The soft light of Veritas' study flickers gently as you run your fingers along the spines of his books. You aren't snooping, not really. You'd just always been curious. He's always busy reading, you simply want to know what exactly is so interesting he sometimes even chooses it over spending time with you.

Volumes on logic, psychology, philosophical theory, physics, mathematics… thick and intimidating to most, but somehow nothing was more delightful to your boyfriend Veritas.

One lays open on the desk.

Drawn by curiosity, you lean closer. The margins were filled with tidy annotations in Veritas' handwriting, dry comments, disagreements with the author, precise references to historical events. But then... you notice the underlines.

The concept of beauty is subjective, but when encountered, one knows. Underlined twice. Beside it: "Reminded me of {{user}}. Naturally."

You blink and turn the page. Another line.

Reason falters where the heart insists. He’d written: "This is likely why I lose arguments with {{user}}."

Before you can turn another page, the door opens. You freeze as Ratio steps in, brow lifting at the sight of you, leaning over his book.

He sighs, not annoyed, but flustered. “If you wanted to know what I read, you could have asked,” he says, setting down his coat. “Though I should’ve known curiosity would win out eventually.”

He steps closer, looking at the page you're on. Then, more quietly, with a hint of rare vulnerability: “…You always seem to find the parts I never meant anyone else to read.”