious Sigonian and give up their budget spot to him."

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly, nudging the relaxed Aventurine with her elbow in the side.

"I'm serious, if there's a threat of expulsion, why not step over your pride and try to talk at least to Veritas?" Topaz shook off the ash and crossed her arms on her chest, holding the paper cup with her fingers. "As far as I know, he may bitch endlessly about everything, but he's on the student council and advocates for quality education for all students. Plus, your portfolio is excellent, he won't have valid reasons to refuse you."

"Should I remind you how I foolishly stole his project in the first year? He'll strangle me with his laptop bag strap faster than I can say hello."

"Okay, fine. Sunday?"

"He just scares me," Aventurine laughed nervously, looking around the spring-greening campus yard. "Are you sure he doesn't eat babies?"

"You're not a baby."

"Fair."

Closing his eyes, he took the last, particularly cloying drag and stubbed out the cigarette, throwing it into the nearest bin. Topaz's attentive gaze had been continuously burning a hole in his shoulder blades all this time, so, turning around, Aventurine raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, innocently tilting his head to the side. Golden strands slid disobediently down his neck, revealing an old tattoo that wasn't particularly hidden and a pendant with the eponymous green stone. Sometimes from the side he looked so carefree and relaxed that no one would even think that something could go wrong.

"Okay, okay, I heard you. What about you, have you started on that advertising design project? Chosen a theme?"

"Yes, Swan and I decided to develop branding for an esoteric goods store."

Aventurine snorted and then burst out laughing, leaning his forehead on his friend's shoulder so he wouldn't completely lose it.

"It’s so stupid."

"Why is it stupid?! I think it's a great idea. That's popular now, and there are plenty of ideas for implementation. You have zero so far."

"I'm still searching for inspiration," he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, happily finding the flash drive with his drafts that he had lost just yesterday.

"Bullshit – your inspiration. It doesn't exist," Topaz stated bluntly, accurately throwing the empty cup into the bin. "Only deadlines, coffee, and a burning ass."

A short friendly chat definitely brightened up these sleepless days. Even though today's shift at work was relatively calm, the abundance of bets he had to take that night still blurred before his tired eyes. He needed to get some proper sleep once he made it to his room.

A sudden shove to the shoulder knocked him out of his own thoughts, and the remains of the undrunk coffee in his hand hopelessly soaked his colorful shirt, unbuttoned at the top four buttons.

"Oh, peacock, I didn't even notice you. You usually glitter in the sun like a cheap Christmas tree ornament with rhinestones, but here you are all dull. Something happen?"

Aventurine calmly brushed the still unabsorbed moisture from the fabric and his fingers, temporarily handing the cup to Topaz. The trademark smile didn't leave his face – on the contrary, he bestowed it upon the girl passing by.

"I never thought poor coffee would be to blame for something now."

"Agreed, and yet evil fate decreed that it ended up in the hands of a lying Sigonian. What a pity."

"Oh, now I recognize the good old Hanabi," he took the cup back, businesslike finishing the remains of the coffee.

"Heard they cut the budget spots. Unpleasant," she shifted her gaze to the academy building, and then – with even more venom – back to his face, hidden by the glare on the pink lenses of his sunglasses. "Well, no need to be upset, I'm sure you can find a place for yourself somewhere else. Even in a stained shirt, they take people for escort work. You won't need it there."

"I'll definitely consider the offer, that's so sweet of you."

After exchanging a couple more fake smiles, they finally parted ways, and Topaz stated with a creak: "Well, that was an informative dialogue. Can't say anything," looking over her shoulder and making sure Hanabi had indeed turned the other way, she rolled her eyes tiredly. "Wash that shirt, though, I liked it. Even though I can practically see your nipples in this cleavage."

They walked the rest of the way to the dorm in silence. Topaz didn't need to be a medium to understand that Aventurine had had enough for today. No matter how he peacocked and proved otherwise. To constantly risk, place bets – often on himself – and create a convenient, profitable image for a higher goal – had become a habitual rhythm of life for someone like him. The very last thing he wanted was to miss the chance to break out of the endless series of wanderings through the streets, games of trust with those who were definitely not worth trusting, and poverty that goes hand in hand with those left alone with their miserable lives. Therefore, no matter what, he had to claw his way into the university next year, otherwise what was the point of all this.

Already standing by the door to the room with the well-known plaque and the number "666" – which Aventurine himself considered happy, contrary to the superstitious students – he heard music. Fortunately, he and his neighbor had similar tastes and no disagreements on that matter. Relaxedly stumbling into the room and unbuttoning the few remaining buttons of the stained shirt on the go, he immediately bumped into Sampo, who was carelessly sprawled on the bed.

"Ooh, a busy day, I see?" he looked at him from below, noting the damage to the shirt and the general disheveled appearance of his neighbor.

"Yeah, very. Send Hanabi my regards when you see her," Aventurine dropped the bag from his shoulder and, stretching his neck, threw the dirty shirt nearby, finding a comfortable but even more revealing alternative in the closet. Quietly jingling the jewelry on his neck and hands, he lightly put the dry fabric on himself.

"Oof, so it was her who did that to you?" Sampo sat up on the bed, turning the music on the player down a bit. "Well, I can only offer my sincere condolences. That she-devil will only back off if she gets her way."

"Sorry to disappoint her, of course, but I'm not planning on escort work," Sampo's eyes bulged in surprise. "I'm gonna go throw the shirt in the laundry. Don't miss me."

Sending a joking air kiss over his shoulder, he confidently swung the door open, immediately catching first the gaze of a hand raised for an unfulfilled knock, and then its owner, who miraculously dodged so the door didn't hit him in the face.

"Veritas?" he chuckled nervously. "What are you doing here?"

Ratio focused his brows towards the bridge of his nose, momentarily leaning back to check the room number and make sure he had the right address.

"Koski, you here?" he said into the depth of the room, absolutely ignoring Aventurine standing right in front of him.

Sampo appeared between them a second later, immediately putting on his trademark smirk and striking the pose of a young entrepreneur.

"O-o-oh, Veritas Ratio himself has graced us, ha-ha!"

"Let's skip the empty talk. Here's the money," at the sight of Ratio handing Sampo a third of Aventurine's monthly earnings with an absolutely impassive face, he felt like clutching his heart.

"Op! And here's the goods. Pleasure doing business with you!" Sampo handed him a completely unremarkable gray box that no one would pay proper attention to. Especially considering it was in the hands of one of the most diligent and meticulous students of the academy. But Aventurine had been his neighbor for too long not to be perfectly aware of its contents.

"Wait," Aventurine approached again, pushing Sampo aside. "Are you buying weed from him? You?!"

Ratio frowned at such a loud statement, immediately pulling Aventurine by the elbow into the corridor and closing the room door behind them.

"I wonder when you will finally stop sticking your long nose into other people's business?" his eyes slid lower, disapprovingly noting yet another provocatively colorful rag that he considered clothing. "And into other people's projects."

"Come on, we've been through this already, and I even apologized," Aventurine patted him on the shoulder, flashing a smile. "Also, you can stop addressing me formally. You know, it's a bit scary, considering we're the same age. But if you have such peculiar kinks, then..."

"I would prefer not to address you at all," ignoring the taunt and continuing to drill into him with a heavy gaze through the reading glasses he forgot to take off after class, he added: "And it's easier to keep distance that way. Don't think it's out of great respect."

"Wouldn't dream of it," – Aventurine raised his palms in front of himself, innocently tilting his head to the side. "By the way, your nose in profile seems no less long and expressive. Won the genetic lottery, hm?"

Ratio sighed heavily and bent lower, almost matching his height. Peering intently into the irises shimmering with a neon-purple glint, he pursed his lips with dislike: the familiar cloying-cigarette trail immediately unpleasantly hit his nose, causing him to involuntarily squint. Gold, gold, more gold, and falsity – all of it mixed together painfully assaulted Veritas's sight, accustomed to calm shades. In his eyes, Aventurine seemed the complete opposite of what in design is called color balance.

And yet, suppressing remarks about his appearance at the very root because he absolutely didn't want to linger here for long, Ratio whispered barely audibly:

"No need to announce to the whole wing what I was doing here. It's in your own interests, Aventurine, because otherwise – the entire dean's office will come running to see what's here,” he nodded towards the slightly ajar door to their room, where the rustle of banknotes could be heard – obviously, Sampo was overjoyed.

The awkward pause lasted exactly until Ratio finally deigned to release his elbow from the firm grip, simultaneously hiding the box in an empty laptop bag. He silently turned to leave, not uttering another word, leaving behind only the smell of expensive cologne.

Aventurine watched him, or rather the bag, with an interested gaze and, shrugging, turned in the opposite direction, finally reaching the laundry room. He definitely had a few questions for Sampo, but for now, he didn't care. The main goal for the next few hours – was to bury his face in the pillow and kick the haughty antique profile, his own academic performance, and his good-for-nothing neighbor out of his head. Enough.

***

The annoying vibration from an endless series of notifications made him groan displeasedly into the pillow and pry open his left eye. The screen showed ten PM, which meant it was time to get his ass up and get to work on the assignments he had to prepare for tomorrow.

The notifications continued to pour in insistently one after another, and now he had to force himself to open the second eye to at least be able to properly see what Topaz so persistently wanted to tell him. It didn't take long to guess who the sender was.

Topazasaurus:

Well?

Stop sleeping there, are you coming or not?

She'll just gather everything up now, and spread about a long and wealthy life for you

Aventurine re-read all twelve messages three times, sincerely trying to understand what long, let alone wealthy life she was talking about. Something about her neighbor, about tarot, women's intuition, and about a concept non-existent in his life like "free time."

Aventurine:

what for

Topazasaurus:

What do you mean "what for"? Get your ass over here, quick, I'll explain everything on site.

Curfew at the academy had long ceased to be a weighty argument for Topaz to refuse a nightly adventure. Perhaps if he made her understand that he still had a dozen mockups to do and needed to finish the damn poster by tomorrow—she would accommodate him. But the moment his finger hovered over the keyboard, his excuse was cut off at the root:

Topazasaurus:

 I know perfectly well you're not working today, and you won't sit down to study until midnight, god willing, so don't even try.

And don't bother trying to rope Sampo into it, he owes me money, by the way.

Receiving a few more kick-in-the-ass stickers right after, he finally sat up on the bed. Pulling himself together and pulling on the first shirt he found, already sitting on the windowsill, Aventurine patted his pockets, feeling for a pack of cigarettes. Carefully jumping down and landing immediately on the soft grass, he lit a cigarette, scanning the area for anyone who might spot him. The campus was blissfully quiet at this time, the silence broken only by the nocturnal rustle of leaves. Aventurine sometimes liked to sneak out for walks like this before his work shift, while he still had the chance to be alone with himself and his favorite personal demons before having to listen for hours on end to loud bets and the dissatisfied shouts of clients when they failed. The women's dorm was just a stone's throw away, but the prospect of being the subject of *their*—hers and Swan's—little girls' night in made him slow his pace slightly. Aventurine took a few more deep drags, and the cloud of smoke he exhaled suddenly reminded him of what had happened near their room a few hours ago. He'd never believe in a million years that someone like Ratio, who wrinkled his nose in displeasure at any strong smell within a kilometer radius, smoked weed. It was easier to believe he'd lost a bet to someone, but the only way to find out would be to ask directly. Definitely not an option for him. Spotting the familiar window with its dim light, the glass still adorned with those faded pig stickers he'd laughingly stuck on crookedly back in their first year as a consolation prize for Topaz losing a card game, Aventurine stubbed out his cigarette. Three quiet knocks with his knuckles—and it swung open immediately.

"Where have you been for so long?" Topaz reached out a hand, helping him climb from the street into the room, preferably without breaking anything. Including his legs.

"Just... contemplating my future startup."

She skeptically raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips dismissively, expressing sincere disbelief, and, more importantly, the experience gained from her long association with Aventurine.

"Smoking, were you?"

"Yeah," he shrugged unequivocally, finally jumping inside.

In the room, he was met by Swan's intent gaze; she was already shuffling tarot cards with gusto, sitting at a small black table surrounded by candles.

"Ah! Ha-ha, I see," he gave her a friendly smile and immediately turned back towards the window. "Well, I'll—"

"Stay put," Topaz intercepted him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him back. "Sit down here."

"So, what's all this for?"

"Swan said she can interpret your fate and see what's in store for you through the cards," Topaz nodded in her direction, finally maneuvering Aventurine onto a chair. "People usually pay money for this, but I worked it out for today."

"Funny, it works exactly the same way at the casino," he glanced over the impressive and expensive-looking black deck. "But at least there you can earn real money."

Swan gave a silent chuckle at such a bold statement, looking into his skepticism-filled eyes and lighting some incense.

"One hundred and fifty thousand credits."

"Per month? Pff, as if that's impressive."

"Today."

He might have to reconsider his attitude towards esotericism and everything related to it. And, more likely, he'd have to do it right now, looking at her triumphant expression. The heavy scent of incense sticks filled his lungs. Topaz turned off the main light, leaving only a warm string of fairy lights and a dim nightlight for atmosphere. Swan returned the cards to her hands, demonstratively shuffling them right under his nose, as if she knew in advance that she held all the trumps. And it sincerely discomforted him that the trumps were currently in someone else's hands.

"Ask a question."

"Such as?" he didn't take his eyes off her face.

"What worries you? Topaz said you've been having some problems with your admission for next year. If you're interested in how things will turn out in that direction, I can read the possible outcome from the cards."

He crossed his arms over his chest, reflexively shielding and defending himself from the impending soul-searching. The confident smirk opposite him gleamed with anticipation.

"Alright, will I manage to get in next year if I put in all the effort?"

She immediately focused on the deck and quickly switched all her attention to the scenes and images flashing before her eyes as she drew one card after another, placing them face up towards Aventurine. Topaz whistled in amazement but immediately covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to interfere. Just as he focused all his attention on the colorful but rather obscure images, a fourth card suddenly fell from the deck, its corner tapping quietly on the table and covering the one depicting the Seven of Pentacles.

Swan held a studying gaze on it for a moment and, with a smirk, set it aside, looking back at Aventurine.

"Well, what can I say... Should I be honest or soften it somehow?" at this phrase, she looked up at Topaz, who was bursting with curiosity.

"Give it to me straight."

"Honestly, this is the worst spread I've seen in the last three months. I'm absolutely delighted," she clasped her hands together, watching his reaction with relish. "You've managed to gather both the Nine of Swords and the Ten of Wands. Are you sure you sleep at all?"

Aventurine shook his head with a smile, still not taking anything said seriously.

"You wouldn't believe it!" he tapped his fingers on his forearms, habitually spinning his rings. "I was doing exactly that just half an hour ago."

Black Swan focused her gaze again, but now specifically on the third card. Pinching it between her index and middle fingers, she waved it gently in front of his nose.

"Unfortunately, even all your efforts won't be quite enough. There's total failure here, inflated self-expectations, and chronic fatigue. In my hand," she nodded towards the card, "is the reversed Seven of Pentacles. It means you're expecting something grand and sincerely believe you can deceive yourself and everyone around you, hoping to get the desired fruits of your labor, but..." She made an exaggerated clicking sound with her tongue, as if she had a candy in her mouth that turned out to be too sour. "Anyway, I don't want to upset you, but all three cards say you're in deep shit."

Aventurine spread his hands, pursing his lips and looking boredly at the watch face on his wrist. He hadn't expected anything impressive, so why be surprised?

"This is all very interesting, of course, the pictures are nice, by the way," he picked up one of the cards, causing Swan to frown disapprovingly. "But if you knew how often people have written me off in my life and how often I've been in that very deep shit—you'd cry. But here I am. Still here. Isn't that luck?"

"You can't justify everything with luck. All events are a combination of factors that led you to where you are now," she snatched the card from his hand, brushing off invisible dust. "You can pretend to be whoever you want, it's your right. But I'd think about it."

"And what do you suggest?"

They exchanged conspiratorial glances with Topaz, who had somehow managed to bring herself another chair and sit down nearby, examining the cards laid out on the table with interest.

"If you noticed, when I was shuffling, another card flashed by. This one," she held out a plain-looking card depicting a reversed Wheel of Fortune. "Usually, I don't account for cards that just fall out like that before a proper spread, but in my opinion, this card suits you very well."

"And what does it mean?" a brief flash of interest in his eyes didn't go unnoticed.

"This is the Wheel of Fortune, and it often speaks of significant changes for the better. However, given that it just fell out nearby, and reversed at that, I wouldn't rush to hasty conclusions, but I would take it into account in a second spread. Shall we try again?"

"I need to smoke..."

"Oh, be patient, come on!" Topaz pinched his thigh weakly, eliciting a displeased "ouch" from him.

"Come on, maybe about relationships?"

He shrugged, realizing further resistance was futile. Topaz's eyes were too ablaze.

"Alright, mirror, mirror on the wall," he drawled theatrically, peering into Swan's rolling eyes. "Will anyone share my bed in the near future?"

"Is only sex on your mind?"

Aventurine laughed quietly, as if his little mischief wasn't appreciated by the adults. But catching her still serious gaze, he added: "Not only."

Swan nodded and, deftly gathering all the cards laid out on the table, began to shuffle them. This time, nothing extra fell out, but it seemed solely because she was extremely focused.

"Ha-h, well, would you look at that," the familiar Wheel card flashed before their eyes again. "I gather you take all aspects of your life as a game of roulette? Funny."

New, now unknown cards lined up in a row, awaiting their interpretation.

"I want you to choose one more yourself. Just don't touch them with your gilded little hands, just point."

He reached out his hand, randomly pointing his finger at one almost at the very edge. Swan smiled contentedly, as if Aventurine had chosen exactly what she had wanted most from the beginning.

"Seriously, The Lovers?" Topaz interjected, peering closely at the last card. "How can you possibly combine The Tower and The Lovers? Who am I even talking to..."

"What's wrong with The Tower?" he glanced at the indicated card, trying to find the trick and sighing discontentedly. "It's much simpler in poker."

"In order," Swan cut in, pointing her finger at the very first card. "The Wheel of Fortune again, and again a chance to change something. Given that the card is not reversed now, things are much better. I'd even say that these very relationships will help you return your 'wheel' to the correct position. Next, we have... The Tower."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Aventurine prepared himself in advance to listen with sincere disbelief to another song about his "pitiful fate."

"The Tower symbolizes sudden destruction and upheaval. The foundation is literally being knocked out from under your feet, making your position fragile. And considering the question was about relationships, it looks very amusing."

"Very glad I could amuse you," Aventurine playfully inclined his head, continuing to demonstrate his indifference.

"So, next comes the Three of Pentacles, and in it I see a very clear mutual benefit between partners. It's like... you'll do each other a service or make a deal. But if we also consider The Lovers card, which you, by the way, drew yourself, then this 'service' could take a very interesting turn," she giggled, changing the position of the incense, which suddenly started smoking right in their faces. "A service... Sex for money, or what?"

Topaz rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. The temptation to pinch him somewhere more sensitive grew with every second.

"I'm going to hit you."

"You can't hit me, I'm pretty."

"Since when has that ever stopped anyone?" she exhaled tensely but still postponed her immoderate desires for later, letting Swan finish.

"In your case, it looks like complicated business relations, gradually evolving into something more. You will inspire each other, help in some ways, and perhaps even... protect each other?" Swan tapped her nails quietly on the table, trying to gather her thoughts and piece all the puzzle pieces together. "But don't forget The Tower; your partner, um... seems like a complicated person to me. To put it mildly."

"Interesting," Aventurine looked at the last card with the naked lovers with genuine excitement in his eyes. "Can I find out his name?"

"No, of course not, I'm not a wedding agency. These are just hints from fate, nothing more. You need to figure out everything else yourself."

The cards lay on the table, looking provocatively at the one for whom they were all intended. Truth be told, all this nonsense seemed to Aventurine to be nothing more than a way to have fun, test his luck, and place a bet, just like the people did at the bookmaker's office where he currently worked part-time. Only this bet wasn't money, but a human fate. The spot near the old tattoo on his neck suddenly itched phantomly, making Aventurine involuntarily cover it with his palm and look away. Whether this was truth or still a lie—he had absolutely no desire to delve deeply into such superstitions. Especially if they weren't the cards in his own hand.

"Well, this was all very interesting and fascinating. Thanks for the spoilers to my life, so to speak," he rose from the chair, stretching and nodding towards the window. "But I think I'll go."

"You forgot to pay."

The expression on Aventurine's face as he turned to the silently triumphant Swan was worthy of a true film adaptation, because surprise, quiet laughter, and a frozen challenge in his eyes all mixed together on one face. Topaz bit her lip, coughing nervously and recalling: "But you said you wanted to try doing a free spread for him, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, so I'm not asking for the first one. But the second one wasn't part of the plan," she shrugged carelessly. "I could be resting and minding my own business, but instead I was divining your intended one."

Topaz was about to say something, but Aventurine silently placed several large bills on the table. And it was definitely a bit more than what she had expected.

"Any work should be paid for," he smirked, already sitting on the windowsill and deftly rolling the second-to-last cigarette from the pack between his fingers. "Ah, and keep the change. A tip for a quality performance."

By the time he returned, Sampo was already gone from their room—a usual occurrence, as he always had some urgent business at night, the kind nobody would likely do in broad daylight for obvious reasons. Instead, on the desk next to the laptop stood a can of energy drink and a note in careless handwriting.

«Since you're still putting up with me and some of my clients, here's a consolation prize. Good luck with your projects, fellow!»

Aventurine opened the laptop, laid out the sketchbook that had seen some shit in its life where he sketched ideas while working, and, spraying the merciful can near his lips, took a large gulp.

He wasn't used to disregarding hints from Lady Fortune, and especially not to underestimating all possible risks, of which there were plenty in his life.

If Swan's words held even a drop of truth, then perhaps he could try to turn the situation to his advantage, even if with difficulty, by deciding to work on the competition project in a team, not alone. After all, that's exactly what the cards feared, wasn't it?

Leaning back in his chair, he began to think about who from the rather short list was even worth dealing with. The answer flashed in his mind as self-evident.

Well, then he should start with Sunday.

Chapter Text

This time, Topaz decided to play it safe and simply didn't show up for classes, sparing Aventurine's notebook-pillow and, obviously, catching up on sleep after yesterday's spiritualistic obscurantism, which, in all likelihood, had continued even after he'd left. This simple and concise conclusion was further supported by the absence of Swan herself from the lecture hall. But, just in case, to confirm his suspicions, Aventurine had already managed to send Topaz a few messages and, of course, received nothing in reply except for a sticker of a coffin. Well, that was certainly… clear.

The unfortunate yogurt advertisement poster had to be finished by hook or by crook yesterday, so, having sprawled out on the back desks, he was already actively working in Photoshop, cursing the damn lagging program from time to time. He desperately wanted aromatic coffee, a warm blanket, and nerves of steel for the deadlines breathing down his neck.

He was swamped with work today, and besides the unfinished homework, he still had to figure out the partner search. Sunday hadn't appeared in the classroom yet, but a very, very dubious "Plan B" had shown up in person, who, sitting calmly on the windowsill, was finishing an apple while holding some bulky book. In moments like these, their photography teacher from the first year would always say: "If you notice something — take a picture, just in case." He always got top marks in digital photography, and Aventurine still habitually followed those tips.

Interesting, was it his hobby to come here at the crack of dawn and read ostentatiously in front of those with burning deadlines, or was the rich kid really that bored in the mornings that he had to get so creative?

Catching himself staring at Veritas for a good three minutes, he hurried to snap himself out of his empty musings, because a mock-up won't finish itself. Returning to the chaotic keyboard shortcuts and layer switching, Aventurine hoped to make it at least by the start of the lecture.

He put on his headphones and, turning on an album of his favorite tracks, started tapping his foot rhythmically on the floor, speeding up his work pace and gradually lifting his fighting spirit, which still hadn't recovered from yesterday. It seemed Veritas managed to snort disapprovingly and leave the classroom, as reading to the sound of someone's stomping isn't very comfortable, but right now, Aventurine couldn't care less. Deadlines-deadlines-deadlines.

By the time a good portion of the classroom had filled with students no less sleepy than he was, the file had finally been successfully exported to the flash drive. Aventurine exhaled triumphantly, closing his eyes, swollen from lack of sleep, and leaning back in his chair. It was a shame he hadn't managed to grab coffee.

Sunday was already sitting in his seat next to his sister, and Aventurine had no choice but to nervously tap his fingers on the wooden surface of the desk until the very end of the lecture, hoping to come up with the best possible collaboration proposal during that time.

"Y'know, you're gonna burn a hole in him," a familiar voice sounded above his head.

Sampo casually sat down next to him, pulling out a worn notebook and a mechanical pencil, immediately catching a puzzled look.

"What are you doing here?"

"Can't I even sit with my roomie?" he feigned offense, frowning. "Besides, I see you're alone today. Thought I'd keep you company so you don't get bored."

"You have different classes, I know your schedule," Aventurine narrowed his eyes slyly, realizing he'd caught him red-handed.

At this remark, Sampo clicked his tongue in annoyance, running his hand through his dark hair. "Listen, here's the thing… I need your help. But just this once! Old Sampo won't forget it."

Aventurine noticed a flicker of genuine hope in his face. He was clearly not his first victim this morning.

"Veritas dropped by yesterday, remember?"

Aventurine gave a short nod, deciding not to mention that it was extremely hard to forget, especially considering how indignantly Ratio had been fuming at him yesterday.

"I noticed that you guys seem to get along pretty well!" Sampo grinned widely, opening his notebook and quickly scribbling something in the bottom corner of the page. "I need you to call him at this number when you're free and clarify a few little points."

"Let me guess," Aventurine crossed his legs and tilted his head condescendingly, "these 'little points' are directly related to your...herbal business?"

"Now, now, no need for such bold statements," Sampo coughed, looking around and relieved not to see anyone who might have overheard. "But yes, it's related to my little business. You won't have to do much at all, I swear! Just call him when it's convenient and relay the information I wrote here."

He hastily tore off the corner of the page and subtly shoved it into the pocket of Aventurine's jeans.

"Why don't you ask Hanabi? As far as I remember, she's in charge of attracting your clients."

"They had a big fight, and the dean's office has been watching her closely since yesterday, so I decided not to risk involving her in anything for now," Aventurine genuinely tried to figure out what amused him more: people who hadn't previously clashed with Veritas, or karma coming back to someone like Hanabi so swiftly. "And besides, I have no one else to turn to but you. You understand."

"We're not on the best terms either, to put it mildly," he adjusted the pink sunglasses on his head, temporarily acting as a hairband. "But fine, I'll try to help."

Sampo almost jumped for joy, immediately earning a remark from the teacher who had entered the classroom. Patting Aventurine on the shoulder and tossing a few bills onto the desk, quietly commenting "your well-deserved share," he silently slipped out of the classroom, leaving him alone with the thought that this week had clearly started on the wrong note. However, he had to admit, the money was very welcome after yesterday's conversation with Swan.

Time until the end of the lecture dragged on painfully and slowly, especially since he had once again ignored such a basic need of any normal person as sleep. According to his humble observations, Sunday had lunch with his sister in the common cafeteria every day, so, in theory, finding him there during the big break shouldn't be difficult.

Finally, seizing a convenient moment and hastily grabbing some lunch on a tray, Aventurine hurried to the previously spotted table, mentally praying to all the Aeons that no one extra would join them.

"Oh, look who it is! Surprisingly, I was just thinking about you!" he lied tactfully, shifting his gaze to Robin, immediately beaming at what he saw. "Wow, look at those earrings! I want something like that for myself now."

The bewilderment on their faces was replaced only by mild surprise, and, fortunately for Aventurine, no one was planning to kick him out from the table just yet. Progress.

"Hi, aren't you with Topaz?" Robin awkwardly touched the mentioned earring, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Alas, I've been abandoned today, left to the mercy of cruel Tuesday. Do you mind if I join you?"

Sunday nodded silently, not taking his eyes off the suspiciously pleased Aventurine and finishing his meat roll. The joke from yesterday about this immediately crossed his mind, but voicing it out loud in front of him would be like shooting himself in the foot.

"Actually, I have a business proposition for you, one you can't refuse!" Biting into the apple he'd grabbed, Aventurine reached into his bag for his laptop.

"Really? And what is it?" he poked boredly at the remains of his lunch with a fork, shifting all his attention to him. The piercing icy gaze made him feel a bit uneasy.

Aventurine demonstratively turned the laptop towards Sunday, having first opened his portfolio, where he carefully put all his completed projects and presentations from the last few years.

"I'd like to propose collaborating with you on that joint project for the competition this year."

Sunday and Robin exchanged an awkward glance but tactfully focused all their attention on the colorful screen display.

"You've probably noticed I'm very good at vector graphics," he opened one of his freshest projects, which showcased bright concepts in detail. "Plus, I'm excellent with 3D and have a great understanding of art history, which would give us a significant advantage in working out details and cultural references. I don't even need to read books, I just feel it."

Time stretched like a rubber band as Sunday himself carefully browsed through one project after another. These were Aventurine's most successful works; he objectively couldn't not like them.

Yet, as he flipped and moved from one project to the next, his emotions didn't change at all. Just an indifferent assessment and a nod, implying nothing more than a dry "yes, that is good."

"So, what do you say? I'm sure the project will have double the potential if we join forces," Aventurine beamed with the most signature smile in his arsenal.

"The work… is indeed interesting. You definitely have your own style, but," Sunday glanced briefly at Robin, taking a deep breath, "We're already working as a team with my sister, I'm sorry. I wouldn't want to involve a third party."

Of course.

"Oh! Don't worry, I understand!" Continuing to smile, Aventurine snapped the laptop shut, carelessly taking a bite of the long-suffering apple. "In that case, we could just collaborate from time to time on different projects and exchange ideas and experience. I think it would benefit our skills and—"

"No, I think you misunderstood," Sunday slowly shook his head, pushing away the empty tray and looking up tiredly at his interlocutor. "I wouldn't want to involve anyone at all in our affairs with Robin. I know perfectly well that the selection next year will be very strict, so I wouldn't want to let my family down and ruin our reputation."

Aventurine was never stupid, and even though he only learned to count at twelve, putting two and two together to figure out what—or rather, who—could "ruin the reputation" wasn't hard at all. Well, he should have expected this yesterday, when such idiotic thoughts as collaborating with anyone crept into his overconfident head along with Topaz's encouraging nudges. Well, well, Aventurine, believing too much again.

At least now he didn't have to argue with Topaz herself; the issue had resolved itself.

Nodding understandingly and tactfully apologizing for the inconvenience, he, as a final note, reminded Robin that her makeup today was stunning, and hastily retreated from the table, walking away.

A nasty, disgusting feeling scratched under his ribs, leaving nothing behind but sticky anxiety. He needed to breathe and think carefully about other possible options in his case.

Finding an inconspicuous spot on the grass near the campus, he silently sat down and relaxed, turning his face to the rays of the modest spring sun. Feeling around in his bag for a pack of cigarettes, Aventurine regretfully discovered it was empty. Seems like today was going to be shitty from start to its fucking end.

Tossing the pack back into his bag and resting his forehead on his bare knee (due to a wide hole in his jeans), he heard quiet footsteps.

First, a politely offered cigarette appeared before his eyes, and then its owner herself. Swan, silently asking permission to join him and hastily receiving it, dropped onto the grass next to him, blissfully inhaling the fresh air. The clink of a lighter sounded, and only after Aventurine took a drag and brushed his golden hair away from his face did she speak:

"As I see it, you're slowly but surely confirming my deep skills in tarot fortune-telling. I didn't think it would be so demonstrative and quick."

"Did you come here to gloat?" In the warm sunlight, his eyes, through the pink lenses of his glasses, shimmered with all possible shades of a delicate lilac.

"No, just to get some air. And here, a treat," her cigarettes left a cold menthol sensation in his throat. "Topaz is still sleeping like a log, but I thought it wasn't too late to make it to at least the last lectures."

Shrugging and mindlessly burying himself in his phone to make another sarcastic-ironic tweet with that beautiful photo of a bitten apple and Veritas's fingers accidentally in the frame, he didn't answer.

"I think you're giving up too soon."

"And you're the one telling me this?"

"Well, someone has to, right?" She waved her hand nonchalantly and shrugged. "I liked you, Aventurine. Even if your fate resembles a hopeless midlife crisis, it would be a pity if you let yourself give up so quickly."

"I'm not giving up, I'm on a break," he assertively shook off the ash, catching the filter with his lips and a barely noticeable smile.

"That's good. By the way," she got up from the grass, holding out her palm. "Here, a small personal bonus from me for yesterday's generous tip."

He frowned in bewilderment and took off his glasses to get a better look at the fine calligraphic handwriting—the complete opposite of Sampo's—on the given card. This is… an address?

Aventurine looked up to ask the obvious question but found that Swan had vanished without a trace. Finishing his cigarette and getting to his feet, he examined the cardboard a little more closely, only to suddenly find that familiar Wheel of Fortune on the other side. The card was obviously from some old, worn-out deck that Swan didn't mind tossing to him with her characteristically mysterious face. An address, huh…

And below, a small note:

"Never liked chicken."

When he promised himself not to get into trouble at least by the end of the academic year, he absolutely meant, among other things, breaking into Sunday's house in the middle of the night. Darkness had long since enveloped the city, cutting him off from the possibility of returning to the dormitory any earlier than morning. Topaz would definitely throttle him if she found out.

The screen lit up his face, once again reminding him of the time and confirming that he had indeed put it on DND. And also clearly demonstrating that Aventurine, in his own stupidity, had forgotten to charge his phone, leaving a miserable six percent after a long day. Well, at least he definitely wouldn't need his phone right now.

The residence of Sunday and Robin's family looked impressive; the question of why they, like most students, didn't live in the dormitory answered itself. Aventurine didn't know who their parents were, but the kids clearly didn't deny themselves anything. He had long been accustomed to ignoring the quality of others' lives and perceived it as a given, not concerning him personally, so as not to be distracted from more important things. Like, for instance, the opportunity to treat himself to a new wristwatch with his first solid card win from a freshman, for which he almost got in trouble with the university administration. Or his particularly large, suddenly winning bet, even though there were no prerequisites for it, but he just felt it.

Contrary to Swan's remark, luck could explain almost every aspect of his life: he got in luckily; he luckily got a fairly profitable, albeit tedious, job; he luckily befriended Topaz, who became the closest person to him; he luckily managed to present himself to society, albeit with varying success, if you considered incidents like Hanabi.

And now, brazenly breaking into someone else's house through a spotted slightly open window in the living room, he sincerely hoped for his luck. And also for those few skills gifted by his past life, among which were the ability to sneak quietly and wear inconspicuous clothes with a wide hood to minimize the chances of being detected even in case of failure.

The plan was simple and harmless enough: find out the theme Sunday was preparing and how quickly their progress was going—nothing more. Being able to properly assess your opponent is already part of victory, but of course, no one would voluntarily share that information with him. A pity.

Silently crouching at the edge of the fluffy carpet or, if his senses didn't deceive him, someone's fur pelt, Aventurine looked around. Surprisingly, no babies or even their remains after a hearty dinner. Let's skip the fact that their house in general seemed maximally unwelcoming and cold, both outside and inside.

Aventurine moved deeper into the house, trying not to get distracted and find Sunday's room. The further he went down the corridor, the more clearly he could hear some strange sound, which made uncontrollable anxiety rise in his throat.

It sounded like… whale song? Aventurine had heard that for some people their singing was considered relaxing, but right now, in near-total darkness, where his only light source was the dim moon outside the window, it was damn uncomfortable. It seemed the sound was coming from the very last room. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and something deep inside suggested that such creepy crap could relax someone exactly like Sunday.

Luck smiled on him once again when he spotted a barely noticeable gap in the door, saving him the hassle with the lock. He silently opened it a crack, sneaking inside on his haunches, and the first thing he noticed with surprise was a wall covered in posters and paintings of naked human silhouettes, each of whom was tied up or had an element of shibari technique on them. Great, now instead of tales about babies, scary stories about a basement with tied-up people are confidently taking the stage. Aventurine would have been happy to share this discovery with Topaz right now, just to joke it off and forget this whole outing like a bad dream, but then the owner of the room came into view. Or rather, his back.

Sunday was fast asleep. At least, that was the conclusion from the quiet snoring into the pillow. A turned-off laptop lay on the desk, and here Aventurine realized he was facing an expected and, probably, not the first problem: the password.

After inspecting the desk and the nearest furniture from all sides, he found no clues or even hints at a possible correct combination. But a sketchbook came to hand, where there very likely could be sketches or notes on the development and theme of their project with Robin. Aventurine quietly rustled the paper, vainly trying to illuminate things a little with the screen of his dying phone and coming across only meaningless sketches. Sunday's style was indeed… specific. And too minimalist and gloomy; Aventurine didn't like that.

The next drawer also contained nothing useful, except for some expensive-looking pills, the properties of which he, for some reason, didn't even want to know. He bit his lip in frustration, putting everything back exactly as it was before he came. A quiet rustling came from the bed, and Aventurine hurried to turn off the screen, silently sitting down on the floor and, if possible, blending in with the wall.

Sunday turned to face him but was still fast asleep. He wanted to believe that.

Aventurine sat in the corner of the room, not making a sound and thinking through possible emergency evacuation plans in case he was caught. Nothing better came to mind than opening the window beforehand. Fortunately, the nights were relatively not cold now, and Sunday would notice a strong temperature contrast at best in the morning.

Gathering his courage, he proceeded to re-examine the room, but even after twenty minutes of careful searching, he came up empty-handed. This wasn't working.

Perhaps this was all one big mistake and Aventurine had completely misunderstood Swan's message, but in that case, he could only shamefully accept his defeat and start working on the project himself instead of wandering around other people's houses at night and suffering from this bullshit.

The incessant whale howl from Sunday's headphones, which did a poor job of noise isolation but were a kind of guarantee of Aventurine's fragile invisibility, was also adding to the tension. Well, if he didn't find anything in the next ten minutes or so, he'd have to get out and…

Quiet footsteps were heard from the corridor, and Aventurine froze. It was clear their owner was sleepy and almost stumbling, but slowly walking precisely to the room where he was. Time was short, and, given the pitch darkness, the only currently available and quiet option was to hide under the desk. If he miscalculated the time and got shamefully caught at the window—he was done for.

The sound of footsteps stopped at the door, which then quietly opened a crack. Aventurine held his breath.

Robin.

Not yet noticing the presence of any outsider, she walked into the room, gradually approaching her brother's bed. Aventurine could only see her feet and part of her nightgown, but that was enough to understand that Robin was going to wake him up. Fuck…

"Sunday… Are you asleep?" the girl gently touched the duvet, hoping to reach the headphones.

"Mhm? What is it?" His sleepy voice, in theory, Aventurine would have found even somewhat cute, if not for the whole underlying context he'd encountered in just twenty miserable minutes in this room.

"I had another nightmare," her voice sounded strained, as if it had been going on for many months and didn't allow Robin to sleep properly. Well, he could understand her very well in that.

"Come here."

Sunday sleepily reached out, drawing his sister into a warm embrace. Aventurine forgot how to breathe properly in situations where you're sitting under a desk in the same room as the residents of the house you've broken into unauthorized. But still, he was really trying.

"Want me to turn on the light?"

Oh, no.

"Yes, please. I feel uneasy in the dark."

No-no-no.

Time split into seconds, and the seconds themselves into fractions, from which Aventurine could sanely extract only two thoughts: "get out" and "right now."

"By the way, why did you open the window? It's so cold in here," Robin noted discontentedly, and Aventurine counted to three.

Now.

Not allowing the still sleepy Sunday to get out of bed, he shot out from under the desk and, knocking over a chair amid a sudden loud girl's scream, threw himself towards the window.

With his back, Aventurine managed to feel a fleeting grip on the fabric, but it wasn't enough to actually hold him.

What was happening behind him didn't concern him anymore. He ran wherever his eyes looked, occasionally adjusting the black hood, completely uncharacteristic for him. You really had to try hard to mess up this badly, honestly.

Having run to the nearest gas station and hidden in one of the toilet stalls, Aventurine finally managed to exhale fully, pulling off his hood and taking his phone out of his pocket.

The next disappointment of this evening occurred the second the completely dead phone notified its owner of this fact. Sighing doomedly as he left the stall, Aventurine looked at himself in the mirror—it was a shame not to smile sadly.

A middle-aged man stood behind the gas station store counter, probably serving a real sentence here, which was clearly readable on his face.

"Hello! A pack of Richmond, please," he gave his signature smile, but it seemed to make no impression. "And tell me, do you have a place to charge up here?"

"No."

Dry, straight, and very clear.

"My phone died, and I'm quite far from home right now. I'd really like that possibility to exist. Maybe you have an adapter lying around?" Aventurine leaned his elbows on the counter and smiled again, trying to get the salesman to talk a little.

"No."

Aventurine sighed heavily, acknowledging two things for himself: he would be sleeping somewhere in the bushes tonight, without the possibility of crashing even at work; and also, he should have listened to Topaz back then and memorized her number as an emergency contact for situations like this.

He paid for the cigarettes and, standing outside the glass doors, clicked his lighter, mindlessly blowing clouds of gray smoke into the night sky. Today, precious luck had finally turned its back on him.

Mindlessly shoving his hand into his jeans pocket to warm it, Aventurine suddenly felt a crumpled piece of paper with a note he had completely forgotten about. That's right, Sampo asked him to…

Call.

In his head, it sounded like a chance. Definitely one of those cases where the only option to avoid sleeping on the street is to step over your own pride. All that remained was to guess how much he would be hated if Aventurine called right now, but he, like a pro, was long used to such trifles.

Stubbing out the cigarette and turning back to the gas station's glass door, already anticipating the salesman's displeased expression, he asked only briefly:

"Tell me, my dear friend," Aventurine drew out the "r" in 'dear' especially courteously, "are there any payphones nearby?"

The man nodded and tiredly pointed somewhere in the direction of the next block. Aventurine smiled gratefully and, clutching the note in his palm, hoped only that retrograde Mercury in Veritas's head would be on his side.

Standing in front of the payphone and peering at the salvific—at least he hoped so—piece of paper, Aventurine hesitated, thoughtfully tapping on the metal handset. He sincerely wanted to know how to even start this conversation, but absolutely nothing came to mind except relying on his own charisma and luck. As always, really.

Heavy beeps sounded in the receiver, and Aventurine wearily closed his eyes, hoping at least that Ratio would help him call a taxi to this godforsaken place. And, if possible, not tell him to get lost.

"Hello? Who is this?" A sleepy, though Aventurine would say, even uncharacteristically distracted voice for Veritas sounded sobering.

"Heeey, Veritas! How's it going?"

Silence stretched on the other end of the line, and either Ratio was really having a hard time thinking straight at four in the morning, which was quite logical, or he had already hung up.

"Aventurine?.."

"Oh, so you remember my voice! That's so sweet," he babbled, but catching himself that he probably had very little time for explanations, he finally got to the point. "Thing is…"

"Are you kidding me?!" Ratio cut in. "Have you looked at the time? And where did you get my number?"

"To be honest, I don't even know where to start. But I wouldn't be calling you if I had an alternative."

Ratio fell silent again, as if thinking about how to even react to the fact that his irresponsible classmate was calling him in the middle of the night. Some rustling was heard from the other side, and he finally continued:

"Give me one good reason not to hang up right now."

"Sampo asked me to contact you and relay something."

"Couldn't that have waited until morning? And why did he even give you my contact number?" Ratio kept pressing, trying to finally get to the bottom of it.

"Listen," Aventurine suddenly became serious, shedding all the arrogance that accompanied him at the beginning of the conversation. "I'm in a bit of a bind right now, out of town, with a dead phone and no way to get home until at least morning. Could you… help?"

"And what kind of help do you need from me at four in the morning?" He articulated each word with such cosmic fatigue from human stupidity that Aventurine felt like getting another cigarette. Just in case.

"I don't know, call a taxi? I'll pay you back tomorrow," he caught himself. "I mean, today."

Ratio sighed heavily and, dreaming of finally getting back to bed, wearily said:

"Where are you?"

Oh, and here it was—the most interesting part of this conversation. Aventurine looked around, spotting a familiar house a couple of blocks away.

"Let's put it this way… You're on the student council, right?" he started from afar. "You know where Sunday's address is?"

A quiet chuckle came through the receiver.

"So you're calling me this early to straight up tell me to call you a taxi from Sunday's house because you have nowhere to sleep? Do you even realize how that sounds?"

"If you thought we were fucking and I ran away from him in the middle of the night, then no," Aventurine smiled playfully, almost physically feeling Veritas roll his eyes. "I just need to get out of here."

"Taxis don't go there. He lives in a private house outside the city, and such a trip will cost several times more. Especially at four in the morning," Veritas stated pessimistically.

"Are you really worried the money won't be enough?"

"Well, it's not me who has to pay it back later," he smiled nastily, immediately adding. "Forget it. We'll manage without a taxi."

"And what do you suggest?"

"Well, first, not to wander around just anywhere at this hour," understanding Veritas's mood by his voice had become frankly difficult now, but the irritation in it had significantly decreased. "And second… Screw it, I'll come pick you up."

"You have a car?" Aventurine himself wasn't entirely sure what surprised him more. Whether it was that Veritas didn't look at all like someone who drives a car, consciously sacrificing boring, leisurely walks to his rented apartment in proud solitude, or that he suddenly voluntarily agreed to come get him.

"Not mine, my father's," Ratio corrected. "And what difference does it make, just stay put and, for God's sake, don't stick your nose anywhere else. You can tell me what Koski wants on the way. Better not discuss such things over the phone."

Ratio hastily ended the call, and the quiet "then I'll be waiting" dissipated in a series of beeps.

Sitting on the curb in agonizing anticipation, Aventurine was left alone with his thoughts and joking fears—like, were they planning to take him away in the trunk of that very car to some forest just so he'd stop getting underfoot and calling in the middle of the night?

That, and the fact that he was about to have a joint car ride with Veritas, seemed equally wild.

One way or another—he'd definitely have something to tell Topaz.

Chapter Text

"Just tell me," Topaz sighed heavily. "How the hell did you even manage to get into his house?"

"The window was open."

"And that's why you jumped out of it?"

"You know I like to make a stylish exit," he said, puffing his chest proudly.

"Aventurine," she rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily.

"Why are you looking at me like that? I'll have you know, I took your kind advice and properly proposed working together first," Aventurine took a sip of coffee, warming his throat with the taste of spices and arabica.

"And what did he say?"

"Nothing. Just as I thought. Who would work on a team with a lowlife?" He shrugged, once again presenting this information as a given. "It doesn't offend me in the slightest. But the fact that I foolishly took that damn flash drive of Veritas's with the homework back in first year and reworked it for myself clearly worked against me and my rather fragile reputation... Who knew it was his? And my deadlines were burning!"

"Yeah, everyone already understands you regret what you did," she rolled her eyes, tactfully omitting that Veritas himself clearly still held a grudge from that incident. "Just tell me, what were you even planning to find there?"

"Inspiration," Aventurine drawled dreamily, immediately stumbling over the stark disbelief in the eyes opposite him.

It was generally hard to deceive Topaz or sweet-talk her. She had a natural talent for seeing through everyone she dealt with. A built-in lie detector or, as Aventurine liked to jokingly call it—a "bullshit meter," which always made her grimace in displeasure. And now he was forced to surrender without a fight and confess everything.

"Really, nothing major. I just wanted to properly assess my competition, since I'm left without a partner," Aventurine took another sip, now shifting his studious gaze to the bustle behind the counter of the coffee shop. "But it didn't work out, I left empty-handed. Or rather, ran away."

"How surprising," Topaz stated, absolutely not surprised.

"On the bright side, I confirmed he doesn't actually eat babies," Aventurine smirked, recalling the general atmosphere in Sunday's house, but just as Topaz was about to exhale, he added: "Believe me, he definitely does things much worse. Would you listen to whale songs before bed? Or keep posters of naked women on your walls?"

"Well..." she averted her gaze to the window, smiling mysteriously. "What kind of posters, exactly?"

"Forget I said anything."

Aventurine didn't go into detailed specifics, but they mutually agreed that perhaps the fact Sunday had refused him was clearly for the best. The conversation promised to be long and engaging, so Topaz prudently excused herself to get something sweet.

The invigorating aroma of roasted arabica,various spices, and fresh pastries, which she was never able to resist, hung familiarly in their favorite café.

The atmosphere here always lent itself to warm, heartfelt conversations over a cup of something delicious, but with the recent series of deadlines, work, and endless tasks, they had completely forgotten how much they loved to come here. Fortunately, Topaz herself had initiated their sudden outing. And who Aventurine was to resist that caramel latte?

"Alright, my Sigeonian Forrest, you ran away," she plopped back down, rubbing her hands together in anticipation, either from the tempting look of the eclair or the upcoming retelling. "What happened next? You didn't sleep on the street, did you?"

The mere mention that he had to call Veritas in the middle of the night,and even ask for help, made Topaz almost jump in her seat, snickering gleefully.

"No way! So what, did you two go kiss under a bridge at night? Or did he sincerely confess that he's actually been pining for you all this time but hid it due to parental pressure and studies?" Topaz wouldn't let up, diligently extracting all the juicy details from Aventurine. "Although, wait, I heard his parents have always treated him like he's made of glass, so that option's out. But I swear, you two are like characters from a drama."

Deftly intercepting the chocolate eclair, she took another bite, immediately brushing sweet crumbs from her fingertips as if remembering something.

"Mhm! Or!" Topaz waved her hands, dropping the unfortunate eclair back onto the plate and cutting off Aventurine who had barely started to speak. "He saw potential in you, fell in love with your work, and then—with you yourself, but only confessed yesterday."

"Are you sure they didn't put something in your coffee?" Aventurine smirked, nodding towards the raf she had already half finished. "I haven't even started yet."

"I beg your pardon! If anything was added, it's exceptional coffee mastery and cinnamon!" an offended exclamation came from behind the counter from a barista battling the cash register. "Damn it, screw this."

"Let me guess," a calmer voice from his partner chimed in, already preparing to help while simultaneously pulling his ashen hair into a high bun and rolling up the sleeves of his black hoodie, revealing tanned skin.

"Ugh, don't start. I've got it."

Topaz watched this scene with a slight smile as Aventurine pulled out his phone,intending to quietly capture the moment.

"Alright, anyway," Aventurine tossed his phone back on the table, leaned back in his chair, and lazily threw an arm over the back. "So, Veritas shows up..."

---

He had to wait a good half hour, during which he managed to smoke another cigarette, numb his butt on the cold curb, and count all the trash cans in the block. Quite entertaining, but he was unbearably sleepy.

Dozing off with his head on his knees and hugging himself with both arms,he only lifted his head when he heard the quiet sound of tires rubbing against asphalt and gravel nearby. The headlights hurt his eyes, but somehow, there was no doubt about who the car belonged to.

Aventurine got to his feet,brushing off the back of his jeans and peering interestedly through the windshield. Veritas Ratio in person, sleepy and clearly displeased. Incredible.

Aventurine approached the car,warily opening the front door and immediately hearing the cold and expected:

"Sit in the back," Veritas's sleepy voice sounded instead of a greeting. "And don't forget to buckle up."

Aventurine rolled his eyes and slammed the door, obediently settling into the back seat and habitually spreading his knees wide. Suited him just fine.

"Here, take this," without taking his eyes off the road, Veritas opened the glove compartment with one hand, found a pack of mint gum, and deftly tossed it back, hitting Aventurine right in the chest. "You reek of cigarettes."

"And here I thought you were treating me out of the kindness of your heart. Tch."

Ratio didn't answer, gripping the steering wheel and watching the red traffic light. He clearly felt confident on the road.

The atmosphere in the car was tense from the start. He definitely didn't want to bother Veritas unnecessarily and increase the chances of a fun nighttime trip to the woods, but as soon as he turned the wheel onto an unfamiliar street, Aventurine tried his luck:

"Maybe some music?"

"Fine," he reached for the player, and unexpectedly soft and pleasant indie music immediately filled the car. Aventurine often liked to put on similar playlists when he had to work non-stop on something, and overly energetic songs disrupted his train of thought.

"Immensely glad to hear it's not whale songs."

"What?" Ratio turned his head over his shoulder, peering into the laughing eyes.

"I said your father has good taste in music."

"It's my playlist. But thanks."

The streets blurred facelessly before his tired eyes,and the thought of having to pry himself out of bed for the first lecture tomorrow made him want to bang his head against the window. The realization that he still had no idea where they were headed finally reminded him of itself.

"By the way, so, where are we..."

"To an acquaintance of mine,"Veritas dryly explained, his unusually un-made-up eyes flashing in the rearview mirror. "She usually stays up nights rehearsing in her garage. You can sleep there if you want. It's near the academy."

"You have friends? I must be hallucinating."

"You can walk from here."

"Fine, I'm shutting up." he joked, waving a hand. "Oh, speaking of friends."

Aventurine shoved his hand into the right pocket of his jeans again, bumping into the paper that had suffered all day. It was noticeable how interestedly Veritas glanced back out of the corner of his eye, trying not to get distracted from the road.

"Sampo wrote that supplies will be tight soon and asked A...Acheron? Who's that? Don't remember that name in our group."

"Keep reading," Veritas rolled his eyes disapprovingly, peering at Aventurine who was concentrating on reading in the dim light of the streetlights.

"Anyway, he asked a certain Acheron to be understanding and try to 'if possible, stretch the pleasure out until next month.' There are little kisses drawn at the end, but I doubt that interests you much."

"Perfect," Veritas stated grimly. "You can tell her that yourself now. We're going to her place."

"So you were getting weed for her?" Aventurine noted with surprise, moving closer to the driver's seat and immediately receiving a displeased look in the mirror's reflection.

"Yes. I can't stand the smell of cigarettes and marijuana," he turned the music down a bit, turning the steering wheel onto streets familiar to Aventurine. "And I believe I asked you to buckle up."

"So exactly because you can't stand them, you're friends with a certain weed-smoking Acheron and are giving me, reeking of smoke, a ride in your father's car? Well, yeah, perfectly logical," Aventurine smiled playfully, finally obeying and buckling up, his skin practically feeling Veritas silently grinding his teeth.

The rest of the ride passed in silence, softened by the still quietly playing music. Aventurine was unbearably sleepy, and, surprisingly, Veritas's driving style was perfectly conducive to that. He drove steadily, carefully avoiding any bumps in the road and braking softly before making another sharp turn. Aventurine would responsibly state that this was the calmest ride he'd had in the last few months, even though nothing had initially suggested it would be.

Veritas himself, as it turned out, didn't shoot lightning bolts with his mere existence. And even though a veritable Mariana Trench still lay between them, both in social status and in their attitude towards each other due to the old conflict, Aventurine, surprisingly, didn't feel the urge to escape the car at the first opportunity, as he had expected.

The car was warm, and only now did he notice it smelled of something homely and completely uncharacteristic for cars: coffee, it seemed, some Eastern sweets, faint hints of expensive cologne, similar to what Veritas himself used to wear, and essential oils. The knowledge of what a place that could confidently be called 'home' smelled like was foreign to him, but for some reason, his heart suggested it was exactly like this. Bundled in his hoodie and burying his nose in the car seat, he closed his eyes, promising himself to try not to fall asleep and not to get on Veritas's nerves any further.

The coolness of the street unpleasantly brushed against his face, and as soon as Aventurine pried his eyelids open, Veritas appeared before his eyes.

"Get out," he said, opening the back door right in front of his nose.

He had fallen asleep after all.

As soon as Aventurine, with great effort, extracted himself from the car, jokingly remarking how sweetly he had been sleeping, Ratio hurried to slam the door and lock it, turning his back and silently hinting for him to follow.

The neighborhood was indeed familiar; he'd never been here, but he already had a rough idea of how to easily get to the university from this spot.

A bassy guitar sound came from somewhere in the direction Veritas was leading him with wide strides. If this was the kind of rehearsal meant, then Aventurine was already impressed by the friends that Veritas "don't-touch-me-exams-are-coming" Ratio managed to acquire.

As they got closer, Ratio squinted slightly, expecting particularly loud and confident strums, and knocked his knuckles on the garage roll-up door. The sounds instantly died down, as if their owner hadn't heard clearly but had definitely suspected something was wrong.

He waited expectantly,crossing his arms over his chest, looking displeasedly from Aventurine to the car, which he would have to return to his father's garage tomorrow. The roll-up door creaked upwards, gradually revealing to Aventurine a modest spot for rehearsals, rest, and, quite possibly, solitude.

"Veritas? Why didn't you call?" presumably the very Acheron, without removing the guitar strap from her shoulder, reached for her phone. "It's only five AM, is everything alright?"

"With me—perfectly fine,"he confidently stepped inside as if it were his own home. "But I have two news for you, bad and worse. Which one first?"

She sighed, putting the guitar aside and staring distrustfully at Aventurine, who had followed him in and was smiling while trying to figure out which of the two news he was.

"What is it now?"

"Firstly, the deliveries from Sampo will have to wait. Please try to control your..." Veritas uncharacteristically hesitated, as if not wanting to mention something aloud, "...condition," he finally found the right word, "...a little less lavishly. Otherwise, it'll be hard."

She nodded understandingly, still eyeing Aventurine but now crossing her arms just like Veritas. Perhaps involuntarily, or perhaps—tell me who your friend is, and I'll tell you who you are.

Handing her a grey box he had subtly taken from the car, he straightened up.

"Secondly,"Veritas sighed heavily, touching his temple with cool fingers. "This—is Aventurine, meet him. My biggest headache of the last twenty-four hours."

Aventurine beamed a radiant smile,extending a hand, but not meeting any particularly eager reciprocation in the eyes opposite him. Acheron thoughtfully measured them both with her gaze, as if solving a small math problem in her head.

"Are you two in a relationship?" Probably, it seemed to Aventurine in his sleepy state, but her voice became a bit lower, and her gaze—less aloof. "Interesting."

"No. And I haven't finished," Ratio cut in, appearing in front of Aventurine's outstretched hand to her. "Just let him stay here overnight, he'll leave for classes in the morning."

"Alright,no problem," Acheron shrugged boredly and nodded towards the sofa next to the coffee table. "I'll get a blanket and pillow."

She immediately disappeared into a far corner of the garage,starting to rummage through things piled in a closet, never returning the handshake.

"That was quick,"Aventurine remarked quietly, surprised. "I thought she won't like me."

"You weren't mistaken," Veritas suppressed a smug smirk, silently twirling the car keys on his fingers. "She doesn't like you."

"Then why did she let me stay?"

"Because I asked her to," he shifted his gaze to Aventurine's tired face. "And I, as a member of the student council, cannot possibly allow good, but clueless, students to loiter on the roadside near other people's houses."

"Oh, so I'm good?" Aventurine's eyes immediately lit up, mentally preparing for a dose of compliments.

"And clueless," he hurried to remind him, and at the same time, cut Aventurine's futile expectations off at the root.

Rubbing his tired eyes,Veritas glanced at his phone screen. He was no longer surprised by the time, only left to sigh dejectedly once again. His entire appearance was the complete opposite of that perfect Veritas Ratio the entire design department was accustomed to seeing over the years: disheveled wavy hair and a disobedient fringe falling into his eyes, unrestrained by its usual clip, some worn-out grey hoodie, and an indecent number of wide, albeit palm-covered, yawns over the last half hour.

"Right, that's it, I'm off," he turned towards Acheron, who had finally dug out the promised blanket, and warned a bit louder: "If he ruins anything here—you can hit him."

"Hey!"

Veritas waved from behind his back,clearly indicating the conversation was over for today. However, in this, Aventurine was in complete solidarity with him. He finally wanted to bury his face in a pillow and assume a blissful horizontal position. Even if only briefly.

The blanket and pillow landed on the sofa next to him,where Aventurine had already promptly sat down.

"Well, I'll have to postpone the playing since you're planning to sleep here. You owe me coffee in the morning, student."

"No problem," he felt for the long-suffering phone in his pocket, remembering the main cause of all his troubles today. "By the way, can I borrow your charger until morning?"

Acheron nodded towards the socket nearest the sofa, from which several power adapters were sticking out. It seemed that was agreement.

Finally meeting the pillow's cool fabric with his skin,he blissfully closed his eyes, not hoping to get much sleep, but glad he had managed to just lie down. What Acheron was doing until morning, and whether he should worry about his safety, concerned Aventurine least of all.

---

He decided to tactfully omit the part about having to rush headlong to his lecture so as not to be late for the class of a particularly strict professor in his conversation with Topaz. This entire morning seemed like one big, chaotic misunderstanding to him. Then again, so did his entire conscious life.

Acheron seemed interesting to him,albeit sometimes too mysterious. Even for someone who could call herself Ratio's friend. Aventurine wasn't used to trusting, let alone getting close to, that type of person, but for some reason, he wanted to know a little more about her, and at the same time, find out how one could even communicate with such bores and not want to open a window every five minutes, either to jump out or to get some fresh air.

If in the evening Acheron had seemed quite detached and cold to him,then for some unknown reason, by morning, tucking her legs under herself and settling more comfortably on the long-suffering sofa next to him, she was seriously sharing her prediction for the coming day with him, reading aloud from the cardboard box of honey fitness cereal she had decided to have for breakfast.

"My advice to you," Acheron remembered, chewing carefully. "Don't fall for his whole boring owl persona. He's a nice kid."

"A nice kid?" Aventurine snorted, first remembering their height difference, and then Ratio himself, who in no way associated with the word "nice" in his head. "Are we talking about the same Veritas?"

Somehow hastily pulling on his worn-out hoodie, then thinking better of it and taking it off to avoid trouble, he decided it was better to be a bit cold than to be recognized by Sunday at the university after last night's events. Aventurine smirked and again saw on her face the sincere serenity that had flashed only once before. Probably, Veritas was mistaken after all, and she didn't dislike him that much.

"Mhm."

"Is that you talking, or is it written on the cereal box too?"

She remained displeasedly silent and, having finished chewing, rolled her eyes. Aventurine was really getting used to seeing this unchanging emotion on the faces of all the people around him.

"Nothing connects us except a few boring shared classes a week," he stated, as if reminding himself that yesterday was just an incident. "And we are both immensely happy about that."

"Funny," she snorted, sending another spoonful of honey cereal into her mouth. "Last night, after you passed out, he texted me something along the same lines when he got home. You know, that he got back safely."

"Seriously? He texts you about getting home safely?"

"Usually—no. But then, for some reason, he decided this information was extremely necessary for me."

Aventurine sincerely tried to understand the logic usually inherent in Veritas and his actions,but stumbling over his own socks, he remembered that he was actually running late.

"Right, okay. I'm off for your promised coffee and—"

"Just go already, student. You can treat me later when you have time," now he was sure her intonation had sharply changed. "I want to sleep."

"Didn't you go to bed?"

"No, I sleep during the day. And since playing at night was problematic because of you, I was writing chords," she explained boredly. "Alright, get lost now."

At the last moment, Aventurine only managed to wave his hand gratefully and, unplugging his phone, flit out of his temporary lodgings. Veritas's friends were definitely just as strange and enigmatic as he was.

Emotionally recounting everything that had happened with all the ensuing details and watching Topaz destroy her third pastry, Aventurine finally summed up:

"So, the-re you have it. In the end, I'm still without a partner."

"What do you mean, what about Veritas?" she raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"What about Veritas?"

"Are you messing with me or just pretending?" Topaz clicked her tongue, slapping the table loudly with her palm and again attracting the attention of the barista who had finished fighting with the cash register. "Propose working together to him! You two seemed to get along last night."

"My dear Topaz," Aventurine shook his head. "He still looks at me like a pesky fly that once stole his flash drive and that he can't wait to swat with a newspaper."

"Why are you so hung up on that flash drive? It was ages ago; if he were really still angry, he wouldn't give a damn whether you slept with your ass in the bushes or not. And, let's say, even if you irritate him, when has that ever stopped you?"

Aventurine thoughtfully twisted the rings on his fingers and pouted his lips, thinking and as if reminding himself that perhaps he had dismissed this option too quickly. Acheron's words added more fuel to the fire, but he didn't really want to seriously listen to someone for whom Veritas delivers weed at night.

Maybe it was worth a try after all.Tomorrow they had shared classes first thing in the morning, which meant it would be a great opportunity to talk in a calm setting. Veritas, after all, loved to drag his pedantic ass in, as usual, half an hour before class.

"And once again you're pushing me to associate with dubious people."

"Well, I somehow manage to talk to you, so learn from me," Topaz licked the chocolate off her index finger, smiling nastily.

"That was a real blow to the heart, Topaz..." he feigned grabbing the fabric over his chest, dramatically pulling it even tighter and showing off a few gold-glinting pieces of jewelry.

"Oh, don't you start with me. You'd better think about what peace offering you'll bring him tomorrow."

"You really want to finish off my fragile and unstable reputation, don't you? What terrible evil have I done to you?"

"No, I just decided that before the upcoming spring party, which Veritas happens to be one of the organizers of—against his will, I might add," Topaz explained, shrugging, "it would be good to butter him up. You see, I want to see good beer there, not the warm swill they had last year."

"Okay, and what does that have to do with me?"

"It has to do with the fact that you could spoil his mood tomorrow. We'll kill three birds with one stone: you apologize for stealing his flash drive back then, you propose working on the project as a team, and I get my beer."

His eyebrows shot up at such a neat plan; it was very, very hard to believe that everything would go as smoothly as it appeared in Topaz's head. Aventurine pursed his lips, thinking about what would be better to give Ratio as a gift without making himself look like a complete idiot.

"How about...a book? He's always reading," he pondered what might theoretically appeal to Veritas.

"I highly doubt you'll find anything he hasn't read yet," and before Aventurine could speak, she added, "And yes, I don't think he'd be interested in your books about successful success and financial pyramids. Yes, even the sealed ones you never touched. Think of something else."

Aventurine crossed his arms over his chest,squinting displeasedly out the window.

"Oh!I heard he dabbles in sculpture in his spare time, even has his own studio somewhere," Topaz said conspiratorially, looking into Aventurine's eyes and quietly tapping her nails on the table. "Give him a stone dick."

"Right, got it. So improvising again," Aventurine surrendered, getting up from the table. "I'll take my coffee to go, and let's go. I need to deliver it to someone."

Listening to a whole stream of jokes and puns about inlaying and infinity stones while the barista wrote his name on the cup, Aventurine finally got his coveted coffee. Leaving a few bills in the tip jar, he wished them a wonderful day and headed to Acheron's, hoping to find her no longer asleep.

---

As expected, Veritas stood by the window from the very morning like an immutable antique statue, reading another book. This time, Aventurine only pretended to be busy on his laptop, minimizing and maximizing the Figma window and thinking about how best to start this conversation.

Ratio suddenly snapped the book shut and,leaving it on the windowsill, headed for the classroom exit. Realizing there was very little time before the lecture started and he couldn't waste any more time, he dashed after him, not forgetting to grab the pre-prepared bag.

Turning the corner and barely managing to spot Veritas before he decided to disappear around the next one,Aventurine called out to him:

"Heeey, Veritas! Wait up!"

Ratio stopped,slowly turning towards the familiar—to his great regret—voice.

"I think I'm having déjà vu," Veritas noted sourly.

"I have a magnificent proposition for you!" Aventurine beamed a smile so bright that Ratio had to squint for a second. "Let's work on the competition project together?"

"Goodbye."

He turned around again,already preparing to go about his business, but Aventurine jumped right in front of his face, waving a shiny golden bag.

"I guess I started wrong, sorry," he blocked his path, finally depriving him of the opportunity to go about his business. "I'd like to make amends and... Here, a small peace offering. What do you say?"

The bag ended up in Veritas's hands,and he stared at its contents with restrained interest.

"Salt and bath bombs?" Veritas peered, and his eyebrows shot up even more rapidly. "A rubber duck?"

"Acheron said you like that sort of thing."

Veritas sighed heavily, displeasedly packing the contents back into the bag and making a mental note to ask Acheron not to blab details of his personal life to just anyone.

"This changes nothing, and I don't need any gifts. I work alone," he returned the bag to Aventurine's hands. "If you're concerned about that project-on-my-flash-drive situation—I couldn't care less anymore, but I have no intention of dealing with thieves who, while they may have learned to use basic vector graphics tools, are essentially worthless themselves. And don't pretend that after yesterday we're the best of friends. That is not the case at all."

Emphasizing the old formal address,he sidestepped him in two strides, noticeably brushing the exposed skin of his neck and face with a gust of air. The tattoo itched unpleasantly, and Aventurine remained standing in the middle of the hallway, clutching the stupid bag and finally realizing his chances of success.

Or rather—the lack thereof.

He hadn't sounded aggressive, and his primary goal certainly wasn't to insult Aventurine. Veritas had sharply, in his cold and demanding manner, delineated his personal zone of work comfort. Nothing more. Arguing frantically and talking about how he actually had an impressive portfolio he'd worked on nights over—he had absolutely no desire to do that.

Students and teachers began gradually heading towards the classrooms, talking louder among themselves and creating a bit of a crowd. That meant it was time for him to return to his seat. And preferably, manage to sit farther away from the window.

A familiar clicking of heels on the tiles and the constant aroma of coffee came from behind.

"Oh, you're already here! Look at that, I'm not even late today. I even managed to grab you some coffee," her mood seemed excellent. A pity Aventurine couldn't sincerely share it between them, forcing out a dry, greeting smile—the pitiful remains of what had been on his face during the conversation with Veritas.

Topaz placed a warm cup in his free palm and peered interestedly into his unusually dejected eyes,hastily hidden behind pink sunglasses. Aventurine could smile as much and to whomever he wanted, but over the years she had thoroughly learned all the subtypes of falsity he used to shield himself from unnecessary questions.

Topaz frowned,trying to piece the picture together.

"What happened already?"

"Weeell...Nothing? Except that I got rejected again in my attempt to work together. Oh, by the way! Here, maybe you'll like it."

Taking a sip of the spiced latte, Aventurine handed her the bag, sincerely wishing to finally be rid of it.

"He turned you down even after such a cute little duck?!" Topaz noted in amazement. "What a jerk."

He shrugged, leaving Topaz the right to call Veritas whatever she deemed necessary, and nodded towards the classroom, gently reminding them it was time to wrap things up. The coffee was too hot, and it took them a good ten minutes to finish it, quietly entering the classroom after the lecture had already started.

Of course, all the students and the professor had long been in their places. Aventurine had to slip past silently, quickly spotting his seat, but surprisingly not seeing Veritas, who had been sitting right in front of him before, in his field of vision.

The realization came a second later when a displeased voice was heard from the direction of the professor's desk:

"You will not set conditions for me or tell me how to work. I execute all project stages strictly according to regulations."

"Mr.Ratio, I understand perfectly well that you are a very ambitious and strong student, but these are the commission's requirements. You must understand me as well."

It felt as if the professor was reporting to him for unfinished homework. Aventurine suppressed a chuckle at this thought, finally gathering his things and intending to move to the back row with Topaz.

"This idiotic rule did not exist at the time of competition registration. Who is even responsible for this?"

"Unfortunately, it appeared yesterday," the professor handed him some paper, which Veritas practically incinerated with his gaze through his reading glasses. "You can see the date and the rector's signature here."

Silence stretched.Ratio read every line, trying to find a loophole, but apparently, there simply wasn't one.

"All students participating in this selection must work in pairs to ensure a level playing field. Currently, you are the only one already registered in this program but lacking a partner for your project."

You could see Ratio boiling over.The sight was clearly not for the faint of heart, but Aventurine was sure: Topaz had already started recording.

"And what do you propose? Find just anyone?"

"Why 'just anyone'? I have an excellent candidate in mind for you," he opened a drawer, found some folder, then scanned the room with his eyes. "Ah, there he is! Mr. Aventurine, please come down here."

Aventurine froze between the rows, foolishly clutching his tote bag, laptop, and empty coffee cup.

Glancing briefly at Topaz,who radiated pure schadenfreude towards Veritas with her entire being, Aventurine finally descended, stopping right by the desk.

"Please sign here."

"Didn't you think to ask me? I refuse to work with him."

"I'm sorry, but all other students in your year either already have partners or are busy with other projects," the professor buried his head in the lists again, further confirming what he'd said.

Aventurine stood silently all this time,smiling faintly at the corner of his mouth, shoving his hands in his pockets and clearly getting on someone's nerves. Perhaps this was the very taste of retribution Topaz had so joyfully described in their second year when she snatched the prize spot for her project, displacing her competitors.

"Aventurine's work is worthy of your attention, believe me," the professor added. "I think your restrained and clean minimalism will harmonize very well with his expressiveness and creative approa—"

"You seem to be thinking far too much," Veritas interrupted him.

"If you don't mind, I'd be happy to speak for myself," Aventurine delicately removed his sunglasses, hooking them by the arm onto his shirt collar and piercingly looking into the face of the towering Veritas. "You can look at my work yourself to see you made hasty conclusions. Believe me, collaborating with me will be an exclusively advantageous option for you. And I will sign it, thank you."

He reached his fingers for the ballpoint pen, humbly awaiting his light touch. Veritas was seething but sincerely tried not to show it publicly. After watching Aventurine draw an ostentatiously calligraphic and garish signature taking up half the page, he turned around and strode out of the classroom, stating that he needed to fetch a journal from the dean's office.

Putting the finishing flourish, he slid the form back to the professor, dusting off his hands with satisfaction.

Aventurine finally took his seat next to Topaz, simultaneously offering a friendly fist bump, which she readily and smilingly returned.

"You know," came a whisper. "We really should have given him the stone dick after all."

Chapter Text

A one-on-one conversation was only a matter of time, so Aventurine wasn't the least bit surprised when, after the last lecture, he was unceremoniously dragged by the elbow around some corner. Topaz remained on the academy steps, clutching his things disapprovingly and watching their retreating backs. At the last moment, Aventurine managed to gesture something resembling a request for her to wait while he sorted things out, so she just sighed heavily and buried herself in her phone.

Aventurine looked up at the extremely displeased Veritas: he hadn't even had time to take off his glasses—seemingly in such a hurry to intercept him; his blue cardigan was carelessly open, and his face showed something resembling an attempt to practice acceptance. But that wasn't certain.

"I'm all ears. Did you want to discuss our project topic?"

"No. I wanted to discuss what happened this morning," he folded his arms across his chest, his voice this time striking with unshakable calm.

"Aren't they the same thing?" Aventurine smiled slyly, testing which strings he could pull to elicit new emotions from him. For some reason, it gave him indescribable pleasure.

"No. I've had a topic in mind for a long time," he rolled his eyes, adjusting his glasses which had slipped down his nose. "I wanted to discuss how you will not be getting underfoot. Or rather, to present you with a fait accompli."

"Oh, I see," Aventurine feigned surprise. "Well, I'm intrigued."

"I propose the following: remote work via email. I will send you small technical tasks—you will complete them and send them back. I will handle bringing it all to its final form myself. According to my calculations, at this pace we'll manage in two to three months."

Aventurine shook his head, demonstratively pulling a pack from his pocket, deftly extracting a single cigarette and pinching the filter between his fingers. And how could he have thought yesterday in the car that they had taken some steps towards each other? Amazing.

"Remotely via email? What are you? Forty?" He caught the cigarette with his lips and immediately added sarcastically: "Though, no, you know, carrier pigeons would be better, at least there's some romance in that."

"This way we spare each other unwanted interaction, and all files will be in one place. I don't see anything strange," Veritas pointedly ignored the last remark.

"No, we'll only spare each other normal collaboration, through which we could achieve a result satisfactory for both of us. I understand, of course, that you're our genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and, quite possibly, the son of some local Zaha Hadid," he struck a lighter, making Veritas take a step back, avoiding the cigarette smoke. "But I don't plan to sit on the sidelines. I want to help you bring this project to completion. Whatever topic you've come up with, we are now a team."

"I don't need your help, better worry about yourself and your budget spot," oh, wonderful, attempts to hit vulnerable spots. What a pity Aventurine had long stopped caring about such manipulations.

"Ha-h, so that's why you're dictating terms to me so confidently," he snorted and shook the ash onto the asphalt, looking boredly at his rings. "Think that just because you have more privileges here, you can push me around as you please? Well, you're not the first—and won't be the last, my friend."

"I believe I've already said that we are very far from being friends and you should drop these familiarities. To be called a friend, one must inspire at least a drop of trust. Or did your parents not even teach you such basics of human relationships?"

"Alas and alack!" he sighed theatrically, looking challengingly into Veritas's eyes. "I never had the luck to meet my parents, and my sister taught me more important things. Survival in a toxic society, for example."

Aventurine crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged, taking another drag. He took everything said as a given. It seemed Ratio sincerely wanted to add something else, but stopped short, uncharacteristically pursing his lips and looking away.

"I didn't mean to offend you," he coughed, either from the smoke suddenly hitting his nose or from not wanting to pursue this topic further. "This dialogue has reached a dead end, and I see no point in continuing it."

"How nice that we agree on something, at least," Aventurine smiled stiffly. "I won't detain you any further."

Ratio sighed heavily and, adjusting his bag on his shoulder, departed. Aventurine remained to finish that wretched cigarette, mentally noting that he hadn't really wanted to smoke before this anyway.

Damn Veritas.

A complete fiasco and catastrophe—that's what Topaz had called their relationship this afternoon, and she was completely right, as always. He didn't care what he had come up with, let him flood his email to the brim, he had no time for that now.

He glanced at his watch, humbly reminding himself that his work shift started in an hour and a half. Well, he'd have to postpone all disagreements until tomorrow. Considering how bulletproof Veritas was in terms of empathy, perhaps he should take the first step himself. Even if it was forced.

He wants trust? Well, he'll demonstrate it to him clearly.

---

According to forecasts, a very big game was expected today. These are the moments when inveterate losers are ready to stake everything they have, tearfully praying for even a minuscule chance to recoup their previous failures.

Aventurine sincerely despised such people. It looked pathetic.

He himself was happy to dabble in bets or earn a bit of money with cards at the university, but always, without exception, did it just for fun. Pleasure, fun, and the feeling of excitement—that's the key to a successful game. Luck doesn't favor those who cling to ephemeral opportunities to profit, and it certainly abandons those who elevate this to an absolute.

Boredly watching another such client, who was practically trembling with anticipation of quick profit, he put on his signature work smile, handing over the form to fill out and wishing him good luck.

Aventurine sprawled in the chair behind the registration desk, casually crossing his legs as if he weren't just processing bets here, but at the very least the owner of an elite casino on a substitute shift. The evening smoothly transitioned into night, and he was incredibly sleepy, and no amount of coffee helped anymore.

He had to kill time watching an uninteresting match and observing how yet another overconfident fools left frustrated with nothing, leaving behind piles of empty beer glasses.

Aventurine walked along the hall, finding one of the already free but cluttered tables. Slowly gathering all this onto a tray, he didn't immediately realize how it was suddenly knocked out of his hands. Aventurine was taken aback, raising an eyebrow in bewilderment.

"What the hell are you doing here, you Sigonian bastard, can't you see I'm in a crucial moment?!" a drunk, and already considerably money-losing patron strained, peering at the monitor. "Who even let you in here? You people just attract bad luck."

"You're interfering with my work," habitually ignoring such outbursts with a smile, Aventurine turned back to the counter, just in case locating the security call button with his eyes.

"Are you fucking kidding me?! Listen, we'll talk after the match ends."

Aventurine ignored the jab in his direction, quickly gathering everything back onto the tray and retreating further from the displeased man. He had neither the strength nor the desire to prove anything to anyone right now. Veritas alone this morning had managed to drain his hardy social battery by a good half.

The atmosphere in their establishment, which, unfortunately, resembled a sports bar more than a usual betting shop, was becoming increasingly heavy. Aventurine could feel the growing tension in the air due to the impending end of the match, and hence—a wave of discontent.

Sitting back down in his seat, he found several missed calls from Sampo on his phone screen, furrowing his brow in bewilderment and sincerely hoping the reason for the call wasn't related to another request for help. He'd had enough of Veritas for one day, again.

It was quite difficult to hear the dial tone in this chaos.

"Hey, fellow! Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to ask you something," a sleepy voice came through. "Can I shut down your laptop?"

"No, there's a video for a presentation still rendering, don't touch it," Aventurine tiredly rubbed his eyes, placing a cup in the coffee machine for his third latte with three syrups of varying sweetness, to somehow mask the bitterness of his futile existence. "Why, what's up?"

"Well, some spammer keeps sending emails to your mailbox non-stop. About forty have come in already."

Well, well, he wasn't lying.

"Just turn off the sound. We'll wear this spammer down," he smiled into the phone, tactfully omitting that Sampo could easily find the name of this very "spammer" in the client list.

Sampo said something in response, but he couldn't make out the end of the phrase. A loud yell from the other end of the hall overpowered the music and made all the patrons, and Aventurine himself, turn their heads towards the enraged man.

"Bitch! I knew it!!!" He shoved the monitor off the table with force, making Aventurine wince and purse his lips, anticipating another deduction from his salary. "You scum!"

He jumped out from behind the table, transferring his furious gaze to Aventurine sitting at the counter.

"It's all because of you!"

"And I wonder how many more times I'll be told that," he tiredly pressed his cool fingers to his temples and glanced at the clock. Well, to be fair, he still had time before the end of his shift to sort everything out and clean up.

"Sigonian filth! My bet didn't pay off because you ruined everything for me!"

"Yeah, and the milk in your fridge went sour because of me too, by the way," Aventurine added this with such casualness, as if 220 pounds of rage weren't rushing at him right now.

He suddenly remembered Sampo, who, apparently, was still on the line. Aventurine quickly put the speaker to his ear, barely dodging the hands of the unstable patron.

"Listen, you said something yesterday, like 'old Sampo won't forget it,' right? Is the offer still valid?" he rattled off quickly, trying to reach the security call button.

Alas, apparently, not meant to be. Aventurine sharply jumped aside, avoiding a new blow and causing the brawler to lean over the counter. The coffee cup was knocked over, and the chair he'd been sitting on crashed to the floor with a clatter.

"What, an opportunity already came up? I'm at your disposal."

"Yep, this 'opportunity' is trying to smash my skull in. Need your help. Right no—"

He didn't get to finish, having to jerk aside again, now circling the workstation and swapping positions with the attacker.

His phone, as luck would have it, fell from his hands, ending up somewhere under the chair and cutting off the possibility of reminding Sampo of the address. Aventurine sincerely hoped that this sly fox remembered everything about everyone. And his workplace was no exception.

"Bitch, come here," the drunken and thoroughly enraged man wouldn't let up.

Things were heating up, and all the patrons, of course, absolutely didn't care about what was happening; the match—by definition—was more important. Trying to dodge for the third time, Aventurine didn't notice how he caught his foot on the cord of the overturned monitor, stumbling, but managing to grab onto one of the tables to keep his balance.

But even this brief hesitation was enough for him to be grabbed by the shirtfront and pinned against the wall with his back.

"Well, had enough fun?"

"Don't you find it funny yourself?" Aventurine smiled impudently, feeling his heart pounding: whether from the amount of coffee he'd drunk alone or from the sense of impending danger. His body screamed that he needed to run somewhere, but instead, he venomously added: "Just so you know, I bet too, and guess what? I won every last credit."

Aventurine slowly raised his hands in front of him, adorned with gold rings and a watch, brazenly waving all this loot in his face, like a red rag to a enraged bull.

"All this—was bought with money from idiots like you," he spat out with obvious mockery. "Lost money, by the way. Well, who's the loser here?"

Aventurine would never in his life answer the question of why he loved testing his luck so much in critical situations. It's quite possible it made him feel alive, or maybe—he was just insane.

Back in childhood, his sister had told him more than once that unjustified risks and his innate tendency to stick his neck out—from which she herself had to pull him out—wouldn't lead to any good. But in such moments, in his humble judgment, the best option was to brazenly smile in their faces. To spite all the scumbags.

A blow hit his jaw.

His lower lip instantly ached, forcing the remnants of a distant self-preservation instinct to surface and put his hands in front of him, digging the metal of his rings into the other's forearms. He managed to dodge the second blow, having time to swing his leg forcefully and kick him in the groin.

"You bastard..." The grip, contrary to Aventurine's calculations, didn't loosen, but he did manage to forcefully dig his fingers into his throat, painfully squeezing around the Adam's apple and touching the tattoo.

Dark purple circles danced before his eyes, and the sudden, overwhelming animal fear screamed with all its might that Aventurine was in deep shit. He was slammed against the wall with the back of his head with full force, finally making the patrons turn their heads and pay them some attention. Aventurine was held unceremoniously by the neck, controlling how much air he was allowed to inhale, and if he was allowed at all. Again, nails scratched the thin skin, again nasty, rough fingers made the areas beneath them burn. Again-again-again.

It hurts... don't—

Let go.

Please.

An icy sweat rolled noticeably down his back, making him wince, and the distinct metallic taste in his mouth carried the nausea rapidly rising in his throat. He started shaking, all external sounds blurred into a booming echo, and Aventurine himself was now only capable of uselessly and chaotically elbowing the attacker, eliciting no reaction.

He was hit again, but this time in the solar plexus, knocking the remaining oxygen from his lungs and the ground from under his feet, forcing him to desperately cling to anything that could pull him out of his semi-faint state. And that something turned out to be the nearest table, which for some reason he managed to reach.

He was suddenly let go for some reason, allowing the air, cutting his mucous membranes, to push into his lungs, but he couldn't even fully comprehend that. Aventurine looked down lostly, staring at his own hands and vainly trying to understand how to breathe again, how to throw the disgusting image from the past out of his head, how to find the cherished thread to hold onto and take a breath. Panic washed over him, making him grab the damn spot on his neck where a stranger's hand had just been squeezing. At least to make sure no one was touching him there anymore.

Suddenly, the acrid smell of smoke hit his nose, and only then could Aventurine fully realize that the attacker had been forcefully pulled away from him, prudently tripping him. That explained the fact that the drunk man was lying on the floor. He was grabbed again, this time by the shoulders.

Jerking his eyes up to understand where the next blow would come from and prepare in advance, Aventurine was surprised to see a familiar, foolish smile before him.

"Sampo?.."

"Well, they really did a number on you, rookie," pulling him outside and immediately leading him by the arm somewhere around the corner to hide, he expressed surprise: "What did you do to piss him off so much?"

His mouth still tasted unpleasantly of blood, and he really didn't feel like talking, so Aventurine was immensely glad that Sampo nodded understandingly, leaving the question rhetorical, giving him time to come to his senses and offering a salvific lighter. He had to smoke several cigarettes in a row to finally restore his breathing and realize that no one was planning to strangle him today. At least, he hoped so.

Aventurine stared emptily at the road ahead, trying to focus his gaze and gather his thoughts.

"Thanks," he said quietly, sliding down the cold wall with his back and tiredly squatting.

"Don't mention it," Sampo shoved his hands into his pockets as if nothing had happened. "Just wanted to test those tear-gas things from Hanabi in action."

"I must admit," Aventurine forced something resembling a smile, immediately wincing from the painfully stretched scab on his lip, "that's quite ironic."

Catching a puzzled look, he added:

"Well, the fact that Hanabi indirectly helped me not to get strangled over the fact of my origin," he drawled mysteriously, glancing sideways. "Yeah, that's definitely amusing."

"She'll be thrilled," Sampo agreed with a smile, offering a hand. "So, heading back? I won't interrogate you about what happened here, forget it. We're even."

"I'd really like to, but my shift is still on. Need to clean up."

"Does your job include fighting with strangulation?"

"It includes precisely avoiding them, but, as you can see, I won't be getting 'Employee of the Month' on the board," Aventurine feigned regret with a strained pout, finally feeling he could stand firmly on his feet and not flinch at every movement.

When they returned, the brawler was no longer there. Nor were almost all those who had been present during their fight. Just the heavy smell of smoke, one broken monitor, tables shifted in chaotic order, and a couple of regulars whom no incident could distract from the truly important activity—watching the game's progress.

In the background, the nagging thought of what his sister would say to him about such an escapade loomed, but his head was so empty for any self-analysis right now that he simply gave up, leaving this incident behind.

All that remained was to hope that the cameras had recorded everything and, preferably, without sound. He really didn't want to explain his own words to the management.

Surprisingly, time passed relatively quickly during the cleanup. And even though Aventurine was frankly dead on his feet after everything that had happened, the thought that he would finally fall into bed now and didn't have to jump up first thing in the morning warmed his soul. Daytime lectures were that very saving straw Aventurine clung to, his crazy schedule, and concealer incapable of covering the chronic dark circles from lack of sleep.

The now-familiar dorm room finally greeted him with the finished rendering video, a hundred email notifications in the lower right corner of the screen—which he justifiably ignored—empty cans from yesterday's energy drinks, and Sampo's disheveled bed, from which he, apparently, had to jump up in a hurry. Well, Aventurine would know from now on that having a roommate in your debt is a pretty good investment in the future. And in the safety of one's own backside in critical moments.

He tiredly pulled off his outer clothing, letting Sampo back into his bed, picked up a towel, his favorite floral shower gel, and wisely trudged to the shower. He wanted to steam his skin, wash off the dried blood, and just relax before tomorrow's sculpture class, perfectly aware of who he would run into right from the doorstep.

Entering the shower room, the first thing Aventurine's eyes involuntarily caught was the wall mirror. The reflection, contrary to expectations, didn't wave back at him or even smile, which was a pity. His smiles, for some reason, seemed to be enough for everyone else.

Aventurine leaned his elbows on the sink, deciding to carefully wash off the remnants of blood from his swollen lip and inspect the damage. He raised a faded gaze, noticing a few pale bruises on his neck, and immediately winced. The tattoo was interrupted by the distinct, darkened mark of a stranger's palm, and for some reason this infuriated him so much that he instantly wanted to tear off his own skin for a couple of days, just so he wouldn't have to see it until it faded. Aventurine stupidly ran his wet hand over his neck, as if there were any sense in it, and all that filth mixed with anxiety would wash away on its own. Images and memories kept surfacing in his head, phantomly burning the skin where his wet palm slid. Giving up, he finally abandoned this endeavor, turning away from the mirror and shedding the rest of his clothes.

The desire to bathe in a hot shower and go to sleep as soon as possible to end these damned twenty-four hours was much stronger than examining the remnants of his dubious past and giving them any sane assessment.

No one is interested in hearing his whining. Not even himself.

---

Loud morning music rudely pierced through deep sleep and their room door, forcing his eyes to peel open unwillingly. Aventurine had long been accustomed to the fact that their neighbor liked to make a bit of noise, and Sampo had simply adapted, so he was still sleeping like a log, buried face-first in the pillow. In general, he had nothing against it, especially considering that Caelus's pop music worked better than any alarm clock. He only felt sorry for his neighbor, who, as far as he knew, liked to read in silence.

Adjusting his t-shirt, twisted during the night, Aventurine yawned widely and stretched his arms up. The clock on the screen optimistically informed him that he had slept a good eight hours and, it seemed, on such terms, one could even live a little longer.

Quickly getting himself in order, putting on his favorite rings, and buttoning up the uncomfortable but, according to Topaz (who had given it to him), practical high-collared shirt a little more than the usual three buttons, Aventurine slipped out of the room. The day ahead promised to be eventful; it was felt even in the uncharacteristic bustle in the dorm hallway at this hour.

Not missing the unique opportunity to scribble a harmless nasty remark on the marker board of wishes, which hung so temptingly on the door opposite his room, Aventurine giggled and put on his pink sunglasses, preparing to meet the March sun fully armed.

The moment he stepped outside, the phone in his pocket insistently vibrated. He looked at the screen, immediately smiling softly. Okay, arguing here was stupid: more stable and reliable than Caelus's music as an alarm clock were only Topaz's phone calls, seasoned with care and indignation.

"Did you get into a fight?!"

"And a good morning to you too, light of my life," Aventurine chirped as if he hadn't nearly been strangled yesterday.

"I swear by the Qliphoth, Aventurine," a picture immediately formed in his head of Topaz wagging her index finger in the air admonishingly. "Can I leave you alone for even one night without you getting yourself killed?"

"I strive exclusively for you, my dear," he glanced towards the coffee vending machine. "But seriously—just an unlucky shift. And a client. By the way, how did you even find out?"

"Well, ran into Hanabi in the dorm this morning, she was just beaming," Topaz could be heard grumbling, chewing something discontentedly. "So, I decided to inquire about the reason for the joy. You understand."

"What a blabbermouth, and when did he even find the time…"

"Who?"

"Sampo, who else."

"You fought with Sampo?" she raised her eyebrows in amazement.

"You overestimate my abilities," pinning the phone between his shoulder and cheek, Aventurine placed a cup in the machine and pressed the button. "Forget it. Another long and stupid story about stupid me, but I'm perfectly fine. A couple of bruises and a split lip, nothing more."

"You'll tell me everything later. I won't let it go."

"Of course," he almost purred, sniffing the freshly made cappuccino with satisfaction. "Right now, I'm in a bit of a hurry."

They exchanged a few more phrases, and Topaz, finally fully convinced that Aventurine was still sufficiently 'Aventurine-like' and resilient to leave him alone, hung up.

The classroom greeted him with the damp smell of plaster, dust, and clay, mingling with someone's unfinished energy drink. There were already quite a few people here, but his gaze from the doorway caught on a specific back, which, like the statue next to which he stood, showed no signs of involvement in others' conversations.

There was still time before the lecture started, but Veritas was already focused on working on the base of the sculpture's neck, clearly excelling at it more than anyone present. Interestedly peering at how confidently his fingers pressed the clay in the right places, Aventurine moved a little closer, mentally preparing himself for the possibility that their conversation today might go even worse than yesterday's.

But he would still take the risk.

A completely foolish but painfully tempting idea came to mind. Unable to resist, Aventurine took out his phone and took a picture of Veritas engrossed in his work from behind. The treacherous sound of the shutter click, which he had carelessly forgotten to turn off after the call with Topaz, made Ratio turn around, and then roll his eyes.

"Unauthorized photography is not the most successful way to inspire trust in a collaborative partner," Veritas stated in an even tone and turned back to the sculpture.

"Well, maybe I was taking a picture of myself, why are you so sure?" Aventurine smiled slyly, pointing to the front camera and moving a little closer. "And did I hear correctly, hmm? We're partners now?"

Aventurine drew out the last word with particular sweetness and came almost nose-to-nose. He peered where Veritas was looking but found nothing particularly interesting for himself, except that he smelled exactly the same as yesterday: of Eastern sweets, expensive cologne, and pedantry.

About the last one, Aventurine, of course, had some doubts, but for some reason, he believed that was precisely what his unchanging shampoo smelled like.

Such proximity was distracting, and Veritas recoiled to the side, wiping his soiled hands on a rag and sighing tiredly.

"Yes, on paper for the rector, we are project partners. I said everything else yesterday," he glanced at the wall clock. "And also, the lecture is about to start. Take your place and find some piece of clay, at least for decency's sake."

Aventurine raised his hands in front of himself, taking a step back and flashing his unchanging smile at him, finally taking his place at the table. These antics were even starting to irritate Veritas less. They say it's true—the human psyche adapts to any external stimuli.

Sculpture classes didn't bring Aventurine any particular moral pleasure, unlike Ratio, who enthusiastically invested himself in every movement of the tool and his fingers. Aventurine found absolutely no aesthetics in getting dirty with clay. Except that the result could sometimes be really interesting, but no more.

Turning on his favorite playlist in his headphones and tuning in for the upcoming work, Aventurine finally focused on the task set by the teacher. Well, sculpting the base of a head turned out not to be so difficult, he just needed to figure out how…

His eyes again mindlessly caught on the familiar blue cardigan. He wanted to peek at how Veritas had added volume in the chin area, but instead, Aventurine continued to simply watch how confidently, touch by touch, he supplemented, corrected, and refined the features of the unfamiliar clay face. Now that had something meditative and aesthetic about it. Mentally, Aventurine still praised himself for the sneaky photo; it was worth it.

A few hours passed relatively unnoticed. The students bustled about, and as Aventurine was scrubbing his palms of dried clay, a voice came from the next table:

"Speaking of collaboration," Veritas said this as if they had merely paused their dialogue. "You have, I hope, familiarized yourself with the files I sent yesterday to the email?"

"No," Aventurine answered shortly, throwing his already packed bag over his shoulder and shrugging.

"What do you mean, 'no'? We agreed—"

"That's what it means," he sighed, tilting his head to the side. "I didn't have time for that, we never discussed the project topic, and you just vented everything on your mind and went home satisfied. In my understanding, that doesn't mean 'agreed'."

Veritas crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at him disapprovingly.

"You said something about trust, I believe? Well, I'm ready to demonstrate it to you in full," a genuine spark of excitement flashed in his neon eyes. "But first, shove all your grievances somewhere far away and just tell me: are you having coffee?"

Veritas nodded, at the very least because he wanted to sort this out quickly, and at most—because Aventurine's offer was just a little bit tempting. Whether it was the more closed and calmer-colored shirt, which didn't make his eyes ripple fiercely, or the fact that Ratio really wanted to replenish his daily dose of caffeine. This morning he had forgotten his little ritual, prioritizing urgent student council matters.

"Good, then follow me, I'll show you my secret spot." Seeing the doubt in Veritas's eyes, Aventurine slyly added: "Don't worry, I won't give you any gifts, I noticed you're allergic to them."

Aventurine winked and moved out of the classroom, hinting for him to follow. Taking a deep breath but hoping that at least the coffee would be tasty, Veritas, wishing the teacher a good day, followed, contemplating the light wheat-colored crown of his head the entire way to the vending machine.

Clutching the cup of desired coffee in his palm, Ratio inhaled the spicy aroma, detecting notes of cinnamon.

"You're not having any?" Veritas looked at Aventurine with bewilderment, who had settled for a bottle of plain water.

"I'll pass, I've been having it a bit too often lately," Aventurine looked around for some reason and snorted with satisfaction. "Let's go."

Veritas didn't ask unnecessary questions, hoping they could sort things out faster this way and finally manage to agree on something.

However, questions arose with every second, and the last straw was the fact that Aventurine, for some fucking reason, had a duplicate key for the exit to the Academy roof.

"I know, I know, Mr. Student Council Member, it's against the rules," Aventurine said before he could voice it aloud. "But we won't be long. I just want to show you something."

"Where did you even get the keys?" The roof turned out to be quite clean and spacious, and most importantly—not a single living soul except themselves.

"Oh, just... a little bird dropped them once."

"And the name of this 'little bird' is Sampo Koski?" Veritas stated as a matter of fact.

"You have very narrow knowledge in ornithology, you know," he noted evasively, walking a little further.

A picturesque sunset landscape unfolded before them, the panorama of which was obligingly provided by the observation deck in the form of the roof. Well, that could be considered a weighty argument in the collection of reasons why he had dragged them up here at all.

Aventurine moved a little closer to the edge, peering at the slowly setting sun and seemingly ignoring Ratio, who stood behind him, taking another spicy sip.

"You don't trust me, do you?"

The question sounded into the void, as if rhetorically. Aventurine waited a couple of drawn-out seconds before turning to Veritas with a slight half-smile.

"I know you don't. You don't have to answer," he turned back to the sun, drawing some conclusions for himself, which Veritas himself could only guess at. "Well, in that case…"

Veritas suddenly felt anxious. A bad premonition had never failed him, so he swallowed tensely, setting the coffee cup down on the parapet next to him, not taking his wary eyes off the silhouette cutting through the sunset rays.

Aventurine gracefully turned his whole body towards him now, softly rocking on his toes and not hiding his inherent slyness.

"Seems I'll have to demonstrate clearly what trust means to me," with these words, he took two more steps back, immediately feeling the wind tickling his back through the thick fabric of his shirt. "And show you what will happen if we continue to collaborate."

As if in slow motion, practically frame by frame, Veritas could fully realize what this idiot was planning to do right now and see how slowly but surely Aventurine was intentionally losing his balance.

He relaxedly closed his eyes and spread his arms wide. Thinking of nothing, hoping for no particular outcome, just making another one of his bets in the big game called "life."

After all, only by taking risks can one obtain the coveted triumph and valuable reward. This life credo was what Aventurine had been guided by throughout his entire journey.

As it turned out, it really wasn't much different from playing poker: an unpredictable finale, adrenaline in the blood, and an opponent bewildered by his hidden aces up his sleeve. Currents of air instantly soared upward, tousling his hair and clothes, but everything stopped just as suddenly along with the characteristic sound of tearing fabric. Tch. Topaz will be upset, it was a nice shirt.

"Have you completely lost your mind?!" Veritas's strong grip clenched the fabric on his chest, holding him back from the inevitable fall.

Ratio had reacted almost instantaneously. He hadn't even expected it to happen so quickly.

Aventurine slowly lifted his eyelids, immediately meeting the warm shades of a summer dawn in the eyes opposite.

Truly beautiful.

Only now did he realize that his own heart was pounding furiously in his chest, stirring with anticipation and settling with needles of adrenaline on his fingertips. A sweet taste of victory was on his tongue, and the risk, it seemed, had justified all means.

Veritas pulled him by the shirtfront towards himself and, almost bumping foreheads, fell back onto the roof surface. Aventurine, dragged along, fell on top of him, immediately finding support with his hands on either side of his head.

"You see," he loomed over his face, brazenly blocking the entire view. The stone on his neck dangled before his eyes, attracting attention. "I trusted you completely, and, as it turned out, not in vain. Now you trust me, Veritas. That's what I call collaboration."

Finding nothing to say to all this, Ratio silently looked up, meeting first the torn fabric of the shirt—torn by him, no less—now vulgarly exposing the solar plexus and the tattoo with barely visible bruises on the neck, and then the brazen, victorious smile. This is just impossible, no, he's definitely an idiot.

Silently closing his eyes, Veritas fell back with the back of his head onto the stone surface, hoping to somehow calm the pulse wildly beating in his veins from the suddenness and outright stupidity of everything that had happened.

Damn Aventurine.