and the world counts aloud to ten;
one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, outten.

one.

She shouted in victory as the fanfare played from the game console. The brown-haired boy, all muted eyes and limp hair, simply smiled in amusement at her reaction.

"What?" She reverted to anger. He imagined her red hair to be fire, and found that the vision came too easily to him.

"Nothing."

"Moron."

two.

"You're looking cheerful," a motherly smile for one who had never been a daughter.

"I beat Shinji at racing today" There was forced non-chalance in her voice but the mother pretended not to notice.

Instead, she turned to the boy, "really?"

"Finally," the boy was asking for it.

The girl stopped the words from rolling off her tongue. She tried sorting them through, but she could not find anything to say that was not clawed and sharpened. So, "whatever."

three.

He was sure that the whole neighborhood could hear her shouts of victory, but he made no comment on it. Instead, he let out a bored yawn and stretched his arms above his head.

She stopped her fanfare and placed her hands on her hips, watching him with slight annoyance.

He quirked an eyebrow in question, "what?"

For a moment, he saw embarassment cross her eyes, but the moment passed too quickly for him to be sure of it. "Nothing, you idiot."

He fancied that seeing tenderness in Asuka was naive fantasizing.

four.

"School is boring," she commented, yawning as if to emphasize the point.

"Yeah, for you," as if he actually made enough effort to find it boring. He had forgotten the last time his mind wasn't off daydreaming when in class.

She grinned, happy that he admitted his own defeat, "that's 'cause you're stupid."

"I know," he simply smiled in contentment. "I can't graduate from highschool even when I reach sixty," he humored her, referring to her early graduation from college.

Words, that might make him a friend, came to the tip of her tongue, but she spitted them away in disgust from the sweetness. "Obviously," she smirked in malice.

five.

The mother looked at her two foster children lovingly as they made disgusted faces at every bite of their dinner. They truly made cooking dinner worthwhile.

"You're looking cheerful," she told her daughter; foster daughter, whatever.

"Mmhm, winners get to smile," she made the point by grinning widely.

"Well," the boy sitting next to her placed his spoon down with an accomplished smile plastered on his face. "I was waiting for when you'll finally win," wiping that grin off his face was going to be hard.

She could say it. It was almost out of her lips. Just a little mo-- "whatever, idiot."

six.

He didn't know that the extravagant fanfare coming from the game console could be overpowered by any sound, but her shrieking proved him wrong. Watching her jump up and down on the couch, he could almost imagine her to be a friend.

He laughed a little; in gladness, perhaps.

She stopped her cajolling and tilted her head to the side in question; mild annoyance in her eyes. And a little too loudly, "what?"

He laughed a little more, "nothing." He wasn't laughing at her though; he rather wished she would laugh with him.

For a while more, his was the only laughter in the room. But soon her frown curled up to a mild smile, and she watched him laugh at nothing at all; tenderness in her eyes.

He could almost imagine her as family.

seven.

"This is boring," she crossed her hands behind her head, closing her eyes, as if knowing that nothing could make her fall.

"Mmhm," he replied absently, eyes wandering to the crying kid who fell on the sidewalk earlier.

She grinned poisonously. "It's boring for you 'cause you don't even get it."

"Mmhm," he nodded in agreement. "Can't graduate even if I try."

Consoling words come to her lips, but she refused to let them out. She didn't need to say nice things to people; if they didn't like her the way she was, then she has no need of them. She said nothing and looked away, unable to find anymore poison in her veins.

eight.

"I beat Shinji at racing today" there was a trill in her voice that was rarely heard. "No one can win against me for long!"

There was non-chalance in the boy's voice, "It was thanks to someone who sacrificed his studying time." Misato would reprimand the boy for not studying if only it didn't result in Asuka being appeased for the night; anything was worth a night of happy-Asuka.

Anger filled her eyes as she gripped her chopsticks too tightly. "I didn't ask you for it!" It seemed that Misato would have to reprimand him anyway.

"I know," the boy replied in a sing-song voice. "Just thought you'd stop feeling bad about losing if you win for once."

Sighing in defeat, the mother prepared herself for the fight about to ensue. The boy was always ready, he had himself constantly armoured for any onslaught she might throw upon him. But silence reigned in the room for a few moments when her expected shriek was not heard.

She grumbled a little instead. "Hmph, thanks." The other two looked at her in shock. Trying to preserve whatever pride she still had, she held her head high as she chewed her dinner.

Their good night's sleep was easily-earned for tonight.

nine.

"Help me," he pleaded; his eyes too muted for his own good. "Help me, Asuka."

She wished she could get him to laugh at nothing again, but she couldn't find it in her to fight anymore. She would let him win this time.

"Hey, wake up," she wished he wouldn't touch her, but she found that she would rather let her touch him than wake up. She felt so tired. He was shaking her now; she knew it but she couldn't feel it.

She couldn't feel her body, but she knew his tears would feel cold on her skin. She wished she could slap him out of it.

"Call me an idiot like you always do," She found that she wasn't even going to try.

She found, however, that she could finally say what she had meant to say all along: Don't cry; they'll know you're weak.

Don't break.

TEN.

Shinji dodged the running kid, moving absently as if deep in thought.

"School is so boring," she whined; lips pouted and eyes narrowed. He knew that it was days like these that he should unleash his people-pleasing skills on her.

"Not for me," he sighed as if in defeat. Hopefully she would take joy in seeing him miserable.

She grinned a little, "That's 'cause you're an idiot."

It seemed to be working well enough; she was not physically hurting him at least. "Yup, can't pass highschool even if I tried."

He waited for the next insult to come, running his mind through the numerous possibilities and matching them with replies that would earn him the least amount of beating. He stole a glance at her, surprised that she seemed to be deep in thought instead.

"Can't you see?" she said angrily, but he knew she was not angry at him. "You can if you just try, can't you see?" She forced the words through her teeth, as if they refused to come out of her mouth.

Then he realized that it was the first time she actually confronted herself.

--fin