I am lying on the bed.
It is Saturday, the clock reads 15:32, and I am tired.
Synch tests, as usual. My ratio was as always, and nobody really expected different. But it is important to check. Synchronisation is a tiring process, and the shower afterwards was soothing to me, the water's caress warming my body and washing away the taint of the LCL. I want to sleep, insofar as I want anything. I lie on the bed in my school uniform as always, for I possess few articles of clothing. School uniforms, a shirt or two, underwear. My plug suit too of course, but that is kept at NERV.
I hear a knock upon the door.
I am suprised-nobody ever visits me. Rarely, anyway. They used to, long ago before I di...before my conciousness was transferred into this body. But only very rarely to people call on me now. I do not answer the door-They may come in if they wish. If I find the visitor's presence disagreeable I will ask them to leave. It is not the best strategy, perhaps. If they wish me harm I have no method of forcibly evicting them-but I have no method of keeping them out, either. There is no lock. In any case, NERV agents monitor the building. If they thought the visitor suspicious, that visitor would not be knocking on the door.
"Ayanami?"
It is Pilot Ikari. I wonder what he wants. He has been here before, once to give me my new security card and once afterwards. We had tea together, then. It is odd how I remember that, much as I remember each and every time he has touched me, for whatever reason.
His footsteps sound in the hall, and the door opens. Ikari leans into the room, and smiles awkwardly. I have never understood why other people use so much expression. Perhaps they wonder why I use so little. I do not smile back. I did so once for him, but that was a special moment, though I am hard pressed to say why. And it is one that still brings me an unfamiliar warmth. I give him my attention, and his mouth opens.
"Hi, Ayanami."
"Ikari." I respond. "What do you want?"
His expression changes, becomes uncomfortable. Perhaps he does not wish me to know, finds it embarassing. Or maybe it is something in the way I phrased the question. No matter. I rise from the bed, standing next to it as Ikari answers me.
"Well... I have...I have something for you..." He mumbles softly. It is odd, the way he speaks. It is as if some part of him fears to say the words and tries to pull them back, causing a garbled mess of sound. He steps further into view, but one arm is still hidden behind the door. He obviously holds something in it-something for me, he said. It seems he fears to enter the room. I speak:
"Enter."
He does so at last, bringing the item into view. He holds it in both hands now, and stares at the ground. His cheeks are red, and still darkening.
Ikari is holding flowers.
Tulips, I think, though I know little of such things. The flowers are a light blue, almost the same shade as my hair. At least they are not red. I hate red. If those flowers had been red...I don't know what I would have done. Probably nothing. But I still hate red.
"Why?" I ask Ikari, curious. Why is he bringing me dead plants? And why is he so uncomfortable? I think there might be some higher meaning to the flowers, something beyond their physical presence. Certain actions and phenomena evoke certain responses in humans-nudity causes shock and embarrasment, for instance. It seems to me like nobody ever just says something. It is all done in this odd form of code. He twitches at my question, and pauses, obviously struggling for the strength to speak. I wait, first for ten seconds. Twenty. Twenty five. And then, dead on thirty, Ikari answers me, though he is so incoherent he may as well not have bothered.
"Well, um, I, uh, that is, though, you..." He gulps and breathes in deeply. "I mean, I thought they might...might suit your apartment...and they, they remind, they, remind me of you..."
I take a second to decode Ikari's fragmented statement, and tilt my head in thought. "I remind you of flowers?" I ask, confused. I wonder what he means.
Ikari blushes even more. He can't have much blood spare, now. I'm suprised his cheeks haven't burst from the pressure. I wonder for a moment how a boy capable of facing down a army-destroying monster whilst piloting a creation in which he had no prior training or knowledge freezes and panics when talking to me. I think he suffers from selective courage.
Imagine for a moment that bravery can be measured. That every human holds a certain amount, which can be spent and recovered like money. Ikari holds no less than anybody else-more than most, maybe-but in facing the Angels he expends it all. This leaves him next to no courage left to perform all the little things other humans do with relative ease, such as talking to others. That strikes me as sad, for some reason.
Whilst I ponder this idea, I notice that Ikari is nodding. I stare at the flowers, and comprehension dawns. The light blue colour reminds him of my hair. There might be more, but that strikes me most. I notice he is holding them out, and realise I am meant to take them. I walk forwards and do so, gently taking them from him. I study the flowers, finding them pleasant to look at. I look up at Ikari...And find that he is pleasant to look at, too. I realise that it is a connection, between him and the flowers, and a part of me wonders if that was not the reason they remind him of me. Attractiveness? Possibly. Staring into his eyes, I realise Ikari seems to want something. I think I know what-recognition of his gift, much as he seeks the recognition of his father. I doubt he will achieve the latter, but the former...
"They are pretty." I speak softly, before lifting them to my nose. The sweet scent is most agreeable, I note.
"They smell pretty." I speak again, before a thought strikes me. Ikari and the flowers both look nice, and the flowers smell nice, too. Does Ikari smell nice? I decide to check, and gently lean forward, pressing my face to his neck and breathing in softly. Yes I think. Yes, he does. Ikari seems uncomfortable at my closeness, or at least suprised by it. I should explain.
"You smell pretty."
He blushes even more, trying to smile, speak and be stunned all at the same time. He stares at the floor yet again, and curiosity strikes me. I lean forward again and gently press Ikari's face to my neck, letting him catch the scent of my hair and soap and body. He does not resist, and I keep him there for five seconds before pushing his face gently away from me.
"Do I?"
He pauses, smiles, and nods. "Yes, Ayanami...You do."
"Do I look pretty?" Ikari seems to be near cataconic at that. I think back, searching for a way to aid him as he fights his nervousness. And I remember, after I smiled for him, when he took my hand in his. The warmth that flowed gently yet unstoppably through me, his warmth, the warmth that made me feel secure, and happy, and...and...I cannot explain the last feeling, no matter how hard I try. But I know that his hand was...comforting. So my own hand snakes out to gently take his own, an electric shock seeming to pass through me as I try to calm the Third Child. At last he draws in breath to speak.
"Y...Yes, Ayanami. You look pretty. You are..." he gulps.
"Ayanami, you look beautiful."
Time seems to hang still. Slowly, surely, my eyes meet with his as that unfamiliar warmth floods me from within.
It is a special moment.
I smile.