Seeing Jolene that morning was, without a doubt, the most complicated appointment with a medical professional that Aoba had ever, ever had. Ren ended up doing a fair bit of talking for him, since he was the one who had witnessed part of Aoba’s ‘episode’. She listened, ran more scans and tests, adjusted his medication a bit more, and advised him in the direction of a psychologist for counseling and the refinement of a treatment plan. He felt more than a little numb when she released him, though at least medication had nothing to do with it. It was just…overwhelming.
And it wasn’t like he could tell her that he couldn’t exactly stick around long enough to see such treatment through. Declan and his Ghost believed him and were actively aiding him, sure, but how many other people could he tell about ‘portals only Chosen Ones like him could see’ without it sounding like some other symptom of his apparent mental illness?
God, he didn’t like the way that sounded. Headaches were one thing. Even Declan had been so easygoing and accepting of it, with all that talk about the beauty of the sum of his parts….
…not sure if I want to be called beautiful…
Wanting to just go along with Declan’s simpler interpretation of the matter probably wasn’t the smart response, but boy was it the more appealing one, if only because he managed to make it sound like a relative non-issue. Something in need of addressing, yes, but also somehow simple.
Now that his functions and memory had expanded, Ren agreed that he would record all future episodes of Aoba’s ‘personality changes’, both in terms of the brainwave scans and straight up audio/video. They would help Aoba himself better come to terms with this ‘other self’ of his as much as provide a resource for any professionals he sought help from—if he did at all.
He had to get home….
…But it wasn’t like stepping back inside Declan’s apartment felt like someplace alien. The door opening up at the scan of his hand, the colors adjusted partially to his own preference, his collection of gifts gleaming from the various surfaces he’d taken advantage of to display them….
Spotting Ghost, he even kind of wanted to give the construct’s shell a ruffling in return for the greeting. He was as tied to the Guardian as Ren was to Aoba, after all (even by Aoba’s limited understanding of what Ghosts and Guardians were truly bound by), but Aoba kept his raised hand to just a warm, if worn-out, wave in response.
“Thanks, Ghost,” he said, putting his bag down just inside the door. Ren hopped out of it as Aoba continued inwards, following the construct’s gaze towards the couch with his steps.
Geez. Asleep all night and asleep again already? Those two weeks out must have been rougher on him than he’d let on, huh? With a lot more on his mind now than awkward what-ifs, Aoba was able to fold his arms and lean on the couchback close to Declan’s shoulder, quietly studying the man. The sunlight coming in that giant wall-window really highlighted the way that Declan’s skin seemed to…shimmer, almost. He didn’t seem to have a speck of pigment anywhere on him, neither skin nor hair nor eyes, but instead of being colorless and dull he was, well, as weird as it was to say of another guy…unexpectedly beautiful. But it also kind of made Aoba want to ruffle him, too.
no subject
And it wasn’t like he could tell her that he couldn’t exactly stick around long enough to see such treatment through. Declan and his Ghost believed him and were actively aiding him, sure, but how many other people could he tell about ‘portals only Chosen Ones like him could see’ without it sounding like some other symptom of his apparent mental illness?
God, he didn’t like the way that sounded. Headaches were one thing. Even Declan had been so easygoing and accepting of it, with all that talk about the beauty of the sum of his parts….
…not sure if I want to be called beautiful…
Wanting to just go along with Declan’s simpler interpretation of the matter probably wasn’t the smart response, but boy was it the more appealing one, if only because he managed to make it sound like a relative non-issue. Something in need of addressing, yes, but also somehow simple.
Now that his functions and memory had expanded, Ren agreed that he would record all future episodes of Aoba’s ‘personality changes’, both in terms of the brainwave scans and straight up audio/video. They would help Aoba himself better come to terms with this ‘other self’ of his as much as provide a resource for any professionals he sought help from—if he did at all.
He had to get home….
…But it wasn’t like stepping back inside Declan’s apartment felt like someplace alien. The door opening up at the scan of his hand, the colors adjusted partially to his own preference, his collection of gifts gleaming from the various surfaces he’d taken advantage of to display them….
Spotting Ghost, he even kind of wanted to give the construct’s shell a ruffling in return for the greeting. He was as tied to the Guardian as Ren was to Aoba, after all (even by Aoba’s limited understanding of what Ghosts and Guardians were truly bound by), but Aoba kept his raised hand to just a warm, if worn-out, wave in response.
“Thanks, Ghost,” he said, putting his bag down just inside the door. Ren hopped out of it as Aoba continued inwards, following the construct’s gaze towards the couch with his steps.
Geez. Asleep all night and asleep again already? Those two weeks out must have been rougher on him than he’d let on, huh? With a lot more on his mind now than awkward what-ifs, Aoba was able to fold his arms and lean on the couchback close to Declan’s shoulder, quietly studying the man. The sunlight coming in that giant wall-window really highlighted the way that Declan’s skin seemed to…shimmer, almost. He didn’t seem to have a speck of pigment anywhere on him, neither skin nor hair nor eyes, but instead of being colorless and dull he was, well, as weird as it was to say of another guy…unexpectedly beautiful. But it also kind of made Aoba want to ruffle him, too.
Now look who was staring.