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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.