002. text + action.

[astrobleme]

Who: Shinji Ikari and you?!
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: SS Heron.
When: 3/12.

[network.]

[Shinji rewrites this about a dozen times before he finally decides to post it. It reads:]

Hello. My name is Shinji Ikari. I'm a pilot that's stationed on the Heron. I'm sorry if I'm not using the network as it's intended, but I don't know how else to distribute this message. I've been a member of the Fleet for over a month now and I've met quite a lot of people who have treated me well. It's something I wasn't expecting at all. I haven't been in the best frame of mind, but people have gone out of their way to reassure me, offer to help me, or just talk to me. That's something else I wasn't expecting. I don't know why anyone bothers to talk to someone like me.

The point of this message is to say that I'm grateful. I'd like to thank all of those people, and repay them, if at all possible. I don't know some of their names or contact information, though. I do have an easier time of thanking my crew - I'm doing that now - thank you, everyone, for putting up with me. And hello to anyone who's newly assigned. Anyway, I'm on the Heron, like I said, and I have small tokens of my appreciation to give out if people want them. I'll be in the cargo bay all day by the gym equipment. Although it's kind of pathetic, a single conversation is enough to qualify for this. (Talking to people is helping my ratings...)

Kaworu-kun and Asuka, I have things to give you too. I know it's a little early for White Day.

Unrelated question: Is it possible to delete any content that's posted to the network? I'm guessing not, but maybe I missed an option for that.

Thank you for your time.


[action, aboard the Heron.]

[Shinji can be found sitting in the cargo bay, on a stretching mat, nearest to the gym equipment. He's young-looking and more than a little sleepless, wondering if he shouldn't have made that embarrassing post. He's in the middle of nervously, repeatedly digging his fingers into a netted bag of colorful marbles that he won from the arcade on the Starlight. They're beautiful glass marbles, each crafted to resemble a foreign galaxy.

This isn't much of a gift, but he hopes it isn't a stupid one.

He looks up whenever he has a new visitor. Before he says anything, he pauses his music player and takes out at least one of his earbuds.]

Hey.

Comments

[paraclete]

[After he straightens so that he can sit without propping himself up, Kaworu reaches for the box, and his fingers brush Shinji's as he takes it. If he notices this, nothing about him stutters. (He does notice. It makes him happy.)]

My choice? [He watches Shinji, observing that radiant anxiety, and tilts his head so that it falls near his shoulder. He smiles, in that usual reassuring way. Then he looks up at the ceiling, dropping his head back. His hair falls out of his eyes.] Hmmm. [Now he turns his eyes down to the box, like he's weighing his options. Decision's already made, though. This time, when he smiles at Shinji, the way it curves makes his eyes shine.] I'll open it, and then you can tell me. How's that?

[He wants to know what Shinji has to say. What he needs to say, even. Really badly, he wants to know. But there's a stressful sort of satisfaction in putting it off. Maybe Kaworu's just so used to waiting that he doesn't feel right if he gets the gratification now.]

[astrobleme]

[Shinji, meanwhile, just wants to get this over with quickly. It's like ripping off an adhesive bandage. The longer he waits, the slower he goes, the more it's going to hurt while he's doing it... well, in this case, it shouldn't hurt at all... it should be confirmation of the obvious... but now he's dwelling on how scary it is, and why shouldn't he? Isn't it scary? Feeling things? It's scary to look beyond yourself, and...

Really overthinking this. Even briefly stunned, watching Kaworu's hair and Kaworu's smile (could have been a model) (seriously), Shinji can't stop thinking about how he still has the space to screw up. He's so awkward. So embarrassing. He's an infant sitting next to a radiant god.]

Okay.

[He motions for Kaworu to open the box. Inside, in a fold of white tissue paper, there's a small plastic stand with a wristwatch draped over it. It's a brightly colored object, multicolored, bearing lots of concentric circles and what might be cross sections of fruit. It has this vibe that's authentic and eccentric--a design that's true to itself.

And Shinji's voice is soft.] I saw it and... thought of you. The colors and the shapes and everything. It's not what I expected out of a watch, but it's still... [He smiles. He quivers a bit.] B-Besides, it's hard to keep track of time out here in space, so...

[paraclete]

[Before he opens the box, Kaworu's smiling graciously and gratefully, like this already is enough of a gift. He'd be happy with the box by itself. He'd be happy with 'Hello.' So he doesn't expect the thing in the box to take him by surprise, because he supposes that anything given to him by Shinji will be loved in equal measure.

Once he gets the lid off the box, Kaworu goes from radiant god to comical teenager in .5 seconds. His face is bright and open with surprise, like a child who's been confronted with the interior of a candy shop. He's taking in the sight of the watch and its patterns. Then, quickly, comes the delight. Kaworu looks like he did the very first time he played the piano with Shinji, that sort of brazen joy which allows nothing to sour its scope. He can barely tear his eyes away from the watch, but it's worthwhile to do so. Shinji's face is the only better sight.]

You thought of me when you saw something this colorful?

[He's been cradling the box like an artifact, like it's the Ark of the Covenant, and his hands are a veil of blue cloth to protect it. Now, though, he sets it down, gently, between himself and Shinji. Then he holds out one of his hands, fingers curled against his palm, and its bare wrist.]

Will you help me put it on?

[astrobleme]

[Shinji is left speechless in the face of that. The day they met, he was too afraid, too overwhelmed, to fully appreciate Kaworu's display of joy and good will. But here it is again, wonderfully, in response to a watch of all things. Shinji was prepared to admit his choice totally sucked, but instead he's humbled, reminded of just how good a person Kaworu is. He doesn't know what to do with this warm, bubbling sensation in his chest. When he tries to speak, he ends up laughing, self-conscious and selflessly pleased. It's like... he almost forgot what it felt like to laugh. His diaphragm feels stiff, underused.]

Yeah. I knew I had to get it for you. If you don't want to wear it, it's okay, I just-- [Oh. Oh, Kaworu does want to wear it. Shinji's eyes fall down to that thin, human-looking wrist, the color of bone and probably as cool as fresh ferns.]

Sure, let me...

[Biting his lower lip, he extracts the watch from the box and slides it around Kaworu's wrist. He's extra careful about not tightening the strap too much with the available adjustment holes. Can an Angel suffer from cut-off circulation? Better safe than sorry, he thinks.

A little resettling, a little more, and there it is. Shinji brushes his fingers over the strap, the buckle, until he's holding Kaworu's hand lightly in his own. Too late to fret, he realizes how much that resembled putting a ring on someone's finger.]

It's not too gaudy? You like it?

[paraclete]

[Being touched by Shinji is so special. His manner is superb to experience. When Kaworu was a child — a child, small, reeking of LCL — the Lilin who handled him were extra careful. They didn't have Shinji's motives, though. They were worried, but their reasons didn't make Kaworu happy. Their fears amounted to concern over an investment. If they were too rough, Adam's soul might detach from Tabris' body...

What, then, is Shinji's concern? What does he think will happen if he's too rough? Nothing bad could happen. He saw it firsthand even before he knew that Kaworu was an Angel: Kaworu's body can withstand most things. So why is it that Shinji shows this sort of care? Kaworu watches Shinji's face as he applies and adjusts the wristband. While he watches, his features have a gossamer quality to them, like he's far away, like what he's feeling is as delicate as ice crystals. Then Shinji holds his hand. Shinji speaks to him. Kaworu's smile spreads like the sight of a breath in freezing air.]

I really like it. It's so pretty. [He curls his fingers around Shinji's.] Colors are nice, right? Now I get to wear something with many colors on it. This is a wonderful gift. I think it's just right for me.

[astrobleme]

Yeah. They're nice. [Colors. Shinji didn't think much of colors for a long time.] I'm glad you like it, Kaworu-kun. It's perfect for you. [Stars will shine in different colors depending on their age, but the colors themselves hardly mattered. His world was most vivid as a series of white corridors, the orange-red of LCL, the rainbow of an Angel when it was defeated. The rest just didn't matter.

But then he stayed outside with Kaworu, under the stars, overnight. They stayed out there until dawn broke into the sky. That was the first time Shinji really noticed the colors of dawn as they cycled through black and gold and blue and a hint of green that reminded him of fresh moss. He paid very close attention to every color in an effort to memorize and immortalize their time together. Kaworu's hair looked amazing with golden light filtering through it. He was warm and fuzzy at the edges, like one of those effulgent, religious angels, the ones from the old paintings.

The cargo bay has sterile fluorescent lighting that's no good for artwork. Regardless, Kaworu is a living masterpiece.]

So, that... the thing I need to tell you...

[Hours of practice. Hours and hours. All for him to say one thing.]

I...

[...]

I got a job.

[There's a pause, and then the shock sets in swiftly. He's choking. He is actually choking. In a meandering, nerveless mumble, he says,] It's not a real job, but I volunteered to do something with myself. On the Iskaulit, that big communal ship, I found this garden and I asked if I could help out. You said--I mean, you mentioned your tree, uhm, missing your tree? I think you said that somewhere. The plants in the garden might not be... a total... substitute... but...

[He very abruptly winds down to nothing. His face crumples up.]

That's not what I meant to say, at all...

[paraclete]

[As Shinji speaks, as Shinji flounders, Kaworu continues to hold his hand. He smiles like the wing of a bird, sleek and at ease in the air. He's the feathers of a dove, but with Shinji's gift and Shinji's sweetness, Kaworu carries himself like a macaw. He seems somehow vibrant.]

I think that's amazing, [he says with sincerity. To him, it's something that genuinely deserves awe, praise, and love. He offers those things with open hands and a smile that reaches his eyes, warm and red like a beating heart.] A garden is good. And you like to be able to help. This is a wonderful thing. Sometime, while you're working there, I'd like to visit you. You can introduce me to the plants.

[He's patient, a mother in the night with a child who can't sleep. Nothing about him suggests that he's anything other than happy to listen to Shinji talk. As Shinji's expression breaks, Kaworu guides his thumb along the ridge of Shinji's knuckles reassuringly. It's a little gesture, but it says, It's fine.

Gently, he asks,] What did you mean to say?

[astrobleme]

[Shinji tries to nod in agreement--of course Kaworu can come visit him--of course--that's the whole point--but his head wobbles sadly on its axis. He screwed up. All that practice, the perfect moment, and he fucked it up. He should be thankful that fucking up here didn't hurt Kaworu. He should be thankful that Kaworu is allowing him to try again.]

Mmn.

[He should be thankful that speaking his mind, his heart, is the greatest hardship he's had since coming here. And what he meant to say isn't something he should be saying to the floor, or his knees, or their joined hands. Not to Kaworu's colorful watch. Grueling though it is, Shinji forces his gaze uphill, all the way up, until he's looking at Kaworu's face again. He can't be perfect. He can't even be competent. But he owes it to Kaworu to say it when they're making sincere eye contact.]

I meant to say...

[There are times when, looking into Kaworu's eyes, all he can see is the color of blood. That isn't the case right now. Thankfully. Right now, Kaworu's eyes are just Kaworu's eyes, more like rubies than a world-ending emergency.

And, unbelievably, Shinji can feel himself smile.]

I love you, Kaworu-kun.

[paraclete]

[Kaworu would be as a pearl, white and smooth but for those rubies, except his radiance is greater than any precious stone. A jeweler would covet him, set him in a platinum band. He'd be settled in black velvet. He'd be presented as a lavish token of affection.

Affection is what makes him glow right now. That's not literal — not this time, at least. He isn't shining with actual starlight or Angelic atmosphere. But the luminosity of his features neglects the fluorescent glare of the cargo bay. Impossibly, he looks good in this lighting. In fact...

Kaworu has heard that a person looks their prettiest when they are in love. He's also read a counter to that: it said that a person never looks so beautiful as when they are loved. It's up to an onlooker, whichever one is true, but it's at least accurate to say that Shinji's confession has fashioned Kaworu's face into something new and special. Kaworu's never seemed discontent with his position in orbit around Shinji, but now he looks gifted, like Shinji's presented him with more than pearls and rubies. He's looking into Shinji's eyes. The two of them together are eras of oceans; Kaworu is the modern day, bloody and ruined and somehow still shining, but Shinji is something before his own time, overflowing with life. Part of Kaworu wants to say, I've seen it! I've seen what that sort of ocean is like! And you are nothing like it; you're so much better... But more of him is afraid of the consequences. This time, he doesn't know exactly what he should say. Except— ] I love you, too.

[A pearl in the world after Second Impact was worth a fortune. You couldn't get them from the sea anymore. Oyster farms dwindled really badly after so many catastrophic events. So their rarity was great... But the last natural pearl in the world couldn't smile like Kaworu does now. The most flawless of rubies weren't composed of an abundance of joy and adoration. Kaworu's never been able to give Shinji a real gemstone. All he has to offer is the greatest extent of his abilities.

He's been afraid for some time that that amounts to less than a pretty rock.]

That means very much to me. [His words are as inadequate as his last attempt at life. He squeezes Shinji's hand, and tries again.] Hearing that is more than I could ever ask from you. When you shared the stars with me, I didn't know if I'd see anything more wonderful... [His fingers slacken, but not completely. He's still holding Shinji's hand like a buttercup does dew.] But your face right now really is more wonderful than all of that.

[astrobleme]

[Kaworu is a clutch of pearls, shining and earnest, and Shinji could be a pile of driftwood for how rickety he feels.] You're so patient with me, [he says on a breath that's as unsettled as a slipstream.] I should have said that... months ago... months and months ago... [There's a real suggestion that he could cry, just burst into tears, even though his eyes are remarkably clear. He's smiling wider, but he's having trouble breathing--remembering how to breathe when Kaworu is this beautiful. As long as he's still breathing, he tells himself, he's still human enough to need to breathe. He has to tell himself that because he would rather suffocate in Kaworu's blood than live without him.

Something inside Shinji's heart broke apart the day Kaworu died. He thought Kaworu was virtually indestructible, like a diamond, not a pearl. He thought Kaworu was like 55 Cancri e with its endless compressed and heat-tested carbon fields. He fell in love with that perfect consistency--Kaworu never seemed to make mistakes. Kaworu didn't hesitate or stumble over his words like Shinji tended to. Kaworu played the piano like he was born doing it and had studied the human condition backwards and forwards. Even when Kaworu didn't know something--Andromeda's distance, or the math behind a light-year--he soaked up that information quickly enough. But then Kaworu proved himself imperfect by dying in a tempest of blood. He died and he took a piece of Shinji's heart with him, a piece that can never be returned or replaced.

But the days and nights they've spent here with each other have acted as glue, as sutures, putting Shinji into some approximation of back together. It wasn't a clean break, and it isn't a clean heal, but he's a lot better off than he was just a week ago. For all his stress fractures, he realized yet again that he's in love with Nagisa Kaworu.]

I was a coward for not saying it earlier.