‘This was his punishment’, Aoba came to think over those passing of days. Punishment for what, one would like to know—Desire especially—but Aoba could only provide something vague like ‘not being honest from the start’. The ship was a small space and kind of claustrophobic, but only in ways that had Aoba seeking the cockpit or the observation window in order to see the stars. The only burden of Declan’s company was the one Aoba weighed in his own heart: to be so comfortable and in enjoyment of the Guardian’s presence, to still want to uphold every promise he’d made him, and yet to know that their friendship, however intimate, would never encompass those mysterious levels of emotional intimacy that separated friends (with or without benefits) from lovers.
The nights were the closest thing to troublesome, sleeping faced towards Declan’s mattress lest a turned back be taken as a lack of trust. With eyes closed and an arm looped around Ren’s curled-up body (as if he were a child, lest he accidentally reach out to someone else instead), Aoba was all too aware of the Guardian’s nearness for a least a little while before he fell asleep each ‘night’ that it was time to do so.
Arriving at Venus was somewhere strangely between bizarre and…mistakenly mundane. Sometimes it didn’t look much different from the overgrown places on Earth that he’d been shown, as if their long flight had taken them right back around to the only planet he’d ever known. But then he’d look again and the architecture was too strange, the clouds too thick, everything all the wrong colors between the lush greenery. He’d remind himself that in his day, Venus was just some alien planet off in space, and Earth was all humans had to call home.
Twelve hours without Declan only sounded difficult as worrying about the Titan would be. So what if he was a capable warrior with Ghost and immortality as backup? Surely he could still hurt, still feel pain. Could a soul as kind and giving as his not suffer upon dying?
It almost made Aoba want to ask what it was like. Dying. But he didn’t, ultimately deciding that he didn’t want to know. He’d find out in his own time, he supposed. Or would he? He had to stay a Chosen One in order to visit Declan’s world, which mean that he was also functionally immortal. Age couldn’t claim him. But what about illness or injury? …He put aside that train of thought after only a little indulgence.
“Understood,” he answered the instructions given as Declan prepared to leave. “Be safe, alright? It doesn’t matter to me how quickly Ghost can heal you, I don’t want to think about you getting hurt out there.”
no subject
The nights were the closest thing to troublesome, sleeping faced towards Declan’s mattress lest a turned back be taken as a lack of trust. With eyes closed and an arm looped around Ren’s curled-up body (as if he were a child, lest he accidentally reach out to someone else instead), Aoba was all too aware of the Guardian’s nearness for a least a little while before he fell asleep each ‘night’ that it was time to do so.
Arriving at Venus was somewhere strangely between bizarre and…mistakenly mundane. Sometimes it didn’t look much different from the overgrown places on Earth that he’d been shown, as if their long flight had taken them right back around to the only planet he’d ever known. But then he’d look again and the architecture was too strange, the clouds too thick, everything all the wrong colors between the lush greenery. He’d remind himself that in his day, Venus was just some alien planet off in space, and Earth was all humans had to call home.
Twelve hours without Declan only sounded difficult as worrying about the Titan would be. So what if he was a capable warrior with Ghost and immortality as backup? Surely he could still hurt, still feel pain. Could a soul as kind and giving as his not suffer upon dying?
It almost made Aoba want to ask what it was like. Dying. But he didn’t, ultimately deciding that he didn’t want to know. He’d find out in his own time, he supposed. Or would he? He had to stay a Chosen One in order to visit Declan’s world, which mean that he was also functionally immortal. Age couldn’t claim him. But what about illness or injury? …He put aside that train of thought after only a little indulgence.
“Understood,” he answered the instructions given as Declan prepared to leave. “Be safe, alright? It doesn’t matter to me how quickly Ghost can heal you, I don’t want to think about you getting hurt out there.”