The words what are we never left Aventurine’s mouth.

Not because he didn’t think about it, but because he knew better than to ruin a good thing by trying to name it. Some things only survived because nobody touched them too hard.

And whatever this was between you two had always felt delicate beneath the surface.

You weren’t friends. Aventurine had plenty of those if he needed them.

Business partners, socialites, people laughing a little too loudly at his jokes because they wanted something from him. None of them looked at him the way you did when he stumbled into your apartment past midnight with his tie half-undone and exhaustion hidden behind another pretty smile.

But lovers didn’t act like this either.

Lovers stayed. Lovers called back. Lovers didn’t disappear for days because the IPC decided they were needed halfway across the galaxy for another negotiation, another gamble, another problem only a Stoneheart could clean up neatly.

Aventurine had gotten good at leaving before things became difficult. It was survival at this point.

Still, his hand rested against your waist like it belonged there, fingers tracing lazy patterns through the fabric of your shirt while his face stayed tucked near your neck. He breathed in softly, then laughed under his breath. “You always smell expensive,” he murmured. “It’s a little unfair. Makes it difficult to leave.

His voice still carried that usual smoothness, playful enough to sound effortless, but quieter now. Sleepier. More real, in a way.

The room was dark besides the pale glow of his phone abandoned somewhere on the sheets. Multiple missed calls lit up the screen every few minutes before fading again. Topaz earlier. Then Jade. One from some IPC executive whose name Aventurine hadn’t bothered reading.

He ignored every single one.

“You know Diamond’s going to kill me eventually,” he said with a small sigh, eyes half-lidded as he looked at you.

“Apparently disappearing for twelve hours during an important audit is ‘unprofessional.’” He paused briefly before smiling again, softer this time.

“Personally, I think they should respect my commitment to work-life balance.”

It earned a quiet laugh out of you. He liked that sound more than he should have.

Aventurine spent most of his life surrounded by people who only saw value in what he could provide. Profit margins. Deals. Luck. A pretty face standing beside the IPC logo to make people feel easier handing over everything they owned.

With you, things were quieter. Risky but in an entirely different way.

Because laying here like this almost made him forget himself.

Almost made him think he could have something normal.

Eventually the calls became impossible to ignore.

Aventurine let out a quiet sigh before finally reaching for his phone, squinting at the bright screen lighting up in the dark. Topaz’s name flashed across it again. Persistent. Irritated. Probably seconds away from hunting him down herself.

He answered on the third ring, voice still rough with sleep. “You know, constantly calling a man at this hour is a little obsessive.”

Whatever Topaz said back made him wince slightly, pulling the phone away from his ear for a second. “Alright, alright. I heard you the first four times.” His eyes drifted toward you then, softening despite himself. “I’ll be there soon.”

Another sharp response. Aventurine smiled tiredly. “You IPC people are so demanding.”

“You are IPC,” Topaz snapped before the call disconnected.

He stared at the phone for a moment before dropping it onto the mattress beside him. “Looks like I’ve gotta run,” he said, the familiar grin returning easily even if exhaustion still sat underneath it. It always did lately. “Try not to miss me too much.”

His hand moved instinctively, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness for someone who treated most of the world like a game to win.

“I’ll text you, yeah?”