driftfleet | (no subject)

You like it?

[I only tasted the batter is almost on her lips, but she cuts herself off. That's the kind of thing Shinji would say, so automatically afraid that what he'd given wasn't good enough that he'd denounce it before the first bite. Still, she doesn't have an excessive amount of faith in herself when it comes to anything related to homemaking.]

[He's smiling. That's really its own reward. He's smiling and his hands are shaking slightly, like he just can't believe this is happening. She feels warm all over, trickling like the blood in her veins.]

[No cake before. Not from the father that, years ago, she'd assumed favored him in some indistinct push-pull of a relationship. Not from whoever had raised him prior. Nobody. He hadn't been anyone's. Her throat feels funny and fuzzy, and she almost has to clear her throat, mouth wobbling into a small smile.]

I thought we could all have some together. The three of us. Like a picnic. [It's all she can do not to ask again if he likes it. Her words are coming out faster, the small smile turning into something closer to a beam.]

[Shinji nods more than once. He doesn't just like the cake--he loves it. But the cake is emotionally less devastating than the simplicity of--]

A picnic?

[The quality of Shinji's voice--hushed, strained, like he's on the roof of a very tall building and looking over the edge--should say more than any exposition can. He's never been on a picnic that wasn't some boring, alienating, school-sanctioned venture for children. He would sit off by himself, away from the other kids, with a crappy little lunch he had to make for himself. Maybe he'd pick at the grass or try to find shapes in the clouds, but that didn't change how he was...

alone.

He doesn't have to be alone anymore. He isn't alone anymore. He shouldn't cry over something good, not again, but he's crying anyway. Tears trickle down his face and splatter the lid of the box. Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter. He has to set the box down, for fear of dropping it or ruining it somehow; he can't stop smiling and now his hands are shaking for real. He wipes ineffectively at his eyes while he hiccups with a sort of childish glee. He feels very small. He feels like he's seven years old and the other kids, the ones who heard those ugly rumors about him, about his mom and his dad, are willing to hang out with him after all.]

I can go get-- Kaworu-kun, I can go get him right now. Then we can all ha--ahh--have cake together and we don't have to be alone. [God, what is he even saying? He's struggling to get a hold of himself, half-turned away. His sleeve is too woefully short to make a decent tissue.] This is... the b-best birthday... I've ever had, it's... more than... anything...

Edited 2016-06-10 09:18 (UTC)

[He's crying. Asuka's dull little heart feels as if it's about to burst, or maybe leap right out of her, her palms sweaty. Every other time, every other time, she's never known how to help him when he's cried, and now that it's over something really good, she's at more of a loss than ever. She's overwhelmed. It's more gratitude than she deserves for so little. The cake was easy compared to telling Nagisa she wanted him to eat it with them. But neither of those things evens out what he's offered her way.]

[A slow, soft smile appears on her face. This should have happened a long time ago, but that's all right now. They're making up for everything. Everything. She reaches out, looping her arms around him as if to anchor him there, keep him tied to this moment, kissing his cheek. It's several seconds before she lets go.]

[We don't have to be alone. That echoes in her head. It's the happiest thing he's ever said to her.]

Go get him.

[Shinji has to swallow a sob, or else he's going to spend his entire birthday crying his eyes out over his friends being nice to him. There's an overly painful lump in his throat, but the pain is nothing compared to Asuka's embrace, Asuka's lips on his cheek. Somehow, this heartfelt slice of affection has more of an impact than any of the more amorous things they've done together. He says something bashful--he isn't sure what--his heart is being so loud, so fast--before he pulls away from her. He quickly returns to the entrance of the garden. If Kaworu isn't already waiting for him, he'll call to him on the communicator. Either way...

Either way, it isn't long before he's leading Kaworu over to the picnic spread. He's in the middle of saying, damp but still excitable,] It has white frosting, and the writing on top, that's in blue. My name is written on it. You've got to see it.

[He flashes a shy smile at Asuka and then finds someplace to sit down on the blanket.]

Edited 2016-06-14 12:01 (UTC)

It sounds amazing. [Kaworu follows all mild and mellow, but his eyes seem like astronomy for how they glitter while he looks at Shinji. His voice is genuine, but maybe indulgent as well... He approaches the scene several steps behind Shinji, hands in his pockets and nerves a bit bright. They're not on display — he doesn't sweat or tremble or even grimace — but that's thanks to the time he's spent sculpting himself into something better than what he feels. With this, it's time to really test his ability to do things right by Shinji, and even by Shikinami. He tells himself over and over again that he did his best, today, and will continue to do so.

Despite the tightness of Kaworu's throat, though, Shinji's reactions today make any anxiety worthwhile. And, most importantly, this is a day for rejoicing. Shinji should be experiencing every good thing, no matter where they come from. Because of that, Kaworu hopes that his glancing at Asuka conveys his gratitude. It'd be too awkward, too messy, to say, "Thank you for having me; I know you didn't want me here." Instead, he gives her what he hopes is an encouraging half-smile while he chooses a corner of the blanket for himself. He feels so out of place.]

It's a very nice day for this sort of thing, [he says once he's settled, because he thinks it is, despite their place in space. But, with Shinji and Asuka in either direction, Kaworu's not sure what sort of weather forecast to predict.]

Yeah.

[Sitting on the blanket, Asuka's still content in a way that not even Nagisa can ruin. She can tell he's trying, too. That he's uncomfortable. But right now, for once, she's determined that this is going to be good, really good. She won't fight or argue or say a single mean thing. She'll never forgive herself if she ruins Shinji's birthday.]

[She wonders suddenly if Nagisa's had a birthday cake before, then dismisses the thought as foolish. No one would have wanted to celebrate him, for all the disaster he'd caused. No one had really wanted to celebrate her, either. When she was barely beyond a toddler, the parties had stopped. By the time she was thirteen she'd bought her own cake and devoured slice after slice for no other reason besides it being hers. She's like that, taking everything. Always like that.]

I couldn't find any candles. [Maybe that piece of technology's outdated here. She's not sure. She reaches over, offering a small butterknife to cut the cake with. He'd do a neater job than her.] But you should still make a wish.

[Shinji opens up the cake's box to show Kaworu what it looks like--white frosting and blue writing, just like he said--with a modest noise of agreement.] This reminds me of when we... [Maybe he was wrong about the whole picnic thing, now that he thinks about it. He's so quick to focus on what's awful over what isn't.] Asuka and I, we went to this aquarium once with a bunch of people, and we had lunch like this while we were over there. It was surprisingly nice.

[Though he isn't ungrateful, not at all, he's kind of annoyed that his birthday didn't coincide with landfall on a new, actually decent planet. The community garden can't quite capture the reality of fresh air, green grass, and blue skies. Oh well.

Taking the knife, he goes about cutting each slice of cake as carefully as possible. He's conscientious, even neurotic, about making sure they're both getting an equal share. He doesn't want anyone to feel overlooked or neglected or somehow inferior. There's a unique tension in the air that he hopes won't lead to spontaneous combustion.]

A wish, huh? [he asks, while he transfers the first slice onto a plate. The cake looks moist and delicious. It smells like the real deal, too.] After today... After today, I think you guys deserve some wishes more than I do. [He smiles wryly, setting the slice in front of Kaworu. The next one goes to Asuka.] So I wish to split my wish in half and give you the pieces.

Edited 2016-06-16 19:36 (UTC)

[Kaworu's having a hard time taking his eyes off this cake. He should be looking at Shinji — he should always be looking at Shinji. After years of waiting, and all the repetition, and whatever changes happen from there to here, he can't afford to miss a second.

But the cake is beautiful, and even more amazing than Kaworu had guessed. It has Shinji's name on it. It's been created specifically to commemorate the most important day there ever was. This is all about Shinji's birth, and Kaworu has never seen its likeness. Shikinami created this with her own hands. It was a labor and it deserves every ounce of Shinji's favor it receives. Kaworu's thinking that he never stood a chance in the first place; but the thing that makes Kaworu privately closest to crying is how happy Shinji sounds. This cake was a necessity. (Shikinami is a necessity.)

At Shinji's sweet declaration, though, Kaworu can finally tear his gaze away from Shinji's hands at work on the cake. His eyes are kind of big, and his eyebrows are slightly creased. First he looks to Asuka, as though he's checking to see that she heard the same thing, and if she understands. Then he looks at Shinji, and though he's practically sparkling with adoration and appreciation, he asks, very seriously,] Do wishes work that way? [He's so focused on this that he doesn't even have the time to wonder at the thought of an aquarium.]

[Asuka glances at Kaworu nervously. Maybe this was the wrong idea. Maybe she shouldn't have told him to come, too. She's a hateful, spiteful thing, but she honestly hadn't meant to rub his nose in her gift-- to her, it still only has what meaning Shinji's given it. It took longer to gather the supplies than it did to make it, and she knows it can't taste as good as Shinji's creations. Besides, her gift will be gone in days. It's not permanent like his. It doesn't have utility.]

[But then she nods slowly, carefully.] If you want them to. I think so. [Asuka hasn't made a wish in years and years. She takes a fork but doesn't start on the cake, wanting to wait until Shinji gets that first bite.] But-- don't you want any for yourself? [She's too petty to share anything, even a wish, but it doesn't escape her that she's sharing him.]

[Shinji's slice of cake might be a little smaller than the others, but he's okay with that. He doesn't waste any time sectioning off a forkful and eating it all. Privately, he's bracing himself for something unpalatable, too heavy on the sugar, not enough flour... but it's actually pretty good. His eyes open wide, then wane appreciatively, as he chews and swallows.

His friends might be second-guessing themselves, but he can like two different things for different reasons. It isn't that hard.] This is delicious, [he confirms, licking a fleck of frosting from his bottom lip.] Anyway, it's my wish, so that's the way it's going to work. I don't want to wish for anything because I'd probably just screw it up.

[Not to mention, he wouldn't be able to decide what to wish for. He'd want to see Ayanami again, safe and sound. He'd want to know his father is paying for all the awful things he's done. He'd want to have the Earth restored in full, and that they can find a way off of this stupid reality TV show, and... and... and... and for one day in his miserable life, he wants to be happy; he wants to be satisfied with what he has. That means giving away his wish with no strings attached.]

So go ahead, make your own wishes.

Edited 2016-06-24 20:15 (UTC)

[Shinji casts a shadow on himself — probably just screw it up — and Kaworu dips his head. There's a great deal he could say to that, but there are conclusions Shinji needs to come to of his own volition. Kaworu can be a guiding hand, but carrying a person completely doesn't solve things, either. Anyway, some other things Kaworu could say aren't really words he wants to speak in front of Shikinami. It's too personal. Maybe that's stupid, considering she knows some of his most personal information, but that could be what holds him back. She knows so much that he can't do anything without feeling like he has to justify himself. (Maybe to her, maybe to himself.)]

I wish for it to be good, [Kaworu says after a lengthy pause. He'll leave it at that, for now; there's more to it, and he can't express very much of it. But his face and voice are determined, and he's as honest as ever.

Kaworu's been examining Shinji's face, admittedly negligent toward his own slice of cake... But it's Shinji's enjoyment which is most important, here. Evidently Kaworu is satisfied with what he sees, though, and finally turns his attention to his fork, carving off a bite and bringing it to his mouth. It's his first time trying any of this. The frosting, the sponginess of the cake... Everything is new, and it's like seeing starlight after living underground. Kaworu's eyes get big. It's hard not to just shove the rest of the cake into his mouth. Hard, but not impossible; Kaworu has made an art of moderation. He chews deliberately. When he swallows, it's just as slow.]

It's very nice cake, [he says cautiously, much more tepid than he feels.]

The cake or the birthday? [Either way, Asuka's scrutinizing him with more of a squint in her eye than his vague wish probably merits. It's not about besting him on something so insignificant, except maybe it is. She decides to let it go for now with that single comment and just enjoy the compliments. The fact that Nagisa's actually said something about the cake rather than chewing it in silence is almost a present of its own, but Shinji's seal of approval is twice as important. She'd been waiting for him to be disappointed, sure she should have chosen something easier. More music for him to listen to. Something. Instead, he says the cake's delicious. She's beaming.]

[She takes a few bites, half to buy time for that impromptu wish. It's surprising that Nagisa didn't say anything disgustingly romantic, but then, he's probably saving that for when they're alone. She wipes her mouth off with a napkin, and then finally admits, mostly to Shinji--]

I wish to do this next year.

[Kaworu's reactions, made obvious in the room's bright lighting, honestly appeal to Shinji more than the taste of the cake. Surprise adds a certain recklessness to Kaworu that isn't seen otherwise. He's open and unguarded for that split second. Smiling around a swallow, Shinji considers the ghoulishness of celebrating Kaworu's own birthday, given what the date represents. But he's already making plans to bake a cake for it... vanilla, or maybe...]

It's good, [he confirms, steadfast about that much.] Everything is really good--so your wish came true, Kaworu-kun. [If there's more he wants to say, he wisely opts not to say it in front of Asuka. This tension is like standing on a battlefield, in the middle of two approaching armies. No one's fired a single shot yet, but that isn't a guarantee that no one will. He'd be most relieved if they could agree to an extended truce.

He looks over at Asuka, and it's his turn to be surprised: she's beaming at him. She has very little to feel good about, so he can feel good for making her feel good.]

Next year... Oh my god, I'll be sixteen. That is so old.

[The happy crinkle of his eyes claims he isn't being totally serious. (But, seriously, trying to imagine himself turning thirty or something is like trying to imagine the edge of the universe.)]

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Shinji → Kaworu → Asuka.

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