Don't lose your composure. Don't throw everything around the room looking for something that isn't there. Don't storm out into the corridor in nothing but your towel. People won't appreciate it. (This guy, this fucking guy, is probably long gone anyway. If he's smart, at least.)
Now, Kaworu is usually wearing his watch. It was a gift from Shinji; of course he's usually wearing it. When he isn't, it's most often because he's showering, and when he's showering, the watch sits on his bed.
The watch is not on his bed. Kaworu wouldn't have put it anywhere else, so someone must have taken it. Shinji wouldn't have taken it even if he'd come to Kaworu's ship; and the chance that Shikinami did seems equally slim. So, who? Who is garbage enough to come and rifle through Kaworu's things and steal his treasured belongings? There's one answer.]
Why did you go into my bunk?
[Water from Kaworu's hair is dripping into his eyes while he texts.]
[Kaworu doesn't need to be smart to know about subterfuge. As soon as he grabbed that watch, and a few other neat-looking items, he quickly exited the room and the Vanquish altogether. He's on a shuttle heading back to the Blameless, the ship with his own room, when the text comes in. He doesn't have the time to answer it; he's too busy admiring the colors and shapes on the watch's strap. Obviously, the yellow hat is a good fit for his head. And the pullover is soft and warm on his skin, like a blanket, except it's a blanket in clothing form.
He's about to answer the text, but then he gets distracted by the plastic bag of peppermints he decided to take, too. The peppermints crunch between his teeth with every bite, an interesting mix of smooth (before) and jagged (after). Though he should ration out this candy, though he should answer that text, he continues chewing through more mint(? is this what mint tastes like?)-flavored pieces.]
[Not that Kaworu has much of an ego, but if he could pride himself on anything, it'd be patience. He does wait for the culprit to respond. He hears nothing. He waits some more, and he hears nothing in return. There's no response... This discarded rubbish, this abandoned past, has the audacity to enter Kaworu's life, to enter the Fleet, to enter Kaworu's room, and then he doesn't even have anything to say for himself? Kaworu's grinding his teeth; he'll wear them down pretty quick at this rate.]
Answer me
I'm giving you a chance.
Why did you go into my bunk?
Nagisa, you need to answer me.
[This is frustrating. This is worse than frustrating. The Fleet should find a rock utilized as a galactic landfill, and they should let Nagisa off there and leave.]
[Those follow-up texts somehow remind Kaworu of a bar of soap. It isn't enough to just drag the soap against your skin and expect cleanliness. Along with some water, you manipulate the bar of soap between your hands to create a slippery, mostly liquid lather. That is what you apply to your skin to make it clean. (It took him a few tries to learn how that works.) So, this reminds him of a soapy lather, how the Nagisa Kaworu on the other side of the screen is working up to something with these texts. To an outburst, maybe. This other Nagisa is always so peaceful when he's around anyone else. It's weird to see his own peaceful, smiling face, like nothing is wrong or could ever go wrong. Kaworu feels better about himself when Nagisa isn't smiling all the time. And he's used to being the thing that went wrong.
He wonders if he should be afraid of an entity that has the power to hurt him very badly, physically or otherwise. Even a bar of soap can be painful if it gets shoved in your eyes or stuck down your throat. Anyway,]
[This would be different if Nagisa were some sort of small animal. Something feral, undersocialized, unaccustomed to its new surroundings and responsibilities... but ultimately innocent. A creature like that would need encouragement and a chance to learn. With love, patience, and acceptance, it could flourish.
But Nagisa is nothing like that. Every time Kaworu has to interact with Nagisa, he thinks, Was I really that stupid?
Kaworu drops the communicator onto his bed, too angry to use his fingers to text. For now he'll use his head, and try to soothe himself by getting dressed. A t-shirt is usually the easiest thing to wear after a shower, but if he wants to feel better, he should find something warm and soft and comfortable. He knows just the pullover for the job, and...
He can't find it with any of his clothing.
...
For Shinji's sake, Kaworu really shouldn't cause a scene. The light in his room flickers off, though. Kaworu barely refrains from popping the bulb.]
A chance to return my belongings on your own. That's why you came in, isn't it? To steal from me?
You should know better. You aren't supposed to take someone's things or be a bother to them. Haven't you been intrusive enough?
[Nagisa tramples on everything. Peace and personal space, and most importantly, Kaworu's relationship with Shinji. It was mortifying to face Shikinami after she met what Kaworu used to be, but for Shinji to meet Nagisa was... Kaworu pondered a literal double suicide.]
[But the old men didn't teach Kaworu about not taking someone's things or being a bother to someone. They taught him not to draw attention to himself. So, yeah, he shouldn't take someone's things or be a bother to someone because that would draw attention to himself. Why was that? So NERV wouldn't discover what he really is. Why not? So no one could prevent Third Impact from happening as the scenario directed.
But Third Impact is irrelevant now.
NERV is irrelevant.
The lessons of the old men are irrelevant.
The old men and their plans--they're irrelevant, too. Kaworu can easily say he's glad to be free of them. Relieved. Ready to move on. He can express himself as an Angel, whenever he wants to, and the rest of the Fleet won't hate him for it.
But now he's without any sort of reference point. Why shouldn't he take someone's things or be a bother to someone? It isn't the right thing to do? So it's wrong? Why is it wrong? He isn't actually hurting Nagisa or Nagisa's belongings. The watch isn't broken, the hat is still in one piece, and the seams of the pullover won't be getting stretched out. He doesn't see what the problem is. A nominal loss of property shouldn't be the end of the world.]
Where is the proof that I stole your belongings? Or that I'm jealous of you?
[If Kaworu had ever dealt with an errant child, maybe he could compare this to that. Maybe it would give him some insight, some understanding. He just needs to learn, Kaworu might think, if his logic weren't so screwed up — Nagisa should have learned already. Kaworu was able to learn these things. Why can't Nagisa? Never mind how much time it took Kaworu; Nagisa has the opportunity now.
So Kaworu doesn't compare Nagisa to a child, even if he considers Nagisa to be one. Kaworu doesn't attribute Nagisa's flaws to youth and inexperience. Instead, Nagisa is just a failure, a blight, an embarrassment. He had his chance. His time should be over. What gives him the right to encroach upon Kaworu's attempts at love and living?]
Are you going to lie to me and claim that you didn't/aren't?
[Kaworu has to accept being thought of as a failure. It's a fact of life. He failed to initiate Third Impact, he failed to secure Ikari Shinji's friendship...
Well, that's past tense, right? He has Ikari's friendship now. Not with the same exact Ikari, but one that has similar problems and a gentle smile. Ikari himself was smiling gently when he said they were friends just the other day. He said that because Kaworu was feeling a little frustrated about not knowing how to do the right thing. Ikari told him it takes time to learn about the world--it takes practice, in other words. Practice and more practice. Kaworu was wide-eyed when he listened to the anecdote about Ikari learning to play piano. Teaching Ikari to play piano sounded so appealing that he felt like he was clogged up with jealousy for real. Ikari reassured him by saying they're friends and that they can learn other things together. That helped Kaworu to calm down. It's helping him to stay calm.]
I didn't steal your belongings. I'm borrowing them. So I would be lying if I said I stole them. That's why I asked for proof.
You didn't borrow them, because you took them without asking. That's stealing. Don't you know what stealing is? [Of course he doesn't know what stealing is. Kaworu knows that, knows how much Nagisa doesn't understand, but the knowledge isn't mollifying. It might actually be more infuriating.
Shinji does say that he's friends with Nagisa. Of course. That's because Shinji is good and kind and doesn't know what's good for himself. But it hurts like being lanced; it hurts to know that Shinji is using Kaworu's own methods to befriend Kaworu's worst failure. It took practice and more practice to get rid of Nagisa in the first place. If possible, Kaworu would like to get rid of Nagisa again. But it upsets Shinji to see Kaworu act negatively toward Nagisa... Shinji defends Nagisa, like he's worthwhile...
If Kaworu has proof of anything, it's that he's still not good enough. He digs another pullover out of his store of clothing — which has been disturbed — and wrestles himself into it, feeling like he's having a fit.]
You can't take my things. They're mine. Not yours. Nothing of mine is yours. And since they aren't yours, you can't have them. They were meant for me and my own intentions. My intentions never include giving anything to you.
[Kaworu really doesn't know what stealing is--or else he's been mistaken about it. He thought "stealing" was the intention to keep an object forever, while "borrowing" was the intention to give it back eventually. How does asking for permission factor into either of those decisions? It seems superfluous at best. With or without permission, he is planning to give Nagisa's belongings back to him. Eventually. Not right away. He wanted to spend at least a day with the colorful watch, pretending that it was Ikari who gave it to him.
But there is something about Nagisa's heavily punctuated statements that gives Kaworu a weird feeling. He doesn't know what to call it, but it's partly a heat in his cheeks and a chill crawling down his spine. He's offended? No, not really... Disturbed? Maybe. Protective? Could be. The shuttle finally docks at the Blameless when he replies with,]
Does that include Ikari?
Is he one of your things?
[Forget about stealing. They both know how it feels to be referred to as a thing. And with the way Nagisa has been acting...]
[Given other circumstances, this would be a peaceful, pleasurable thought. Elation, gratitude. And a little chastisement toward himself: You have to do better. Nagisa receives at least the latter, but it's accompanied by none of the faith that Kaworu claims to have in himself. It's hand-in-hand with nothing but vitriol. This is bitter, spiteful, and it burns like stomach acid. Instead of reminding himself that Nagisa is so new, Kaworu's stubborn thoughts insist that Nagisa's words prove him unworthy of Ikari Shinji. Self-righteous, Kaworu thinks, I would never treat Shinji-kun that way. Nagisa is more than mistaken, and Kaworu's only being just.]
And you don't deserve the same, if you would refer to him that way.
[When it comes to the deserving, Nagisa should receive even worse, and Shinji needs better. Deluded by resentment, Kaworu's certain that even if Nagisa has the capacity for growth, there's simply not enough time for it — it took so long for Kaworu to even begin to figure things out... Shinji is the here and now, so there's no room for Nagisa's inefficiency. Nagisa's failure was the most prominent of them all, and that's why— ]
You should know that caring about him won't do any good.
[Kaworu tells himself to stay calm. That's what Ikari seems to like the most--when he stays calm, with a level head and heart, instead of getting upset about Nagisa's treatment of him. Stay calm. Stay calm. He doesn't know how it feels to hear this. But Nagisa knows everything else about him. Looking at Nagisa--at Nagisa's soul--is like looking at the rings of a tree stump to determine its age. Nagisa isn't a different version of him. Nagisa is him. Just an epoch or two older. They're both carrying and comprised of the same Adam. How that's possible, Kaworu doesn't know, but it is what it is...]
You don't like it when I call him Ikari? That's interesting, but Ikari said it's okay with him. Ikari said I can call him whatever I'm most comfortable with. I think of him as Ikari so that's what I'm going to call him: Ikari. And Ikari is my friend, too. Ikari said so.
[Nagisa is such an asshole. If Nagisa wants his stuff back, he's going to have to come and get it himself. The Blameless is familiar with Kaworu's moodiness, so no one looks twice when he trudges down the hallway and shoves his way into his room. He feels like he's surrounded by a storm cloud: it's cool, humid, and dreary, with his clothes sticking to him uncomfortably.]
I won't stop caring about Ikari just because you tell me to.
[Text on a screen doesn't do this justice. There's no way to make it scald like a mouthful of boiling water. Kaworu could say it in the most rounded language, fluid and flowing, and there would still be a clacking of teeth. But text is cool and rigid like marble; Kaworu isn't able to shove Nagisa into glowing coals with his voice. Maybe retrieving his possessions from Nagisa is the best option after all. Kaworu wants to stand over Nagisa, cast a shadow, loom tall as the superior self.
But his mind is sneering: Superior how? Kaworu has done what, exactly? Been successful at kissing? Of all the things to be haughty about...
But he contests this, in a protest made by a martyr for a martyr. These two views of Nagisa Kaworu are separate ends of a very long road. He has more in common with even the Commander than he does with Nagisa. At least, that's his desperate hope. (And when aren't Kaworu's hopes desperate?)]
You asked if he was one of my things. He isn't a thing. Don't ever call him a thing, or I'll [Bust out all of your front teeth? Awful. Nagisa would probably enjoy that. Threats of punishment would be equally counterproductive. Kaworu refuses to feed into him...] make sure it doesn't happen again.
[Of course, it's possible that Kaworu does know how it feels for Nagisa to hear this. It could be that all the loathing he can't convey physically is what helps him select the words he builds into his texts.]
It's true that names are important, though. You call him Ikari because that's what you know. He calls you Nagisa-kun because that's what he knows. If he knew better, he would understand that you are Tabris. How nice for you that I haven't taken the time to explain that to him, yet.
[Nagisa doesn't need to be standing in Kaworu's room for this to feel like a clench of fingers around Kaworu's throat. Tabris. It's a chilling reminder and it's dragging him right back to reality. His near-constant daydreaming about Ikari doesn't change what he is or what happened to him. All at once, Kaworu has no idea what he's feeling on the inside: he's a puddle of confusion and anger and fear and other things he hasn't learned the names of. He feels cornered and pinned down from above. He feels like he only exists because Nagisa has just enough magnanimity to allow it. Nagisa could explain all of Kaworu's horrible history to Ikari and Kaworu wouldn't be able to say he's lying.
But Kaworu isn't going to grovel for forgiveness or something stupid. (He's going to make it worse, because he doesn't know any better.)]
Really? You treat Ikari like he's a thing. You treat him like he belongs to you, like this watch or this hat, even though he doesn't. Ikari belongs to himself; he made that very clear to me, before. Ikari is allowed to think for himself. Just like I'm allowed to be Nagisa Kaworu. That was the name given to me, but it was also the name I chose for myself. You don't have a special claim to it. If you try to say that I'm stealing your name, then I will laugh at you.
[Kaworu is breathing heavily, audibly, by the time he finishes writing that. He crawls into bed and curls up on his side, repeatedly telling himself to ignore what Nagisa thinks. This flattened feeling must be what it feels like to be a pancake.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Don't lose your composure.
Don't throw everything around the room looking for something that isn't there.
Don't storm out into the corridor in nothing but your towel. People won't appreciate it. (This guy, this fucking guy, is probably long gone anyway. If he's smart, at least.)
Now, Kaworu is usually wearing his watch. It was a gift from Shinji; of course he's usually wearing it. When he isn't, it's most often because he's showering, and when he's showering, the watch sits on his bed.
The watch is not on his bed. Kaworu wouldn't have put it anywhere else, so someone must have taken it. Shinji wouldn't have taken it even if he'd come to Kaworu's ship; and the chance that Shikinami did seems equally slim. So, who? Who is garbage enough to come and rifle through Kaworu's things and steal his treasured belongings? There's one answer.]
Why did you go into my bunk?
[Water from Kaworu's hair is dripping into his eyes while he texts.]
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He's about to answer the text, but then he gets distracted by the plastic bag of peppermints he decided to take, too. The peppermints crunch between his teeth with every bite, an interesting mix of smooth (before) and jagged (after). Though he should ration out this candy, though he should answer that text, he continues chewing through more mint(? is this what mint tastes like?)-flavored pieces.]
no subject
Answer me
I'm giving you a chance.
Why did you go into my bunk?
Nagisa, you need to answer me.
[This is frustrating. This is worse than frustrating. The Fleet should find a rock utilized as a galactic landfill, and they should let Nagisa off there and leave.]
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He wonders if he should be afraid of an entity that has the power to hurt him very badly, physically or otherwise. Even a bar of soap can be painful if it gets shoved in your eyes or stuck down your throat. Anyway,]
A chance to do what?
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But Nagisa is nothing like that. Every time Kaworu has to interact with Nagisa, he thinks, Was I really that stupid?
Kaworu drops the communicator onto his bed, too angry to use his fingers to text. For now he'll use his head, and try to soothe himself by getting dressed. A t-shirt is usually the easiest thing to wear after a shower, but if he wants to feel better, he should find something warm and soft and comfortable. He knows just the pullover for the job, and...
He can't find it with any of his clothing.
...
For Shinji's sake, Kaworu really shouldn't cause a scene. The light in his room flickers off, though. Kaworu barely refrains from popping the bulb.]
A chance to return my belongings on your own. That's why you came in, isn't it? To steal from me?
You should know better. You aren't supposed to take someone's things or be a bother to them. Haven't you been intrusive enough?
[Nagisa tramples on everything. Peace and personal space, and most importantly, Kaworu's relationship with Shinji. It was mortifying to face Shikinami after she met what Kaworu used to be, but for Shinji to meet Nagisa was... Kaworu pondered a literal double suicide.]
There's no point in being jealous of me.
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But Third Impact is irrelevant now.
NERV is irrelevant.
The lessons of the old men are irrelevant.
The old men and their plans--they're irrelevant, too. Kaworu can easily say he's glad to be free of them. Relieved. Ready to move on. He can express himself as an Angel, whenever he wants to, and the rest of the Fleet won't hate him for it.
But now he's without any sort of reference point. Why shouldn't he take someone's things or be a bother to someone? It isn't the right thing to do? So it's wrong? Why is it wrong? He isn't actually hurting Nagisa or Nagisa's belongings. The watch isn't broken, the hat is still in one piece, and the seams of the pullover won't be getting stretched out. He doesn't see what the problem is. A nominal loss of property shouldn't be the end of the world.]
Where is the proof that I stole your belongings? Or that I'm jealous of you?
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So Kaworu doesn't compare Nagisa to a child, even if he considers Nagisa to be one. Kaworu doesn't attribute Nagisa's flaws to youth and inexperience. Instead, Nagisa is just a failure, a blight, an embarrassment. He had his chance. His time should be over. What gives him the right to encroach upon Kaworu's attempts at love and living?]
Are you going to lie to me and claim that you didn't/aren't?
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Well, that's past tense, right? He has Ikari's friendship now. Not with the same exact Ikari, but one that has similar problems and a gentle smile. Ikari himself was smiling gently when he said they were friends just the other day. He said that because Kaworu was feeling a little frustrated about not knowing how to do the right thing. Ikari told him it takes time to learn about the world--it takes practice, in other words. Practice and more practice. Kaworu was wide-eyed when he listened to the anecdote about Ikari learning to play piano. Teaching Ikari to play piano sounded so appealing that he felt like he was clogged up with jealousy for real. Ikari reassured him by saying they're friends and that they can learn other things together. That helped Kaworu to calm down. It's helping him to stay calm.]
I didn't steal your belongings. I'm borrowing them. So I would be lying if I said I stole them. That's why I asked for proof.
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Shinji does say that he's friends with Nagisa. Of course. That's because Shinji is good and kind and doesn't know what's good for himself. But it hurts like being lanced; it hurts to know that Shinji is using Kaworu's own methods to befriend Kaworu's worst failure. It took practice and more practice to get rid of Nagisa in the first place. If possible, Kaworu would like to get rid of Nagisa again. But it upsets Shinji to see Kaworu act negatively toward Nagisa... Shinji defends Nagisa, like he's worthwhile...
If Kaworu has proof of anything, it's that he's still not good enough. He digs another pullover out of his store of clothing — which has been disturbed — and wrestles himself into it, feeling like he's having a fit.]
You can't take my things. They're mine. Not yours. Nothing of mine is yours. And since they aren't yours, you can't have them. They were meant for me and my own intentions. My intentions never include giving anything to you.
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But there is something about Nagisa's heavily punctuated statements that gives Kaworu a weird feeling. He doesn't know what to call it, but it's partly a heat in his cheeks and a chill crawling down his spine. He's offended? No, not really... Disturbed? Maybe. Protective? Could be. The shuttle finally docks at the Blameless when he replies with,]
Does that include Ikari?
Is he one of your things?
[Forget about stealing. They both know how it feels to be referred to as a thing. And with the way Nagisa has been acting...]
no subject
[Given other circumstances, this would be a peaceful, pleasurable thought. Elation, gratitude. And a little chastisement toward himself: You have to do better. Nagisa receives at least the latter, but it's accompanied by none of the faith that Kaworu claims to have in himself. It's hand-in-hand with nothing but vitriol. This is bitter, spiteful, and it burns like stomach acid. Instead of reminding himself that Nagisa is so new, Kaworu's stubborn thoughts insist that Nagisa's words prove him unworthy of Ikari Shinji. Self-righteous, Kaworu thinks, I would never treat Shinji-kun that way. Nagisa is more than mistaken, and Kaworu's only being just.]
And you don't deserve the same, if you would refer to him that way.
[When it comes to the deserving, Nagisa should receive even worse, and Shinji needs better. Deluded by resentment, Kaworu's certain that even if Nagisa has the capacity for growth, there's simply not enough time for it — it took so long for Kaworu to even begin to figure things out... Shinji is the here and now, so there's no room for Nagisa's inefficiency. Nagisa's failure was the most prominent of them all, and that's why— ]
You should know that caring about him won't do any good.
no subject
You don't like it when I call him Ikari? That's interesting, but Ikari said it's okay with him. Ikari said I can call him whatever I'm most comfortable with. I think of him as Ikari so that's what I'm going to call him: Ikari. And Ikari is my friend, too. Ikari said so.
[Nagisa is such an asshole. If Nagisa wants his stuff back, he's going to have to come and get it himself. The Blameless is familiar with Kaworu's moodiness, so no one looks twice when he trudges down the hallway and shoves his way into his room. He feels like he's surrounded by a storm cloud: it's cool, humid, and dreary, with his clothes sticking to him uncomfortably.]
I won't stop caring about Ikari just because you tell me to.
[...]
I can't stop.
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[Text on a screen doesn't do this justice. There's no way to make it scald like a mouthful of boiling water. Kaworu could say it in the most rounded language, fluid and flowing, and there would still be a clacking of teeth. But text is cool and rigid like marble; Kaworu isn't able to shove Nagisa into glowing coals with his voice. Maybe retrieving his possessions from Nagisa is the best option after all. Kaworu wants to stand over Nagisa, cast a shadow, loom tall as the superior self.
But his mind is sneering: Superior how? Kaworu has done what, exactly? Been successful at kissing? Of all the things to be haughty about...
But he contests this, in a protest made by a martyr for a martyr. These two views of Nagisa Kaworu are separate ends of a very long road. He has more in common with even the Commander than he does with Nagisa. At least, that's his desperate hope. (And when aren't Kaworu's hopes desperate?)]
You asked if he was one of my things. He isn't a thing. Don't ever call him a thing, or I'll [Bust out all of your front teeth? Awful. Nagisa would probably enjoy that. Threats of punishment would be equally counterproductive. Kaworu refuses to feed into him...] make sure it doesn't happen again.
[Of course, it's possible that Kaworu does know how it feels for Nagisa to hear this. It could be that all the loathing he can't convey physically is what helps him select the words he builds into his texts.]
It's true that names are important, though. You call him Ikari because that's what you know. He calls you Nagisa-kun because that's what he knows. If he knew better, he would understand that you are Tabris. How nice for you that I haven't taken the time to explain that to him, yet.
no subject
But Kaworu isn't going to grovel for forgiveness or something stupid. (He's going to make it worse, because he doesn't know any better.)]
Really? You treat Ikari like he's a thing. You treat him like he belongs to you, like this watch or this hat, even though he doesn't. Ikari belongs to himself; he made that very clear to me, before. Ikari is allowed to think for himself. Just like I'm allowed to be Nagisa Kaworu. That was the name given to me, but it was also the name I chose for myself. You don't have a special claim to it. If you try to say that I'm stealing your name, then I will laugh at you.
[Kaworu is breathing heavily, audibly, by the time he finishes writing that. He crawls into bed and curls up on his side, repeatedly telling himself to ignore what Nagisa thinks. This flattened feeling must be what it feels like to be a pancake.]
It's my name. You can't take it away from me.
So don't try it.