Title: So I Love You Now
Author: Yih
Written: August 18, 2001/ September 2001/ October 9, 2001
Edit Major: Worldmage
Beta-Readers: Rhine (the 'tist) and Dave Ziegler (the Doc)
Disclaimer: All rights Gainax Inc.
Important Note: I have taken the liberties of changing some things in the chronological events of Eva. This occurs when it occurs and that's all I have to say.
I know I never hated him.
But I never really showed him that I cared about him in that way. I guess it's too late now. We've become more like a fellowship than a relationship. There's no one to blame but myself. When I could have been flirting with him in the customary way, I was throwing my taunts at him instead. For godsakes, he calls me Asuka-kun (in the private of course) as if I were part of the three stooges! Either way, it's my destiny now… to only be his friend.
I can't say I know when they changed--my feelings for him. Maybe it was when he came back after he ran? Maybe it was when he saved me? Maybe it was always there? I can't really pinpoint when he became more than just Ikari Shinji, the third children. Now he's Shinji--not only the baka Shinji; but something more, something I can't quite figure out.
Perhaps, he was always this complicated, this fascinating. Somehow I never saw it until several weeks ago, a few months before. I can see now, he has more in him than most. It might be the experiences we've gone through when we should be worrying about graduating to the next level of high school. But Wondergirl hasn't held my attentions to the degree that Shinji has.
Shinji's a boy; Rei's a girl. It might be that but sometimes--I just don't think that's it. She's different than me, and I should be intrigued. But I'm not. I can't relate to her; I don't understand her. Then again, I don't really understand myself. Like why I continue to insult Shinji when I mean to compliment him. It's like I can't be nice to him because I'm afraid I'll expose myself. Or maybe it's because I'm scared to get close to anyone after what has happened.
It's simply not worth the pain--to love someone, only to be rejected. I can't believe I'm insinuating that Shinji, the introverted one outside (though he is coming out of his shell) would do that to me. Me, the self proclaimed Soryu Asuka Langley, the second children, the pilot of Unit 02. It's just that I'm not as confident as I make myself out to be. I'm more like him than I want to admit.
I've got my insecurities; I've got my doubts; I've got my worries. I'm not the all-powerful goddess that I portray myself as. Half the time I don't know why I'm doing what I do. I haven't fully realized what I really am. I'm frightened of what I don't care to see inside. Am I really the bitch that everyone thinks I am? Am I really that cold and cruel?
I'd hate to think so.
And I hate it when I get this way, when my eyes begin to tear up and get rimmed with swollen blood vessels. I have such pitiful thoughts when I sink to these depths. It's when I'm in these moods that nothing makes sense anymore. I just let my thoughts ramble along on an unguided path that seeks only more depressing things of which to make myself miserable. My whole world seems to unravel at these moments, my life's support--the threads of which it's made of--untangles.
Those drops of self-pity continue to build up, my self-loathing overflows the edge of my self-weakness. Why do I feel sorry for what's my fault? It's my life, and I shaped it that way. So why do I sit here doing nothing when I could be doing something? I could change now, but why attempt the hopeless?
"Asuka-kun?"
There it is again, that tends-to-be masculine phrasing that forever labels me as one of the guys. I once thought he did it because he wanted to annoy me or as a sign of teasing, a chance flirtation? But it's just because he thinks I'm a friend, and it's nothing more than that. I'm to him as Touji is to Kensuke. I've now become an analogy, since it's the only way of connecting my name to Shinji's.
"Asuka, if you don't answer the door, I'm coming in!"
No! I want to scream, but I'm afraid of letting him see my face. I can only imagine that my eyes are flaming with unshed tears. My voice is probably going to tremble if I use it. I remember oh so well the last time he saw me cry. I still am able to conjure that surprise look, the shock of his parted lips, the true revelation that I can shed those tear drops like any other human being.
Yes, I am mortal, Shinji. Yes, I can cry.
But he isn't mean about it. God knows what those morons in our class would have said if they could have seen me as he found me. Feeling desolated, with a haunted look of bewilderment as if I didn't know who and where I was. My hands tremble as they are now. So cold, it's as if my heart pumps ice. And that forlorn look. I'm still lost; I just don't let him see that anymore. I'd rather have anything from him other than his pity. Even his hatred is more welcome than compassion.
"I'm serious."
I almost smile, almost. He sounds so apologetic when he says that—good, old reliable Shinji. He never wants to hurt anyone. And he also happens to be so naïve. I don't know whether I admire those attributes and wish I had them, or if he's a foolish and immature boy that needs to grow up. I suppose it's both, really. I want him--want him to grow up, and maybe he'll see my actions for what they really are. Then again, I like seeing him nearly unaffected by all that we've been through. Or possibly, I make myself believe he is unaffected by it when he really is--affected.
"I don't really want to do this, but…" his voice trails off as he slides open the door to my room. My face turns away from him so that he can't see the tears that were waiting to be shed. I don't know the reason why he stops speaking, it might have been my silence when I would normally yell at him to get out. Or it might have even been the slump of my shoulders, as if I am defeated.
"Asuka, are you okay?"
To hear him say my name with no formalities would have thrilled me scarcely five minutes ago, but I have fallen into the disgusted pity I so loath when others feel it for me. When I feel it, I can't help but hate myself even more than I do when I fail in life. I often ask myself where did that young, vibrant genius girl go?
She died with my mother.
How I could use her advice now! I know nothing; she knew everything. I miss her so much. I think about her every day and every second. The ache that her suicide causes in me will never go away, it throbs in my veins seemingly only to grow stronger as the years go by. And I caused her death because I didn't make her see the truth. I was the Real Asuka; I am the Real Asuka.
My father doesn't even want me. He saw the corruption early on. I'm not a good person inside. Why else would I be called the bitch? Why else would people fear me? I'm bad; I'm evil; I'm Asuka. Can it get any worse than me? I've hated the best people, and done such awful things to them. My sins will revisit me and torture me as they do now. I wish I could change, but how do I change when everyone doesn't realize I'm not exactly what I seem?
"Asuka!" He cries my name out as he falls to his knees by my side; the tone of his voice twinges with remorseful. I can't take it… the tears trickles down my pale cheeks, diverging from their tiny paths into larger ones as disappear into my skin. I cry silently, no sound slipping from my tightly closed lips, the only emotion venting out is tears. I no longer am able to suppress it. I do the only thing I can do… I run.
I push Shinji away from me and barely manage to reach the bathroom, closing the door so he can't intrude on my contemptible sorrow. No, I will not allow anyone to see me so weak. Not even him who has seen me weaker than this. No, I will not let anyone comfort me when I should be stronger than this. I have to hide my inner demon. Yes, the bitch is better served by hiding the helplessness inside.
"ASUKA!" he screams outside my miseries. He is not part of it. I don't even know why I am broken today. But I will be better tomorrow. I will find my resolve to be that cruel vixen that cares about nothing when she cares about everything. I will hate him when I really love him. Because, it's not in me to crave for something unreachable.
I can hear his feet shuffling as he walks quickly back and forth across my sanctuary. I'd like to tell him it's no use, I'm going to stay here until my emotions are contained inside my closed box. But my voice would be shaky like my hands are trembling. So I hold back . His heartache only makes mine sharper and more poignant. I almost hate him at this moment.
Yet, how can I hate something so Shinji? It doesn't make much sense, but who says love has to make sense? Mostly, it's a puzzle full of pieces that get lost and re-found and just plain don't fit together to make the picture perfect. That's what love's like. It can't be perfect because nothing is. And it's stupid for me to feel the way I feel.
"I'm not leaving," he tells me in a strained voice, like he's struggling to speak because I won't. The emotional tremor I detect has a muffled quality that indicates he's been crying as I have, though there's also a resolve in him that shows up more nowadays. I admire it as much as I wish it didn't exist in times like these. Whereas before he would go to his room and listen to his SDAT, now he just stays and waits patiently.
I fight the urge to be comforted by him as before. There's the nagging hope that he cares about me more than in the general way. It's a thorn in my side—that hope. It gives me the impression that there's a chance when I know I can't take it. I'm not meant to be happy; I'm not meant to be content. I'm on this earth for one sole purpose--to die.
Timing has always been a problem for me. Something always seems to interfere. And then the courage to just get up and do the act fades from the fear of the unknown. I hate life, life hates me. So why live at all? I just can't seem to take the blade and slit my own wrist.
I realize pills would be easier, but my life's been so painful so why not a little more? It's not like I'm living for someone or even myself. No one wants me--not even my father. I try to deny that it didn't hurt me that he didn't want me around. It worked when I was little, but not now—not when I'm not wanted anywhere.
Sometimes I feel like I'm made of steel. Everything inside that hurts doesn't make a dent on that outer shell. I'm only what I allow people to perceive and nothing more. The other part of me I hide inside. I want to make myself invincible; I want to make myself impermeable.
"Open the door, Asuka."
I mentally groan to myself. I think Shinji has more persistence than what I thought before. God, I love him. I wish he might hold me and kiss me. However, he knowledge of what I feel for him has come too late. I have to keep reminding myself, it's too late for us. I'm the loner, the desperado.
I don't deserve him.
"Just tell me you're okay…"
The pleading, the worry in his voice very nearly undoes me. I'm sure he heard the sound of my knees crashing to the floor as I could not longer hold myself up. The tears no longer fall; I have used up every drop in my reservoir. I hope that means I will no longer shed my flaws to him as if he is the one all is revealed to.
"Asuka, please," he begs me.
He begs me. I promise I will not give in. Not to him, not to anyone. I will be stronger than my desires; I will not give in to him. But even that affirmation doesn't quite settle my mind into what it has to do for me. I feel the temptation to rush out into his arms surge into my lax limbs. How the sweet urge makes me want to open the door and fall into his arms. But maybe I might be as strong and as cold as everyone thinks I am.
I kill the warm emotion that begins to take root in my heart, for why else would I want Shinji if I am cold? For if I am cold, I cannot feel; and if I cannot feel, I am strong. The logic isn't what it should be. But my strength comes from iron nerves, and if I give in to him I don't know what will happen. I'll stay here until he leaves.
"Dammit, Asuka," he curses so sweetly. My frustrations over him blend into his own aggravations over me. "Open the door!" his voice has gained an extra edge of aggression. Good, good, it serves him right. The vindictive moment has come. I'm no longer that nice Asuka I keep inside, but the Bitch everyone thinks I am.
In that mode of me, I'm not metal but a mountain. I don't bend, and I don't move. Things do break away pieces of me, but it causes no pain, for Nature is resistant to all things. And when I am her, my burdens fall away from the pressures of gravity on the heights of my cliff. Nothing stands in my way when I am her.
Except him who haunts me in my dreams.
"Go away, baka."
I almost can't believe it. My voice is under my own control. There's not a trace of hesitation or sentiment, it's emotionless. Yes, being the rock that sheds no tears suits me well. The Bitch is better served this way. But that assertion doesn't convince me as well as I think it should. If it did, the tenseness of my shoulders would relax and the nervousness of my jaw would cease.
He unnerves me more than I will have him know. And if truth be told, I hate being the stoic. It hurts to be called the Bitch. Words do hurt more than stones. The scars on my heart haven't healed. I remember every little name I've been called. But I'm every word of what they call me. It's a wonder Shinji doesn't hate me. I've been terrible to him, worse than that even.
If only I could make it up to him. There it is again, that nagging hope that resurfaces at my time of weakness. My barriers fall; my dreams fly. It's the impossible cycle. It's wrong to do this to Shinji, to make him even think I care for him. It will only bring both of us unstoppable pain when it begins fade as I know it will. At least, it will hurt my heart. It's there inside, waiting to be crushed.
"I'm not leaving." He repeats what I hoped he wouldn't. "And if you don't come out in the next five minutes…" he trails off from there as if he's not sure what he's going to do. But to threaten me? Asuka!? The one he's always been terrified of riling? Now, where did the Shinji that always ran away went? Is it possible for him to change so dramatically?
Well, not that drastically. It's not like he suddenly sprouted a backbone. It's been there on occasion, how else would he have been able to save me? He has guts, I'll be the first to admit it. Perhaps the scared Shinji is all a façade, something he wants us to believe because that's what he believes. Warped image to be sure. Trying to hide the reality inside, kind of like me. Maybe I see myself in him. Maybe I see what I could have been.
Not the one that always runs. Not the docile one. But the one that is the hero.
He's the one I love.
"One minute," he warns me, but what does he expect? I'm not listening to him; I don't even listen to myself. The bells keep ringing, and I just don't get it. They try to tell me such simple things, common sense. I pretend not to hear. Logic doesn't rule me; I'm the secret dreamer. I wish to be more than just plain Asuka. Am I really meant for more?
That burning rhetorical question plagues me. It doesn't need an answer, it's there to affirm. Situated between the cerebellum and the grey mater, it will stay keeping it within my reach. I've a chance to grab at it. I've a moment to be happy. That's if I take it, but I won't. That's not my purpose, to be happy. I always want more. There's never quite enough of Rainbow.
Satisfaction, it's not for me. I crave the dream, the fantasy. I want the fairy tale. Yet, it's never going to happen, is it? I can't magically have a father that wants me; I can't resurrect my mother; I can't force Shinji to love me. I'll never have the father nor the mother, but why should I deny myself Shinji? Why? Why? Why?
Why do I keep asking myself why? Another rhetorical question, but it has an answer. I know why. I don't deserve him. Cruelty does not beget affection. That's what I've been to him, 99 of the time. He probably dislikes me; he may like me. But love? No, no, not that--ever. I need a firmer grip on what's really there. Love is obviously not.
But what of the 1 of the time that I'm not the Bitch to him? I'm not exactly nice because I'm not precisely a nice person inside. If I am the kindness then why do I hate myself as much as I do? I despise my being . I wish God would swallow my being and spit out my bones. It's for the general health of not only the world, but also for myself.
I feel the need to destroy myself. Perhaps I'll be allowed to recreate myself in heaven or hell. Do I even believe in it? I'd like to; I'm more of a romantic than a realist. I'm the one who wants the fairy tale; I'm the girl who wants to be swept off her feet. But it's all fanciful and unrealistic. It's never going to happen to me. I'm more likely to have a tragic beginning topped off by a catastrophic ending. That's the expected; that's the my denoument.
Logic. Reasoning. Discipline. The basic order. What's supposed to happen, should happen. When it doesn't the world becomes all skewed and putrid, yet there are a few cases of unexplainable happiness. Will I be one of those? Is it even possible with me involved?
No. No! NO! I won't think of it. I will just let what will happen happens. If it leads me into Shinji's embrace, I'll take the opportunity. I won't let my beliefs in what I think ruin my one true chance at bliss. The only chance I have left is with Shinji. He's the only person that still looks me in the eye with some degree of friendliness. Even Misato has an edge up, a protective shield that veils the mirror of her soul from my piercing eyes.
"God, Asuka! Why do you do this?" he asks me with anguish, the pain of his question vibrating down my ear canals and hitting the base of my spine with enough force to squeeze the dried reservoirs of my supply into action. Damn him. Damn him to hell. But no, I could never really do that to him--if I really loved him? And I do. God, I do.
He's getting to me now. I need some way to drown out the sound of his voice. My hands grope around to find and turn the faucet on. The pouring of water drains the silence down into tunnels beneath the ground. The sea-blue veins stand out on my hands as my fingers tense at the splash of lukewarm water against my chilled bones.
I hate this weakness in me.
God, I just want to be enfolded into his thin arms and just cry. Cry out in pain, in sadness, in agony with all the pent up emotions I've kept within that holding crevice. But I'll never do that, will I? I'm too stubborn to give in, to see the logos under the pathos. I don't want my emotions to control me even when it is ruling me because that fire, that drive to be independent—to be Asuka, draws me further and further away from him.
When I want to be close.
But I can't. I can't. I can't! I'm only the Kensuke for Shinji. The brains and the sidekick, and nothing more. At least, I've got the brains, right? That doesn't stop me from wanting more than that, much more. If I'm the Kensuke, then does that make Shinji the Touji? The image of Shinji even being remotely compared to Touji cracks a smile on my trembling lips. It's so ludicrous.
For a second in such a deep tizzy, I smile.
And after that moment, the depressed emotions slide away like stressed-over schoolwork at the beginning of summer. I'm suddenly a bit freer than I was before. The encumbrances no longer weigh me down. A smile really is a powerful source of spirit food. It's a miracle, a second before I didn't think I'd ever smile again. Yet, here I am, smiling like the world's gonna end in the next five minutes.
Maybe it will, and all this inane worry will have been for nothing. Right now, I feel like I could possibly be able to be the Asuka Shinji could not resist. The impossibilities aren't so impossible now. They've become possible--probable. I doubt that they'll last very long. It's nice though to feel capable when I've been feeling incapable. It's like I've found my wings.
I can spread them any time I choose and fly away—fly far, far away from all my problems—finding new joys to bring another smile to my face. Why can't I be happy? Why do I make myself miserable? I don't have to, but I do. I somehow manage to make myself feel totally incompetent by trying to do the impossible. I'm a Perfectionist. I've got ten trillion goals, and more just waiting to fall from the skies. I've got a never-ending supply of ambition.
And I've never been really happy. But Shinji makes me smile. So why not try for my little cup of joy? He doesn't have to be the love of my life, but he could. He could. He might be it. How will I know if I don't try? Trying never hurt anybody… What great advice! But what of rejection?! It hurts. God, it hurts. I won't tolerate it.
I like to feel loved though. I don't want to love someone that won't love me back. I couldn't stand that. There's a risk in love, though. The rewards are Heaven. The downside is Hell. Between Heaven and Hell, I'd almost rather stay in a half-way building. I'm not up to level of the clouds; I'm not down to tread with the soils. There's no sunlight; there's no dirt. There's only surviving.
I don't want to survive. I want to Be. I want to Become more than Asuka. I want to Live. I want to Live! That thought bends into the steel exterior of my heart and delivers me from the coldness into the warmth. The trembling turns steady as I decide that I no longer wish for Death, though eventually that day will come. I'm not living to die anymore; I'm living for love.
"Dammit Asuka, why do you do this to yourself?" Shinji cries out, almost dementedly. I can imagine him sinking to his knees in despair, that misery written all over the planes of his face. "I'm here for you. You don't have to do this alone. I'm here for you. You're not alone, Asuka. Please come out or tell me that you're okay."
I don't know how he knows exactly what to say and when to say it. Especially now, that I've decided to give it a chance, living at least. Loving, I'm not quite sure of yet. But I'm willing to compromise. I'll come out of this sanctuary into another one, and hopefully from there I won't regress back into my Bitch shell. I'm ready to acknowledge I'm not alone.
"No, I'm not."
"Asuka?"
The door slides open as I fall into his expecting arms. Good thing he did because I drag him down to Earth and to me. I'm not in Hell quite yet, but I doubt I'll ever really get into Heaven. Unless somehow I'm able to tear down all those high expectations and unattainable dreams that I have--letting them fall back to the dirt from the clouds. Then I'll be okay. Maybe I am now?
"Asuka?"
"But now I am."
End.
A/N: It goes without saying that reviews would be appreciated. Reviews on characterizations and stuff, plot would be great, your analysis and everything. I wrote this several years ago and had uploaded to then removed. If you like this one, I would recommend read the one novel fic I wrote for the anime: "I Love You, Asuka." Good day.