[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.]
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[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.
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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.
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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.