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Valentine's Day. Asuka had never paid it that much attention growing up. It'd been another stupid holiday the grown-ups used as an excuse to get away from the misery of a world wrecked by Second Impact. And she'd never been interested in boys - well, not the boys she usually hung around with, anyway. They were too old or too much like kids or creeps or boring or something that kept her from giving a damn about them.
Asuka had tried giving Kaji a Valentine. Once. He'd laughed, accepted it with that good-natured, patronizing smile. And probably tossed it as soon as she was out of the room. He'd never really understood and he'd always treated her like a kid who didn't understand what love was about. Now that she thought about it these days, maybe he had been right. Looking back, she hated herself. A brat, yelling for attention, screaming that she was a grown-up when she was really just a scared teenager, not even into adulthood.
Of course, she wasn't much more than that now - just with the benefit of trauma, hindsight and more experience. She was different. She was the same. It all tended to blend together and the memories were fuzzy, except for a few sharp, stark moments that stood out from her time in Tokyo-3 and in the German testing facilities before that.
Like a dream.
Now, she had someone she cared about. Someone that she loved (or thought she loved). Someone she thought could give her a purpose in a world where she was just another teenager trying to survive. Nobody special. Not a pilot, not a the last hope of humanity. Just another young adult trying to fit in and find a niche (although she still got stares every so often; her flaming red hair marked her as a foreigner, or at least part foreign).
Today was different. She'd given Kaworu chocolates (as per tradition). Hopefully, they wouldn't be a complete disaster, but she was fairly sure they'd turned out alright. And then she'd dragged him out into the city, to see it, to find something to do, to explore. To get out of the apartment and the stifling atmosphere that tended to crop up everytime the three of them ended up in the same room at the same time. The unspoken, unexpressed awkwardness. The walking on eggshells, the little glares, the cringes.
She wasn't going to spend Valentine's Day like that.
So Asuka leaned back into her seat and leaned against Kaworu's bony shoulder, watching the cityscape roll by as she listened to the rhythmic click-clack of the train as it rolled over the tracks. They were going somewhere. She just hadn't figure out where yet.
Asuka had tried giving Kaji a Valentine. Once. He'd laughed, accepted it with that good-natured, patronizing smile. And probably tossed it as soon as she was out of the room. He'd never really understood and he'd always treated her like a kid who didn't understand what love was about. Now that she thought about it these days, maybe he had been right. Looking back, she hated herself. A brat, yelling for attention, screaming that she was a grown-up when she was really just a scared teenager, not even into adulthood.
Of course, she wasn't much more than that now - just with the benefit of trauma, hindsight and more experience. She was different. She was the same. It all tended to blend together and the memories were fuzzy, except for a few sharp, stark moments that stood out from her time in Tokyo-3 and in the German testing facilities before that.
Like a dream.
Now, she had someone she cared about. Someone that she loved (or thought she loved). Someone she thought could give her a purpose in a world where she was just another teenager trying to survive. Nobody special. Not a pilot, not a the last hope of humanity. Just another young adult trying to fit in and find a niche (although she still got stares every so often; her flaming red hair marked her as a foreigner, or at least part foreign).
Today was different. She'd given Kaworu chocolates (as per tradition). Hopefully, they wouldn't be a complete disaster, but she was fairly sure they'd turned out alright. And then she'd dragged him out into the city, to see it, to find something to do, to explore. To get out of the apartment and the stifling atmosphere that tended to crop up everytime the three of them ended up in the same room at the same time. The unspoken, unexpressed awkwardness. The walking on eggshells, the little glares, the cringes.
She wasn't going to spend Valentine's Day like that.
So Asuka leaned back into her seat and leaned against Kaworu's bony shoulder, watching the cityscape roll by as she listened to the rhythmic click-clack of the train as it rolled over the tracks. They were going somewhere. She just hadn't figure out where yet.
