[ Aaaand he nearly stumbles off the doorstep in the process, because seriously, Clear, Aoba knows you have an actual face (a mouth, too, but who's checking) beneath that towel ... it probably isn't that bad to stare at in close proximity, even ... ]
S-Shouldn't you be watching where you're going?! Clear — wait a sec', you'll trip —
[ Fingers caught in a momentary fumble, they scramble and peremptorily latch onto one of Clear's wrists in an effort to deter him, his mouth pulling into a line. ]
Geez. It's alright if you don't want to show me your face. All you need to do is ask. I won't look.
Wah-- [ Okay, they're teeting, and Clear has no idea what's going on anymore??? When Aoba grabs, he grabs back (although holding onto that forearm as delicately as he may in the process) - and boy, is all that is enough to convince him that the other is right. Thankfully, without any actual tripping involved. ]
Really? [ Using Aoba's assistance to draw upright, uncertainty waivers in his voice without much thought to it. ] I'm sorry, it isn't that I don't want to show you, it's... it's just--.
[ Carefully, pulling away, his hands curl into the fabric to pull it forward, though hesitating to lower it away from his face. ]
You promise you won't look?
[ Sounding awfully defeated my his own request, he's seemingly decided on it, as he isn't budging just yet. Explaining, he thinks, will only prompt reassurance - and yet, the only comfort he may ever be able to accept is knowing that Aoba feels a better sense of familiarity with him first.
There's still an overwhelming dread that without knowing his heart first, he'd be rejected for the way he looks. Hell, he's been too afraid to even try looking at his own face. Beginning to chance showing himself to strangers was a good first step, but he couldn't do that with Aoba. He couldn't risk losing him, it would be far too devastating. ]
Don't you think I'll keep my promise? It's not like I'd start hating you just because I saw your face.
[ Barring the loaded question, Aoba's grip visibly slackens as he steadily affixes his gaze on Clear's torso as he draws up the towel around him like a man possessed by paranoia. And he's not feeling much of anything, in all truth and actuality, just burgeoning confusion and supplications just that side of collapsible. And even if there's something deeply discouraging about being distrusted at face-value, he won't entrench himself in useless conversational circles just because he wasn't sure how to proceed from there. As far as he's concerned, honesty is the best policy.
Aoba visibly straightens, retracting his seizing grasp to deftly fold them back into his pockets. ]
... I might've arrived at a bad time. Should I go? Or — I can wait, too. Whatever's more comfortable for you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
S-Shouldn't you be watching where you're going?! Clear — wait a sec', you'll trip —
[ Fingers caught in a momentary fumble, they scramble and peremptorily latch onto one of Clear's wrists in an effort to deter him, his mouth pulling into a line. ]
Geez. It's alright if you don't want to show me your face. All you need to do is ask. I won't look.
no subject
Really? [ Using Aoba's assistance to draw upright, uncertainty waivers in his voice without much thought to it. ] I'm sorry, it isn't that I don't want to show you, it's... it's just--.
[ Carefully, pulling away, his hands curl into the fabric to pull it forward, though hesitating to lower it away from his face. ]
You promise you won't look?
[ Sounding awfully defeated my his own request, he's seemingly decided on it, as he isn't budging just yet. Explaining, he thinks, will only prompt reassurance - and yet, the only comfort he may ever be able to accept is knowing that Aoba feels a better sense of familiarity with him first.
There's still an overwhelming dread that without knowing his heart first, he'd be rejected for the way he looks. Hell, he's been too afraid to even try looking at his own face. Beginning to chance showing himself to strangers was a good first step, but he couldn't do that with Aoba. He couldn't risk losing him, it would be far too devastating. ]
no subject
[ Barring the loaded question, Aoba's grip visibly slackens as he steadily affixes his gaze on Clear's torso as he draws up the towel around him like a man possessed by paranoia. And he's not feeling much of anything, in all truth and actuality, just burgeoning confusion and supplications just that side of collapsible. And even if there's something deeply discouraging about being distrusted at face-value, he won't entrench himself in useless conversational circles just because he wasn't sure how to proceed from there. As far as he's concerned, honesty is the best policy.
Aoba visibly straightens, retracting his seizing grasp to deftly fold them back into his pockets. ]
... I might've arrived at a bad time. Should I go? Or — I can wait, too. Whatever's more comfortable for you.