Asuka stays curled against the door, ignoring the chill that's slowly starting to creep into the room as the steam and heat begins to dissipate. She can handle it. She can handle anything.
No, that's a lie. She can't handle it. She can't handle failure. She can't handle losing. She can't handle a single damn thing and she knows it and she hates herself for knowing it. She hates so many things, but it all boils down to her. She hates everyone around her because she knows she's not good enough. She knows that she's a failure, a forgotten, excess, useless child and she hates everyone for knowing it and for leaving her behind, like the piece of human trash that she is.
It's her fault, anyway.
And now here's Misato, asking her what she needs. There's a bitter taste in her mouth. Now, of all times, Misato asks. It's different from before, though. This doesn't feel like Misato pretending to care so she can coax a few more percentage points of performance out of her. But why now? After all this time why does Misato choose tonight to actuall give a damn?
The stupid thing is, she doesn't really know what she wants. Rather, she doesn't know how to put it into words. Asuka doesn't even know if it's what she really wants. Her legs are drawn up against her chest and she's silent, letting it drag out. She can't be open about this; they'll think she's weak. She can't stay quiet; she doesn't want to be alone and forgotten.
Asuka's breath hitches and she feels like she's going to start crying all over again.
"...I don't know."
She feels intensely, horrifically vulnerable when the words finally tumble out of her. And when they do, they don't stop. Every word makes her hate herself a little more; it's sickening, twisted vulnerability that she hates to admit to, but it's all coming out.
"I don't know. I hate this. I hate Japan and I hate being here. I hate you. You just - you never say anything to me that isn't fake. You care more about Shinji than me. You pretend that I'm OK so you can feel better about doting on him."
She sucks in another breath. Her throat feels raw and the tears are coming again. She thought she'd finally gotten them all out, but here they are again.
"I hate myself, you know? I hate that I'm not good enough. But I probably deserve to be ignored, because I can't actually do anything you want me to do. I can't win, so what use am I? That's why you don't care. My own mother-"
She cuts herself off. That's too far, even if Misato probably already knows. Already read the file.
"I just don't want to be alone anymore...!"
The door shakes slightly with the trembling of her shoulders as her voice rises into a wail that's half anger and half complete and utter despair. This is humiliating.
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No, that's a lie. She can't handle it. She can't handle failure. She can't handle losing. She can't handle a single damn thing and she knows it and she hates herself for knowing it. She hates so many things, but it all boils down to her. She hates everyone around her because she knows she's not good enough. She knows that she's a failure, a forgotten, excess, useless child and she hates everyone for knowing it and for leaving her behind, like the piece of human trash that she is.
It's her fault, anyway.
And now here's Misato, asking her what she needs. There's a bitter taste in her mouth. Now, of all times, Misato asks. It's different from before, though. This doesn't feel like Misato pretending to care so she can coax a few more percentage points of performance out of her. But why now? After all this time why does Misato choose tonight to actuall give a damn?
The stupid thing is, she doesn't really know what she wants. Rather, she doesn't know how to put it into words. Asuka doesn't even know if it's what she really wants. Her legs are drawn up against her chest and she's silent, letting it drag out. She can't be open about this; they'll think she's weak. She can't stay quiet; she doesn't want to be alone and forgotten.
Asuka's breath hitches and she feels like she's going to start crying all over again.
"...I don't know."
She feels intensely, horrifically vulnerable when the words finally tumble out of her. And when they do, they don't stop. Every word makes her hate herself a little more; it's sickening, twisted vulnerability that she hates to admit to, but it's all coming out.
"I don't know. I hate this. I hate Japan and I hate being here. I hate you. You just - you never say anything to me that isn't fake. You care more about Shinji than me. You pretend that I'm OK so you can feel better about doting on him."
She sucks in another breath. Her throat feels raw and the tears are coming again. She thought she'd finally gotten them all out, but here they are again.
"I hate myself, you know? I hate that I'm not good enough. But I probably deserve to be ignored, because I can't actually do anything you want me to do. I can't win, so what use am I? That's why you don't care. My own mother-"
She cuts herself off. That's too far, even if Misato probably already knows. Already read the file.
"I just don't want to be alone anymore...!"
The door shakes slightly with the trembling of her shoulders as her voice rises into a wail that's half anger and half complete and utter despair. This is humiliating.
"I wish I was dead."