Not even that voice in the back of his thoughts had any kind of response for the way Declan’s gaze seemed to rest on him an extra moment or two. Aoba swallowed, hard, wondering if it was appropriate to feel like all the responsibility was being levied onto him. Then, on reflection of Desire’s muddled actions before, he could only assume that was exactly what was being done.

But thinking that had to mean admitting he knew…at least something of what Declan thought of him. Felt for him? Something of refusing Desire’s unsubtle advances, but not completely rejecting—

Aoba looked down at his empty hands. At clothes that fit him like they’d been made for him, but that he didn’t fit at all.

“…There’s always something worth living for,” he said softly. “That’s why it’s so sad to think you might not get that kind of chance. But it’s worse to not question it. That would mean being resigned to whatever comes your way, and that’s not right.”

Aoba’s thoughts were shifting, a new point of reference found. The world’s future, even his own future—these things seemed less important than being sure Declan had one. But if a future for Declan meant the world being freed, being restored, and maybe even meant Aoba had a place in it…hm.

Ren definitely would have accused him of spiraling into overthinking again, if the little Allmate hadn't been fairly preoccupied by a number of things, himself.