Notes: This story is to be a strange, surreal-like third-impact world. Obviously a love story for the sappy dudes like me. However, this story will be adult-oriented. From years of reading fiction, I would recommend that anyone 17 or younger have parental guidance on many of the issues covered. This story will include sexuality, language, and a dark undertone. Please read with care, and remember that it's only a fan fiction.
Also, this is to be a SHORT story. It will be divided into a few/several short chapters. Don't expect me to grab a dump truck of EVA for you.
Story Title: Remember Chapter One: The Forgotten Clearing Author: Mosher-24
Sometimes I'd forget which way was up or down when I sat like this. My feet were in the air, my head looking at the television upside down, the dark screen reflecting the sun through the blinds. The air was quiet, a blanket of silence around my motionless form. I blinked slowly once, twice, and smiled at nothing in particular.
The refrigerator hummed softly as it created new ice. A bird sang lazily outside the window.
"I need to get up," I said to myself, though I didn't know why. I didn't need to get up, nor did I have to say it aloud to myself.
'Then get up.'
I looked around for the source of the voice I had heard, but failed to locate it. A cold feeling rose from my stomach to my throat, as I sat unable to move. The apartment was once again quiet; nothing moved. I blinked slowly again. Again.
With slow, deliberate movements, I rose from the couch, and moved to the door. My shoes were easy enough to put on, and I was soon on my way out. The door hissed shut behind me, and the bright of day shone in my eyes. The air, only a hint of a breeze, was still and quiet, and everywhere could feel it was a Sunday.
'Is it Sunday?'
I started, and looked behind me. Nothing. To the right. Nothing. All around. Nothing, nothing, nothing. I swallowed hard and ran a hand through my air. The voice was faint, as if far away, not to mention the girl's voice was very soft. It was all too familiar to me, but all I wanted to do was run. I wanted to run from this damned apartment, this damned city, and this damned body I was in.
But I was Shinji Ikari and I couldn't change it, could I?
"No," I whispered to myself as I started out of the building, down the stairs, out the doors, through the parking lot. I started to run. My legs pumped hard, sending a warm adrenaline feeling through my body like a spreading fire. My chest started to burn, but I paid no mind. My breath became more like a mantra in my head, then the sound of breathing.
I don't know where I was headed. I ran because I could, and that's it. My path went over hills, through streets, in front of cars, through parks, and when I stopped, I had no idea where I was. I looked around, breathing hard, an ache in my chest. My vision was slightly blurry, but I got a good picture.
It was a small clearing in what appeared to be a woodland area, except I could see the street if I looked back to where I came from. The sun seemed channeled directly on this place, and I knew this was where I was supposed to go.
In the center of the clearing was a pond, dirty and unremarkable. Inside, small fish swam around, oblivious of their small little world. There were few plants, no flowers, and almost a total lack of aesthetic value, but I felt almost a spiritual connection to this place. It was built for me, I knew it.
"It was built for us," came a soft female voice from behind me. With a languid slowness, I turned to face a slender, pale girl with crimson eyes, and deep blue hair. I knew her name. I knew the school outfit she was wearing, and the way she walked. Her footsteps were silent on the carefully cut grass, whispering sounds of closeness getting ever closer.
"What do you mean?" I asked her. Her face came ever closer to mine, those crimson eyes staring, unblinking, daunting. The sun seemed to intensify, and illuminate even the smallest of facial expressions in this girl, or was that just my imagination?
"It is strange that you do not remember," Rei said evenly, not even the slightest look of disappointment on her face. I closed my eyes, and opened them again to make sure she was real. The first child was still standing there when my eyes reopened, the same look on her face, the same look in her eyes.
"I want to remember," I said to her, feeling a slight desperation somewhere in my chest, though I wasn't sure why. A car went by on the road, followed by another, and a bird chirped somewhere close. All was silent again after that, except for the constant sound of bugs in the distance. The sky was free of clouds, the sun having an unobstructed view of Rei and I.
"Paint me a picture, Ikari," she said softly, before turning away and walking off. Her pale figure disappeared somewhere in the bright sunlight, and I found myself once again alone in the solitude of the forgotten clearing. My eyes moved all around, but again, I was left at a loss for the happenings of the day. I sighed. What could I ever do but sigh?
I had acquired the items I needed. The canvas as set up in my little closet room. I had all matters of acrylic colours strewn around my desktop; on my bed a variety of brushes. I had never painted before. I knew it was going to stink, but something in what Rei said made me do it. It was compelling, and I knew somehow would be rewarding.
"What are you doing?" came a voice from the hall. I had forgotten to close my door, and now a red haired teenager was staring at me with inquisitive eyes. I looked at her and attempted a smile, but I'm sure it was the shy smile she always hated, because she came right into my room to survey my supplies with a disgusted sigh.
"Painting? Since when do you know how to paint, Shinji?" Asuka asked, not necessarily prodding me, but more asking out of genuine curiosity. I shrugged, as did she, before leaving my room. I watched her walk down the hall and out into the main room. I heard her turn on the television as I shut the door to my room. Misato was still not home.
I took a brush in my hand and stared at it for minutes. I looked at each strand and then I looked at it all together before I began to get an idea. I need blue to start, so I made a palette out of my desk. On any other day, the thought of doing that would have disgusted me. It was a thought too out of the norm, too far from my comfort zone. I liked stuff clean, but not today.
That's it.
I didn't even miss a beat when I heard the soft, far away voice. I dipped the brush in the blue and dragged it across the canvas, and I was on my way. I didn't know what I was painting, but my hands did. They did al the work for me. Asuka laughed in the other room. I heard the bathroom door open, shut, then open and shut a few minutes later. I heard cars, airplanes, helicopters, and people. I eventually heard the heaters kicking to life, the birds, the bugs, the dogs, and the cats. I heard everything, and I ignored it and it felt great.
When I was finished with the painting, I stared at it. I was in awe of what I had painted. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't beautiful, but it was something. It was something I had never experienced before, but somehow the painting brought back memories. It was like reading a post-it note from a diary of someone else, vivid enough to see it yourself.
Except for the fact that it was a post-it note from the diary of my life. And I had forgotten, until now.
To be continued.