蒼葉;

Because I can always destroy the world at any time.

[unspokenprayer]

not at fault | closed

[unspokenprayer]

He did know how to use texts, thank you very much. Sure, he was a little slower at times. Didn’t check his phone for extended amounts of time… Still, at least he knew how. Speaking of which, he’d decided he should probably keep checking his phone if Aoba did happen to be in the area. 

TO: Aoba FROM: Mink

Be right there.

However, the text that came after was disregarded. It was unimportant in comparison to actually locating the other.. A little annoying too. Really, farming wasn’t so amazing that another moment of his time was spent reading another text. So now his phone was tucked away for safekeeping as he’d made his way to the destination.. It had certainly been awhile since he’d been to Paralia but he was still able to find his way without much of an issue. Plus, it wasn’t too far from where he already was. Otherwise, he may have ended up changing his mind and telling Aoba to meet up with him later.

It was nostalgic.. These hills.. Even the farmland.

But he didn’t allow himself to recall such memories.. Instead, he focused on the abnormal amount of blue that was now within his sight. Not the sky. Just a heap of blue. He regarded Aoba first with a nod when the other spoke, closing more distance between them before he stopped.

"Apparently."

Removing his phone from his pocket once more, he opened it to show the text that was last sent to it. “Don’t waste time with things like this.” That was all he had to say on that matter apparently, seeing as the phone was put away once more when he was certain Aoba got the message.

"Your plans from here? There’s no transportation to Kairos so I assume you found someplace to stay for the time being…"

His pipe replaced the phone, the smell of tobacco drifting around after he lit it.. He stared at the other a moment before the slightest smirk formed.

"Or are you going to sleep in the fields you find so amazing? Idiot." 

[aocatch]

Flinching in reflex from the verbal insults -- Aoba turned on his heel and looked to the scene he had been taking in before Mink's unceremonious arrival. Suddenly it didn't seem as majestic as it had before and he couldn't take the time to appreciate it which admittedly, irritated him. It's not as if he could argue with what Mink said -- he really couldn't, he had tried to argue with him before and it only resulted in Aoba being scolded even worse. Furrowing his brows and spinning back on his heel to face Mink, Aoba flinched again from the  combination of smoke and a final comment.

"...Mink, you don't have to be so --"

Why did he always feel so defeated after encountering Mink?

He had been optimistic and even worried about him and instead of what he had hoped could have been a normal conversation, it was this again. Aoba knew that Mink wasn't all bad -- there were plenty of times(or maybe a handful) that he had talked to him and Mink genuinely seemed positively responsive. But, Aoba would likewise be lying if Mink didn't more often regard Aoba just like this. It's as if he was toying with him -- leading him on with the tiniest semblance, glimmer, that there was more than met the eye when it came to him - only to rip it away in the next breath.

Still -- Aoba took a strengthening breath and persevered. He tried not to let Min's words deter him and crossed his arms, leaning forward with a thoughtful hum from the back of his throat. He then explained that he had an option sure, but he didn't want to be a burden to that person either. A short sigh exhaled and Aoba mumbled that he'd already asked that person a big favor and couldn't just abuse their kindness. Glancing up next, Aoba curiously eyed Mink with a burning question on the tip of his tongue. 

"What about you...?" 

Well, it's not like he had anything to lose by asking. And besides it was a fairly harmless question -- whether Mink wanted him to or not, Aoba was still worried about Mink's situation too. Mink could try to deter Aoba as much as he liked but he wasn't going to back down or stop trying anytime soon.

[pseudonoiz]

suspicious rewiring [open]

[pseudonoiz]

The passerby had a bossy voice and he was apparently the troublesome, nagging type. Noiz wasn’t sure which parent this man reminded him of. Then he said something interesting, something amusing. Noiz let out a snort, while a more sincere person would have laughed.

“You would get hurt messing with this stuff.” Noiz remarked. “Not me.”

"I told you. I’m a pro." Noiz said flatly as he made the finishing touches on the wires.

Fertig. Perfekt. Now to return to his room and really enjoy the night. Hacking video game servers and have his player grind in acceptable net speed. He closed the power board and gathered his tools, a thin smile on his lips. He approached the stranger and said:

"Well, I must continue my work elsewhere. Tschüss.”

[aocatch]

Blinking in both a mix of surprise, awe, yet overall annoyance at this kid's tone, Aoba ended up pulling his lips into a frown and fully prepared to tell him off. Before he could think of taking the chance -- he had already been cut off. Aoba leaned to the side and peeked around the other man at the closed power board, this entire thing seemed completely fishy and he didn't want to just let him go free. He only hesitated because he wasn't entirely sure what he could do to stop him. -- Though, maybe he could see just why he had been up to that fiddling.

"H-Hey, wait a sec! What other work do you plan to do?"

It was difficult to be nice and friendly towards someone who already irritated Aoba but he was generally a friendly guy when he wanted to be! He just had to push passed the brat's demeanor if he could. It probably sounded just a little forced but he gave an attempted light laugh and fell into pace besides the stranger, proceeding to make small talk in hopes that would persuade the other to let him tag along.

Besides! Who couldn't trust a face like Aoba's? 

"Sooo...mind if I come with?"

[treasureaflame-deactivated20140]

To hold a conversation like this was more difficult than he thought, but perhaps it was due to the duration of time apart that had Koujaku finding it more difficult to choose his words, usually the swordsman was a natural at talking to just about everyone, though perhaps it’s different for childhood friends, not that he had many at all really besides Aoba. There was a slight raise of the eyebrow at the other’s response, shoulders slumping also as Koujaku began to relax his posture more at the counter, arms then folding. "Ah, it’s good that you’re still working too." —That was all he really could say, a shift in his gaze taken as he decided to stare behind the bar then. Koujaku had always assumed that Aoba would have plenty of his own friends, of course, it seemed that despite both of their upbringing, Aoba would be a magnet to the sort, naturally.  His attention was brought again at the question, as simple as it is, it took him a moment to even bring out an answer. "—Oh, I’ve been well. My job keeps me busy everyday, though it’s good to be able to meet new people, bring a smile to customer’s faces, the usual." It’s not like too much had changed in the respects of how socially popular he was. "Although there have been some ups and downs, you know, not every man likes to have his woman come to my hairdressers." There was a slight chuckle given, Koujaku never really cared, after all, he wasn’t scared, his only aim was simple.

"—But Aoba, let’s not focus solely on me. I’m sure you’ve been up to a lot more than I." It was much easier listening than telling, after all.

[aocatch]

Koujaku's answers left Aoba with a curiously indescribable feeling. On one hand, he was glad to hear that his work was going well and he always enjoyed his work -- on the other hand, Aoba couldn't help but be a bit skeptical too. It wasn't as if it was Koujaku's fault that girls fawned all over him and that other men got jealous over that. The few times that Aoba had happened to collide with his fanclub were memorable to say the least -- though he visibly shuddered at having to deal with them and if he could avoid them, he would.

Tapping a finger to his chin, Aoba drew his gaze towards Koujaku at his suggestion and although there was much more he wanted to ask and know about his friend, he didn't want to keep pushing either. With a following nod and a brief clap of his hands together, Aoba turned towards the other partially with a thoughtful hum sounding. Recently, he wondered, what had he been up to?

"I've met a few interesting people lately. Oh! --  One in particular was really formal and polite towards me, I didn't think there was anyone like that anymore."

Proceeding with this story, Aoba detailed the kind of person he had met to Koujaku - it was the experience that stood out the most in his mind. However he finished his brief story with a conclusion that he didn't mind the meeting in the slightest. It had been weird, sure, but it hadn't been bad. Aside from new people, the only other thing that came to mind  were his repeated outings with a friend that Koujaku never seemed to particularly care for -- not that Aoba ever knew why. 

"Hmmm. You remember Trip, right? He's been inviting me out a lot recently, usually to dessert shops. I don't mind it but - ...do you think it's weird if someone offers to feed you?"

[pseudonoiz]

suspicious rewiring [open]

How was he supposed to do his work and play video games properly with a connection that barely reached a single Mbps? Ridiculous.

He had called his network provider, and talked a whole deal on the line to an associate who gave annoying talk about customer service but jack shit on actually giving him the bandwidth. "I’ll service your ass." Noiz scoffed rudely before hanging up.

Naturally, the boy was left no choice but to take matters into his own hands. And this course of action involved nothing short of heading down to the server room and rerouting the connections himself, shortly followed by Noiz standing behind his building, unraveling and reworking the connections of the building’s power grid. His hands worked through the buttons and wires, diabolically focused.

Why, with his outrageous clothing and his multitude of piercings, one would suspect he was up to something.

"Nothing to see here." he mumbled to the person he heard approaching. His hands did something increasingly questionable with the wires. "I’m a trained professional just doing my job."

He lied. It was quite obviously a lie and Noiz quite obviously did not give a damn.

[aocatch]

Just on his way home, Aoba thought that today would be a fairly normal weekday night -- he'd come home from work and do his night time routine, manage to relax in the confines of his apartment before turning in for the evening. However he'd made it all of one block short of his apartment building before something out of the ordinary caught the periphery of his vision. Whether it was out of genuine interest or morbid curiosity, Aoba couldn't help but sneak a peek.

He'd only barely approached before he was caught and in reflex he froze as if he had been doing something bad. No matter what way one looked at this situation though, Aoba wasn't the one being questionable, right? -- Not exactly! Now that he was closer though, he managed a good luck at the stranger and found his entire atmosphere to be well -- suspicious.

Furrowing his brows and turning a frown, Aoba leaned over regardless and in spite of the other's attempted reassurance.

"Doing your job? Oi --"

"No matter how you look at this, it's weird."

Just how old was this kid, anyway?

Aoba doubted that he was just doing something normal and doubted even more that this kid has a job at that. He couldn't be more than...than -- seventeen or eighteen maybe. This could be an act of rebellion that today's younger generation exhibited! That's what he thought anyway and realized just how old that made him sound. Shuddering, Aoba exhaled quickly and spoke with a bit of warning in his tone. 

"You know, you could get hurt messing around with this stuff."

[aocatch]

a game of cards.

When Aoba heard the news he was naturally curious and couldn't help but take a peek -- he didn't want to stay long, of course. There were things to do and people to see, literally - someone was waiting for him at his apartment. Cutting through the plaza seemed the best option clearly and it allowed him to satiate his curiosity up until a point. That point being there was a particularly growing crowd of fangirls surrounding what he thought could have potentially been a childhood friend but found a perfect stranger among the masses instead. 

"Ehh? It's not him..."

"I wonder what's so interesting about that guy? Well, it's not my business I should -- uwah!"

Blinking, Aoba had only inched his way over for a fraction of a second and though he didn't really intend to stay and butt his nose into business where it didn't belong - unfortunately that wasn't what was in store for him. Before he knew it, Aoba was ensnared by the group of girls and shoved every which way. With little to no time to react, Aoba had been shoved right into the main attraction.

The momentum wasn't enough to knock either over but it was unbearably awkward. Feeling both irritated and embarrassed, Aoba was left speechless -- for all of a minute before he leaned back and cleared his throat with an apology to the taller man at the very least. Clearing his throat, Aoba mentally tried to find a way to escape this mess but had no idea how he could like this. 

"Anyway, err -- are you okay?"

[regenliebe]

"Reassuring is just a pretty way of saying convenient."

[unspokenprayer]

not at fault | closed

Waking up in this place.. This particular room. In no way was Paralia unfamiliar to him, really.. Especially not this place. After all, before his move to Kairos, Paralia was his home. This place in specific… A home he made with his own hands. For himself and….

That’s not something to get into now.

He could never forget it. This house. While it was a place that was supposed to be filled with happier memories, Mink was haunted by it in some sense. Since he left, the man had only returned in order to make sure that the place was still in once piece.. He hadn’t even been inside until the moment he woke up staring at a ceiling he knew was familiar. He allowed some time to pass and for this strange situation to possibly make some sense to him.. So far, it didn’t. After a walk, he determined there was no going back to Kairos just yet—.. Which left the house as a place to stay for the time being…

He delayed his return to the small home for some time, looking through Paralia for the while to see if there was any information provided for whatever was going on. Though, he hadn’t noticed that his phone had been going off for who knows how long so when he pulled it out just to check the time.

Quite a few unread messages… All from…

"…… Tsk."

This idiot. 

Looking through the first few, Mink could already guess what the others were. A bunch of 'Hey', 'Mink', 'Heeeeeeeeey'. Honestly… Of course, there was one or two inquiring about the situation, assuming Aoba was put in one similar. He decided to reply if not only due to this assumption. There was some concern for the other’s well being as well but if he had to guess, Aoba was Just Fine. 

TO: Aoba FROM: Mink

Where are you? I'll come to you. 

[aocatch]

Milling about the Paralian roads was an experience. Aoba was used to busy streets filled to the brim with person after person. Now he had all this free space and could move his arms around him, didn't have to squeeze through nooks and crannies to make his way through, everything was just so open. Checking his phone out of habit, Aoba wondered if any of his texts to a certain someone had gone through and even wondered if that person knew how to use texts. He was always the old fashioned type, wasn't he? Still, he was worried about where he was and hoped that he would respond soon with a call if not a text. 

Speak of the devil -- "A text? Ehhh, I wonder who it is?"

TO: mink FROM: aoba

mink! jeez i was wondering when youd reply

oh uh im on a path leading up to a farming area i think

Sending the immediate response, Aoba was glad to see that Mink was in Paralia too. It would do him well to see a familiar face even if that same face was always one that'd sooner turn Aoba away than accept him. He was persistent however, especially considering the two were neighbors back in Kairos! A soft sigh left his lips and Aoba spun on his heel, looking over the farmland that encompassed the entirety of his view. Pursing his lips, Aoba looked at his phone and tapped Mink's contact info again -- deciding to send just one more friendly little text while he waited, a little small talk never hurt anyone.

do you think they really farm their own food woahhh thats pretty amazing huh?

Stretching a bit with a pleased exhale, Aoba felt himself surprisingly uplifted to be in this kind of place. He didn't ever think badly of Paralia and in fact was originally born there from what he could remember -- but it had been well over ten years since he came back. It was strange how nostalgic he began to feel about a place he couldn't fully remember. A natural smile curved the corners of his lips and Aoba glanced back at the sound of heavy footsteps coming his way, that was definitely Mink.

"You were a lot closer than I thought, Mink -- you're stuck here too, aren't you?"

[aocatch]

over the city lights.

[clearse]

Oddly enough, this predicament doesn’t faze him as much as it feasibly could have, all things considered. Even upon awakening in Kairos with the inceptive assumption of abduction (there are no diffident fever dreams of being drugged or once approached in hostility, but he’s never had a concise basis for abduction either), Clear isn’t outright alarmed. Instead, he debates between a rooftop nap gone pleasantly awry or (possibly!) sleepwalking to account for the amnesiac gap in his wispy recollections. It normally wouldn’t be any trouble to take the train station, if it wasn’t for the very significant fact that it was sealed, and all lines of intercity transportation effectively cut, thoroughfares leading out blocked from both sides as far as the eye could see.

With this bizarre turn of events pitching into motion, Clear’s unfortunately forced to shelve his initial plan for the afternoon — which was namely maintaining shop — and sets about smoothing the neatly-folded list of his current clientele that somehow survived the forcible trip between municipal districts, then fishing around his coat pocket to retrieve his cell phone. Informing them of the delay in shipment takes a sizable amount of time, divided into leaving sincerely contrite voicemails when probable, and mostly first-hand apologies when greeted with the clientele in question. No less than ten minutes after finishing his courtesy calls, Clear’s cell chirps up again, and automatically assuming he must’ve missed one of his prospective patrons in his fluxing haste, he raises the phone to his ear and answers the call. “A-aaaa, um ~~~ ?”

A beat of silence. Perplexed, he presses his eardrum against the receiving end, straining to discern any indication of a voice when Aoba hastily replies like an afterthought in an inflection notably tinged with concern.

“… Oh! Hello again, Aoba-san! ~ It’s good to hear from you.” Considerably brightening at the statement, he tries — and horribly fails, at that — to suppress the insouciant shock reverberating in his tone. “Uwaaah! It has, hasn’t it! What a pleasant surprise. I’m glad that you kept my number. … And — er, if I’m not mistaken, I believe I’m in … Kairos? I’m afraid my current situation is very confusing. I should be in Paralia maintaining Grandfather’s studio, but I’ve inexplicably ended up here for some reason! The routes traveling between the cities are currently blocked, so there’s no way to return from one to another in the meantime.”

After an idling lapse, he continues on all the same, reconciling his curiosity with his adamant need to dispense any and all assistance he could provide to those who required his help. This was doubly true when it came to Aoba — he’d certainly be fibbing through his teeth if he denied jumping at any and all opportunities to compensate for their last encounter. “You sound extremely anxious though, Aoba-san. Are you experiencing similar issues?”

[aocatch]

Clear's voice left Aoba with a great relief and weight then lifted from his shoulders -- not entirely since he still had to ask the pressing favor in mind. Shuffling his weight from one foot to the other, he prepared to ask then and there with a burst of confidence but was caught off guard that Clear realized Aoba's slight anxiety. Mulling it over, he tried to play it off as nothing or not much if at all possible with a quick laugh following his explanation. "Looks like it. I'm stuck in Paralia though, there's no way to get back to Kairos from what I can tell right now but..."

Rather than proceed to fidget in place, Aoba began to take paces around the immediate area. It's fine, it's fine -- he mentally motivated himself up though in hindsight, he couldn't help but feel ridiculous for being so worried and hesitant. He was horrendously over thinking it as he was prone to do really and without anyone to tell him not to do just that, well, suffice to say, he would continue with these same bad habits. One deep inhale and equally deep exhale later and Aoba patted his free cheek in a final effort to pump himself up and in that moment too, he thanked goodness no one was around to witness this embarrassing behavior.

"Well, I wanted to ask if you could do me a favor. You remember that I own a little dog, right? And he's all alone at my house...sooo, I was wondering if you could babysit him until we can travel between the two cities again."

Glancing around, an idea popped into Aoba's mind and he couldn't help but exclaim when he realized it. He'd prefer if they could help each other out after all -- so maybe Clear's shop or his home was in Paralia! Clear struck him as the type to live in a more quiet, serene type of scenery despite his eccentrics. Jogging around the immediate area, Aoba began to look around without really knowing what he was even looking for though opted to ask, of course. 

"Hey, Clear? Do you live in Paralia? Or maybe your shop is here? -- I can look after it for you."

[beztia-blog]

It would be strange to think that Virus and Trip ever really went a day or two without some form of contact. When they weren’t together that is. Phone calls. Text message.. Though, personally, Trip made no effort in these interactions it was Virus who made sure the younger knew what to do next. Trip would still follow Virus no matter what.. But communication wasn’t his best point. 

Not while he could just act. 

"Things..?" Well— "Virus treats me. Otherwise, nothing."

A birthday only signified the day you were born. While there was a treat to be received, the day was hardly special to him. There was no emotional attachment to the date. 

Still, he followed suit.. He didn’t mind allowing Aoba to take the lead this time. Really, he as curious as to what Aoba might do for him simply based on a date. 

"Specials.. Maybe?.." What kind of specials though.. Trip thought a moment before his expression seemed to soften just a touch. "Two for one… Do you think?" But that was a deal possible for just any day. ".. Or… Something else." 

[aocatch]

Aoba's shoulder slightly shudder at the suggestion and it's not as if he's exactly opposed to it -- it's just that he'd like to think he knows Trip at least on some level. He's tricked Aoba into worse things before and barely manages to recall whatever it is that happened at the black and white ball though the memory is vague, he can just tell it wasn't a good one. Still...it is his birthday and against any better judgement he might have, Aoba agrees that the two could share a dessert if he really wanted that.

Besides! It's not as if this would be their first time going out for desserts like this. Though previously it was under weird circumstances (at least to Aoba), the two would peruse newly opened shops every now and again. It was something that the Seragaki frankly enjoyed doing as it seemed to be the most normal and preferred means of hanging out with someone like Trip.

"Right, right. Let's see...which one?"

"I think, probably, we can get their menu special and share it, is that okay?" 

As it turned out, the special today was a strawberry shortcake. Not really his cup of tea but he didn't mind it all the same and it was lucky that it was cake too. He found that to be a treat in itself, a small smile and nudge against Trip's side followed as Aoba then moved to pay for his suggestion though if Trip had anything else he wanted to try, he'd gladly pay for that too.

[treasureaflame-deactivated20140]

—Sigh. It’s not like he had much of a choice now, being dragged through the crowd. As much as slight irritation and hesitance would show upon one’s expression, in actuality, Koujaku was relieved that Aoba was so eager to want to do something that the two would do together so long ago. He’d blame his work for the constant distance that would form between the two, though of course it’s natural too, that’s what Koujaku kept telling himself. A small smile was soon to form as he was pulled towards one of the clubs, he’d wonder if Aoba visited here often with other people, meaning that others got to experience this side of him too… it seems that perhaps Koujaku has a lot of questions for the other, when thinking about it more, he began to grow very curious whilst realizing just how little they see each other now. And at the mention of buying drinks.. Aoba should feel lucky that he’s him.

"I’m up for anything, seeing as though I can handle it better than you." He produced a smirk whilst leaning on the bar counter, as opposed to other times he’d come here with ladies, right now he didn’t have to hold himself back with alcohol, seeing as most women preferred to talk and talk, rather than drink, but it’s a good thing. "I’m serious Aoba, I’m not having you puking on the floor again, or doing anything else. But I guess I’m starting to sound like your caretaker rather than friend. You can choose first round." He may regret offering later, but Koujaku never really found Aoba bothersome at all, in fact, he felt it as somewhat of a duty to look after him.

"I’m guessing you get drunk here often with your other friends?"

[aocatch]

Koujaku always sounded like his mother with the way he was reprimanding him before anything had even been done! Even if it was tentatively overbearing, Aoba felt nostalgia filter through the slight irritation he had garnered and found that he couldn't be outright angry with him. That and it really wouldn't sit right with Aoba if they began to argue over this -- especially given their extended breaks in between meeting as casually as they could. He'd definitely regret it for days, probably weeks if this went badly.

Despite those notions that worked through Aoba's mind, he managed a smile and a tease in return, telling Koujaku that last time wouldn't be repeated at all, and he could hold his own! He said so with confidence of course and was never really aware just how much of a lightweight he really was. It seemed apparent to everyone but Aoba and whenever anyone mentioned it -- well he would always deny just that, much like he was doing now. What he tried to deny however was always, always seen right through by Koujaku and usually Aoba found that frustrating but it was endearing in the same way.

At least that's what he thought up until Koujaku's wondering comment made Aoba visibly slump his shoulders with a combined lowered gaze to the bar counter.

"Ehhh -- not really! I mean sometimes but I'm busy with work too. Ah, hey, what about --"

It was then that Aoba straightened and glanced over to his friend, and months worth of questioned were on the tip of his tongue. How had work been going? Had he made new friends? Was his fan club still always around him? -- Aoba hesitated to ask any of this as he couldn't help but feel it was too invasive. Still, he wanted to learn more about Koujaku - they weren't kids anymore and they both had changed in ways that left them almost feeling like strangers.

He hated feeling like that with Koujaku and wanted to change it, so...it would be okay to at least him something to start off with, wouldn't it? 

"Koujaku...how have you been lately?"

[clearse]

all that glitters isn't gold.

[clearse]

The air remains static, only punctuated by the staccato palpitations of machines — all wrought glass screens and burnished metal, medicinal drips and wired mechanisms — working in tandem to keep his Grandfather alive. His breathing is dull and muted, muffled by the hollow echo of a heartrate monitor. If Clear splayed a hand over his Grandfather’s heart, however, he’d surely detect it: the aortic pulse skipping faintly against a shallowly breathing torso, proof of a life so indelible to his memories that Clear couldn’t comprehend an existence without him. Ultimately, it’s this brittle cognition of love that ensures his return: the desperately fervid hope that his Grandfather’s debilitation would abruptly cease midway and he’d smile back once more (eyes crinkling with ineffable mirth). The silence is asphyxiating.

Stricken mute, Clear blinks down at his surrogate guardian’s sallow, diminutive form, attempting to procure a rationale for bringing Aoba to the hospital in the first place. It was bizarre enough that he’d invited the other man to meet his Grandfather in his declining condition, and yet — haltingly, because everything as far as Aoba was concerned was inexplicable — flickering compulsion drove Clear’s inherent degree of faith in him. His companion was innately stupefying and altogether comparable to the sun diffusing light (warmly reminiscent of stars). It sends Clear reeling off-center when Aoba leans over his Grandfather’s form, eyes obstinately appraising the sight. His voice waxes on a thinly rueful susurration. An inquiry to a question already answered. Clear implicitly nods at the initial affirmation, but freezes stock-still at the following insinuation.

Smiling came naturally to him, of course, but he didn’t have a frame-of-reference, having long since concealed his face out of fear, invasive and warped, to distort his self-perception. Someone like his Grandfather, regardless, was preternaturally exceptional in comparison to him. Withholding a perturbed wince, he nearly dismisses the notion (in all plaintive honesty, that couldn’t possibly be the case) when Aoba continues on, thoughtful and subdued and just shy of fatalistic, as if he’d preemptively seen straight through Clear. There was something cathartic about Aoba’s personal narrative, telllingly genuine and upended, nothing like the glittering exposition Clear imagined but infinitely better for it. By all accounts, it was slightly unforgettable. And he lowers his head in that lingering wash of warmth, throat entirely knotted up, fingers tremulous in every ligament, expression relenting to a thin smile beneath his mask.

His tone warbles affectedly, so very faint. “… Thank you, Aoba-san. I’m extremely touched. My Grandfather would be glad to know that you think so highly of him.”

Since the moment they entered the room, Clear hadn’t glanced once at him, but he directed his attention past the silhouette of his shadow over the duvet covers, to Aoba himself then, brilliant and mellowed-out under filtering blinds. “While it isn’t my intention to assume as much, your Grandmother must be immensely proud to have you as a grandson. You’re there for her just as she is there for you. In that way, even in the absence of your parents, you take care of each other. … It’s a very sweet notion. It would undoubtedly make anyone happy, knowing that someone as thoughtful as you was always there by their side to support them every step of the way.” The entire encounter embodied chiaroscuro, to some degree: a splintered contrast between the sanitary emptiness of a whitewashed hospital room and Aoba’s unflinching gaze (at once dissonant and thoughtful), bearing down on him with the weight of things that couldn’t be changed.

“And — your heart is very gentle, Aoba-san. Your words are so bright and hopeful, although you’ve certainly experienced many sad and troubling things as well.” A tentative, summarily absorbing pause ensues. Aoba’s litany continues to resonate in his ears, the lapse between one thought and the next, and Clear raises his head. “I believe you’re the kind of person that rescues others.” Stirred by his altruism, he remains motionless, then slowly unwinds one hand from his Grandfather’s frail grasp and quietly, quietly reaches over to rest it in Aoba’s, leaving them interconnected by the heart of their palms. “Is it alright if I sing? It would make him happy whenever I did, and although he doesn’t appear to be awake at this moment, perhaps he’ll hear it all the same.” Strangely at peace, Clear waits for confirmation before raising his voice from its muted pitch, to a soft-spoken hum, then: a song.

Relinquishing his trepidation, he sings by virtue of honesty, relinquishing his trepidation, all curving vowels and immutable luminous in a tune that has never served as more of an emotional catharsis in that moment. It lasts for several minutes, the melody rising to a pinnacle, buoyantly aglow in its solace. Eventually ending the tune on a light note, he releases his grip on both of them to retrieve the enameled box and soundlessly place it on the bedside table in one concise movement. Measuredly rising up from his seat, he acquiesces some time until Aoba stands to his feet as well, then deposits the chairs to the side. Reaching back to rest his palm on his Grandfather’s arm one final time, he steps back to bow at a 90-degree angle, blinking hard. “Thank you for taking care of me as you always have, Grandfather. I’ll visit again soon.”

Taking Aoba’s hand in his (it’s an unconscious effort, but his companion never pulled away once), Clear straightens and exits the room, closing the door behind them to ensure that the draft wouldn’t disturb his Grandfather in his sleep. Acting on the supposition that they’ll soon be parting ways, Clear proceeds to bow in the same manner to Aoba, then envelops him in a fervent embrace. Inordinately making all attempts to disguise the sniffle that escapes, he soon releases him, drawing back with a small, but no less empathetic, laugh. “Please accept my gratitude as well, Aoba-san. I’m indebted to you for your kindness.”

[aocatch]

When they first met -- when bright eyes locked gaze with a mask that replaced a face -- Aoba had thought then and there that this man who had fallen before him like a shooting star in the night was undoubtedly strange. Weird, odd, foreign maybe, alien -- every synonym of the word and this was only boldly punctuated by their proceeding conversation coupled with actions and reactions, not to mention offers of piggybacks that just utterly brimmed with childish nostalgia. Yet, as if in direct spite of all the aforementioned , came the seemingly well of kindness, of gratitude and for what? -- Aoba was at the very least, half-certain that he hadn't done or said anything particularly spectacular to earn such bestowed sweetness. Again and again however, Clear felt it fit to return Aoba's honest thoughts with gratefully tender, soft spoken replies and endearingly delicate touches.

It was almost embarrassing... ...at first.

All the heartfelt words in that melodic tune could only resonate with a not so subtle warmth in the very epicenter of his heart. That same heart that was depicted as gentle and Aoba couldn't necessarily disagree (even if there was a slight tinge of pinks that colored his cheeks, even then) nor would he have sought to. His only immediate response was a faint curvature over the corners of his lips up until shock caused an awe inspired expression prior to a silent ruminate from that one, single perception. Question after question filters through his mind almost instantly after and really, he's trying to make sense of why Clear would perceive such a notion and it never seems to strike Aoba that Clear might have come to this conclusion due to Aoba's own perceptions just a moment ago. It completely passes over his train of thought merely because he spoke from the bottom of his heart when he commented on how those closest often are reflected in someone's own self. His brow furrows and all that Aoba can do is open and close his mouth several times as he tries to find the right response but before the right words can so much as find their way to the tip of his tongue -- a decidedly warm touch presses against his palm and a proposition then reaches his ears.

His voice ever so gently carries into the room with his reply. "Yeah, I think both he and I would like it."

The song that then resounds from Clear and fills the hospital room feels light. It's an original melody he realizes, a fantastical one of a kind symphony that Aoba wishes could be captured but finds that perhaps its best left as something of a singular, ethereal memory instead. For the remaining duration, his gaze lingers to his lap where Clear's hand has found Aoba's own prior to the tune, if it had been any other moment - he would have been too embarrassed but there's something irrevocably sweet about this moment and it causes fingers to curl and his grip to tighten a fraction just before their eventual parting noted with the song's finale.

It feels like too intimate a moment to witness and out of a compilation of awkwardness and yet respect -- his eyes quickly avert back to his lap and his thumbs twiddle together until the moment passes. When Clear rises, Aoba follows suit and pauses in thought shortly proceeding the other man's grateful bow and promise of a next visit. A long second passes and Aoba mirrors the bow as best he's able but he's not quite as practiced as Clear is in this respect so the ninety degrees aren't quite hit but the sentiment is no less meaningful when he mentions a repeated visit from himself as well. "I'd like to see you again soon too." 

Standing straight after, (again) Aoba makes a startled "Woah!" when a hand curls around his own and he's led from the room quiet as a mouse. Just outside the door, he moved a hand to his hip out of habit and waits a beat only to find Clear bowing towards him. Suffice to say, it leaves Aoba with burning cheeks and flustered hand waves as if to gesture that Clear hardly needs to do something like that to him and even begins to say so in a hushed, hurried whisper. "Clear...! Come on, you really don't have to be so polite to -- h-hey.. --" His back straightens out of startled shock from the envelop that warmed around him and every expression that Clear deploys through a near tearful sounding voice is received with a soft sigh. Aoba is careful when he returns the embrace and his own expression relaxes into a considerate one and he can't help but think again that Clear is strange.

Strange in really the best of ways.

"You're hardly indebted to me, Clear. But if we want to meet up again, let's exchange info, okay?"

The thought of Clear potentially meeting Aoba's own parental figure strikes him and he can't help but smile at the very thought. Aoba lightly pats against Clear's back before he pulls back a degree of an arm's length, smile still ever present just prior to pulling out his cellphone and inputting the options to add a new contact though he takes the initiative to log in Clear's name under the name as: Clear ☆. It's seems he can't help but associate Clear's dramatic entrance into Aoba's life as anything but a falling star. No way is he going to admit to that any time soon (or ever) and quickly avert his mind's topic by urging Clear to fill in the rest and Aoba would gladly do the same.

Contemplative after this brief exchange of information however -- it seems to only dawn on him now that they're soon to actually separate for the day. It's weird of Aoba to feel melancholy about the prospect given that they really only had recently acquainted but already it feels like they've shared more than just anyone would have on a first meeting. Growing increasingly pensive, Aoba almost wants to find an excuse to prolong their interactions but has something of an internal battle over actually voicing anything. Desperately he tries not to let it show but the quirks of his brow furrowing and his head tilting, his arms folding across his chest, his foot tapping, well -- they're all much too obvious.

Finally reaching a decision however, Aoba runs both hands through tender blue hair and quickly grabs Clear's hand this time, pulling him along with a not so convincing explanation that it'd be bad to just "stand there awkwardly in the hallway". Biting his lower lip as the two come to exit the building, Aoba's mind is no less frantic than before and it finally hits him like a ton of bricks as to why he feels this way. His grip tightens before he realizes he's still holding onto Clear and just as quickly does he pull his hand back with an under the breath laugh.

He's worried and with good reason -- after everything that Clear exposed towards Aoba, he couldn't help but be worried to detach so soon afterwards. Maybe Clear was right when he said Aoba was someone who rescued others, not that Aoba was realizing just what that meant yet. More than anything, he really wanted to make sure Clear was going to be alright and managed to collect his ever jumbling thoughts enough to voice his concern. 

"If you'd rather not be by yourself though, you know, you can tell me. I have to admit -- I'm a little worried about you."

[aocatch]

over the city lights.

The very first thing that worried Aoba about was not the how, where, when, or why -- it was the who - as in who was going to take care of his puppy back in his apartment?

Whether this was going to be an extended vacation in the quiet town of Paralia or not, there was very little of his say on the matter. He had been uprooted irrevocably and while initially yes, he had been confused and most likely irritated, there came the worry of his little dog back home fending for himself. Ending up pacing back and forth so frantically that he could have walked a hole into the ground, eventually an idea struck him. Aoba hurried to his cellphone and thumbed through the contacts three times before he settled on Clear's name. 

The thought occurred that he could have called Koujaku, Mink, maybe even Virus or Trip -- but those same suggestions came with the slightest doubt. Not that he didn't trust any of them, he did as they were all considerably Aoba's good friends (even if the latter two were kind of suspicious). Still...he felt like he'd only be burdening them in some way, shape, or form but Clear was a special case. Their first meeting had been something  but they exchanged info none the less and Aoba remembered how polite, how kind, how willing to help he had been.

A quick exhale left his lips and Aoba threw any indecision leftover to the wind with a pull of his phone to his ear. The ringing on the other end caused his heart to beat faster and faster -- why was he so nervous about this? Aoba could only reason it being because despite the two having left on a good note that day, they didn't exactly know each other all that well. Clear probably had other things on his mind, right? - He had other cares, other problems, other worries, but even so, he hoped that Clear wouldn't think it weird of him to request something like this so soon.

"It should be fine...maybe I can do something for --"

His voice cut short when the resounding click of the other line being answered was heard and subsequently his heart leapt in his chest the moment Clear's voice beat against his eardrum. It took him another calming breath before he could respond, he felt so ridiculous about being so worked up over this. Better sooner than later, he reasoned and greeted Clear with a friendly hello.

"Ah, yo Clear...! It's been a few days, hasn't it? I mean...since we saw each other last time. Hey...where you are right now?"

[clearse]

all that glitters isn't gold.

[clearse]

They loiter in the space before the bus under a sun that isn’t simmering nor excessively hot. Still, he’s continually thrown through a loop with how inconceivably bizarre and all too similar to a mirage it is, rupturing the (parenthesized) manner of his existence. The sign of water in a land dehydrated of moisture. Perhaps he’s dizzy, but wonders never seem to cease. Besides, the sun can’t hold a candle to Aoba’s warmer formalities, to a face traceless of fear, the light press of slender fingers and eyes frenetically alight. Clear’s almost positive they change colors mercurially, and he can’t help but marvel at this almost-stranger and his affecting courtesy, suspending the better part of disbelief to give Clear a chance. “U ~ waaah, I’m no one special! There’s really no need to thank me. But I’m immensely glad all the same, Aoba-san — I don’t often meet people as open-minded as you. You’re very unique.”

Rebuffing his pressurized statement by comically startling, Clear waves two gloved hands to dispell the anxiety inundating the encounter. “Ah! ~ Now that I think of it, you’re the first person I’ve ever given a piggyback ride to as well, so I hope it wasn’t too uncomfortable.” The riotous smile Clear briefly receives in turn is nothing short of scandalizing, a nebulous invocation of gratitude. It’s only after he’s registered Aoba’s already hurried inside that Clear falls in step into the transit bus and takes up the seat beside him, and only a few minutes before the other man interjects with no minced words or beating around the bush. “Yes, I did! It took me quite a while because I wanted to make a clock that would glitter come rain or shine. I’m more familiar with the mechanical aspects of clockmaking, but it’s not beyond my capabilities to make you one as well, if you’re interested!” Laughter threads underneath the assertion, cajoling but not overtly so.

“It’s the first time I’ve ever considered giving something I’ve made in the workshop to him. It was a test of sorts, but it works modestly enough! I still feel as though there’s much room for remodeling, but if it makes him even a little happier, then I’ve accomplished my goal. My Grandfather’s expertise surpasses mine in every aspect, but he has always, always been patient with teaching me.” Honesty seems inherent to Aoba, light and inquiring, clarity transparent as sheets of rain on a warm summer day, or a pane of pane of glass in a church filled with stained windows, or even — a jellyfish, with how he restlessly fiddles about in his seat, straightening and slouching and exhaling content, long-suppressed sighs. For a large duration of the trip, Clear ruminates on the extent of his fondness for the man he considered to be his own flesh and blood, eventually making a clumsy attempt to convey as such to his companion.

Leaning down for a warmly conspiratorial whisper resonating with tenderness, deep and swallowing and inexorable. “He’s a very good person, Aoba-san. I’ve only come so far because of he was there to support and guide me. He took me in and raised me after my parents passed away. I was too young to remember them, but I’m certain they would be pleased with what I’ve accomplished so far. I don’t believe it matters that Grandfather and I aren’t blood relatives. He’s truly dear family to me.” Stiltedly thrown out of rhythm, he owlishly glances about as the bus pulls to the anticipated drop-off point, turning to Aoba and schooling his buoyancy. “Shall we go meet him, then?” Waiting for only a second to elapse as inquiry, Clear tangles the fingers of one of Aoba’s hands with his own and temperately uproots his companion from the seat. After offering his cordialities to the slightly-bewildered driver (presumably goggling at his gas mask, no less), Clear makes off with Aoba in tow onto the pavement, heading in bounds toward the building, through the sliding doors and inside.

It was most likely evident before they even entered the lobby, but the point is driven home by the cloying reek of antiseptic breathes in the walls as an afterthought, lingering on their heels and taking residence in their lungs. They’re in a hospital. It doesn’t take as long as he assumed it would to pass from the reception desk to the elevator to the nurses’ station for a day pass, but it’s quite possible it was prepared in advance — he drops by often enough for his presence, gas mask adamantly intact, to be a regular occurrence. It’s only Aoba that they definitively glance over before handing him a visitor’s stickered patch as well, leaving the two be in one of the less-bustling hallways. They’re in a hospital, and Clear modulates his tone as not to unduly disturb the quiet maintained in each of the subsequent rooms they pass by.

The semantics of the hand still clutching onto Aoba’s fractionally tighten as he subdues his speaking, but not unbearably so. “It’s been difficult for him to maintain the studio for a long time now, so I act in his stead while continuing on as I always have. I visit him whenever I can, but it’s very … worrying. He’s sleeping more and more nowadays.” His voice contains only the pretense of cheer at the beginning before visibly shivering, not with desperation nor pain, only muted sadness. They halt right before the specific door in the intensive care unit he’s long since well-acquainted with, the only when he ever visits in his resignation. Discarding his palpable hesitation, he methodically turns the knob and opens the door with a near-inaudible click. The soundless shift of sunlight from an open window streaming through the blinds snatches onto their forms, oblong rectangles of light filtering across the floor in wobbling rays.

The patient lying listlessly on the bed is in throes of torpid slumber, wan complexion strangled thin into pallid calcification. An old man with pepper-shaker hair and wilting eyelids, but an expression so ostensibly calm when contrasted to the numerous needles tubes poking into his flesh from IV fluid drips and a loose-fitting oxygen mask clamped over his nose and mouth. Absently, Clear retrieves the discarded remote on the right side of the mattress, switches the television off (currently in the midst of commercial intermission), and leaves it on the bedside table. Drawing up two chairs, he deposits them by the bedside, staring at the immobile form under the thin covers with an unswerving intensity before finally settling on the seat closest to his Grandfather and bending forward to grasp the other man’s wizened, rheumatic fingers with both palms. “You see, Aoba-san, my Grandfather is very ill.”

[aocatch]

Listening to Clear's humble response with the proceeding offer left Aoba with a modest thought -- while he didn't exactly need a watch, there was something undeniably warm about Clear's suggestion. With a slight lean forward and a gentle rapping of his fingertips in a rhythmic beat over his knees did Aoba agree that should Clear have the time to make a fantastical glistening and golden watch for him then he wouldn't deny him. While arts and crafts weren't his forte - he thought that he'd find a way to pay Clear back in due time and made a mental note to ask for contact info before they parted potentially after this visit.

Silence with intent to listen fell over Aoba once more (with occasional shifts in his seat) and he quietly resonated witch each and every heartfelt tone the other teemed with the more and more he talked of his Grandfather. Naturally does a smile work its way to curve at his lips and an expression that can only be described as nostalgic as he finds it near impossible not to think of his own parental figure. His Grandmother was someone irreplaceable to him -- even if he vaguely remembered having parents once, he was unable to remember what they were like, what they spoke like to him, what they looked like before they left but even when they had, Aoba would always distinctly remember his Grandmother being there for him. Through thick and thin, she had always been there for him so when Clear spoke such familial love for his own Grandfather, Aoba couldn't help but relate to it.

-- And just as they pulled near their stop Aoba interjects with a soft tune to his voice, "Yeah, with the way you talked about him...I really want to meet him." then as he's moving to stand, he quickly finds his hand being held and pulled instead. Aoba ends up being unable to reign in the surprise and makes an unfortunate if not utterly embarrassing yelp of "Uwoah!" before barely falling into pace besides Clear with the move from the bus to pavement. He thinks to reprimand Clear out of flustered irritation but his words are caught in the back of his throat the same as his breath from the moment they enter the building.

The further along that the two of them go, the more that Aoba feels his chest tighten irrevocably.

He tries hard not to over think the situation but it's always been a bad habit of his to do just that. By the time Clear leads Aoba to the nurse's station for his visiting pass only to be received with curious murmurs and glances sent his way with the afterward lingering stares on his back, he tries again to focus on a singularity in an effort to just not think. As they progress forward still, Aoba finds what he's looking for when the grip tightens over his palm. While his hold was loose before and he allowed himself to be led -- the instant after Clear speaks in that tone of voice and the visible shiver over his shoulder does Aoba hope to comfort with his own tightening grip and a soft exhale of his name. "Clear..."

There's so much he wishes he could say but in tender moments, Aoba fears saying the wrong thing without thinking it through. He inwardly hopes that the tighter he holds onto Clear's hand helps regardless -- holding onto his palm up until the very last fraction of a second that he can before their fingertips slip passed each other and they separate. Afterwards, the series of events leave Aoba speechless still and he silently regards Clear's recent comment as he takes the seat besides him. His fists tighten in his lap and he carefully chooses what he wants to say and do. Though as he does so, there are heartbeats of silence with only the routine and rhythmic beeping and breathing.

Aoba leans over and regards Clear's Grandfather carefully, taking in the sight of him fully before he diverts his attention to the man besides him briefly. Speaking in a delicate tone, Aoba makes a thoughtful comment. "You said he took you in, right?" Recalling their exchange in the bus, his gaze draws over to the hospital bed as he waits for Clear's affirmation. Once he receives it -- Aoba continues his train of thought, "Your Grandfather...I think, you two probably have the same smile." no doubt Clear might respond with confusion but before he can, Aoba modestly explains just why he would think that. 

"You grew up with him and saw his smiles, laughs, and his expressions..things like that."

"When you were a kid, they must have stuck with you, don't you think?"

It was tentative of him to say so but Aoba told Clear that when he was young, he only had his Grandmother. His parents were probably alive...somewhere, but he didn't know where and he didn't know why they weren't with him but he tried not to think of it too much -- instead, he thought on his Grandmother. She had always been by his side even when he had gone through hard times when he was younger. If she hadn't been there for him, he might be a completely different person. Yet, he was sure it didn't work as a one way street either. All of Aoba's expressions must have resonated with his Grandmother too and once more, he turned towards Clear with a faint smile and a final comment. 

"I'm sure that when your Grandfather smiles, that you are reflected in it too."

[treasureaflame-deactivated20140]

"—I see hippo is still a thing.”

Aoba never failed to bring a smile to his face, he’s able to relax him in even the most stressful of times, that to which Koujaku was grateful enough for having bumped into him, coincidentally. Between work and women, Kouajku barely had time to himself, though he didn’t regret one second, knowing that he’s lucky to have come so far as to having his own hairdressers, reminding himself as such always managed to calm him down at least. It’s odd, however, the male seemed to be finding himself getting angry quicker lately, he never usually had this quick-temper thing, right? The smile was to soon graze over into a thin line, an eyebrow raising at Aoba’s request, though he couldn’t say much before the boy was constantly pulling at his arm. "—Aoba, wait.. remember last time?” The last time he’d gone drinking with him, despite being awhile back, Koujaku could remember it clearly, having to carry Aoba home because he’d drank too much, slurring out words that he’d probably have later regretted if Koujaku hadn’t have carried him out in time. No doubt Aoba hadn’t forgotten that. "Do you really think that’s such a good idea?" He allowed himself to be pulled along anyway, the smile soon returning at Aoba’s newly found eagerness, though no doubt that if they were to go drinking again, it’d be a repeat of last time. 

[aocatch]

"Of course it is, since it's been awhile, I missed calling you that, you know."

Though Aoba had hurried forward with mixes of eager and excitement -- he halted to an abrupt stop when Koujaku was the ever present voice of reason. His lips initially pulled into a slight pout but quickly rectified as Aoba was well aware that his friend was only mentioning the precious incident to protect Aoba from a repeated embarrassment. Though Aoba had completely forgotten everything about that time (with good reason) - he didn't doubt Koujaku's remembrance of it since he did recall the morning after and boy, it was quite the morning.

A compromise would be best then, he thought with a growing smile and a small clap of his hands. 

"Then how about you order for me when we get there?"

"That should be fine, riiight?"

Nudging Koujaku's side prior to pulling on his arm once again, Aoba set ahead with determination in his step - pulling his long time friend to the nearest bar which was decently crowded. Working his way through the crowd until they reached the stools, Aoba made sure to stick with Koujaku and not get separated. While he did want to do this himself -- in reality, the entire premise was so that the two of them could catch up on things they missed since the last time they were able to just sit down and talk.  

It would be embarrassing to admit it but he really did miss Koujaku more than he could really fathom. For as long as he could remember after all, Koujaku had been someone that was always looking out for Aoba without ever asking for anything in return. There was just this unexplained warmth that came from the other towards Aoba that made him feel...safe and secure even if he realized they two had drifted apart a bit and held their own secrets, things he wish he could share but was ultimately anxious to. He hoped that after this meeting that kind of bad feeling would dissipate completely -- that in mind, he moved the conversation to start.

"Ahh, we made it! Let's see...what do you want to get first, Koujaku?"

[clearse]

all that glitters isn't gold.

[clearse]

His grin is insatiable, effusively brimming away beneath his gas mask at the understated agreement, not demonstrated in words so much as it was in actions. Clear wasn’t expecting anything more or less, taking immense discretion to retain some form of objectivity, but he’s inordinately pleased when Aoba slips his arms around his shoulders. He’s positively giddy with good spirits, taking warm comfort in the notion that it must’ve taken a lot of resolve to respond as much to such a startling invitation. ”It’s more than fine! Thank you for accepting my request. ~ There are ways of going around this, but — I wanted to see what it’d be like. You’re very light! You never fail to amaze me.” And Clear interlocks his fingers in a secure knot beneath Aoba’s legs, slowly evening out the weight so he wouldn’t wobble upon his ascent.

And then there was Aoba, rambunctiously chirping into his ear like his words were a displaced confession between them, a kind of conspiratorial air to embarrassment, two-toned disbelief and timidity in equal stride. Stating out loud that he had a voice like a small bird was definitely out of the equation, but it was an endearing notion, his companion’s voice trilling in a tongue-tied fluster of mellowed sheepishness. He lifts with his legs in a steady rise, straightening out his knees and accommodating for the weight that subsequently follows. It’s nothing beyond his capacity, which is a relief — it’d be so anticlimactic to wear out halfway through the route he’s already internally mapped out from start to finish. But the second Aoba presses his forehead to the neck, he nearly loses his train of thought, blithely laughing and laughing away without even the semblance of reservation, bemusement sunnily elicited out of the depths of his self-induced politeness.

“It t-tickles, it really, really tickles!” A tinge of fondness saturating his tone, he hotly exhales. ”You’re acting like a little kid, Aoba-san. You don’t need to be so embarrassed! I won’t drop you, no matter what. I promise. Please take care to hold on tight.” He leniently straightens out his form with Aoba in tow, shifting on his heels in a determinate amount of his plodding footfalls when Aoba’s pipes up with a half-parsed stipulation Clear’s more than happy to oblige for as he begins in light steps and rapidly shifts to a runner’s jog. ”Yes, yes! We’ll take any route you want back afterwards. ~ Your wish is my command, master.” It’s spoken lightheartedly, unthinkingly enough (wound straight out of impulse), which is why the connotations only hit him when he’s busily plunking down one sloping alleyway shortcut. While it’s indiscernible whether Aoba’s heard him, his gas mask dutifully fulfills the role of poker-based neutrality in concealing the way his face’s gone inflamed from chagrin.

They pass used book stores, pawn shops, and the mildewing tenement block scheduled for reconstruction with relative ease, tromping with heavy-laden steps with no obvious sign of his stamina diminishing anytime soon, although his heart’s roped into palpitations (doki-doki-doki-doki like a good luck charm). Clear takes the backstreets and skirts around fences and other similar obstructions with no hitch, although it’s imperative that he picks up the pace around one corner at the sight of yapping dogs. Skidding to a stop in front of the pick-up point, he takes the few minutes before its arrival to slide back down to his knees and release his companion, breaths skipping every other beat as he rummages around his pocket and hands Aoba two plastic cards. ”They’re … one-way bus passes,” he manages between panting breaths, ”and since you … agreed, I’ll pay for our way on — and … back, of course! No matter which method you take back.” And to further substantiate his efforts, he draws up a wallet for a cursory glance before rising as the bus arrives on point and the fellow riders trickle in and out in tandem. ”… Well! After you, then.”

[aocatch]

After the entire realization of the situation he had purposefully (and willingly) landed himself in passed over with bouts of childish fluster - there was a steady lull in thoughts. Quickly did he realize just what Clear had suggested and wondered back to why Aoba hadn't just commented that they could run rather than this precarious position. -- Too little, too late. Well, he thought, whether they had or had not - he couldn't deny that Clear was fast on his own even carrying someone on his back. He must have felt more confident in his own abilities than that of a stranger and reasoned that this was the better option. Then again, not to say Aoba wasn't sure of his own abilities! -- He was, absolutely - he just hadn't thought of it until they were already halfway there. 

While he was immensely unsure about moving too much while he was being carried, Aoba tentatively sat up and allowed a quick intake of the scenery that flew all around the corners they turned. It's nothing he isn't used to seeing in some areas of Kairos, things like old mom and pop kind of stores or pawn shops, buildings being reconstructed for this or that, it's all a part of city life. He enjoys it for the most part though before he can dive too deeply into why he prefers the hustle and bustle kind of lifestyle -- he can't help but laugh faintly at the bundle of barking dogs as they pass them. Aoba makes an offhand comment that dogs, no matter the size or color, always seem to remind him of his own pet back home. 

"I've always had this little dog for as long as I could remember and I -- did you call me 'Master' a second ago?" 

Any comments afterwards were cut short as he feels his heart leap in his chest and that same red shade color his cheeks when he's addressed with a title rather than his name. Maybe he had been too caught up to have heard it at first but when the cogs in his mind turned did he realize that (most likely) Clear had joked given his tone but... ...even so, Aoba finds it -- well odd as hell, but rationalizes that everything about this day thus far has been just like that too but there's just something about being called Master by Clear that unsettles him. Not in a bad way exactly but he finds it stirring emotions that he can't pinpoint in his chest.

A quick intake of breath passes and Aoba eases his emotions down and pats Clear's shoulders once more just before being let down. He thanks him for the ride and idly glances over the exiting passengers prior to that same idle gaze lingering over to the other man at his offer. Aoba does, he really does, appreciate all of Clear's seemingly unending well of kindness but he can't help but feel a bit guilty in the same note. Aoba takes only a moment to do so but while it may be old fashioned, he bows his head much like Clear had earlier in gratitude before taking the passes with a light curl of his lips. A thoughtful hum resounds as he straightens himself out then lightly bumps Clear's shoulder with the palm of his hand - thinking to commentate just one more time.

"Clear, you're really...something. I appreciate it -- I normally don't meet people as nice as you. Then again...I normally don't meet people who offer me piggyback rides either."

Mumbles left the rest of his quiet thought to the air -- really, he only proceeded to comment that he often would encounter less than reputable folk though it's not as if he didn't realize he could be just as bad. Sometimes. That's what he stressed in a murmur whilst fiddling with the bus passes. After a small and quick audible breath - Aoba, feeling indescribably embarrassed, hurries onto the bus. When boarded, Aoba had expected it to be jam packed given the mass that exited prior but finds it surprisingly (and perhaps thankfully) scarce in patrons.

Not one to linger, Aoba found the back most seat of the bus vacant -- for only a moment before he commandeered that same seat. Buses were hardly comfortable yet he found it to be a blessing in disguise regardless when he could take the bus or taxi -- Aoba always had walked everywhere through out Kairos which did wear him out from time to time but hardly meant he enjoyed it any less. There was something to be said about walking everywhere (even if it sometimes took an obscene amount of time) and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

A content sigh and stretch followed and Aoba slumped forward a fraction, glancing out the window whilst waiting for Clear to sit in the space besides him. Contemplative on the coming journey, a small part of him feels nervous to meet this fabled Grandfather but with the way Clear talked about him - even if only a little -- he's excited too. Curious all the same, he eventually decides to ask just a bit to satiate that same curiosity. 

"You said earlier...you made that for him, right? Your Grandfather... -- do you normally make things like that?"

[aocatch]

he is burning

"You know… … …"

"My birthday was last month."

[nyanpaaasu]

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