orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

Aoba had splurged somewhat more this time around, now that he had his own earnings to go by rather than having to pull from Declan’s savings. No matter how much everyone said Declan could afford it (including Declan himself), it just didn’t sit well with him to be using someone else’s money so freely. If it had been some kind of situation where they were both contributing to a shared pool of funds, that would have been significantly different, but with the way things stood….

He wasn’t anybody’s kept man, okay? And they weren’t any kind of other situation where shared funds would have been appropriate, so-

So apparently his thoughts were just going to be all over the place to avoid thinking about his ‘buried personality’ or whatever was going on, and settling on more embarrassing things instead? Great. But still, Declan wasn’t hard at all to maneuver around as Aoba in turn got out the various ingredients to prep. He’d gotten some green beans for color along with the potatoes, carrots, and onions of before, some higher-grade cuts of meat, and rice to prepare on the side…and a deep fryer. Although maybe he wasn’t going to be up to try and replicate Granny’s donuts tonight, there was always next time.

And then he heard ‘one of my other ships’. As in spaceships. Declan had…multiple spaceships?

…Did that mean he wasn’t just well-off, but that he was some kind of low-key millionaire??

“Uh…well, um, yeah actually. It’s so commonplace for you, it seems like…I should try it at least once.” Before I have to go, he stops himself from saying. He has to get back home, but for one reason or another, he doesn’t want to call more attention to that necessary fact than he has to. He just wants to enjoy this time with his new friend as much as he can…. “You can barely see the sky where I live, much less fly in it. Or past it.”

Not a millionaire, just a discerning collector of derelict things. Find a ship in reasonable repair crashed somewhere or floating in space debris and Amanda Holladay could have it in prime shape in no time. He took full advantage of that, being a person prone to picking up things others threw away. Even his Ghost's shell was something he'd found. Though you wouldn't be able to tell for how proudly the little thing wore it.

"When you go home-" because Declan wasn't going to selfishly imply Aoba couldn't by saying 'if, "-I want you to have the memory of seeing the stars. If it's so rare or impossible where or when you're from...it would be nice to have the virtual eternity of space shared between us. I can look at the stars and know we still have that to connect us. It will have to be enough."

He didn't know the ways what he said could be construed. He didn't mean more or less than what the words said on there own, his honesty so open and plain-faced. He didn't dance around things, try to hide them or push them one way or the other. They simply were. Declan hoped Aoba would be able to go home, because that was where Aoba wanted to be. He also hoped Aoba would keep being there, but he wasn't selfish enough to wish that over the former. It would content him to know that when he camped on the moon and gazed up at the stars, somewhere a million miles and a thousand years ago, Aoba was there and those stars were his, too. He couldn't guiltlessly ask for more, and it wasn't his right.

"You should pick some places you'd like to see," he added after leaning over and sniffing the rice, curious. "But I'm definitely taking you to see the Reef. It's the only place that has actual lodgings. Anywhere else we stay when we visit, we'll be camping."

When you go home. So Declan had the honesty to say it plainly even though Aoba didn’t…and why did that make him feel somehow like a heel? Was it bad to avoid thinking about the actual act of leaving, even though he knew he had to find a way back home? It wasn’t like he shouldn’t, and Declan was doing everything it seemed that he could to help Aoba return, so why mince around the subject, exactly?

Oh. That was why. Declan leaned in to sniff the rice, giving Aoba a very good look at his alabaster profile lowered more to his own level as he reeled at the implications that he sure as heck heard in words as poetic as those. But then he had to tell himself, Declan couldn’t possibly mean it that way. As sweet and open and honest as the Guardian was about literally everything else Aoba could think of, it wouldn’t be buried in pretty words if he meant anything more than just what he said, right? And Aoba—Aoba was probably just still reeling over being treated so nicely after being pushed around by the Deckers, and stressed out over all of this world-hopping business and whatever it really meant to have a ‘buried side of his personality’, and—what good would thinking about anything else even do him, really?

It was enough for Aoba to even feel irritated with himself for harboring such ridiculous, distracting thoughts-

…irritated because you don’t say anything, idiot…

-and it certainly didn’t help that he felt like it was there glaring at him from some secret space on the inside of his forehead that only he was conscious of: something like a choice between Say Something and Don’t Say Anything. He knew which one he wanted to pick, but if it just ended up being something painful or awkward or purely pointless….

‘It will have to be enough.’ Declan had already moved on to saying other things, but that’s where Aoba’s thoughts stayed stuck. Stirring ingredients into the pot, he found himself speaking after all.

“…what if…it didn’t have to be?”

"Enough?" Declan asked, looking up slowly before righting himself, padding the two steps closer to loom at Aoba's side. He gazed down at his friend, hands itching once again to reach out, though they stayed one to his side, the other palm flat on the counter.

"It...won't be," he admitted, sighing softly, breath carrying far enough to just slightly tickle Aoba's hair into fluttering.

"I will miss you, Aoba. But I would never try to keep you here. You have people that you care about; a life, somewhere else. In the end, I am a stranger in a distant future. I can't possibly take the place of real family. If you had nothing to go back to, I'd..." He paused, looking away, gazing out the nearby wall-to-wall window.

"...If you had nothing to go back to, I'd wonder why you'd leave. I would be the happiest man to give you a life here, but I'm not fool enough to try to take the place of loved ones. So I will give you the stars, and I will give you precious things I find, and when you leave...I will hope that you think of me fondly, wherever you are, but that you are happiest where you end up."

Oh god. What had he done. He was straight up going to die of embarrassment now. Declan was close, the warmth of his breath tickling his hair and setting goosebumps up the back of his neck, but the only thing Aoba found intimidating about the Titan’s size and presence was how it suddenly set his own heart to pounding.

It wouldn’t be. Declan would miss him. And though Aoba knew himself well enough to know he’d resent anyone forcing him to stay in one place—like the ‘real’ Deckers had—that didn’t stop it from being an equal amount of reassuring to hear that Declan wouldn’t try.

But by the same token, it didn’t stop the irregular pounding of his heart, either. It was his own fault, saying what he did and opening it up for Declan to say those sweetly embarrassing things, but he couldn’t say he disliked it.

“…That’s not how it works,” he continued to murmur, staring down into the pot of nikujaga as he stirred it around. If he didn’t make eye contact, didn’t visually confirm that powerful, reassuring presence right there beside him, he could almost pretend he was just talking out loud to himself. “People we care about…it’s not like anyone ever gets replaced. It just…turns into a longer list.”

Two weeks. He’d known the guy two weeks and most of it by phone calls. He was stressed out, there was way too much going on all at once, he probably wasn’t even thinking clearly, but he sure never imagined he’d ever find himself in a place where the thought of leaving it would make him somehow sad.

“…The portals are always there, you know? They’re one-way, but they’re permanent. Once I know the way back home…I’ll still know the way back here, too.”

Pale eyes squinted for a moment, considering the words, unsure of the meaning. When it finally clicked, the Titan's face changed drastically. It wasn't that he never smiled - he did, and often, though only in small flutters - but that it was the first real and stable smile Aoba had probably ever seen. The idea that Aoba could go home and might still return...While it had been hinted at here and there in snippets of conversations between them, Declan had deliberately not pressed the man about his circumstances more than necessary. To have confirmation that it was possible, and more importantly that Aoba would *want* to return? It was strange to think that the Guardian had never felt such relief before in his life.

And he'd *died* before, only to resurrected. One would think that was the greatest relief one could experience.

"Then you have two homes, Aoba. You will always have a place here. Maybe I can always feel like I did while out on the field these last weeks? That someday I'll come home, and it won't be empty."

Aoba made a mistake. He looked. But could it really be called a mistake, to dare a glance and see a warm, persistent smile on Declan’s face in exchange? Maybe the price of being tomato-red in the face wasn’t too much to pay after all.

“I don’t know how long it might take,” he somehow managed to continue, averting his eyes again but finding a smile of his own somewhere in it nonetheless. “It’s only two portals from Midorijima to here, but once I leave here…who knows how many it could be.”

Looked like he could say it now, at least: the admittance of having to go. If Declan had hesitated to wonder if Aoba could return, then perhaps in turn Aoba had worried he might not be welcome back if he went. Or something else ridiculous like that.

“But…if it’s at all possible…then I hope I’ll be able to come back to you.”

…well it’s a start I guess…

Right. And Aoba was going to die, right here, right now, face-first into the stew. Please tell him that choked little noise of surprise hadn’t come from Ren.

There was silence a moment, Declan gazing at Aoba with an unreadable expression, having seen the colors bloom, the expressions. He wasn't a man experienced enough in interacting with people to know what everything meant, but he believed he wasn't entirely unwelcome in Aoba's space, so he took a brief chance.

"So long as there is Light in the universe, I can wait," the Titan stated with confidence. If his Ghost survived, he was, in essence, completely immortal. He would be patient as long as it took, he mused, long fingertips following in their whim and gently stroking the ends of Aoba's hair resting closest to his heart before tapping that spot on the man's chest. Just a small touch, barely grazing anything at all, but it was at least not an aborted attempt at closeness.

"Please do not forget me, Aoba."

Well Aoba wasn’t sure about the first, but that second little noise of surprise definitely came from him. The nerves in Aoba’s hair were at their most dull state at those faded tips (and he had yet to give himself the haircut that he was sorely in need of) but far from dead. He felt that touch and felt it keenly, but instead of it being for pain it was because of how very aware of it he was.

“I-” His words tried to start up without any thoughts to go with them, scattered as they were. He’d never, ever liked anyone touching his hair, but it hadn’t hurt—and he found himself certain that hands like Declan’s would be just as gentle with it as Aoba himself would be. Not just at the tips, but at any part of the growth.

Could Declan feel his heart pounding with a touch that brief? It seemed almost impossible that the Guardian wouldn’t, with how that overexcited organ was rushing all of Aoba’s blood to his face.

“I…definitely won’t ever do that,” he managed to agree after some fumbling. He wasn’t unhappy, anything but, but he was out. If he admitted anything more than what he already had, he was absolutely going to die. His fingers were definitely on the shaky side as he turned the heat down under the nikujaga, but he didn’t regret anything. He was just…at his limit for today, he thought.

He reached for bowls to fill, and decided it was enough just to add, “You’re not allowed to forget me either, Declan.”

"Is that an order?" Declan asked, smiling softly, cheeks coloring as he shook his head. It was a foolish bit of ribbing, but the way Aoba said it, so authoritative. It honestly warmed the Titan.

"I've known many people in my life, Aoba. Many have come and went, and I'd hazard to say many might have been friends...But none of them have...been with me..." he fumbled for words again, raising his hand to his own chest, patting the white skin. "...None have been in here, the same way. I can't forget you, Aoba. And I wouldn't want to. I said you would always have a home here, but that wasn't about my apartment. That can crumble....I might be stationed somewhere else. That is what I meant, Aoba," Declan reiterated, tapping his chest again.

"Here. Always a place. Understand?" the big man asked, brows lifting a moment before he offered one of those brief smiles again and turned to make place settings for them to eat.

Edited 2018-10-07 22:52 (UTC)

If Aoba had been something electrical, he absolutely one hundred percent would have shorted out and blown a fuse right then and there. He was almost pulling a Declan-like maneuver himself at this point, hanging his head and peeking out from below his bangs, but he watched the Guardian step away with a tightness somewhere between his throat and his chest.

Not to say it felt entirely bad, though.

Aoba wasn’t…sure…if that made them anything, exactly, and upon second and third thought it probably didn’t, but at least…at least he could come back here, sometime, when it was possible. Even if he never made sense of all his confused what-ifs and what-if-nots, Declan’s genuine, easygoing friendship was one he didn’t want to have to say goodbye to. That was okay, wasn’t it? To just want to see someone again?

He’d said what he wanted, and Declan had returned that feeling, so…yeah.

His hands were steadier by the time Declan had places set, so Aoba managed to put out the bowls of nikujaga and accompanying bowls of rice without mishap. He felt lighter, in the aftermath of admitting some of his wants…and even Desire, though still unknown, felt satisfied at having been heard at least a little. Fresh cups of tea accompanied the meal, and with Declan sitting safely and unharmed across from him once again, even testing Ren’s extended new functions by having him set up an appointment with Jolene didn’t result in any particular extra stress.

It was weirdly easy to keep the conversation to ‘normal’ things after that. Not about headaches, or alternate personalities, or portals, or any of that. Just the easy day-to-day, like they would have talked if this had been another video call instead of face to face.

He would sleep more soundly that night than any night since Declan had originally departed—and not even Desire himself would see fit to disrupt it.

Except that it would be the first night the two slept in the same room together, because against all odds, Declan had time off. So the regular bed and the trundle would be occupied. But that was for later, and during the meal the two were able to talk casually as if it were something they'd done for ages. Two weeks over video gave them an ease to it, segueing naturally from millions of miles to less than a meter apart.

When the meal finally concluded and Declan finished telling Aoba about a time he and a group of other Guardians fought all the way through a Cabal stronghold on Mars and accidentally cleared the whole thing out when they were just supposed to "investigate", the Guardian paused to consider something.

"Aoba," he murmured, gathering up dishes and setting them in the sink, the water hissing as he rinsed things. "Do you want to learn to fight or use weapons?"

Talk about your lack of segues. With Declan handling the dishes and his own appointment set for the morning, Aoba was ready to turn in for the night. His heart felt lighter and his head didn’t hurt, but with food in his belly he just felt exhausted all of a sudden. The question caught him pretty solidly off guard.

“Uh.” It stopped him quite short for a moment or three, to both think through his automatic answer in the additional light of the potential context. What he thought of fighting and weapons were just…playing pretend compared to going to war like Declan did.

“I’m…really not Guardian material, if that’s what that’s asking,” he answered, slowly at first until his thoughts caught up. “I can take care of myself if a punk or two gets too rowdy back home, but I don’t use weapons.”

He blinked, chuckling softly for a moment before stifling a snorted laugh. It was the first time he'd actually laughed with Aoba, and he struggled, for whatever reason, not to. He he wasn't completely sure why. Maybe because it felt too unfamiliar.

"You'd make a good Guardian, I think. It's about who you are, more than anything. The Light in you. You have plenty. But...no. I meant as recreation more than anything. You work, sure, but when I'm gone I don't know what there is to do. In the Tower, there's the Iron Lords, lead by Lord Saladin Forge. They train...*everyone*. I thought you might like the environment and the exercise. And...the discipline," he mused, stacking the dishes he finished with and turning to lean against the counter.

"Martial arts training isn't just physical, it's mental, too. Finding your mental center, knowing yourself. I was just thinking...medicine might not be the right approach to what's going on with you. Medication tends to dull senses and sort of..." he gestured vaguely. "--Pull a veil over things? Shroud it. Maybe if you don't muddy things so much, you can find your own balance? Plus, it never hurts to have a good right hook," the Titan remarked, fist whooshing through the air in a blink, a brutal, solid shadow box that made it clear how he laid people out. It was also a joke at his own expense, tentative, a small smile following.

Aoba wasn’t sure what was so funny, but—it was hard to wonder over it too much when Declan was actually laughing. It was enough of a sense of wonder that it kept him from feeling affronted at the thought he was being laughed at.

Well, either way, the Guardian wasn’t without a point. They already knew, now, that whatever Granny had been medicating him with had just been burying the problem. Martial arts and meditation, though? Aoba’s first reaction to that, it had to be admitted, was a strong feeling of reluctance.

“It’s true to say that Aoba does not have nearly as much discipline as would be good for him,” Ren could be heard to say, and that Aoba took a little personally.

“O-oi,” he stammered, glaring a little at the Allmate, but not too harshly. It was one of the few things Ren had said since Aoba had refused having the Prismatic Heart removed from his collection of gifts. He shifted his attention back to Declan soon enough.

The Titan’s unfortunate dubbing of ‘Decker’ actually didn’t even occur to him at that bit of shadow-boxing. After all, he had no reason of his own to associate the alternate name with the Declan that he knew and that had so far been the only one he’d ever seen. He met that little smile with one of his own, shifting his stance for a moment as he considered something. There was enough of a giveaway in the movement that an experienced soldier like Declan probably wouldn’t be surprised when Aoba spun out a lesser version of one of his roundhouse kicks.

Most definitely lesser, since he was full, didn’t want to accidentally break anything in the kitchen, and because of how lightly he let the front of his foot tap off Declan’s elbow for his kind-of counter-demonstration. Aoba could have jostled him more hitting him with a pillow instead, really.

“It’s not exactly a right hook, but…” he trailed off, setting his foot back on the ground. “I’ll see what Jolene has to say after she checks me over again.”

The amusement stemmed from Aoba thinking for a moment that he wasn't Guardian material. There were few things Declan was certain of in his life, but that was definitely one. Split personalities or not, Aoba was the unequivocal "good guy". Much like the blue-haired man believed Declan to be.

When the man spun, lg raised, prepared for a solid kick, then cheekily toe-tapping the Titan's arm, pale eyes were wide, lips parted just slightly.

For the first time in Declan's entire life (at least the years he'd lived since resurrecting as a Guardian), he felt the coil of genuine arousal. He did not like it. Not in the sense that it was something he felt he actively needed to fight, not in the sense that it repulsed him (he didn't even know what it was at first), but that he couldn't believe for a moment that he was capable, that it was happening, that it was because of Aoba. It was wrong on a very different level than something as childish as 'ew gross'. Heat crawled up the back of his neck and the pale color that often rose to his cheeks start suffusing his entire frame.

It was all the span of a few seconds, but felt like ages to Declan, the Guardian eventually shaking himself free of his mental paralysis. This was...something he needed to think about on his own. Later.

"You'd...make an incredible Hunter..." he managed to get out, a bit strained. But...then he was imagining Aoba kitted out in Hunter gear...leather-clad leg swinging out, heavy boot slamming into a Vex construct, kicking it's head clean off. The skies of Venus on the backdrop, Declan pulling the trigger and taking the thing down. Aoba's cloak in the breeze and Declan's gun propped on his shoulder as they--...

"Dinner is cleared up. I'm sure you could use some rest. It's been such a long day for you. A lot of...revelations...I'm going for a jog around the tower, then I'll sleep." What was this? Like a dam breaking? Was that how it worked? One funny thought and suddenly chaos? He didn't like it. It wasn't right, wasn't appropriate. He had no business thinking...thoughts. He needed to clear his head. Immediately.

And to think Aoba’s only concerns had been 1) not actually kicking Declan and 2) not getting his leg broken actually kicking Declan. Mercifully for the Guardian’s suddenly fracturing nerves, Aoba didn’t know how to interpret his apparent fluster. Maybe that mock-kick had been stupid.

Aoba was hardly about to think there’d been anything impressive in that impulsive action of his.

It was a relief of a different kind to be given the out to retire for the night. He didn’t feel like he had anything to escape from, but it was good to feel like he wasn’t leaving Declan alone when he’d finally gotten back from being gone for so long. Unaware that anything troubled the Guardian’s thoughts (anything more than Aoba pulling a dumb stunt, anyway), Aoba nodded, giving him perhaps the easiest smile he had all evening.

“No objections from me. I’ll be out cold in no time,” he agreed, picking up his headphones from the spot on the counter where he’d ended up leaving them during the meal-prep. A hot shower and some music, and sleep felt like it would be even easier than it usually was for him.

“See you in the morning, Declan.”

The Titan paused, looking on Aoba's smile, one of his own forming easily in response.

"Goodnight, Aoba."

He couldn't hear the warmth in his own voice, wouldn't have admitted it to himself anyways. Ghost continued to linger all through the evening, quiet and unobtrusive for a time. When Declan finally moved to pull on a shirt and shoes, he disappeared entirely and went with the man.

Some time later, Declan found himself hanging outside of Mac's room, unsure how he'd gotten there since his usual exercise didn't go that way. He took it as a sign, however, and before long he was telling the man everything while the warlock strummed an electric guitar he'd bought. No amp salvaged yet, but it pleased him to have one.

Between the two men's ghosts conferring and the Guardian's arguing semantics, it was two hours before Declan returned home. He strode in, quietly tidied up, then crept through his room to the shower where he stayed for a long time, looking down at his body and wondering what if. Mac and the Ghosts had given him even more to think about, his head aching by the time he crept into his bed.

For nearly another hour he stared at his ceiling, struggling to avoid thinking too deeply. In the end, his thoughts constantly rotating back to Aoba, the Titan rolled onto his side and scooted closer to the edge of his bed so he could watch from behind his hair. At least when he was looking at the other man, watching him sleep, his thoughts didn't hurt so much. It was soothing, falling asleep to the face of the one he'd worked so hard to come home to. If Aoba's sleep went uninterrupted, he might wake to find Declan sleeping at the very edge of the bigger bed, lips slightly parted, hand dangling over the side. Otherwise, he might catch an only slightly guilty-lookong Titan staring.

Aoba was sound asleep well, well before the Titan made it home. After a short, uneventful shower of his own, he curled up on his side in his trundle bed, headphones on and Ren at his feet, and never even twitched once when Declan passed through.

For the duration of Declan's insomnia, he was only something perhaps picturesque: unbound hair pooling over his back and shoulders, expression gently at ease and maybe even smiling. All things considered, he managed to go to bed without worrying. Without having experienced anything of his supposed other side except what the others told him, it was relegated to almost an afterthought.

In the morning, he puzzled over how innocent -- even childlike -- Declan looked huddled at the edge of the bed like that. Was that how he normally slept? Aoba had no way of knowing, since they'd never shared the room at the same time before.

He dressed quietly, had a simple breakfast of a prepackaged ration, and used the first crystal he'd been given as a gift much as he had once before: although on the kitchen table this time to be more obviously placed, it held down another handwritten note. This time it was actually in the local language, thanks to Ren being able to run a proper translation for Aoba to copy over from a displayed window. A memo of good morning, that he was off to his appointment, and would be back afterwards.

It felt a nicer thing than just leaving him electronic messages.

Rolling out of bed and aching for the way he'd fallen asleep, Declan lurched around the apartment, unsure of the reason for his unusual morning gloom. When he saw the note under the crystal he brightened instantly, then slumped again, realizing Mac was right...

He had those kinds of feelings. Otherwise, why be down when Aoba was gone and back up the instant there was some indication of his presence, some proof of his return? Groaning to himself and running a hand down his face, the Titan read the letter. Nodding to himself, he went to check the bounty board, sitting on the couch and scrolling through assignments.

"Hm...Venus...Mars...No, Mars is too hot this time of year...and there were Hobgoblins. I can't shield him that quickly..."

"...The Black Garden?" Ghost asked, hovering over Declan's shoulder and reading along with him. "It's very lovely, but you don't think it implies too much?" Having been there for the conversation with Mac and his Ghost, there was a lot more clarity for everyone. Well. Clarity, yes, but that didn't mean things were all that much improved.

"Mac said I...essentially...asked him on a date..." Declan murmured, glancing at the door, wondering idly when Aoba would be back.

"Well, Guardian Journey's advice isn't always sound," Ghost hedged, squinting.

"He knows more about this sort of thing than either of us. And if Aoba is leaving, I want to make the very best memories possible. But...maybe not the Garden just yet?"

"Venus has many impressive sites and is largely recovered. The moon should be suitably impressive as well since in his time space travel is still in it's infancy and the moon isn't colonized."

"The Reef?" Declan asked, hopeful. Ghost sighed, tilted, then gave a little nod. "I'll see to it you have lodging in the Reef. You'll have to plot a proper course for the rest. There's a few patrol quests in the safer areas on the Moon and Venus. I'll accept those missions for you. What ship shall I have checked?"

"Mmm...The Mariner. It's got the most room for long travel. Please make sure there's enough supplies. He'll need them."

"He'll expect you to eat as well, you know."

"I guess...have the replicator repaired."

"There's only one bunk, Declan."

"I'll sleep in the cockpit."

"...I highly doubt he'll approve," the Ghost mumbled to himself, drifting over to the main commlink and scanning in to start fulfilling things. Declan, for his own part, dragged his gear out and started cleaning everything. When Aoba finally returned, it would be to Declan drowsing on the couch, head hanging over the back, hands resting loosely on recently polished armor, a large gun in neatly arranged pieces on the coffee table, and Ghost humming idly to himself as he floated around doing nothing in particular aside from existing.

"Welcome back!" the little construct chirped, looking at Declan curiously. How blissful, to be so comfortable with another person's presence that he didn't jerk awake like he did in the field. Interesting.

Seeing Jolene that morning was, without a doubt, the most complicated appointment with a medical professional that Aoba had ever, ever had. Ren ended up doing a fair bit of talking for him, since he was the one who had witnessed part of Aoba’s ‘episode’. She listened, ran more scans and tests, adjusted his medication a bit more, and advised him in the direction of a psychologist for counseling and the refinement of a treatment plan. He felt more than a little numb when she released him, though at least medication had nothing to do with it. It was just…overwhelming.

And it wasn’t like he could tell her that he couldn’t exactly stick around long enough to see such treatment through. Declan and his Ghost believed him and were actively aiding him, sure, but how many other people could he tell about ‘portals only Chosen Ones like him could see’ without it sounding like some other symptom of his apparent mental illness?

God, he didn’t like the way that sounded. Headaches were one thing. Even Declan had been so easygoing and accepting of it, with all that talk about the beauty of the sum of his parts….

…not sure if I want to be called beautiful…

Wanting to just go along with Declan’s simpler interpretation of the matter probably wasn’t the smart response, but boy was it the more appealing one, if only because he managed to make it sound like a relative non-issue. Something in need of addressing, yes, but also somehow simple.

Now that his functions and memory had expanded, Ren agreed that he would record all future episodes of Aoba’s ‘personality changes’, both in terms of the brainwave scans and straight up audio/video. They would help Aoba himself better come to terms with this ‘other self’ of his as much as provide a resource for any professionals he sought help from—if he did at all.

He had to get home….

…But it wasn’t like stepping back inside Declan’s apartment felt like someplace alien. The door opening up at the scan of his hand, the colors adjusted partially to his own preference, his collection of gifts gleaming from the various surfaces he’d taken advantage of to display them….

Spotting Ghost, he even kind of wanted to give the construct’s shell a ruffling in return for the greeting. He was as tied to the Guardian as Ren was to Aoba, after all (even by Aoba’s limited understanding of what Ghosts and Guardians were truly bound by), but Aoba kept his raised hand to just a warm, if worn-out, wave in response.

“Thanks, Ghost,” he said, putting his bag down just inside the door. Ren hopped out of it as Aoba continued inwards, following the construct’s gaze towards the couch with his steps.

Geez. Asleep all night and asleep again already? Those two weeks out must have been rougher on him than he’d let on, huh? With a lot more on his mind now than awkward what-ifs, Aoba was able to fold his arms and lean on the couchback close to Declan’s shoulder, quietly studying the man. The sunlight coming in that giant wall-window really highlighted the way that Declan’s skin seemed to…shimmer, almost. He didn’t seem to have a speck of pigment anywhere on him, neither skin nor hair nor eyes, but instead of being colorless and dull he was, well, as weird as it was to say of another guy…unexpectedly beautiful. But it also kind of made Aoba want to ruffle him, too.

Now look who was staring.

With the closeness of the other body lingering and filling space, Declan's instincts fluttered. There was no danger, however, so instead of jumping up alert and ready to spring into action, pale eyes cracked open, sliding to the side to gaze sleepily at the other man.

"Hm?" he rumbled, full lips curving into one of those gentle, brief smiles. Dreaming of Aoba again, was he? With more clarity than usual, the vibrant colors...so...

And his eyes drifted closed again, chest rising and falling with a sigh as he shifted, turning his head to the side, hair sliding over his face and a silky veil.

Another good five minutes passed before a soft groan creaked up out of him, big hand stretching out to reach for something - he thought he was in his bed for a moment and wanted to drag a pillow closer - but when he found nothing, the Titan finally started to genuinely wake, mouth opening wide with a noisy yawn, flashing rows of perfect teeth, slightly larger than average canines, and a lavender interior that included his tongue.

"EEEuuuuggghhhh...ahh...hm? Aoba? What time is it? I'm sorry, I meant to wait up for you but I finished cleaning everything..." Without anything to distract him and not wanting to be gone when the other man came back, he'd just sat there and waited, like a dog.

"How did it go?" the large man asked, rubbing a fist against one eye.

And guess who barely moved for all of those five minutes, barely aware of the time passing. Aoba wound up lifting a hand to prop his cheek up with as he continued to lean there, smiling like a man with a private joke. At least for a little while, he was relatively unselfconscious. He gazed upon the hulk of the Titan not with embarrassment and awkward wonderings, but with a much simpler gratitude and innocent affection.

Something wasn’t right with this world, for such a kind and generous man to live so alone and have so few friends. Aoba was still waiting for evidence of any kind of angry streak, too. Even that man that he’d clouted in the bar, for Aoba’s sake, had been taken out with impassive calm. And then he’d gone and been given a Cosmopolitan of all things. Complimented his hair, saying little more than a few words at a time.

Now look at him. Look back at all the heartfelt, poetic things he’d ended up saying since then.

Aoba’s face fell only at the question, and he made a vague noise of discontent as he stood up and moved around the couch, dropping into the free space beside the other man now that he was awake. “I know it was good to go,” he began in answer, staring out the broad window ahead of them, “But I don’t know what good it’ll do. I don’t have the time to just pursue a specialized treatment plan, you know? Maybe when I get back to Midorijima, or even when I come back here, but right now? It’s too much to ask for.”

He spread his hands in a useless little gesture, giving Declan a sideways look. “But, on the positive side, I don’t have any painful headaches any more, and it’s not like I went completely Jekyll and Hyde on you guys, right? I was just…somebody different for a little while.”

"Then don't worry about it?" Declan replied with his usual steady acceptance. Pale eyes drifted, watching Aoba walk, and he left an arm slung across the back of the couch, even when the other man took a seat. It...would be too awkward to pull it away just then.

"It isn't hurting you or anyone else to be like this, so far. You can manage it well enough while you're here. No one will really judge you, least of all me."

Listening to the remark about the positive side the Titan's lips quirked. He understood that reference. Mac liked old Earth music, Declan liked old Earth literature. He read quite a bit in his downtime on patrols.

"I'm not even sure you were someone different, Aoba. Just a different part of yourself. Hm. Besides all that, now when you go home you can talk openly with your granny; be honest with one another and find concrete answers, since now you're not in the dark anymore. I think that's important."

And there he went again, supportive and unjudgmental. It made him much easier—and honestly, preferable—to listen to.

…compared to ‘Ren’? Pfft, obviously…

Oh, no, that was an unkind thought. Aoba took it back in a hurry. Ren was just worried about him and looking after him too, as he always had, but…yeah. With as many other things to do and focus on as he had, and given that he’d only lost, what, maybe fifteen minutes or something to his ‘other side’? And that Declan, Ren, and Ghost could all look out for him if it happened again…it was hard to get super worked up about it, even if he’d felt like he wanted to.

“I just hope that conversation isn’t as painful as I’m afraid it could be,” he said to Declan instead, barely conscious of the fact that the Guardian’s arm was stretched out behind him. It wasn’t a threatening presence, after all. “I know Granny must have had good reasons for it, but it’s still weird to think she wouldn’t have warned me about it, I guess.”

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