(OPEN) let me play you the song of my people

[imusntrunaway]

Date & Time: An indefinite time after the festival.
Location: The music rooms, Unit 208, some musty old club.
Characters: Shinji and YOOOOOOOU
Summary: Shinji wants to kill time after listening to all those merry tunes during the festival. The cello is a potent weapon. Also music in the moonlight with an Angel wow how nice.
Warnings: Depressed teenage introspection. Mumbling. Super gay duets. Uuuh nothing else really.

(OOC: Prose or action is fine by me!!)

If one ventures near the music rooms in the early mornings, or if the residents of 208 happened to be around, they might hear classical music floating through the air. The source of this music comes from one Shinji Ikari, his back faced to the door as his fingers deftly dance across the cello's strings. His eyes are closed in concentration--he's tuned out the world as he plays, looking for once content.

Most days, the network was his anesthesia. But there were times where, as he laid languidly on his bed, staring at nothing in particular, he felt a smothering weight on his chest. Doing nothing only seemed to make it worse. Shinji thought that things would be the same in Exsilium as they had been on Earth. He'd been right, but he'd also been wrong. Seeing his fellow pilots-- seeing Kaworu alive--

Something had quietly begun to change within him. A small seed of unrest had been planted that wormed through his apathy.

The bow drags along the strings with the measured skill of an experienced musician. But to his ears, it's a rusty plod. He hasn't been improving, advancing.

Surprisingly, that irritates him.

The music plays on, harsher and angrier.

[FEBRUARY 14th, CLOSED; FOR KAWORU]
The night air nips at his face, numbing it. As he sighs deeply his breath wavers in the air before fading into nothing. On his back is his cello. The instrument was the reason why it took him so long to leave the apartment. Shinji had internally debated on whether to bring it. In the end, the memory of soft-spoken words (i would love to hear you play) is what decided for him.

The festival is over. The litter of festivities covers the streets. The city feels desolate and mournful as he walks on, eyes trained on his tablet. Occasionally he glances up to make sure he's going the right way, but otherwise he keeps his head down, his pace fast.

He isn't sure how this will end. He's said some harsh words to the Angel during their last meeting and the fact that the other still invited him, out of a patient kindness... it makes him feel guilty. Because despite everything he's said, despite the distance he tried to shove between them, there's a truth he's been burying deep within himself so he wouldn't have to look straight at it.

(I miss you. I'm lonely.)

He's ashamed of himself having such feelings and for hiding them.

The ruins rise gently into his line of sight. He's arrived. Cautiously, he enters, his hand pressed against the worn door frame.

"... hello?" he calls softly.

Comments

[redheadcarrier]

Asuka's temper flares up, along with something that feels far too much like panic. She stamps her foot petulantly, leaning over into Shinji's personal face so she can yell at him, "You can't do this to me, Shinji! You can't just pretend that you're fine! I know there's something wrong - you - you're just hiding it from me!"

[imusntrunaway]

She's close, much too close. Her invasive presence causes a heavy dread to rise up in him--he has a terrible urge to apologize profusely, prostate himself, anything just to have her move away from him. He feels as if he's being smothered. Shinji instinctively leans away, a dumb surprise spreading across his face. He stares at her, saying nothing.

Then, softly, with some venom of his own, he answers:

"Why does it matter? You don't care."

[redheadcarrier]

Asuka's face registers a bit of shock and surprise - she can count the number of times Shinji has stood up to her or tried to argue with her on one hand. Why should now by any different? But of course it is. They're not in Tokyo-3 anymore and she's is no longer a pilot. She's a warrior (or she pretends to be); a fighter for a new organization because she wants to find a purpose to cling to. There's bile in her throat and she remembers talking to the Fifth - telling him she wanted to change. Yet here she is, brow-beating and arguing with Shinji all over again.

Because it's easy. Because it's familiar. Because it makes her feel a little better (for a moment) - but right now she just feels sick to her stomach. She's angry, too. Angry at Shinji, angry at the world, angry at herself. Her hand comes up in an open-handed slap, aimed at Shinji's cheek.

"Shut up-"

Her voice is eerily quit compared to the shriek of a moment ago, but it's slowly starting to gain volume again.

"-just shut up! You don't understand anything! You don't-!"

Her voice cracks just as it starts to rise and she's utterly, completely ashamed to discover that she's starting to cry and underneath the tears her cheeks are burning with shame. The wrods come out in a stream and she hates herself a little more with each passing second. She's a weak, stupid little girl. She's not worth anything and the weight of her own self-hatred starts to press down on her.

"All I ever wanted from you was for you to look at me! And you couldn't even do that! You were always too wrapped up in your own stupid pity party, with the First-"

She always hated it when he paid more attention to Ayanami. Her hands grab at his shirt, balling into fists as she squeezes eyes shut against the tears. She's broken and she hates that it's all on display for Ikari.

She ends weakly, "You don't understand at all. You can't - just stop ignoring me."

[imusntrunaway]

She moves too quickly for him to react. The slap hits its mark, ringing loudly in his ears. The flesh stings. Shinji's hand shoots up, touching his bruising cheek.

He's reminded of the first time he's been struck--by Misato, for disobeying an order. Punished for responding with the wrong attitude.

He deserves this. He deserves her hate. He deserves to be hit, he knows this and it crushes him. He wants to crawl and hide away, but he stiffly sits there, head turned to the side, fighting back his own tears, doing what he did best:

Nothing.

He doesn't understand her. Doesn't understand why she has to keep pushing him away even as she yanked him forwards, leaving him breathless and unsure. He's been looking at her. He's been watching her, just like she wanted. That's all he's done, all he dares to do. But she wants something more, wants something that he has to step out of the safety of his carefully constructed solitude to understand, and he's terrified to do that. He can't do that. He can't be expected to, right?

(He's a coward, through and through.)

So when she grabs his shirt he breaks, like the weakling he is. His voice cracks as he answers her.

"I'm sorry. I've been trying. I've tried. You don't understand either. You don't understand how I've been feeling! I--"

A shaky exhale. He has to resist the urge to bury his head between his hands and scream.

"It isn't fair. It isn't-- you can't expect me to understand you like this!"

[redheadcarrier]

Why does she keep coming back to him? She should hate him (she does), she should forget about him (she tries), she should leave him behind (but she can't). She's a part of her past that she can't shake here. He keeps creeping back - no, she keeps going back, because he's familiar. Because it'll be a bit easier than reaching out to the people here. Because he's "safe". He isn't going to challenge her, he isn't going to try and tug at the carefully constructed web of self-delusion that she keeps trying to rebuild around herself. Tenjou and Maryam don't understand what happened and wouldn't be able to (that's the lie she tells herself).

Her grip slackens as she realizes that he isn't going to give her what she wants. There isn't going to be acceptance or love or understanding. Just more of his cowardice.

She feels sick.

What else should she have expected from the boy who tried to strangle her on that horrible stretch of sand? Her arms fall slack to her side, gaze locked on a point on the floor. Her hands start to clench again, but her voice sounds hollow and flat.

"You haven't even tried to understand."

She can't articulate why she needs someone to understand everything she's been through. She can't put into words why she craves acceptance without any strings attached. No conditions. Just approval for who she is. Even if she wanted to talk about it, she couldn't put what hating herself (for her mother's sake) feels like.

So they're stuck, desperately trying to understand one another and totally unable to do so.

[imusntrunaway]

He's sick of having to do this over and over again, of being swept up in this cycle of chasing and shoving again. But even as he runs from Asuka and Kaworu and Rei, he needs them badly. No one else could understand. No one else could help him. Kazu and the others who reached out to him--he can't open up to them, how could he? He wants someone to help him. Even as he keeps away, he wants someone to grab him by the hand and save him from this terrible loneliness and useless feeling.

(Let me be worth something. Somebody, please, help me. But his mouth won't open to plead.)

He brushes his eyes with the back of his hand. He's crying when he should be answering her, protesting. How goddamn shameful and pitiful of him. How weak.

"How-- how am I supposed to?"

[redheadcarrier]

Her anger flares again - she's already angry at herself for breaking down like this and she takes a step back to scrub at her eyes, trying to banish the tears. She yells again, "By at least trying! You never - all you ever want to do is wait for someone else to do the work! That's all! You never-"

She doesn't want to stand here and do this. She doesn't want him to see this. So Asuka gives it up, turns and flees.

What a terrible idea that had been.