driftfleet | 004. video + action.

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004. video + action.

Who: Shinji Ikari and you?!
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: Any ship in the Fleet, beginning with the Heron.
When: Throughout the week.

[network.]

[Shinji has felt like total crap for weeks and weeks now, after that unexpected attack on the Fleet's ships... but the curtain of despair suddenly lifts one morning, for no apparent reason at all. He's a little bewildered about feeling okay, if not good, if not great, and he spends the first day catching up on the laundry that he's been neglecting.

But then it kind of maybe spirals out of control. He's filled with determination to clean--not just his own clothes or his own room, but every unwashed pile of clothes and every messy room he comes across. He doesn't really notice his own hyperactivity; he just wants to clean and clean and clean until not a speck of dust or engine grease remains. He sweeps through the Heron, to begin with, and then he branches out...]

Hey, [he says, coming into view on the feed. He's a little blurry at first, with softly glowing lights all around him, which soon resolve into... fireflies?] Have you seen these things yet? They're called cleaning bugs! And they're freaking awesome. The Co'kal made them--they can deep-clean anything, no problem, and... [Shinji is practically ranting and raving about these inventions he found in his quest to clean everything.]

If there's something you need me to clean, let me know, okay? I'll take care of it right away. Or my new friends will.

[action, aboard various ships in the Fleet.]

[Needless to say, Shinji can be found pretty much anywhere in the Fleet, on any crew's ship or the Iskaulit, waging war against uncleanliness. Don't mind him if he decides your kitchen needs a good scrub down, or your bunks, or your bathrooms, or even the engine room. He's constantly accompanied by a halo of cleaning bugs that change colors depending on the amount of dirt nearby.

They may even decide to target a person that they've deemed a little too dirty...]

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[Shinji's correct that it's Kaworu's thing; Kaworu's toenails are polished with a mixture of blue and silver glitter. But that fact doesn't solve the mystery at hand.

...]

The bluest I know is your eyes. I've seen no blue that could rival; no sort of stone or water. So I wonder if it's something to do with them?

Yeah. That's how they used to be. [Before his true nature fully manifested itself, resulting in eyes like the oceans of blood...] But I might have figured something out with them. That's what I want to show you, if you're interested. [Spending weeks lying in bed, intensely hating himself, kind of led to a new breakthrough.]

Your eyes are always wonderful, in all that they were or will be next. You make me think of the boundless sky, and very soft earth.

Anyway, I'm always interested in you, so I'd like to see. I know you're working hard, so I'll wait where I am.

Okay. I'll try to hurry up.

In the meantime, keep telling me what you're thinking about. I want to hear it. It's not fair that you're always listening to me and I hardly ever listen to you.

I like listening. Most of all, I like listening to you. The only important thing I have to say is your name. But I do think about things.

If you want to hear it, I'll say: Earth's moon, and the windows I saw there. The moments our hands touched when we were at the piano. Playing Liszt's Liebestraum at night, waiting to have company. The scent of your hair when you wake up.

[There's only one thing he can say to that:]

I love you.

I don't even remember what life was like before you.

[Kind of an exaggeration. But the point remains...]

I know I could never go back to it.

[It's not that he "doesn't want to"—although that is also true. But experiencing that sort of existence again just is not an option. Kaworu doesn't believe he'd survive it, not after everything.

Granted, there's a lot he hasn't survived, in the past. But at least that much was meaningful.

...]

I love you, too. Thank you.

[Shinji knows he's courting disaster with this, but he says it anyway:]

You won't have to go back to it. I promise.

See you soon, Kaworu-kun.

[But time passes slowly. It's kind of excruciating, he thinks.

There are still cleaning bugs hovering around Shinji like his very own starfield when he knocks on the door to Kaworu's room. He's wearing a simple blue shirt and black pants, and his eyes are red-as-blood, so there's no sign of what he was talking about yet. Being let in, or letting himself in, results in the same thing: immediately throwing his arms around Kaworu for the fiercest of fierce hugs. Shinji isn't so timid anymore, yeah, but this desire to be closer is another level of...]

I missed you so much, [he says, all unfiltered honesty.]

Edited 2017-03-01 07:08 (UTC)

[All time spent waiting for Shinji is also time spent feeling almost like he's lost his body. Shinji's promise, made so easily and with the most blissful sort of ignorance, has left Kaworu with a desperate sensation in the front of his brain. He is glad he doesn't have to breathe, because for a few minutes he can barely breathe.

He finally calms himself by looking at all of Shinji's organized efforts. Kaworu's belongings were so carefully arranged by Shinji's perfect hands. For now, at least, Kaworu has that. It serves to soothe him, until he can find his feet again. Until his spine feels attached to him. He's glad he has use of his arms again by the time he's able to spin around and hold Shinji. Kaworu is savoring the strength in Shinji's arms. Kaworu is resting his cheek against Shinji's hair.]

You're quite lively today. [It's soft, barely a vibration out of Kaworu's chest, but there's just enough voice for him to sound amused.] I missed you, too, Shinji-kun. [The cleaning bugs haven't left Shinji's orbit, which means they're now entering Kaworu's. He opens his eyes to glance over at them, though he's still resting at Shinji's hair.] Your friends might be jealous of us.

[He can tease, occasionally.]

[Shinji should know better than to make these stupidly defiant promises, but he can't really help himself right now. For some mysterious reason, his every happy feeling is magnified by infinity, instilling in him a sense that nothing whatsoever can go wrong. Even so, he clings to Kaworu like his life depends on it, like an inch of separation would destroy him completely. No one ever told him a hug could make him feel like this.]

I don't know what's going on with me, [he admits, nuzzling into Kaworu's shoulder.] I just feel like everything's going to be okay. Like we're going to be fine. I mean, we're fine right now, obviously, but, you know... [One of the cleaning bugs drifts closer and inspects Kaworu's ear, then the fall of his hair, presumably scanning for any dirt. Shinji laughs a little.] Those are the cleaning bugs, and they're kind of cute once you get used to them. Just let them do their thing.

[Then, strangely bold about it, Shinji tilts his head back and aligns his face with Kaworu's, so they're looking directly into each other's eyes. He hasn't been willing to be this close for a while. After the invasion, after all the blood on his hands, he punished himself with isolation for being such a fucking monster. Now he's practically shameless, the way he's dragging his fingers down Kaworu's back, as artless as a lover.]

Okay, so... that thing I wanted to show you...

[In his eyes, at the outside edges, there's suddenly a corona of blue light. It fills inward all at once, exchanging alien red for watery blue. It's only after his eyes are back to their original color that the light fades from them.

Shinji's mastery of his self-image--his A.T. Field--the very light of his soul--has reached an entirely new level.]

[In these first moments, Kaworu is content to hold and be held, and to let Shinji's fingers apply any amount of insistent pressure to any place on Kaworu's back. He's thinking about how good it is to be close. About how sad it is to be apart. Kaworu can acknowledge the ugliness of his own greed, but that doesn't mean he can help it: even when he's side by side with Shinji, Kaworu wants to be nearer, and then that much nearer than that. So a hug, with encircling arms and chests pressed together, feels closer to what Kaworu's instincts tell him that he needs.

He tells himself to behave. Shinji is feeling well, and that's cause enough for peace and satisfaction. With his hands gently settled at Shinji's shoulder blades, Kaworu is certain that this closeness is enough.

He's certain of it until Shinji holds his gaze, and then transforms that gaze into a miraculous, metaphysical display of light. Seeing the change in Shinji's eyes is like watching, all at once, a lifetime. It's a homecoming, of sorts. Not necessarily for the familiarity of Shinji's blue eyes, but rather the evidence that Shinji is beginning to acclimate to what he is—it smites a bitter burden which Kaworu has borne for immeasurable time. He can spend time with another Angel. They can live together and share experiences. This fact could make Kaworu cry, if he let it. And he's full of outstanding pride. He's stricken with the urge to present Shinji in front of multitudes, and to proclaim Shinji's excellence unto them. He could sing songs about this. Hymns, really.

Despite all these joyful swells, Kaworu isn't smiling when the light in Shinji's eyes fades back to something more deceptively human. He's not upset, or anywhere near it. But a smile does no justice to the profound emotion alighting through all of Kaworu's chest. He's still staring into Shinji's eyes. His own eyes—they're even redder. Somehow. Like an actual beating heart. Like an ocean. There is a burning, a force of life set to smoldering, in his irises and in the parting of his lips.

It takes him a moment to speak. He is that windswept. But he slides his hands away from Shinji's back, and up instead to his cheeks. He's cradling Shinji's face with the utmost care when he murmurs,] I had been thinking I'd say that you're cuter than the cleaning bugs. But it would be remiss of me to leave those words as they are. It falls short of your glory. [He's still intently maintaining eye contact. As soft and careful as he may be, there is an undeniable—it can't be anything but this—there is passion in his voice. It's more than the warmth of his friendship. About a hundred degrees hotter.

He purses his lips for a moment, and then his brow relaxes.] Your beauty is stirring. Did you know that?

[For a fraction of a second, right before Kaworu touches his face and speaks to him, Shinji is suddenly and deeply afraid of what's happening here. His eyes have turned blue again, yeah, but he's another step away from the person he used to be, a distressing distance. He only ever wanted to be normal, you know. He only ever wanted to be impossible to pick out in a crowd.

But none of that matters when Kaworu clasps him by the cheeks, treating him like something that belongs in a velvet display case. He feels like a priceless jewel to be tucked away in a private collection. He could be admired and sought after, cried over, fought for. The distilled quality of Kaworu's eyes tells him as much. Confirms it. It's so--and words fail to describe it well--intense. When he's with Kaworu, it's like nothing and no one else exists.]

You... [He wants to ask for something that he still doesn't know the words to. He swallows thickly.] You might've mentioned that before, [he says instead, demure, his eyelashes flicking low.] But I don't mind hearing it again. Obviously. [He could spend the rest of his life lying beside Kaworu, listening to him talk about all sorts of things. About anything at all. But it's the compliments that make him want to cry a little, in the good way, mostly...

He doesn't deserve any of this happiness. He clings to it anyway.]

Kaworu-kun, do you... uhm, do you really think about "the scent of my hair when I wake up"?

[One of Kaworu's hands slides into place at Shinji's chin, and his fingers gather there, their tips urgent and accommodating both. Kaworu doesn't speak, at first. In a sense, he doesn't have to, not when his soul can't shut up about its adoration. It's like hearing music playing in another room. Down the hall, a full blown orchestra. It's like that, wordless and indirect, but the message hits the air regardless: a boundless love. Kaworu's hands on Shinji's face are the equivalent of lowering oneself below the surface of the sea. There is no visible bottom to its depth, and one may wonder if there is a stopping point at all.

When Kaworu produces actual words, he seems more grounded than that. More corporeal.] Well, I would like to tell you for a long time. [He's here in this room speaking with Shinji, not playing an abstract song a corridor away. And that is how he wants to stay. It's why he tries so hard to say the things Shinji needs to hear.

He's hoping for eye contact while his fingertips idle along Shinji's chin. It's explorative, although he's charted this before. His thumb sweeps along what raises to become Shinji's bottom lip, and Kaworu is smiling, fond to the point of folly, as usual.] I do think about it. If peace has a scent, it's your hair come morning. When day comes and I am that close to you, I can be certain I have enough strength to face whatever I will meet. I know that scent because of the time I've spent with you, which means everything else in life has been meaningful.

[Shinji feels like he's more than a little short of breath. Naturally, he's hanging on to Kaworu's every word, but there's something especially enrapturing about this much. Maybe it's the doting touches that go along with the flattery, with those fingers on his chin, then his mouth, and Shinji having to resist the impulse to close his eyes. Maybe this is what it feels like to be hypnotized. Kaworu could tell him to do anything--anything--anything at all--and Shinji would follow through on it.]

I guess that means I shouldn't shave my head, [Shinji murmurs jokingly.] I wouldn't want to deprive you of all that... [His hair has gotten kind of long, though, falling past his ears, creeping closer to his shoulders. Any longer than that and he'll be able to pull it back into a real ponytail, just like Kaji-san used to have--he always thought that was cool-looking. Not to mention, it feels really good when Kaworu drags his fingers through his hair or else gets a good grip on it when they're in a clinch.

It makes him wonder if he could change his hair on a whim, too. Or his hands. Or the sound of his voice. If he were strong enough, maybe he could find a way around the Curse of Eva and actually grow up. The possibilities are overwhelming for how endless they are. As a human, Shinji didn't believe he had any potential whatsoever; as an Angel, he might have too damn much.

And Kaworu is still cradling his face with obvious delight...]

Kaworu-kun, I want you to teach me everything.

[That's a different plea from before, when he only wanted to learn how to protect Kaworu with his A.T. Field.]

Edited 2017-03-15 08:20 (UTC)

[Meanwhile, Kaworu's hair is unmanageable. That is, Kaworu himself can't manage it. It's undeniably similar to how he kept it (unkempt) in his youth—though even a little longer than that, it's wild in just the same way, sticking out or sweeping at different angles, cowlicks abound. Kaworu never tries to do anything with it. He doesn't want to look at it any more than he has to, because he doesn't want to find adolescence in the mirror. His hair, then, is perpetually messy, even if he manages to give it an artistic air.

Shinji's hair, in comparison, is beautiful in its novelty. Each centimeter it grows is a centimeter longer than Kaworu has ever seen it. He wonders if Shinji is going to let it grow forever; he wonders what Shinji's hair will look like in ten or twenty years. It's a thrilling question. He dares a little more each day to think about it, to commit to the idea that their togetherness is going to stay this way.

Right now, Kaworu is tucking some of that pretty brown hair behind Shinji's ear.] Whatever you do with your hair, Shinji-kun, I'll end up being swept up in its beauty. I already know that. [He thumbs along the start of Shinji's jaw, and then the softest part of his ear.

His next question has enough to do with Shinji's abilities to keep it from being entirely self-indulgent. But...]

Shinji-kun, when you're near me, can you recognize my soul? Does it feel like something?

[Shinji has tried--and largely failed, it looks like--to get Kaworu in the habit of brushing that unruly hair. He likes it, though, no matter how long or how messy it is. More and more, it reminds him of someone he can't quite put his finger on. Maybe a movie star or an idol from his early years. In any case, he's more focused on maintaining the color of his eyes and hoping for a positive reaction. He wouldn't know what to do without Kaworu being there to guide him forward.]

Your soul...

[His ear is tingling where Kaworu just touched it. He tries not to let that distract him--even though spending the rest of the day in bed, letting Kaworu touch him all over, would be less stressful than most things. He bites lightly at the corner of lips, wondering how to describe in words what he can sense innately. It started out as a faint funny feeling at the back of his mind, similar to intuition. He'd just know Kaworu was coming to visit him and Kaworu would turn up outside his door a minute later.]

Yeah. Yeah, it's, uhm... I don't know if I'm doing it right...

[Then came the motes of light. They practically leaked out of Kaworu's pores, bathing him in a radiance that no one else seemed to notice. As Shinji's senses sharpened, the lights merged together, vast and brilliant, while still being contained inside Kaworu somehow. Nowadays it's like being face-to-face with the surface of Sirius A.]

It feels like--sunlight. But it feels like your arms around me, too. And it feels like sitting down with a really old book and reading it for the first time...

[His cheeks are getting warm. Predictable.]

But mostly it feels good.

[It's better to be warm in a capacity of necessity, like the sun, instead of the catastrophic wrath of the apocalypse. It's better to be warm than to be lukewarm, too. Tabris spent much of his life in sterilized rooms and tanks of LCL, both of which were perfectly neutral in temperature. When he was exposed to earnest warmth, he was amazed, and he didn't want to leave it at all. He never wants to leave whatever measure of warmth he finds. If Shinji is at all similar, then...

Kaworu cups both of Shinji's warm cheeks in his hands. He smiles across the short distance between them. His face is like deceptively still water; he is pacific, an undisturbed surface, but careful inspection will reveal the rushing, churning current just underneath. If Shinji looks at the right angle, with the right amount of insight, he will see that Kaworu is only barely keeping himself mild-mannered in this place.

Of course, looking calm like this is something Kaworu's worked very hard for, so he expects the wellspring of desire inside him isn't going to be evident. All he does is lean forward enough to kiss the apple of Shinji's cheek.]

Yours feels good to me, too, Shinji-kun. The night you came back down to Earth... [His chin tilts up; his shoulders hitch up. It's each just a fraction, but it's like his exuberance near any piano.] I was so excited. Knowing you were drawing near felt like wading into clean water.

[Shinji could stand here all day, really, just letting Kaworu buoy him with both hands and a raft of good will. It would be wonderful. More than he ever expected to have--or deserved to have, for that matter. He doesn't deserve anything so invaluable and freely given. Naturally, he isn't aware of the quality of his own soul, but to Kaworu's eyes it must be shimmering right now. It must be like sunlight across the facets of a diamond.]

Kaworu-kun...

[Which doesn't quite complement the sudden, impatient wrenching of his viscera. Shinji loathes himself with the force of a thousand suns for being so unreasonable, already nudging Kaworu backward, then pushing him backward, right up to the edge of the freshly made bed. As soon as Shinji shoves Kaworu onto his back, Shinji climbs on top of him, more or less straddling him, with a very intent look on his face. His eyes couldn't be more like the expanse of an ancient ocean: depthless, full of promise.]

Hey, can I tell you something else? Just... [And he reveals this with the sort of courage borne of knowing he'll never be able to say it unless he says it right now:] I feel like you were made for me. Just for me. [His fingers find their way into Kaworu's hair, appreciating the length.] And I don't know if that's an Angel thing or if--if--if it's a Shinji and Kaworu-kun thing. I don't know. [The cleaning bugs seem content to patrol above them, ready and waiting for the next speck of dust.] Do you know, Kaworu-kun? [he asks, and any answer will be at odds with how he kisses him soundly.]

[This time, at last, there's nothing coy, no kid gloves. Not from Kaworu. At first he's watching Shinji with shining eyes and an open mouth; and now, as Shinji kisses him, Kaworu's hands go directly to Shinji's hips. If Kaworu's soul were anything like a star before, the heat of it is even greater now. Kaworu has kissed Shinji with thorough and weighty passion before, but this particular kiss, reciprocated and then perhaps overtaken, has a novel amount of freedom to it. When Kaworu kisses Shinji in this way, with an arc and approval of his whole body, it becomes apparent that other kisses were measured with restraint. With just his hands and mouth, Kaworu behaves as though he's chasing after Shinji, even if Shinji isn't running away.

Kaworu breaks not for air, but because he will lose his words completely if he doesn't use them now. Still, although he doesn't expressly need to breathe, what air he does intake is shallow. Just moments inside that kiss, and Kaworu is reduced to the appearance of a human being in the middle of a run. His explanation barely counts as one:]

You're exactly right.

[But it's the code which Kaworu has lived by, the concept which has delivered him as far as he has come. Hearing Shinji begin to understand it might be considered Kaworu's greatest triumph.]

I was. I actually was, Shinji-kun. I'm glad that you know it now. You, Shinji-kun, you are— [His hands search for a better grip; he doesn't want to idle, wants to be moving here and there, in tandem with Shinji. His eyes are galactic in age and vivid light when he tilts up to kiss Shinji again. It's fierce, like the need to be fed air. He does pull back again to try and finish his thought, though.] I was born just so I could be with you. I know it. This is... [His eyelashes flutter until he closes his eyes completely, and he slips in his breaths slow and small. His hands run down from Shinji's hips to his thighs, smoothing over every curve.] This is how things are meant to be. Myself and yourself. Angels don't matter, and other things don't, either. If I am with you, things are as they should be. That's all I've ever needed to know.

[But if things are as they should be, Kaworu must be meant for this, too, the markedly redder face, the arch of his back he finally doesn't suppress.]

(continued here.)

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004. video + action.

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