[DDD | 055 | Text]

[redheadcarrier]

This is so stupid. I am not going to think about Kaworu all day. I need to get out and do something.

Comments

[eschatologist.livejournal.com]

[And he's unable to voice what answer he had possessed. Unable to clearly formulate it as he realizes the effect of his own. Knowing it is more than merely that. Knowing it had been more than merely that. And he's not resisting the aggression as she shoves him back. What honesty he had placed in that particular answer - and he's catching himself against the door. Unflinching. Knowing this action, before. Remembering months and months back. Remembering the night she had come into his dorm. Had raised her hand to him. Remembering - and he's subconsciously pressing his back against the door. Not shrinking back nor moving forward. Expression void. Neutral. And he's only listening to her. Almost feeling the notes of her aggravation. The heat of frustration. The smaller sparks of incredulity.

He's quiet. For the moment. Still feeling the absent pressure of her hand. The slow mutter of some discomfort along his shoulder. His back. A little too slow to shield himself. Before he's murmuring, if almost too quietly.]

I am not entirely unaware of the implications, Asuka.

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

<sub>[She stares at him for a moment, hand splayed out over his chest. She can feel the warmth of his body through his shirt, the soft beating of his heart, the soft rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. It's all there. She's frustrated because she cannot get these thoughts out of her head. She's frustrated because Kaworu doesn't seem to understand. She's angry at herself for having to have this talk in the first place. He just looks at her with that same neutral expression. Unbidden, she wonders if his expression would change if she-

She tries to shake it off, still glaring, hand pressed against him.]</sub>

Then how ca you treat it like it's... just... unimportant?

[eschatologist.livejournal.com]

[There is no manner in which he might word this. Something elusive and intangible. Something he had understood in what manners he could. Something he had never particularly thought on. Something - and it settles uncomfortably at the bottom of his stomach. Knotted up and tangled there. Unable to be followed or unwoven. Knowing to accept the fact he had never been permitted room to worry nor wonder about this mode of expression - knowing he had never come to think he would experience any particular closeness to begin with - and his expression is shifting into something less distant. More unreadable. Not wincing away from her glare. Not breaking eye contact. Just feeling the steady weight of her hand. The way it follows his breath. Wondering if she could feel the fainter rhythm of his heart. Knowing to have expressed this much - to have revealed this much - she had made herself vulnerable. Something she hates. Had hated. Had always hated. And he knows how much this takes her, to await some kind of answer. And he's flexing his fingers against the door.

He knows this gesture is important. He knows - and it's taking him a moment, before he's (almost tentatively) lifts a hand. Lets it linger.]

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

_{[Asuka shoves herself away from him and turns on her heel, stalking back to her (their) room. She's still frustrated and now she's angry. She doesn't want to deal with his strange intractability right now, his inability to answer questions.]}

Why can't you just give me a straight answer for once?

_{[There's a resounding 'crash' as she slams the door shut behind her.]}