driftfleet | Heron May mingle

[To some degree. And, mostly looked like one. And then, different from that of my kin. Shinji doesn't need to be psychic to know that he's treading on thin ice right now. Whatever happened in Kaworu's childhood, it couldn't have been the best time of his life. Shinji's own childhood was probably perfect in comparison.]

Oh.

[He makes a few more quiet adjustments.]

Ritsuko-san told us... well, she tried to tell us, I don't know if any of us understood it--she said Angels aren't made of normal matter. Or what's normally found in nature. It's normal to an Angel, right? Anyway, she said Angels are made of something called particle-wave matter, which has the same properties as light. And that's...

It's amazing.

[But it isn't so amazing that Shinji can see it with a run-of-the-mill microscope. Even magnified, the hair looks like typical hair, not a substance that has nothing to do with carbon.]

It means you're like one of my stars.

[It's fine for Shinji to perform an examination of Kaworu's hair. He's entitled to the microscope, and more if he wants it. Kaworu would suffer the hypoallergenic gloves, the deep intrusion of a needle, the feed and chill of an IV drip, if that was Shinji's desire. It feels terrible. It feels so bad to have the logic of his existence picked apart by Shinji. But one mouthful of poetry, better than the crown jewel of any composer, and it's all worthwhile.]

Oh, I'm... [Kaworu's eyes jerk down to look at his feet; he uncrosses his ankles, and then crosses them again in the opposite direction.] A star? I'm not...

[He shouldn't flounder like this, humiliated by his own clinginess — his heart hinges on Shinji's opinion, but it's embarrassing to wear that truth so plainly. Maybe Shinji's claim affects Kaworu so strongly because of what it follows: it's the aftermath of facing Kaworu's differences. At least let me earn that benevolence, Kaworu thinks weakly. It's good for Shinji to ask questions, Kaworu knows, and he also knows that Shinji isn't trying to upset him. But Kaworu wonders how different Shinji thinks they are.

Yet he can't let himself be overwhelmed. This isn't about the way his heart blooms and widens inside his chest, a dandelion seed head. This is about Shinji. (Everything is.) Kaworu looks back up to watch him work. He keeps any further dampness out of his voice: ]

The comparison of my matter can't match a star's brilliance, which in turn can serve only as a reminder of your own, Shinji-kun. And my properties aren't nearly as important, especially when...

[All it takes is trust. Talking about this, sharing these parts of himself, just require that Kaworu trust Shinji's vows of dedication. Shinji's sure he wouldn't be repulsed. If Kaworu had the right amount of faith, he'd be certain, too. Mildly, he says,] I don't know as much about it as the people who have studied it, to be honest. My only knowledge is what I've overheard, and... [The pause here is tentative— ] Instinct.

Mmm... [Shinji can't help but sigh to himself when Kaworu finds a way to turn that compliment back around. It's like Kaworu can't accept a single compliment... which isn't a bad thing, when modesty is attractive... But at the same time, Kaworu deserves to hear nice things about himself.] I don't know. You wouldn't have a problem fitting in with any constellation. [Shinji pointed out as many constellations as he could on the night they spent indulging in them. Even the Summer Triangle would benefit from Kaworu's bright smile. (If anything good can be said about the apocalypse, it's that a lack of light pollution made for perfect stargazing.)

Now he's careful, even respectful, about removing the Petri dish with Kaworu's hair. He slides his own hair onto the stage, and just as he's expecting, just as he's dreading, he doesn't see much of a difference. Only the color of their hair sets them apart.

He doesn't sound repulsed:] Instinct... [He sounds like he's recalling something from a long time ago:] Humans have instincts, too. Or they used to have them. Humans are just animals that figured out how to ignore their instincts. They're... not as enlightened as they think they are. [Some people would say that's cynical, but he thinks it's realistic.] And it makes me wonder... [He adjusts the fine focus, as if there's still something for him to see.] ... if humans are really that different from Angels. Because, Lilith, she... Misato-san said she brought life to Earth, so... and she was the Second Angel, so... we're distant relatives, at the very least.

[But he wants to stay a distant relative. He doesn't want to get any closer than a billion-plus years of evolution. He doesn't want to be something he shouldn't be--he doesn't want to be one of them. Giving up on the microscope, he leans back and rubs at his face with one hand. He's so stressed out. His blood feels like it isn't flowing right, like it's getting stuck in his extremities. God damn it.]

Sorry. I'm rambling for no reason.

No, I like hearing you. [Kaworu's watching Shinji through his lashes, unable to help his slight and quiet smile, despite Shinji's tenseness. Most of all, Kaworu's endeared.] It's just like you to say that, [he murmurs fondly.] I'm glad when you tell me your genuine thoughts. You know, there was a time when I did not believe that humans were enlightened. But then one spoke to me without pretense, for the first time, and I realized that there was so much I didn't know. I feel that a human is more than what you say. But the Angels weren't able to ignore their own instincts, except for...

[Me, he doesn't say, and he has to stop to think. He wasn't enough like the other Angels to keep them alive, but Lilin is so far out of reach.

And then there's Ikari Shinji.

Kaworu decides to keep smiling. He thinks it's the best course of action right now.] I believe that instincts are imparted unto a child from its mother. And every living thing has a mother. A relation. A starting point. So, every living thing has something that it wants to do. But it would be nice if I could be similar to you. You're the living thing I admire most of all.

[Even now, he's admiring Shinji. Blood pressure. Kaworu can see the raise of veins in Shinji's wrist, on the back of his hand. To feel Shinji's heart through his chest sounds wonderful. And a warmth... And a thrum...

But it doesn't matter what Shinji has inside his chest. There could be a block of wood, and Kaworu would whittle it into something functional. There could be a void, and Kaworu would gladly dive inside.]

You said, 'Any constellation.' But I would be happiest if I fit in with the one you compose.

[Shielding his face, Shinji gives himself over to a bitter-tasting grimace. He's long since noticed that Kaworu chooses his words carefully, but it's encroaching on legalese territory now. Kaworu is neither confirming or denying Shinji's worst fears. Just tell me what I am, Shinji wants to scream. Can't you see how it's killing me not to know? It's unfair to demand an answer without asking the question first. He knows that. But he's tired of these self-inflicted wounds. If Kaworu would just tell him, he can blame Kaworu for telling him instead of himself. Kaworu might not know what's going on, but "I don't know" would be better than all of this.]

... A mother? [The mother of the Angels would crush him like an insect, he's pretty sure. There's no way she'd ever forgive him for killing her children. He drops his hand, defeated, feeling worse than before. He feels like he'd give anything to go back in time and stop himself from climbing into Eva. The blood vessels in his eyes are engorged, too visible, when he looks over at Kaworu.] I don't remember my mother. I don't have any proof that she was my mother. So there's nothing she could have passed down to me.

[He sounds like he's gearing up for a tantrum, all reedy and accusatory, but then he reminds himself that he's too old for this shit. Rather than smashing the microscope on the ground, he picks up the Petri dish and dumps out the strands of hair.]

Kaworu-kun, if I could be anyone, I'd want to be you. So don't... don't say you want to be like me, because that's not going to do anything. I'm at a dead end.

Edited 2016-05-25 00:49 (UTC)

[As if observing rain clouds at the crease of the horizon, Kaworu watches Shinji's escalation of emotion with a placid face and the eyes of a herald. He doesn't want to make a downcast face; it would make a waste of all that time spent staring at the sky. But as with the other times he's watched Shinji overwhelmed, it's difficult not to lower his gaze. Previously, he knew what to do — now, he should ask it again. He did it before because it was right. "Do you want to know?" It's less than a mouthful, takes only a breath. Not even that, in truth, if Kaworu doesn't want to waste oxygen. He did it before, because it was right, but now...

Shinji deserves someone who is less fearful.]

I don't know what my mother would have thought of me. [Probably nothing good. Even as Kaworu houses her inside of him, he helped prevent their efforts to return to her body. Worse than that, children are dead. Still...] I don't know what it is to be held by a mother or to speak with a mother. But I came from something. There is life inside of me.

[Now drawing away from his pose against the counter, now lifting his hands out of his pockets, Kaworu moves the short way over to Shinji, solemn but soft. Gently, he takes the Petri dish from Shinji's hand and sets it on the counter, to the side. Then he holds Shinji's hand in both of his own, pressing their palms together, interlocking their fingers. His voice is quiet but clear when he says,] There is life in you as well. Something so warm that I would never need to shiver.

The dearest thing my mother gave me is the chance to meet and know and love you. Likewise, Shinji-kun, you need not know your own mother in order to recognize your inheritance. I think you'll find it.

[Ikari Shinji is the worst kind of person.

That isn't up for debate. It's the truth. Just because Kaworu loves him doesn't make him any less awful than he is. Because Kaworu loves him, that's what gives him the greatest cause to be awful. Shinji might not choose his words as carefully, but he knows what kind of effect they have on Kaworu. The more distressed he is when saying something, the more likely it is that Kaworu will intervene and treat him kindly. They're holding hands because Kaworu loves him and thus wants to comfort him. They're guaranteed to hold hands when he's being this hard on himself. Cause and effect. It makes him wonder if Kaworu would deign to kiss him at the sight of tears.

But Shinji is genuinely and deeply distressed. Listening to Kaworu, he has all the reason to hate himself even more. They're both orphans, it sounds like, but Kaworu has risen above it instead of blaming it for his misfortunes. Kaworu won't be defined by the deaths of his family.]

I don't know how you can have this much faith in me. I don't feel like I have some hidden potential. I'm... really... [A loser? A gibbering fuck-up? The worst thing to ever happen to humanity? Shinji looks down at their hands, then closes his eyes, turning his head slightly. It's irrelevant, anyway. They have a new lease on life and he's still regurgitating the same depressing bullshit day in and day out.]

God, maybe you're right. Maybe I'm not looking hard enough.

[He'll need something more powerful than a microscope to see what's worthwhile. For now, he's angling his body and taking one step closer so he can rest his head on Kaworu's shoulder.]

Edited 2016-05-25 08:12 (UTC)

[Like the mother neither of them know, Kaworu uses his free hand to guide Shinji's head to his shoulder, and then rests his palm, the tender press of his fingers, at the back of Shinji's hair. This way — two hands clasped, bodies aligned — they could dance. Kaworu doesn't know how, though. All he can do is sway slightly, slowly, an approximation of what it's like to be rocked. (Did anyone ever rock Tabris? Is this that instinct Adam gave him?)

Shinji smells good. His body is warm, and he's slender in a way that makes Kaworu want to lead him to safety. That's part of why it feels so good to hold onto Shinji like this: there's nowhere safer for him. But isn't that only true of his physical self? It's impossible for Kaworu to cradle Shinji's heart; he can only tend to that soul with his words...]

I don't think your potential is even hidden, [he says, a little lighthearted, a bit of a nudge.] It's easy for me to see your good parts, and the things you could accomplish. When I called you down to talk with me, I knew you'd be great with the piano... [He rests his cheek against Shinji's hair.] But maybe since we're friends, it can't be anything but clear to me.

[Don't be selfish, Kaworu's telling himself; You're enjoying this too much. His eyes have fallen shut, and how he breathes is decadence, freely indulging in Shinji's scent, and in the way his body shifts against Shinji's, just barely, with every breath. He still doesn't understand how Shinji went so long without love. It should be obvious to anyone that this embrace is a privilege.

But, as he scolds himself, this moment isn't about his own pining. Holding Shinji right now, Kaworu has to insist, This is for you. The company, the comfort. Serenity, he hopes; an attempt at fulfilling Kaworu's previous intentions for Shinji. What you need right now is...]

I can offer you an endless amount of love, but you need peace as well. However, before you go looking for it, you need to want it for yourself. You must accept that you are allowed to attain it, or else when it shows itself before you, you won't even be able to see it. [As if his hand is a cool cloth for a fever, Kaworu slides his palm down the curve of Shinji's head, down the back of his neck and in between his shoulders, down, down, down the line of his back.] If you aren't ready, don't be ashamed. These things can take a while. When the time comes, I'll still be with you to make the search.

[... Shinji is pretty sure he could fall asleep right here. He hasn't found peace, not in the long term, but something like serenity is enfolding him now. He squeezes his eyes shut, presses in closer, and tightens his fingers around Kaworu's--his other hand is making a grab for Kaworu's shirt--he's trying to anchor himself to this boy like a barnacle he's never seen. He almost regrets his habit of wearing long-sleeved shirts, too. Far too many layers keep them separated from each other.

He reminds himself to exhale, so that's what he's doing, slow but still shaky. He listens to what Kaworu has to say, hooked on every word, every change in tone. It shouldn't be possible for one person to always know how to calm him down. Kaworu can be so unbelievable, so magical, that Shinji is left wondering if this is one embarrassingly drawn-out hallucination. But it doesn't feel artificial, or forced. It feels like he's in love with his best friend.]

That's just another way of saying you're biased.

[He doesn't want to think about Kaworu not joining the search. He's already lost Kaworu once before. He's a single whim away from losing Kaworu again, whenever Atroma decides to inflict the maximum in emotional damage on him. The closer he lets himself get to Kaworu, the harder it's going to be to recover from more loss. (He's past the point of no return, if he's being honest.)]

You said... you were born to meet me, but that doesn't make sense? It's more like I was the one who was born to meet you. I wouldn't be anything without you. I wouldn't... even know what love is. [His voice is very soft by the end of that, tucked against Kaworu's neck like a cravat.] But now I know it's warm.

Edited 2016-05-26 06:13 (UTC)

[When Kaworu laughs, it's soft like plumage. He tries not to let it jostle Shinji, but continues to hold him closely; his hands are solid, far from a specter. His palms say, I'm here. I won't leave.] Biased? I feel like that's not a bad thing. It makes sense, don't you think, that I would prefer you. [...] It makes sense.

[Mother is the first other, so they say, but for Nagisa Kaworu, for the creature called Tabris, Mother meant myself. He wasn't his own person, and everyone who handled him was of a single flock. When Kaworu finally encountered an individual, there was... a boy, a baby cat... Things that Kaworu had never seen on their own. It makes sense that Kaworu would love what he met that day.]

You've been something all along, but I do feel that we... you and I... are fate. [Kaworu's arms could be the boughs of a tree, and — just barely — so slowly — he leads Shinji from side to side.] We were meant to be close like this, to be friends. Everything that I am is thanks to you, but I want to give back to you as well... If I can offer you warmth, you will have warmth.

[A kindred spirit should never be cold, or alone. Whatever Kaworu was trying to do, he abandoned his best friend... That can't happen again. It isn't what Shinji needed, after all. Maybe the elusive answer starts with an embrace like this. Maybe it's sunlight on the heart.]

Your purest self desires happiness. That's a good thing. We should be helping that grow.

[And Shinji still doesn't understand why Kaworu prefers him over any other entity. Why they're fated to each other in the first place. There are so many questions he can't ask because he's afraid of the answers. The sound he responds with, some attempt at acceptance, is quiet and plaintive. It leads to another peep, and another, helpless in every way, matching up to every slight sway, as if Kaworu is tearing down his ego instead of building it back up. The rhythm is not too far off from crying, it sounds like, but it has none of the tears.

He just doesn't know how to say what he wants to say. The notion of a purest self is equal parts frustrating and terrifying. If his purest self is what he should strive for, then what does that mean for the rest of him?]

B-But...

[He shouldn't be trying to hide behind a but. He shouldn't be looking for caveats and exceptions. Not to mention, he shouldn't be doing this in the medical bay, where literally anyone could walk in, at any moment, without warning. His insistence in nuzzling into Kaworu's shoulder is too desperate to be affectionate. He wants to be closer in the same way he wanted to drown himself in Kaworu's blood.]

Am I going to be the same person when I'm not sad anymore?

[It's a stupid question. It's insane, even, because he's an insane person; his perception is actively working against him. He's been so drastically unhappy for his entire life that he doesn't know what life's going to look like when he isn't unhappy. He identifies with his sadness and absence and low expectations. There's stability in being miserable, because it's a lot easier to be miserable than to be anything else.]

Oh, yes, [Kaworu says, as easily as anything else he does. Saintly in goodwill, poise, and patience, if nothing else, he smooths his hand up and down Shinji's back, like the tempo to a love song.] You'll be you. The same person, just experiencing new things. You will remember what it is to be sad... or to be empty; angry; or withdrawn. Those things have marked you. But, Shinji-kun, the canvas of your heart is boundless. You aren't limited to feeling only what you have known until now. Whatever inky marks you have can be complimented by many other colors. When you're sad, you're experiencing only part of the picture. [The tide of Kaworu's voice is a hymn, and his words are a refrain of worship. He speaks in time with the motion of his traveling hand. And he sounds as certain in what he's saying as he does when he declares his love: he's telling the surest truths. Moreover, nothing in his tone implies that he thinks Shinji's stupid for asking that question. Kaworu's answer is natural-sounding: two plus two is four. Sometimes a person needs to hear a fact. That's fine.

But, honestly — but, secretly — Kaworu understands the apprehension. Learning to feel is not an easy thing, and coming to terms with the breadth of the heart is frankly frightening. What's more, Ikari Shinji has a tenuous sense of self. A person will cling to any definition of what they are.]

When you are no longer sad, there will simply be more of you.

[Kaworu's loved him through misery. He wants to extend his adoration into joy.]

Whether you are laughing or crying, you are my beloved friend.

[It's a response so breathtaking that it takes a while for Shinji to remember how to breathe again. That happens later on in the evening, when they're back in his room, sorting through a bundle of fresh laundry. Although Shinji is a little less helpless now, he hasn't tried to wrest laundry duty away from Kaworu. He can tell that Kaworu enjoys it on some level. With a plain shirt in hand, he glances over at Kaworu, glances down, glances back over... Kaworu tends to mismatch socks when left to his own devices.

He breathes in, clears his throat, but then decides not to correct him. It's kind of cute. Instead, he says,] You're still okay with doing this? [and he indicates this by holding up the shirt.] If you ever get tired of it, you can tell me. I know doing laundry can be really boring.

[The rest of Shinji's room isn't as much of a mess as it has been in recent memory. He makes sure to put away all of the sewing supplies when he's done with them, so there won't be any accidents. Asuka's hand getting cut by some stray scissors, minor though it was, is still a source of guilt for him.]

Edited 2016-05-28 03:40 (UTC)

[One might expect most socks to be white, maybe black for a bit of change, and Kaworu hadn't even considered that there were other options... until he saw them for himself. Now the socks among the heap of laundry come in colors like lime green and butter yellow, or cherry red with a pattern of what might be beetles. Right now, in fact, Kaworu is pairing one of the beetle socks with a powder blue one.]

Oh, I'm okay with it. I don't think it's boring... [He sets the pair of socks atop the sock pile, which anyone but Kaworu could tell is a travesty.] Doing laundry provides a good time to think about things, which I believe is important. And aside from that... [The shirt he digs out of the laundry is one of Shinji's. Kaworu shakes it a bit to get rid of any wrinkles, and holds it out before himself, examining.] When I'm doing things with clothes, I like to imagine how they go together. You know, outfits. [He lays the shirt out on an empty space on the bed, but instead of folding it, he goes for another article of clothing — it's a pair of jeans. Shinji's jeans. And he sets them beneath the shirt... Like he said, it's an outfit. With that, Kaworu turns his face up at Shinji to smile.] I like it. But maybe...

[One second. He snatches up that last pair of socks — beetle sock, blue sock — and drops it on top of the ensemble.]

There. It looks great.

[How weird. It's the boring, bland, repetitive quality of doing laundry that allows Shinji to stop thinking about things. His whole world shrinks down to smoothing out wrinkles and making sure all the socks are matched together. Beetle socks and blue socks definitely don't belong in the same roll. He wonders if Kaworu is somehow colorblind, or if he interprets colors differently, as an Angel. Or maybe Kaworu just appreciates whatever's within reach of him. His best friend isn't ashamed of colors.]

Mmm. [But that's his shirt, his jeans...] Is... that what you want me to wear? [His shirt, his jeans, and... a pair of clashing socks he wouldn't be caught dead in, normally. Normally. He's always been a conservative white socks kind of person. Black or grey socks, at worst, whenever he feels impertinent. But he could attempt to branch out a little, right? Not too many people are going to notice what socks he's wearing. He spends most of his time in his room, listening to music...

He returns the smile as best he can. It wouldn't be so bad, he tells himself.]

Edited 2016-05-31 02:10 (UTC)

Oh, well... [Kaworu's hands still where they are, and his expression gives the most minute of twitches — momentarily, he looks like he's been caught doing something ridiculous. Given the socks, that's not really untrue, but his reasoning doesn't come from that... Come now. He shouldn't try to dictate what Shinji wears. (But wouldn't it be nice— Setting out his clothes, buttoning his shirt— Rolling up his sleeves to the elbow, and covering him in cloth and color—)]

Looking at it, I thought it was nice. I like all of your clothing, though. It's just that I spend time imagining what colors might compliment you... [Abruptly, his hands are in motion once more, and they've gone from frozen to fluttering.] But anyone would like to think about such a beautiful sight.

Yeah, [says Shinji, patiently,] but is that what you want me to wear? [He isn't trying to tease Kaworu or anything. He's just endeared. Seeing Kaworu the least bit embarrassed or flustered is like seeing Halley's Comet pass by. Exceedingly rare. Precious. Brief. Beautiful, too.

Since it's almost time for sleep, there's no use in changing clothes now. Shinji gathers up each article of clothing and deposits them on top of his locker.] I'll try it on tomorrow. You can tell me if I do look nice. [Such a beautiful sight. It's nauseating, and it's thrilling. The thrill might be winning out. Still, the vast majority of people couldn't care less about what Ikari Shinji does or doesn't wear.]

... Do you want to know what I bought with my first pilot stipend?

You will look nice— [It isn't exactly hurried, the way Kaworu says this, since he does most things at a gentle pace. But it's, perhaps, a bit contrived, the closest he'll ever come to needing concealer for a blemish. While he watches Shinji set those clothes aside, Kaworu feels as though Shinji has singled him out for an honor. It could be said that he's indulging Kaworu...

Which is in no way deserved. Shinji's kindness is truly a miraculous thing. Sometimes, Kaworu wants to beg him not to force himself.

Even so, he says,] But I look forward to seeing it, [and he lets that sit in the air between them, marinating in all that it implies. He is not going to blush.

When he's certain that he's acceptably composed, he asks,] What did you buy?

[Shinji returns to the pile of unsorted clothing, a little more pleased with himself. He wouldn't call it an honor, but he knows how good it feels when someone wears the clothes he picked out for them. Most of Asuka's current wardrobe is based on his own preferences... In all honesty, that's pretty worrisome, but he gets to see some bare knees he otherwise wouldn't. So, if he can show Kaworu something that Kaworu wants to see...

His cheeks gain a smudge of color when he picks up the next shirt (striped, with shorter sleeves). Neither of them seems too concerned about fully separating out whose clothing belongs to whom. Maybe this is what adults mean by "domestic bliss."]

I bought every flavor of ice cream I could find, and I ate them all. But also... [He folds the shirt in half carefully, the same as all the others.] I bought a super nice formal suit, with a tie and cummerbund. I never got a chance to wear it, but... I liked thinking about wearing it.

Edited 2016-05-31 07:35 (UTC)

[They're children bound by fate. They're a part of destiny. Or, you know, whatever else Kaworu has said about their ties to Eva...

But Ikari Shinji wanted to be a child. Just that, without all the emotional blackmail. He didn't sign up to be a soldier. He never postured himself as the world's last chance. And it was never his intention to be a force of failed life. But to be a normal child was never an option, for him. Bound by fate, Kaworu said. Who wrote this boy into the scrolls? Who decided his misery, billions of years ago? Did Adam know? Was she complicit? ...]

You'd be so handsome. A suit would treat your silhouette so well. I imagine the lines of your shoulders, your back, would be especially lovely. [Kaworu's smiling, completely shameless in contrast to his fluster from just moments ago. He could be daydreaming.] It's nice to buy something like that... Even if you didn't have the opportunity to wear it, it was like a step toward the future.

[But the weight of what Shinji has told him doesn't go unappreciated. And Kaworu does know that Shinji can find at least a little comfort in Kaworu's hands. So, dropping whatever laundry he'd been attempting to fold himself, he reaches across and lays his fingers over one of Shinji's wrists.]

The ice cream... What was your favorite flavor?

[Whenever Kaworu talks about his silhouette, and how lovely it is, Shinji could swear that Kaworu is speaking a foreign language. He doesn't know what the heck Kaworu is going on about; it's totally unknowable to him. He's spent a ton of time in front of the mirror, turning this way and that way, trying to figure out the appeal of his weak, appallingly effeminate body. It's the half-developed embarrassment that he's going to have for the rest of his life. The worst of the worst.

But he ducks his head out of modesty, telling himself not to blush, then blushing like an idiot anyway. The body horror isn't so horrifying when Kaworu is feeding him compliments by the handful.]

A step... yeah, maybe that's what it was... [He got very close to wearing the formal suit. As stupid as it seems now, he planned to wear it to Ayanami's dinner party. He wanted his father to see him dressed up like a man, not a little boy, on the off-chance his father showed up. He wanted his father to acknowledge him as more than the pilot of Eva Unit-01. Shinji's brow starts to crease as he thinks about that, how naïve and foolish he was. Even back then, his father had no intentions of treating him as anything other than a weapon in a war that Shinji didn't want to fight.

He's drawn out of his stormy thoughts when Kaworu touches his wrist. It feels like daybreak.]

Oh, jeez... I don't know how I'm supposed to choose. I got pretty sick of it towards the end... but I remember banana wasn't too bad, and salted caramel. [He sticks out his tongue for a moment.] Soy sauce was probably the worst. Bleh.

Edited 2016-06-05 05:11 (UTC)

[Shinji, ducking his head, is like the inward curl of an anemone. Kaworu has seen those creatures on video. The video was a film piece about how mankind had destroyed the planet even before the disaster of Second Impact. The oceans had been dying for a long time. Anemones were poisoned and killed, more and more frequently. But Kaworu recalls their vibrancy and grace, but also how they pulled in when threatened. He hopes that Shinji isn't feeling threatened — insecure, perhaps. But surely that can be fixed with a liberal application of love. So Kaworu takes his hand from Shinji's wrist and lifts it instead to Shinji's shy face, tilting his fingers against that blush.] Oh, you're so warm... [He's not teasing. Instead, it's like he's enthralled, even though this isn't the first time at all.

His touch lingers but then retreats, and, maybe too casual, his hands return to the laundry. Kaworu's looking down at the easy pattern of a shirt, but he puffs out some quiet, pleasant laughter.] It's wonderful that you tasted so many things. But I have heard that overexposure can be tiring. [For a few seconds after that, Kaworu doesn't say anything; but while his smile is small, it's very content. Then, eyes still low, he asks,] What other things did you buy?

Edited 2016-06-05 10:56 (UTC)

[Shinji's face has more in common with the surface of the sun by the time Kaworu pulls away from him. Overexposure can be tiring, sure, but that doesn't seem to apply to the sensation of Kaworu's fingertips. Shinji wonders if he's ever going to acclimate to being caressed and complimented and held near and dear and securely. Probably not. His face is so hot, almost pulsating, when he fumbles for the next pair of pants to fold. These pants are too colorful and closely cut to belong to him. His stupid thighs would never fit inside them.]

Uhm, [he mutters, wishing a meteor would just crash into his head. He shouldn't waste Kaworu's time with silly little anecdotes.] Books for school, and other supplies, also for school... I got a pocket protector I really liked, but everyone said it looked stupid. Even Kensuke said that. It's, uh... [Just in case Kaworu doesn't know, he explains:] They're little pouches you put in your shirt pocket, and you put pens in that, so if the pens leak at all, the ink doesn't ruin your shirt. I thought it was nifty as heck, but...

[But when the resident nerd says you're too nerdy, there's a problem. Kaworu would have made that pocket protector look like a high fashion accoutrement, though. He can make anything look like it belongs on a glittering runway in Europe. Even polka dots would look amazing on him.]

Edited 2016-06-16 17:44 (UTC)

Heron May mingle

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