It's a little bit fucked up, but it's not something she can help, not something she can describe. Asuka fucking hates it – she hates the fact that she can't understand what's going on in her own head, can't tell herself to shut up, or even put a name to her own shit. I mean, what is this shit, anyway? It's a tired restlessness, a cold heat – it's trying to suppress the tremors of her fingers with her other, trembling hand; it's tossing her bed sheets aside and writhing off the heat, only to crawl back into the covers and freeze away the cold.
Whatever it is, she'll fucking kill it. She's Asuka fucking Langley – she'll reach her severed arm out to the last moment and she'll fucking–
Kill you, I'll kill you, I'll
"Kill you, I'll kill you, ich werde dich–"
A gentle shake. Asuka's eyes – eye, that is – shoots open, and the room moves dizzily before her gaze. Still – when no one should have to get used to something like this – she's unused to the newfound limits of that gaze, and enters a state of perpetual confusion.
She blinks, and the world turns blacker, narrows. An ice cold, red hot feeling stabs her; isn't blinking supposed to help? She blinks. Darker, thicker. Shouldn't it clear her vision? She blinks. She blinks. What else is she supposed to do? She blinks.
"Ich kann nicht sehen," she rasps, "ich kann nicht sehen, ich kann nicht sehen!"
"Asuka, calm your tits! I can't fucking speak German!"
Her hearing jump starts and it's sharp, cutting. The voice is in English – a language which Asuka, luckily, is fluent in – and sounds panicked.
"Fuck's sake, Asuka…"
She doesn't even notice her own tears until someone's thumbs are on her cheeks, brushing them away. A figure becomes clear, leaning over her. Asuka almost doesn't recognise it with its dark head of hair running freely and wildly as a river, squinting at her from its oversized t-shirt, but–
"Four-eyes?"
A nod. That's when Asuka notices how clumsy Mari's hands are – she can't see shit.
"That's me, Princess." She switches to Japanese, their common language. Asuka can speak English, of course, but Mari rarely allows it. She secretly feels guilty for being unable to speak to Asuka in her native tongue.
Asuka is gripped by emotion, though once again she can't quite identify it. Has anyone ever done this before? Has anyone ever come to her, simply because they could? Has anyone ever even come to her because she is what she is – because she's Asuka – and they just want to?
No one. Not even Stupid Shinji.
"So, are you okay now?"
Asuka nods, slowly. A discomfort gnaws at her scalp and she tears her eye patch off, tossing it to the ground before slipping her arms around Mari's shoulders and pulling her down. She knows that Mari can't see the raw, festering flesh where her left eye should be, but she's conscious of it anyway; she'd rather the dark-haired girl nuzzle into her neck – like so – and run a slow, soothing hand down the length of her back. She'd rather Mari was blind to her atrocities. God knows she'd be the only one.
"Is this your way of asking me to stay, Princess?"
Asuka silently moves her nose into Mari's hair, and that's answer enough.
Asuka feels significantly calmer. It's a little bit fucked up, and it's not something she can help, or something she can describe, but somehow she doesn't feel the need to put a name to it anymore.
Not now.
A/N: lol this got taken down because i forgot you couldn't swear in the summary. it took a couple of days before i was allowed to upload stuff again so sorry for the inconvenience guys