Aoba kept his eyes down until that last part. It resonated with him more these clumsy admittances and convoluted explanations. Maybe those other things were necessary too as part of being patient, honest, finding middle ground, and giving Declan time to understand him, but that last piece sounded—poetic. ‘Just like Declan’, he thought, in a way that relaxed him some.
He pressed his hand whole into Declan’s, properly holding onto it. The Guardian’s hand was significantly bigger than his own, but he still wanted to call it a perfect fit.
“I…started holding on to Ren at night so I didn’t reach over to you by accident,” he made himself admit, a little go at something lighthearted of his own, far more shy than dry.
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He pressed his hand whole into Declan’s, properly holding onto it. The Guardian’s hand was significantly bigger than his own, but he still wanted to call it a perfect fit.
“I…started holding on to Ren at night so I didn’t reach over to you by accident,” he made himself admit, a little go at something lighthearted of his own, far more shy than dry.