Aoba needed it so badly that once he realized those arms were indeed open, he didn’t just stand there to wait for them. He stepped forward between them, not just a polite little apology hug but actively leaning into him, cheek against chest and arms around that sturdy pillar of a waist. A shaky sigh of relief accompanied a leeching of tension from Aoba’s back and shoulders as he closed his eyes, taking in what he was still allowed to have. Home.
“You’re not stupid,” Aoba countered immediately, aghast to hear Declan apologizing to him of all things. “You’re perfect.”
It was Ghost’s word for the man, that one time, thoughtlessly borrowed but also truer than anything else Aoba could have come up with in that moment. Patient, forgiving, supportive. Taking blame he didn’t deserve. Making breakfast.
“You’re even putting up with me when I’m acting like—this. I’m the one that should be begging for patience. I’m not—” Fumbling, hesitating. “…Neither side of me is very good at expressing myself, it seems.”
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“You’re not stupid,” Aoba countered immediately, aghast to hear Declan apologizing to him of all things. “You’re perfect.”
It was Ghost’s word for the man, that one time, thoughtlessly borrowed but also truer than anything else Aoba could have come up with in that moment. Patient, forgiving, supportive. Taking blame he didn’t deserve. Making breakfast.
“You’re even putting up with me when I’m acting like—this. I’m the one that should be begging for patience. I’m not—” Fumbling, hesitating. “…Neither side of me is very good at expressing myself, it seems.”