Clear awoke to the sound of something metallic rustling and clanking upon some hard surface.
His mechanical heart jolted— at first, he thought, by a stroke of bad luck, he had fallen back into the hands of Toue, and that he was being experimented on by scientists with strange metallic devices and tweezers and masks covering their faces partially like a sort of ominous veil.
But then again, the clanging sounds seemed too far away, and as his 'pillow' his head was resting on shifted slightly, he realized belatedly his mind slowly coming becoming clearer, that it didn't seem very pillow-like at all. He also felt slightly warm; something soft was covered over him, and he didn't feel like moving at all.
His arms were also wound tightly around something… he squeezed it a little to be sure, and the softness below his fingertips along with a startled gasp from above made him jolt back to reality.
Yesterday night, he had stayed up waiting for Aoba to come home, and then…
"Master!" His eyes flew open as he struggled to get out of Aoba's lap. He failed, and still feeling slightly groggy, ended up nearly falling out of the sofa. Warm, gentle hands wound around his shoulders before he fell, pulling him back.
G' morning, Clear," Aoba yawned softly, as his hands stroked Clear's hair again, imbued with a gentleness that made Clear's nerves tingle with warmth.
Embarrassment, something that Clear wasn't exactly aware of until Aoba had entered his life, overwhelmed Clear's mind, and he closed his eyes again, wondering if he was capable of –and if he was—blushing.
"Master, I should really get off your lap!" He tried to argue, but his voice was weak and unconvincing, and he snuggled closer to Aoba even as he said so. It was contradictory of him, but he didn't want to cause problems for the one person who he respected and adored more than anyone in the world, even his grandfather.
Aoba chuckled slightly, but it wasn't mocking at all, and it was a pleasant sound that made Clear's heart flutter slightly in joy. "Don't worry about it, Baa-chan is making food, so we have all the time in the world… well, maybe about fifteen minutes actually, to continue lazing around like this."
Tae-san was making food…? That explained the clanging noises he was hearing. Suddenly, Clear felt foolish for panicking in the first place.
Aoba seemed to realize that he was feeling slightly uncomfortable, for his hands stopped mid-stroke. Feeling uncomfortable at the sudden loss of contact, Clear opened his eyes warily, staring straight into Aoba's reflective ones. The silent question lingered between them, before Clear sighed. He had kept enough secrets; he didn't have the right to continue worrying Aoba.
"I remembered some things before I was taken in to live with my grandfather," Clear began to explain, averting his eyes. Aoba began to run his fingers through his hair comfortingly again when he spoke, and Clear was grateful for that touch. "Back in the lab… where I was created and tested, functions were added to me whenever they felt that something could be improved, and the scalpels were digging into my skin…" His voice broke slightly.
It had been a horrendous experience—his mind had been intact, his consciousness drifting between reality and limbo, and they hadn't given him anesthesia even though he could feel, because he wasn't human, and there wasn't a need to reduce the pain of something that wouldn't affect them.
Suddenly, he became acutely aware that the fingers stroking his hair had stopped, and were trembling slightly, and he opened his eyes again, slightly disconcerted. "Master…?"
And then without a warning of any kind, he was embraced tightly by his precious Master. The comfortable body heat encompassed him, allowing him to delude himself into thinking that for once, just this once, he was real, and that he belonged right here, lying cramped up on a slightly worn-out leather sofa with Aoba's arms around him, grounding them to the future.