[DDD | RL] Liar, Liar - Backdated

[redheadcarrier]

Click. Click. Click. Asuka thumbed the remote control again and the picture on the television screen flickered and changed. She had a day off from work and so far it had been... sort of boring. She'd ended up channel surfing to try and find something interesting to watch. As much as she hated to admit it, at least when she was at work she had something to do. And when she had worked for NERV, there was always the possibility of getting called out on a mission. Here, there was nothing. Click. Another channel, another boring show or informercial. Wasn't there anything good on these days?

She slumped back against the couch, voicing some of her thoughts aloud, "You know, at least at work I had something to do."

Huh. Where'd that come from?

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[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

Asuka leaned away from him, arms folded, mouth clamped firmly shut. She saw the look of surprise, managed to sense it before he cut it off, and she just glared at him, daring him to challenge what she'd said, dared him to do something. Her anger was hot and she had a target. She wanted to yell at him, but she didn't trust herself to not say something wrong.

Her mouth opened and she managed to get out a few words before she clamped it shut again, "Of course I want to know how you feel, idiot!"

No more talking. Quiet, don't let it out. She couldn't let him know more.

[eschatologist.livejournal.com]

It was something like discomfort that settled in the pit of his stomach as soon as she leaned back. As soon as she folded her arms. She did not need to open her mouth to let him know what she demanded. Part of him had half-expected the question to come, eventually. Part of him had hoped it would not.

He willed himself to retain eye contact. It was a challenge, and he knew a break would reveal what it was he felt. What it was that was coiling. Knotting. To answer her truthfully held the same pros and cons as to answer it with uncertainty. Her anger was palpable. He did not wish to fuel it.

Despite it, he broke eye contact. Let his expression morph into contemplation.

When his words bubbled up, they were careful. Quiet. He would avoid it. For a moment. What did he think? What did he--At the time it had been something bordering on contentment. It was a stability. It had been odd, but it had been welcomed. He hadn't disliked it. He hadn't disliked the closeness. He hadn't disliked knowing the smaller sensations. The brush of hands. Simplicity.

"I suppose that is mutual, then."

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

Asuka glared, tried to keep the words from coming. She didn't want this to happen now, she didn't want this complication, "That's not an answer! That's a stupid question within a question, you idiot! Now answer me!"

[eschatologist.livejournal.com]

He ignored the glare. Ignored the flaring anger. Raised a hand to rest against the back of his neck. Something of a soothing gesture.

He didn't want this complication. He didn't think it would come about like this. He didn't think -- He kept his voice soft. Fought out the reluctance.

"... It had not been uncomfortable," he scoured his mind for the correct words. Something more substantial. Something less substantial. "I cannot say I regretted it."

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

She wanted to hit him. She'd been stewing over this for weeks and this is how it ended up. Because she couldn't keep her stupid mouth shut and still she wanted to hit him. It had to be his fault, it couldn't be her own. Never, never, never. She wouldn't fail again.

"Well, I didn't 'regret' it either! And...!"

Her teeth ground together, "...I..."

She slumped in her corner, arms folded, glaring sullenly at him, refusing to say anymore.

[eschatologist.livejournal.com]

And it took a moment to realize he had unconsciously folded back into himself. (Inch by inch. And her anger was not easing back. Was not decreasing. Ceasing. Ending.) Took a moment longer to realize he had gently reinforced what division was between them, his hand already lowered to rest uncertainly on his knee.

Part of him wanted to ask. Part of him wanted to pull from her answers. But, - He only granted her a careful, half-glance.

"... Then, I do not think it is all bad." A pause. Searching. "That it happens to be mutual."

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

She looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes, folded into herself. She didn't want to deal with this. This was stupid. He was stupid. Everything was stupid and she didn't want to see him, didn't want to talk, didn't want- "Get out-"

She coughed, swallowed, found the words coming again without her bidding, "...don't. Don't go."

[eschatologist.livejournal.com]

He didn't blame her.

It wasn't eased into. It wasn't talked about, before. Hinted at. It was too jumbled. Too raw. Too--

He had pulled himself to his feet. He had almost murmured a soft assent. He had almost--And then, it was a different command.

She does not wish me to go?

It took perhaps longer than he wished it. Longer than he expected. But, it was with a faint cautiousness that he slowly took a seat, again.

Waited.