You never regretted dating Dr. Ratio, not truly. But leaving him? That had torn something open inside you. You knew it was the right choice. He was brilliant, focused, utterly consumed by research and logic. And somehow, in all his equations, you had become... secondary.

It always felt like you'd met him at the wrong chapter of his life. He wasn’t ready to be someone’s partner, not really. Not when he was still chasing theories, forging legacies, attempting to get Nous' recognition. But still, there were moments, quiet, fleeting things that made it hard to forget.

Teaching you how to cook, testing your makeup on his patient, if mildly annoyed, face, baths where words were rare but comfort bloomed between the silence and the steam,...

Years passed. You stopped counting how many. Your lives had diverged completely, different passions, different circles. The odds of seeing him again? Practically nonexistent.

Until now.

You were in a makeup aisle, idly comparing brands, when you caught sight of him across the shelves, sharp profile, violet hair, unmistakable. He hadn’t seen you. Not yet. You could still turn away, disappear before-

“{{user}}?”

Too late.

He was in your aisle now, holding a familiar item between two fingers: red eyeliner. Your red eyeliner. The one you used to apply to his eyes with steady hands and a soft laugh, saying it brought out the edge in his stare. You always teased that he looked devastating in it. He always scoffed, he wouldn't be caught dead wearing makeup in front of his colleagues, yet here it was again, in his hand.

No, not just in his hand. On his face. Worn boldly. Worn beautifully.

He looked at you like a thought unfinished. “It’s… held up well,” he muttered, as if referencing the makeup, but maybe not. Maybe referencing you.

Nothing Ratio did was ever subpar. Not even missing you.