Aoba Seragaki ([personal profile] scrappyblue) wrote in [community profile] orendalogs 2018-10-25 02:58 pm (UTC)

See? He was even humble, therefore he was perfect. The movements of Declan’s hands brushed Aoba’s still-drying hair, but not once did he flinch. Maybe he was still a mess on the inside, but at least he was still a safe, not-being-left-alone mess.

But the pats and the indication of the food seemed like an invitation to part at just the right time between ‘rushed’ and ‘overstaying’, so despite some reluctance, Aoba eased back with a tired but not ingenuine laugh.

“If you can survive my cooking, I don’t think any of us have anything to fear,” he managed, smiling up at the Guardian with a poorly-voiced softness in his eyes before finally lowering his arms. It was a gaze he ultimately had to avert, anyway, in order to set himself into his usual seat to address the prepared breakfast. It looked far better than some of Aoba’s early attempts at the dish, and still smelled good.

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