Kaworu had been told Shinji's room number once. He had requested it for this moment, although he had wanted it to come at a different time. He had intended to find him on the night he had been taken, which seemed long ago, but not long enough. Kaworu couldn't remember being removed, but he remembered the regret that he would not find Shinji as he had said he would. Kaworu hadn't resisted, though. There hadn't been any reason to, if choice had been removed from him, and yet, his inaction had made that inevitable.
This night, he had not promised to find Shinji. He hadn't told him that he would look for him. It would be a disappointment if he couldn't see him. He had wanted this since they had parted, although the day had been comfortable. He could he relaxed, even happy, and still desire Shinji's presence. The feeling had increased, or perhaps simply slid into view, where he could not consider anything without it coloring his thoughts.
Re: Outside M21sdatislifeOctober 14 2010, 04:01:34 UTC
Shinji stretched, flexed his fingers and eyed his door. He should go out tonight - he had slept the night before and he needed (well, he thought he needed) to explore this place. Even if it gave him the creeps. It was better than staring at the walls again. His flashlight batteries were drained, so it would be dark - very dark. He frowned - what was he going to do? He didn't know yet.
He reached out a hadn, twisted the handle - and almost run into Kaworu as he stepped into the corridor. He blushed, stammering as he came to a quick halt. He'd told Kaworu his room number, hadn't he? "Oh... Kaworu! I... I didn't realize you'd be here."
Although he was somewhat happier for it. There was still a twisted knot of unease in his stomach.
Kaworu wasn't surprised when Shinji exited, but he hadn't expected it to happen so soon. The collision was avoided, but they still stood close now. Even though Kaworu's mind easily accepted Shinji's sudden appearance, he felt his body startle. He could objectively observe his heart rate, the intake of breath, small reactions that indicated life. The contrast was not distracting, but it did occupy a part of his thoughts
( ... )
Shinji flexed his fingers again, feeling the pull of muscle and bone as he tried to sort out his thoughts. He hadn't expected to find Kaworu waiting right outside of his door (although he remembered he'd told him where to find him, but that seemed so long ago now). It was startling - but oddly, it also reassured him. Kaworu cared. He'd come down here to meet him. Just... him. He twitched his fingers and finally smiled shakily. He was happy about that, underneath the knots of anxiety, the sharp pains of awkward embarrassment. There was something to savor about it, even though the contact might leave him feeling raw and vulnerable.
"Oh, n-no! I don't mind at all!" His voice sounded too loud to him, a bit too high in the darkness and gloom of the corridor, as if they could be overheard, as if the walls would listen. His smile slowly eased into something a bit more genuine, less nervous, less excited. "I'm glad you came."
And he was. He truly was. Maybe there was hope for him here after all.
Kaworu noticed the smile. Shinji smiled at him often, he felt, but he sensed the differences. They were faint, and to many they would mean nothing. Such small variables meant nothing to those that weren't close. They weren't close enough to notice, or to understand the depth of meaning. They couldn't understand how it had made Kaworu feel, even if they could grasp why. Few would deny that evidence of affection could mean everything to the one that had received it. It gave perspective to all Kaworu had seen, all that he had done.
He believed Shinji when he spoke. He had wanted Kaworu here. This was where Kaworu belonged now, even if it hadn't always been. Even if it wasn't in his nature. It was not in this place, though, but next to Shinji where he belonged, where was himself and yet something more. He couldn't define it, but didn't doubt it. "I'll come for you again, then," he decided.
His mind began to elaborate on the possibility of more nights like this, standing in the dark together, but there was no time for it. Noise flooded
( ... )
There might've been conversation. Something to discuss. Something to talk about. A decision made, maybe even a bit more joy brought into his life - if their conversation had continued. Instead, they were interrupted, the relative silence shattered first by the Head Doctor and then by the horrendous, high-pitched whine and the shattering of glass. Shinji yelped and ducked instinctively, clapping his arms over his head. The horrible noise died and slowly, slowly, things went back to normal. Or relatively normal, anyway
( ... )
Shinji's hair reflected the new glow, and it pooled on his cheeks and nose, bringing forward features Kaworu hadn't seen in proper light or full darkness. He stared for a moment to memorize it, but it would be associated with that fear. Shinji couldn't hide it. It shook him, and made him appear frail. There was a strength within Shinji that Kaworu knew, but in the wake of the intercom, it wilted. Shinji lost whatever had created the smile earlier, and so Kaworu had lost it as well
( ... )
He felt the warm weight of a hand against his shoulder, through the cloth of the baggy shirt. He tensed for a moment and then slowly tried to relax, shoulders dropping. His breathing was still erratic, still scared, as he glanced up and down the hallway. Was something about to come out of the shadows? Was this entire place about to become nothing more then the fevered dreams of his imagination? Or was this just more anguish piled onto everything he'd already dealt with? He shuddered and drew in on himself - and a bit closer to Kaworu, hovering near the only constant in his world.
"...I... y-yes. I just want to know what's going on."
He could swear he saw something move, his own shadow, something just not quite right - but he was probably just seeing things.
Kaworu let his hand drop slowly. Still, he welcomed Shinji staying near, and even when he began to move, he hesitated so that they might maintain their closeness. He would not move forward without him. These halls, even without the persistent darkness, refused any illusion of safety. They threatened him in a way that was impossible to shake. If he removed his eyes fully from Shinji, Kaworu wondered if he would still be there. He might disappear into the night, consumed by whatever forces they couldn't see.
"We'll stay together." Kaworu listened to his own voice. It sounded unnatural. Any life was muffled by his surroundings, or the lingering thoughts of a potential future. A future that was dangerous, to him and to Shinji. It was safer, perhaps, to linger here and accept what was and was not. But in doing so, he would resign his free will. It would be his choice to have no say in what the night might hold for him, and still, he longed for something else.
Kaworu had been told Shinji's room number once. He had requested it for this moment, although he had wanted it to come at a different time. He had intended to find him on the night he had been taken, which seemed long ago, but not long enough. Kaworu couldn't remember being removed, but he remembered the regret that he would not find Shinji as he had said he would. Kaworu hadn't resisted, though. There hadn't been any reason to, if choice had been removed from him, and yet, his inaction had made that inevitable.
This night, he had not promised to find Shinji. He hadn't told him that he would look for him. It would be a disappointment if he couldn't see him. He had wanted this since they had parted, although the day had been comfortable. He could he relaxed, even happy, and still desire Shinji's presence. The feeling had increased, or perhaps simply slid into view, where he could not consider anything without it coloring his thoughts.
[Waiting creepily for Shinji.]
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He reached out a hadn, twisted the handle - and almost run into Kaworu as he stepped into the corridor. He blushed, stammering as he came to a quick halt. He'd told Kaworu his room number, hadn't he? "Oh... Kaworu! I... I didn't realize you'd be here."
Although he was somewhat happier for it. There was still a twisted knot of unease in his stomach.
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"Oh, n-no! I don't mind at all!" His voice sounded too loud to him, a bit too high in the darkness and gloom of the corridor, as if they could be overheard, as if the walls would listen. His smile slowly eased into something a bit more genuine, less nervous, less excited. "I'm glad you came."
And he was. He truly was. Maybe there was hope for him here after all.
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He believed Shinji when he spoke. He had wanted Kaworu here. This was where Kaworu belonged now, even if it hadn't always been. Even if it wasn't in his nature. It was not in this place, though, but next to Shinji where he belonged, where was himself and yet something more. He couldn't define it, but didn't doubt it. "I'll come for you again, then," he decided.
His mind began to elaborate on the possibility of more nights like this, standing in the dark together, but there was no time for it. Noise flooded ( ... )
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"...I... y-yes. I just want to know what's going on."
He could swear he saw something move, his own shadow, something just not quite right - but he was probably just seeing things.
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"We'll stay together." Kaworu listened to his own voice. It sounded unnatural. Any life was muffled by his surroundings, or the lingering thoughts of a potential future. A future that was dangerous, to him and to Shinji. It was safer, perhaps, to linger here and accept what was and was not. But in doing so, he would resign his free will. It would be his choice to have no say in what the night might hold for him, and still, he longed for something else.
[To here.]
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