Disclaimer: I don't own Neon Genesis Evangelion
Megane: How shall I say it...
Posted June Twenty-sixth, 2008
The lenses are thick. Polycarbonate sitting in a metal frame, cold and heavy in his hands: light reflecting and retracting and he squints, closes his eyes, sets them to the side. Hesitantly reaches for the bottle they gave him - almost inconspicuous, that - and looks to the ceiling. The case is on the table, resting before his television, and it is black, fake-leather. Or real leather. His sense of touch has been off lately, along with his appetite and thoughts.
It's lined with red, red velvet. In the beginning he had been surprised they'd allowed him to choose, but then he had remembered. This year, he was meeting Ikari Shinji.
Kaworu slips them on delicately, six fingers and the bridge of his nose, takes them off. Frowns, unaccustomed to the weight. The ones he had last were lighter, and he doesn't know if his vision is getting worse, or if it's simply because of the new shape he chose. He scans the arms of the thing, looking over the inevitable designs on the outer edge, small ropes and swirls almost invisible. And Nagisa smiles, because yes, they're the same colour as his eyes.
xxxx
He meets the boy at the marking of a battle. Water against ground, the salty taste of the sea in the air and the nostalgic scent of mud filling his senses. Reminding him of - and at this he realizes he has never been to the sea before. Ocean water, too, is foreign despite his namesake. He has only this crater, this statue that withstands the ripples of the - Nagisa's eyes are closed against the harsh light of the sun, hands brushing against rough concrete, but when Ikari doesn't speak, he turns and smiles. Face a blur, a blur.
xxxx
It leaves an odd taste, the awkwardness of a plugsuit and neural clips. Synthetic rubber. The heavy weight of the lever to his left, to his right, lukewarm from LCL. He wonders how his voice is so clear despite liquid breathing, where exactly the daylight is coming from. He's interested, in how this works. Is only let down slightly when they ignore his questions with brisk professionalism, and simply proceed with simulations. Checking and rechecking figures, giving orders, technical language he just barely has a grasp of. The differences are there, but the feel is the same. And he can smile, knowing that Ikari has gone through all this and more.
This, too: He can barely read the numbers in front of him. It's hard to distinguish between layers and layers of superimposed graphics, blurring shapes. But compared to SEELE it's easy, so easy, and he passes with astonishingly high synchronization rates. They won't admit it to him directly, and as he is released from the entry plug they escort him, almost nervously, to the lockers. Excuses. He assures them, voice low and warm, cotton-soft. Skin sticky, hair dripping lifeblood onto the tiles, he peels off the issued (uniform) and steps into the shower.
The third is waiting for him when he leaves NERV headquarters. This is something new - he can feel it, swelling in the tips of his fingers, in his hips - and he has read something of this, he knows, he knows. The boy's face looks so delicately broken, from this distance. He has left the glasses at home, resting in their case behind the closet door, and he thinks it's worth it.
Because, Shinji's hand is warm. He doesn't pull away, and he doesn't pull closer, and everything is as if for the longest time Kaworu has wanted to see just this one thing and maybe, possibly, absolutely, he is satisfied.
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Written for last-seashore's (Livejournal community) "Kaworu with glasses" contest/challenge.