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Veritas Ratio X Reader - Blog Posts

klemen-time

1 year ago

pairing: dr. ratio x gender neutral reader

contains: angst, insecurities, friends to ???, open ended, mutual (?) pining, banter (?), i tried to make their dialogue lighthearted, reader is a writer/author in this, you call him veritas alot

synopsis: a friend, that's all you'll ever be to him.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: wrote from 400 to almost 2k in one night hehe, i wanted to atleast update my other event so i did. and if i get asked if this has part two uhm, i WILL think about it :D based on a true story (aka im not sure if i like one of my guy friends)

part of the comeback festa

Meeting Veritas Ratio was one of the best things that happened to you.

He was a bit eccentric, really intimidating and you're still unsure why both of you became friends so easily.

You liked different things, and people would scoff or laugh at you when you told them that the scary Dr. Ratio was your dearest friend.

When you had free time, you'd meet with one another and discuss the happenings of the week. He'd tell you about the various research topics he delved into or the interesting students he spotted on his lecture.

Meanwhile, you'd tell him about the activities you found yourself in when gathering inspiration for a novel. And Veritas Ratio must not look like he's interested - oh, but he is invested whenever you recount the flowery ideas that came to you that day.

And it was inevitable that you saw the man as not only your dearest friend, but someone you fell in love with.

It was a simple affair really, you'd think that the Veritas Ratio was hard to love yet it was easier than taking a breath of fresh air. He may look cold on the outside yet when you talk to him- you undeniably feel warm.

Other people won't notice it but you do. You know how much he values teaching his students because the way he animatedly “rants” about his students - you could see the sparkle in his eyes, that desire to impart knowledge to those who can't do the same as him.

The more you stare into his mesmerizing eyes or imagine the way you'd card your fingers through his hair - you lay awake in your bed, wishing that Veritas Ratio would feel the same for you.

“You look distressed, is something troubling you?” He asks out of nowhere when you were eating lunch together.

It was a bit late for lunch yet he still found time to eat with you, and he even brought the foods you wanted to try for a long time.

“Ah…me? It's about my novel. I'm getting stuck on the plot and whatnot.” You say, eyes flitting away from his inquisitive gaze.

“Oh, care to tell me about it? I could even offer my input.”

It wasn't even said in romantic intent yet your heart races loudly in your chest.

“It's a short one this time. The protagonist found themselves falling for their longtime friend but can't say it for fear of rejection or ruining the friendship.”

After voicing it out, you're seriously considering the planet to swallow you whole because isn't that a bit too obvious?

“What's got you stuck then? I'm quite sure you are well versed in this type of storyline, are you not?” He tells you with an eyebrow raise.

You can't speak further, in fear of revealing your true feelings to the man before you. And so you swallow your words and laugh.

“You're right…”

In the months that follow, you're hoping Veritas hadn't noticed a single thing amiss with how you're acting.

You also hope most of your excuses are credible and don't seem as if you're avoiding him. You've got to thank some of your colleagues for barging in on some of them, if not then this whole charade would have been discovered long ago.

Veritas Ratio is very observant, he won't talk much and it's subtle. You get surprised when he mentions something out of the blue and you realize it's those you've said when you think he wasn't listening.

And when another friend of yours comes to you and starts talking, you aren't worried…well for the meanwhile.

“I heard you liked someone.” She said, clinging on your arm and gushing. She's the type that wants to be updated on all the latest gossip and you would have loved to listen if Veritas wasn't a few feet away.

He could rattle your ear off about bringing noisy coworkers in his ‘safe space’ even when you're in public. You gaze over to him and see that he isn't listening and is focusing on his book.

“Where’d you hear that?” Pulling away from her, you asked - hoping that she would back off after having been entertained.

“That doesn't matter! What matters is who you like!”

You do not like where this is going.

And from your peripheral, Veritas raises his head - it looks as if he's disinterested or annoyed even, yet he doesn't try to push away the source of noise.

“I heard it's a friend of yours.”

This is really bad.

“I'm not sure where you've heard of that, but it isn't true!” Your voice pitches up, eyes signaling for your other friend to shut up.

Sighing, you pull her farther from where Veritas was sitting. And you cross your arms, needing that explanation.

“Is it really Dr. Ratio?” If you hadn't dragged her further then she would have exposed you and you would've died on the spot.

“Where did you hear that from?” You asked again, exasperated, maybe paranoid because you feel Veritas would teleport to where you were and expose everything about you.

“I didn't hear anything really. It's obvious!”

You can't speak after that.

Realizing that your true feelings are quite evident, you don't even know how to act in front of your friend.

How could you act normally in that situation? The truth had slapped you in the face after avoiding it for so long - when you got back to where Veritas was sitting, you couldn't even look him in the eye!

Thankfully, you had evaded his prodding and saved yourself from more questioning when a call from work interrupted you both.

Though, the problem lies in the aftermath. How could you face him when hanging out? A few months earlier you could have stared at his face normally yet now when you hear his voice - your heart speeds up.

Groaning, you bump your forehead against the wooden desk. The manuscript of your novel is laid spread over the table. By this time, you think Veritas had connected all the dots - he's smart after all.

Your phone rings and when you pick it up, you see his name.

“Speak of the devil,” you muttered after accepting the call and he questions your greeting.

“What?”

You've got to get it together!

“It's nothing. Anyway, why did you call me?” You scribble on the sides of the scratch paper you found scattered on your desk while waiting for his response.

“What, I can't just call a friend?” He huffed and you had to pinch yourself to stop imagining things.

“You can. But it is very unlike you, doctor.” you jest, trying to regain composure, willing yourself to not slip up anything during this conversation.

“I'm lying too. I just wanted to hear your voice, is that bad?”

Now that is bad. Your cheeks flare up and you're thankful he isn't in front of you or your eyes would go everywhere and you'd be stuttering.

“What has gotten into you?” You asked and his answer just infuriates you.

“I can ask you the same thing.” He hums, and your stomach does that weird somersault.

“Nothing's the matter, why'd you ask?” Maybe you can get this conversation shifted to another topic, I could ask him about his past lectures or his future lessons-

“By now you would have pestered me to come here. But you haven't.”

You chuckle in utter disbelief, “I find that hard to believe.”

Silence drapes over the call like a warm blanket, and you would have welcomed it if it wasn't for his next words.

“I wanted you to come here actually.”

He must be joking.

A quiet what escapes your lips and you hear that melodious laugh resonate in your ears. You swoon but remember the circumstances, you freeze right after.

You would have loved to hear what he has to say next, after all he is talkative about things he likes. But your shaking fingers press on the end button and the phone drops against the desk.

The thoughts that came subsequently was a grim reminder of your situation.

You like Veritas Ratio, and you're scared to tell him.

It was those cliche and cheesy romance novels you would have enjoyed reading, the conflict before resolution before the two love interests. The absolute torment the lead characters would go through while internalizing if they were good enough for the other.

You then remind yourself that Veritas Ratio wasn't a book character and neither were you.

It had been a few weeks since your last conversation. And he probably understood the silence that came from your end because he hadn't tried reaching out.

This hurts you, but only slightly. Admitting that it's painful solidifies the fact that you are head over heels for Dr. Ratio.

Evading your long time friend was out of the question, it's about time that he barged into your home and questioned you on why you were so adamant on ignoring him after not explaining yourself.

But how could you? How could you explain that you were scared to admit your feelings to him, in fear that he would leave you?

Veritas Ratio was first and foremost, your dearest friend - losing him over some feelings wasn't worth it. You weren't worth it.

You were not deserving of someone like Veritas Ratio. He was the sun and you were the moon chasing after him - being friends with him was all you needed and even if you hide your feelings till it hurts then so be it.

Just then, someone started knocking on your door. You weren't expecting anybody yet still you opened and saw the bane of your existence.

Seeing him after so long knocks the breath out of your lungs. He looks worried over you and you wished he wasn't, you prayed that he was angry at you instead at least your heart won't start beating erratically in your chest.

Words weren't spoken but you let him in. After all, the walls of your home missed his presence and it was like he was never gone.

When you were both sitting on the couch, his eyes observed you carefully. You know him by now and so you avoid his prying gaze and will your hands to stop trembling.

He asks why he was being avoided and if he did something wrong, he sounded so desperate and you wanted to confess. But that looming fear squeezed your chest as if stopping you from saying anything else.

“You didn't…I just wanted time for myself for a while.” You knew what he wanted to say afterwards. He'd inquire why it wasn't shared to him right away - as friends, you regarded each other as a safe space.

You know Veritas as patient but right now, he is getting desperate. He knows you're lying, you are hiding away from him but why - he knows he hasn't done anything wrong yet why are you so persistent in keeping this from him?

“You're lying.”

Tears have become present in your eyes, your palms have spread on your thighs and pressing against them is the only thing stopping you from breaking.

“Why can't you tell me anything anymore? I thought we were friends?”

Friends. That's all you'll ever be to him. You should know that yet…

“I've liked you for a while now.”

You didn't know what compelled you to confess but the words flew out of your mouth. Your heart was beating loudly against your ears, your hands never stopped trembling and your eyes glanced towards his.

“I know you might not feel the same way…”

His eyes have widened, mouth agape slightly yet he stays silent, curious on what you were saying.

“I don't know when I started liking you, and I'm aware it could ruin our…friendship. I'm sorry.”

Meeting Veritas Ratio was one of the best things that happened to you.

You're just not sure if he would like to see you again after this.

“Stubborn, Stubborn, Stubborn.”

masterlist

You’re apart of the crew and an aspiring scientist. Though focusing in the forensics field to help out on missions.

📜🪶𓍢ִ໋🀦✎ᝰ. You hunched over a cluttered desk inside Herta’s Space Station, scribbling notes that looked more like deciphered codes than legible science. The quiet hum of machinery served as a backdrop to your forced concentration, punctuated every so often by the sharp scratch of a pen.

Dr. Veritas Ratio sat a few feet away, posture rigid, eyes sharp beneath a veil of bangs, hand flying across the pages of his own leather bound book like a man possessed.

This wasn’t what you imagined when you signed up to “shadow the renowned Dr. Ratio for advanced forensic learning.” You wanted to expand your skills, help the crew better on field missions because for some god forsaken reason, every time you stepped foot on a new planet, you were the one knee deep in clues, bodies, and mysteries no one asked for. It only made sense to sharpen your mind where it counted. days in and Dr. Ratio had barely acknowledged you unless he was critiquing your logic like a middle school science project.

Still, you tried again.

“So,” you started, voice casual, “when you said the neural pathways respond to stimulation, were you implying synaptic frequency increases even without cognitive awareness, or?”

“I was referring,” he interrupted at lightning speed, “to the involuntary oscillation of signal transmissions under external influence, something any second year biologist could tell you. Your phrasing was inaccurate, misleading, and honestly bordering on theoretical idiocy.”

You blinked, stunned into silence not because you were offended, but because his words were fired off like bullets from a gatling gun. You couldn’t even keep up enough to be offended. Still, you smiled, brows raised. “Right… of course. That’s what I meant. Totally.”

He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge the sarcasm. Just kept writing. You sighed, staring at your notes and trying to find the motivation to continue copying something down about tissue decomposition in altered gravity conditions. But your thoughts were elsewhere specifically: “The brain is a muscle, my ass,” you thought bitterly. “This man is a stick in the mud.”

You tried once more, adjusting your chair just enough to glance at him. “Hey, uh… Ratio?” He didn’t stop writing. “I just wanted to let you know it’s my last day here. The Express is taking off tonight.”

He paused. Pen hovered in midair. For the first time in hours, he turned to look at you. “Then I suppose this is farewell,” he said evenly. “Any mind still desperate to learn more is worth a modicum of effort.” You blinked. That actually sounded… almost like a compliment? “But you remain, unfortunately, idiotic.”

There it was.

You couldn’t help the dry laugh that escaped. “Thanks, I’ll take that as the most affectionate thing you’ve said all week.”

“There is no affection in scientific discourse,” he replied, already back to his book.

You exhaled hard through your nose. There’s no pleasing this man. Still, you gathered your things, slung your bag over your shoulder, and gave him a nod. “Appreciate the time. Really. Maybe next time, I’ll come back knowing enough to offend you less.”

Ratio didn’t look up. “Unlikely, but your optimism is statistically entertaining.”

You paused at the door and gave one last look over your shoulder. No goodbye. Just the steady scratch of pen on paper. Annoying. Insufferable. Condescending. You had plenty of normal conversations with Ruan Mei, Screwllum, even Herta who could be a little unhinged but at least talked like a human being. you couldn’t say you didn’t learn something. Even if you wanted to shove him into a simulation chamber and press “random.”

Sighing, you stepped out of the lab, muttering to yourself, “The man needs a personality transplant. Or at least a nap.” Time to go back to the Astral Express. Hopefully, without being called an idiot in five different academic dialects.

📜🪶𓍢ִ໋🀦✎ᝰ. Dr. Veritas Ratio stood alone in the silence of Herta’s Space Station lab, the ambient hum of machinery now a mere background to his thoughts. The room still carried the faint trace of your presence a slightly skewed chair, a half empty data pad left untouched, a worn notebook you used with mismatched doodles and scientific scribbles alike. He stared at the door for longer than he intended after you had left.

“Hmph.” His voice echoed softly in the quiet room, as if irritated by his own lingering stillness.

With a sharp breath, he returned to his seat, flipping open the leather bound journal he had been writing in not his own research logs, but something far more… unwieldy.

A chronicle. An account. An observation. You. You, the girl who barged into his space several days ago claiming she was eager to “learn more about forensics” so she could stop playing amateur detective across the galaxy like some kind of self declared interstellar sleuth. The girl who stood there in front of him bright eyed, annoyingly persistent, armed with nothing but a notepad and a smile that dared him to reject her.

He should have said no. Really. He meant to.

Entry One:

She is insufferably stubborn.

From the moment she entered, she challenged my authority not with words, but with that relentless, aggravating optimism. It’s like trying to teach science to a golden retriever that insists on wagging its tail every time it gets a basic equation right.

She surrounds herself with the imbecile crew of the Astral Express each of them so charmingly flawed that one would need earplugs just to survive a conversation. She listens. She stares at equations like a brain dead dog. if puzzles are worth solving, and when she gets them wrong…

Ratio’s pen slowed for a second.

Entry Three:

I threw a book at her.

She botched a rudimentary breakdown of spatial decay honestly, I still don’t understand how someone confuses atomic diffusion rates with heat based deconstruction and I threw a book at her.

He tapped the end of the pen to the page.

She didn’t cry. Didn’t storm out. She laughed. Actually laughed. Rubbed the back of her head and said, “Should’ve known you’d have better aim than that,” before flipping back to her notes and reworking the entire equation.

Stubborn. Stubborn. Stubborn.

He underlined the word twice.

Entry Five:

She got something right today.

Not just right. Brilliant, actually. She identified a miscalculation in a gravitational bleed pattern I hadn’t even caught yet. I told her it was “adequate.” She beamed like I’d handed her a Nobel Prize.

Ratio exhaled slowly at the memory. There had been more moments like that. More times than he cared to admit where he’d look at her work and see genuine understanding growing like a slow, tenacious weed through cracked pavement.

She was undisciplined. A jumbled mess of deduction and instinct. But she was learning.

He flipped to the last few pages in the book, where neat bullet points were written in his precise hand. Not for himself. For her.

• You need to stop jumping to conclusions without sufficient data.

• Emotion clouds deduction. Maintain detachment until evidence is confirmed.

• Your spatial awareness is strong. Consider pursuing work in trajectory and motion based forensics.

• Your memory recall, while clumsy, is oddly adaptive. You seem to remember patterns more than facts use that.

• Stop doodling in the margins.

And then, written softer, smaller, like it embarrassed him:

• You are better than you think. Just… be better still.

He hadn’t meant to go into so much detail. It was just supposed to be notes. Brief, simple. A few guiding remarks she could use once she returned to playing Sherlock on alien planets. But the longer he spent around her, the more the book filled. He would’ve given it to her. That was the plan. Hand it off as a cold farewell and return to his own work, alone, uninterrupted.

But when she said she was leaving, a strange ache settled in his chest. He had closed the book instead. He told her she was idiotic. That was easier than saying anything else. He wasn’t built for sentiment.

But now, in the sterile quiet of the lab, he opened the book again and stared at the last empty page. His pen hovered for a moment before he wrote:

You were the most tolerable nuisance I’ve encountered.

He closed the book. Folded his arms. And sat there, in silence. Holding the only piece of you he could.

📜🪶𓍢ִ໋🀦✎ᝰ. The Astral Express had settled into its familiar rhythm a quiet lull between the catastrophe that just occurred. You sat in your room, sprawled on your back atop your bed, legs dangling off the side as a small packet of data chips and half doodled notes littered the floor beneath you. The lighting was dim, and soft music played in the background something March had been trying to get everyone into. Bubblegum pop something or other. You didn’t mind it.

Then, your terminal lit up with an incoming call.

Caller ID: Dr. Veritas Ratio

You blinked. Seriously? The last time you’d heard from Ratio was months ago, back when you’d finished your “training” with him at Herta’s Space Station. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t sent a single follow up. Hell, you figured he forgot you existed. Which was fine. He’d called you idiotic more times than you could count. You got the message.

So why the sudden contact? You leaned over, smacked the “Answer” button with your palm, and sat back again, letting the hologram flicker to life. The familiar sight of Ratio appeared sharply dressed, arms crossed, and already mid glare.

“Have all of you completely lost your minds?” he barked.

“Wow, no hello? You’ve really softened over the months,” you drawled, stretching your arms above your head and letting out a long yawn.

Ratio ignored the comment. “You brought it on board. A Stellaron. A living, breathing, ticking time bomb and you you let them install it into the crew roster like it’s a decorative lamp!”

“Not me,” you replied casually. “That was Himeko and Welt’s call. I was too busy teaching March how to tell the difference between a footprint and a crater.”

He leaned closer into the hologram, voice sharp as shattered glass. “And you didn’t stop them?”

You tilted your head, gaze flat. “Ratio, I’ve learned many things in my life. One of which is: you do not argue with Himeko unless you want to be questioning your own sexuality.”

“This is reckless. Irresponsible. Foolhardy. Welt Yang used to be logical.”

“He still is,” you said, picking at a thread in your blanket. “Realistically, this was the safest option.”

“Oh?” Ratio lifted a brow, sarcasm soaking every syllable. “Yes, why not keep the volatile Stellaron host onboard the most advanced dimensional train known to man? Surely the best place for a cosmic disaster seed is inside the space equivalent of a floating museum.”

“See? You do have a heart,” you said, smiling slightly. “You’re worried about us.”

“I’m worried about the structural integrity of your ship, and the illogical stupidity of a crew that includes people like well, like you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Ratio scowled. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

You rolled onto your side, cheek pressed to your pillow, gaze on the projection of his furious form pacing like a scientist on the edge of an aneurysm. “No, I am. I just also live on a train that is fully capable of going against the Antimatter Legion, hunted by robots, and now has an amnesiac walking stellar bomb with a winning smile and a personality March immediately adopted like a stray puppy. You’ll excuse me if I conserve my panic energy.”

Ratio paused, folding his arms. “You’ve grown bolder.”

“You called me idiotic for a week straight. I had to evolve or die.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, softly so softly you barely caught it he muttered

You blinked, eyebrows lifting. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “Still. You would be wise to proceed with caution. The Stellaron may not act today or tomorrow, but entropy is inevitable. One misstep, and it could unravel every layer of existence you so casually nap on.”

You smiled lazily. “I missed your bedtime stories.”

“You are insufferable.”

“You called me.”

Ratio paused. For a flicker of a second, his expression shifted barely visible, like a crack in marble. Thoughtful. Frustrated. Maybe even… hesitant. “you have a brain. And I don’t like seeing it wasted.” He gestured vaguely in your direction. “You’re tolerable when you’re being cautious.”

“And you’re tolerable when you’re not actively trying to kill me with a migraine.”

The hologram began to glitch slightly signal fading as the Express entered another sector.

Ratio’s voice cut through one last time before the line ended: “Just don’t get comfortable. You may not always have time to brace for the explosion.”

Then the screen blinked to black. You sat there, the weight of his words hanging in the room like smoke.

“…Still didn’t say goodbye,” you murmured, grabbing your tea and taking a slow sip. You weren’t worried.

📜🪶𓍢ִ໋🀦✎ᝰ. Herta’s Space Station was bustling with its usual polite chaos researchers skittering around with datapads too big for their hands, drones zipping above heads, experiments sparking in sealed chambers. The scent of metal and burnt circuitry lingered faintly in the air. A strangely nostalgic aroma, really.

You had come here for one reason and one reason only: to visit Screwllum. The robotic genius had promised to show you a new forensic simulation model, one that could track theoretical blood spatter in zero gravity. You were deeply interested, and by “deeply interested,” you meant giddy like a child with a crime scene coloring book.

You weren’t expecting to see him. Not as you rounded the corner of the central archive, passing Herta’s projection arguing with itself, and almost bumped headfirst into a tall figure already ranting at a researcher over some miscalculation involving quantum probability flow.

“Dr. Ratio,” you breathed, blinking once.

He turned toward you slowly. You immediately put your hands over your mouth, gasped dramatically, and staggered back a step. If he gets to ghost you, why cant you have fun yourself?

“Veritas? Is it really you?” you cried, voice shaking like a widow in a play. “The universe said you were lost to the abyss of academia, never to be seen again! I we I waited so long!”

Ratio stared at you, expression unreadable but very much unimpressed. “You’re being absurd.”

“Absurdly in love,” you swooned, grabbing his arm with faux desperation. “I swore I’d wait, no matter how long the stars turned. You you arrogant bastard you came back.”

“Stop being ridiculous,” he replied flatly. “Ill have you know that if you even tried i would’ve answered. You were simply too busy pretending to be a detective on every rock you stumbled across.”

“not one letter. Not one call. Do you have any idea how I’ve suffered? Ive missed my stuck up asshole of a husband”

He raised an eyebrow. “You were messaging Screwllum memes less than twelve hours ago.”

You blinked. “Screwllum loves my memes. Don’t derail me trying to make you look like a bad husband.”

“I should’ve let you fail the entropy unit,” he muttered, brushing your hands off like you were a particularly annoying layer of dust.

You laughed, arms crossing over your chest. “Still as insufferable as ever, Ratio. You really know how to make a girl feel welcome.”

Ratio returned to his datapad. “If by ‘welcome’ you mean ‘tolerated,’ then yes. I remain consistent.”

There was a beat of silence. The usual static hum of the station pulsed around you. You tilted your head slightly, observing him not just as a former mentor or your favorite verbal sparring partner, but as someone you honestly missed.

You stepped a little closer, voice dropping. “Hey… could we catch up a bit?”

He paused. His fingers hovered over the datapad. Just for a second. Then, slowly, he looked at you out of the corner of his eye.

“why”

You smiled. “Ok big guy is asking the questions, I suppose I just want to see how you’re doing.”

Ratio’s lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smirk. “I suppose… some minds are worth the occasional recalibration.”

“Is that your way of saying ‘yes’?”

“It’s my way of saying you’re still stubborn and prone to foolishness but slightly less irritating than most of the imbeciles I suffer daily.”

You beamed. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Ratio glanced away, resuming his work. “Don’t get sentimental.”

But you saw the way his posture shifted less tense, a fraction more open.

📜🪶𓍢ִ໋🀦✎ᝰ. Ratio’s quarters were exactly what you expected and somehow even more Ratio than you thought possible.

Minimalist, sterile, everything arranged with sharp symmetry almost clinical, like the man had tried to recreate a science lab in the shape of a bedroom. The lighting was dim, a soft overhead hue that neither strained the eyes nor dared to be comforting. Shelves upon shelves of books lined the walls, but not a single one looked even slightly out of place. His desk had no dust, no loose wires, no snacks just data pads, models, papers arranged in brutal harmony. despite all the perfect order, there was something kind of… homey about it. Or maybe you were just losing your mind. Probably the latter.

“I’ll return shortly,” he said earlier, stepping out with a brief mention of fetching something from Screwllum or threatening Herta’s projection into silence you weren’t sure which. His voice was already vanishing down the hall as you nodded absently, too curious about seeing this inner sanctum of his to stop him.

Which is how you ended up alone in the room and your eyes landed on the book. You hadn’t seen it since your time as his reluctant partner slash student slash mental punching bag. Leather bound, its corners slightly worn, it sat there on the desk like it had been placed just for you to find it. An artifact of a past so recent it still itched under your skin. You told yourself to leave it alone. You didn’t. Fingers brushed the cover. You opened it.

The first few pages were filled with sharp, scathing commentary written in Ratio’s precise, aggressively legible handwriting. Your early days of working together where you barely kept up and made mistakes that, according to him, “required divine intervention to unsee.” You scoffed, flipping forward.

There were notes, not just about your blunders, but about what you’d done right. Diagrams you’d drawn that he’d annotated, not with insults, but improvement suggestions. Questions you’d asked that he’d praised though usually in the most begrudging tone imaginable.

You flipped further. Dates from after your training had ended appeared.

She let that walking disaster <Stelle> on board. Of course she did. Her loyalty to the crew is stronger than her self preservation. Idiotic.

…Though, if she’s the one monitoring it, perhaps there’s hope it won’t implode immediately.

Your brows lifted. Another entry, this time sloppier, less rigid:

Saw her solve a multi layer deduction test from Ruan Mei’s simulation. Beat the projection time by five minutes. Either she’s improving rapidly… or cheating. I doubt the latter. Annoying. Impressive.

And then:

You were the most tolerable nuisance I’ve encountered.

You stared at that line for a long time, blinking. Your heart gave the smallest traitorous flutter. Ratio? Writing that down? In his own personal notes? Voluntarily?

“Veritas Veritas Veritas,” you whispered, amused, letting the book rest gently on the desk again, “you’re so down bad and you don’t even know it.”

You glanced around the room with new eyes now. Not just a workspace. There were signs of you scattered in the margins things you’d said that he’d scribbled down verbatim, questions you’d asked, observations you’d made. There, in this sterile haven of knowledge, you existed. When the door slid open again with that same low mechanical hiss, you didn’t turn immediately. You kept your hands at your sides, innocent, as Ratio entered holding a datapad and a cup of something that definitely wasn’t coffee.

He raised an eyebrow.

“You moved things,” he said bluntly.

You turned, grinning. “I breathed in here. Hope that’s not too much.”

Ratio’s eyes zeroed in on the open book like a hawk spotting a wounded animal. The datapad in his hand made a dull thud as he dropped it to the desk beside you.

“You read it,” he said, voice low, clipped. It wasn’t a question. It was a fact delivered like an accusation.

You opened your mouth, but he was already moving, closing the book in one motion that was more violent than necessary. His eyes flicked to you, sharp with something between irritation and disbelief. “That book was for me. My documentation. My evaluations. Not for you to comb through like some sentimental schoolgirl with a crush.”

You just raised your hands a little in mock surrender. “Okay, first of all ow. Second, maybe don’t leave emotionally repressed love letters in plain sight if you don’t want them read.”

His scowl deepened. “You are not the center of my notes. You were a case study in irritating persistence.”

You smiled. “A tolerable nuisance, if I remember correctly.”

“I regret ever writing that.”

“You do not.”

Ratio looked like he was about to snap again, but your tone shifted before he could. A little more sincere this time. Less teasing.

“Look, before you combust into quantum dust or something, I’ve been doing the same thing. Kind of.”

That made him blink. His arms crossed tightly, jaw clenched.

You shrugged. “Whenever there was news. Whenever Screwllum or Herta mentioned something cool you did. Whenever you published something with Ruan Mei. I’d log it in a little virtual journal. Notes, quotes, observations. Even drew a diagram of your frustrated face once. It was very detailed.”

“You tracked my activity?” His voice was dry with disbelief.

“Kept tabs,” you corrected. “I mean, you did teach me how to observe patterns and record data. I thought it’d be fun to apply it to you.”

Ratio stared at you. Hard.

You grinned again, stepping closer now, just into his space, enough to make him instinctively stiffen. “So, if you like me so much, Veritas…” you tilted your head, voice dipping into a teasing lilt, “it doesn’t have to stay theoretical.”

The room went dead silent. Ratio’s eye twitched.

“I do not like you.”

You leaned back with a smug hum, hands slipping behind your back. “Sure. That’s why you wrote, ‘perhaps there’s hope it won’t implode immediately.’ About me and the crew.”

“That was in reference to the logistical risk of hosting a walking bomb, not an emotional attac—”

“You said impressive, Ratio.”

“I said annoying right before.”

You shrugged. “And still impressive.”

Ratio turned away from you, muttering curses under his breath in a tone too quiet to catch. But he didn’t tell you to leave. Didn’t shove you out or erase his notes or block access to his quarters. Instead, he sat, flipped open a new file on his datapad, and typed exactly three words

Emotional interference: persistent.

You laughed as you settled in across from him.

“Glad I’m still in your data set.”