The Color of Orange Chapter 3: Water is Wet, an evangelion fanfic

I tie it- the appearance that I embraced...

It occurs to Shinji far too late that carrying a piano, even a portable one, through a crowded street is a horrid, horrid mistake. He walks along as timidly as he can, taking minimal steps that can probably be measured in millimeters, breathing evenly in an effort to soothe his nerves. Of course, this does next to nothing, and soon he is mortified to find that his shoe is untied, and that he is holding up quite a plethora of people behind him. With a desperate, inward, sigh-like sound, he attempts to gently back into the window on his right. It doesn't work, though, for he ends up tripping over his own shoelaces and crushing his nose into said window.

He stays there for a bit, with his face plastered into a sheet of glass. Then, he slowly peels himself away, already grimacing. Of course, there is a foggy imprint of his breath on the window. Still with enough mirth left to do so, Shinji allows himself a small chuckle, finally crouching down to tie his tricky laces. He holds the piano in the concave of his collarbone, supporting it with his shoulder, quite sure that he looks ridiculous.

It's when he stands up and smacks a small child in the face with the piano that he truly experiences the urge to throw himself into the sun.

"Ouch!" cries the kid, immediately putting both hands to his nose. Shinji is gaping and thinking of the many ways in which he can disappear.

Oh my god I just hit a kid in the face oh my god oh my god-

"I'm so sorry!" he says, and to make matters worse his voice cracks at the latter point of the word 'so'. His hands dig into the piano, and it is at this time that he inhales his last calm breath of the hour. The small boy is glaring up at him in absolute malice, and in his head, Shinji blandly thinks to himself that children are evil, evil creatures. Never mind the fact that he himself had just hit one in the face.

"What do you have to say for yourself?!"

Ah, there it is. The sweet sound of impending doom.

With agonizing slowness, Shinji looks up only to find the furious face of, presumably, the kid's mother.

"Sorry?" he squeaks.

"Sorry my ass! You could have broken his nose!"

"Could'a broke my nose!" the small boy repeats. His mother nods fervently.

Shinji just purses his lips and stares at the lady with petrified eyes. He's about ready to smash the piano into the concrete.

The woman huffs like a bull ready to charge. People mill around them, frustrated at their stop in the road, but also sensing the danger and avoiding the vicinity at all costs. A strange, toxic growl comes from the lady, and her son proceeds to hide behind her legs.

Abruptly, Shinji turns on his heel, repeatedly spewing apologies. Sorry seems to be the only thing that can come out of his mouth, and with tiny tears in the corners of his eyes he thinks that he is never going to show his face in public again. Never. He's running, now, he's not sure where to, all he knows is that he's still slapping people in the side with a piano and saying sorry like a broken record.

Before he has the chance to return to reality, he notices that he had stopped for breath right in front of his original destination. His hands go slack and the piano droops closer to the ground the slightest bit, and he glares pointlessly at the clinic's banner. He sniffs.

"I hate this thing."

Kaworu doesn't even hear him. He's too busy making strange, ecstatic sounds, ranging from squeals, screeches, and all the way to a feverish 'hhhhhh', sounding as if he is unable to breathe. He practically drapes himself over the piano, a cute smile plastered onto his face, and Shinji isn't sure whether he wants to groan and leave, or chuckle a little. In the end, he just stands with his hands at his sides.

"Is this for me?"

One of Shinji's eyebrows lifts. "Yes."

"Why?" Kaworu cries, his face filled with unabashed glee. He hugs the heavy instrument to his chest and Shinji is unsure of how on Earth he manages to do so without breaking something.

But... he wonders why he did it, too. A flurry of scenarios flow through Shinji's head.

'I thought specifically of you when I saw this so I had to get it for you!' No, too creepy.

'You look bored.' That one isn't even true.

'It was really cheap.' How about no.

In the end, Shinji just mutters out a stale, "I felt like it."

He really wants to leave, now that the deed is done. However, something keeps him rooted to the spot. Shinji surmises that that something is probably social etiquette, as he knows that simply delivering a gift and leaving would not only be awkward but also rude. So, he stands there, unsure of what to do or what to say.

Kaworu is still ecstatic for a short while; however, this emotion soon morphs into an innocent bemusement.

"I see." he says, lowering the piano onto his lap. He still has his hands on it, though, and it's a little funny how he doesn't want to let the thing go. "But, why me, specifically?"

Shinji doesn't answer. There's a still silence.

"And, um, who are you?" Kaworu inquires.

A quiet sigh. Shinji shifts his eyes from Kaworu to the white tiled floor, licking his lips. He really wishes that the room could be more colorful, perhaps a lavender curtain, or even a potted plant...

"Ikari."

"Ah." Kaworu nods, sagely, as if that answers his every question. Clearly, though, it doesn't, for he still wears a hesitant simper and an awkward posture. "Well..." he starts. Then, the words seem to fall from his mind, as if he had made a decision not to say them after all. Half of his smile disappears, he's biting his lip a tad.

Shinji sighs at Kaworu's turmoil. Maybe he should leave after all.

"Do you like music, Ikari?"

"Huh?"

Kaworu tilts his head to the left. "Is music something that you enjoy?"

"Oh." Shinji takes a moment to think. He then realizes that he's not even thinking, he's just stalling for reasons he doesn't know. "Yeah, I guess. Who doesn't?" he forces out.

Kaworu runs the tip of his finger across the piano's keys. "You would be surprised."

Deciding to ignore that last bit, Shinji shrugs. "I do, but not a lot like you do. It's nice once in a while, or when I'm trying to sleep."

There's silence again. Shinji hates it, so he decides to speak up.

"Why do you ask?"

Kaworu chuckles, and it's a feathery little sound. "I'm trying to figure out why you would buy this for me. Oh, but, that's not to say I'm not grateful... now I won't have to leave home to play. What I'm wondering is, have we met before?"

Shinji hesitates, unsure of how to respond. "I found your ID, and then you hit your head." he says, taking a seat on one of the plush chairs in the room. His hands fiddle with each other nervously.

Kaworu's eyes follow the other boy. He loses his smile, perhaps in thought, and his eyebrows draw downward for a moment. Then, he lights up again.

"Oh! Yes, you with the cute face. Thank you."

Shinji twitches. He's looking at the floor again. He thinks he wants to leave, but... he cracks a smile. It's awkward and it doesn't quite fit on his face, but it grows, and his shoulders are shaking, and then he's giggling into his hand and he can't control it. Of course, he isn't quite rolling on the ground laughing, but it's long-winded, and to put it simply, Shinji is simply amused at this particular chain of events.

Kaworu still wears a small smile, and he blinks twice.

"Was something funny?"

"Yeah, you." he says through his laughter.

"Me?"

Shinji takes a moment to contain his chortles before clarifying. "You say that every time I come over here, without fail. It's just funny to me is all."

"Every time...?"

"Mm-hm."

"Do you come here often?"

"Ehhh... not really, but I don't know, I come here enough."

Kaworu's face can only be described as owlish. "Why do you visit the hospital so often? Are you ill?"

"No, I visit you."

"You... visit me?"

"Yeah."

Kaworu stares at his sheets, horribly confused. Shinji pities him.

"... Am I here often?"

"Only recently. Since you hit your head." he supplies. He rests his chin on his hand, supported by the arm of the chair. With interest, he watches Kaworu process everything, wondering just how he is going to resolve his amnesic jumble.

"But that was..." Kaworu murmurs. He's running his hands along the piano. "That was only very recently. Today, even."

Shinji begins to shake his head, but stops himself. He looks up at Kaworu, who doesn't look quite right without a smile. It occurs to him then that even if Shinji were to explain the situation, it would only befuddle the boy further, perhaps even upset him. Out of what he tells himself is pity, Shinji does not want that. He lets out an audible breath, and Kaworu's attention turns from nothing to him.

"Ikari-"

"You really love playing the piano, huh?"

Kaworu blinks, taken aback. His eyes are shaking the slightest bit, he swallows, and he looks down to the ebony and ivory in his lap. Once again, the anatomically correct smile finds his face.

"I really do."

Shinji stands. His shoulders are stiff, but he has a false smile. Finding the cord of the piano on the ground, he sets about plugging it in.

"Let's hear it, then."

"You can't do that, stupid!" cries the girl in fluorescent scrubs. Today, she's wearing a gentle lavender, and Shinji thinks it clashes a bit with her bouncy, ginger hair.

Blinking widely, Shinji clicks the door shut behind him. He suddenly feels very guilty, over what, he isn't sure.

The girl continues to fume. "Do you know how loud that was? The hell made you think that was okay? You could have woken someone or given me a headache or-" she pauses. "Or... I don't know, but it's just a bad idea, alright?"

Obediently, Shinji nods. His hands are mingling with each other.

"Sorry."

Her eyebrows draw downwards, and her face turns red. Shinji still has no idea what he's guilty of.

"She's mad because I tickled her." hisses a voice from below. With a jump, Shinji's gaze darts downward only to find the stairs-mopping custodian hiding under an end table... or rather, cleaning under it, if her tiny duster has anything to say about it. She giggles, and her eyes twinkle.

"Mari!" screeches the colorful one.

"Hehehee..."

Appearing almost demonic, 'Mari' crawls strangely out from underneath the table. How had she even fit under there? As she stands, she stretches her back, before leaning on Shinji's shoulder.

"The music put her to sleep, so I caught her when I could!"

Uncomfortable, Shinji leans away from the odd lady. It seems, he thinks, that everyone in this building is rather odd... he's not sure whether this includes himself or not.

There is a tense silence.

"Ten." the scrub-wearer growls.

Shinji purses his lips and Mari's head darts upward.

"Nine."

"Asuka!" whines Mari. Asuka, as the colorful receptionist has now been dubbed, begins to crack her knuckles.

"Eight."

"Come on, this is a place of peace! Healing! Don't kill me, or you'll just have to take care of me!"

"Seven."

Shinji begins to back away slowly.

"Six."

"I'll cover your shift. I'll never tickle you again!"

"Five."

Shinji is near the stairs now. Gingerly, quietly, he turns, padding down the familiar staircase. Despite this, he can still hear the strange girls' banter.

"Four." Asuka's voice is slowly lowering and becoming frightening.

Shinji continues on his way, listening to the now terrified, sprinting footfalls of Mari as she flees demise.

"Three, two, one!" rushes Asuka. She, too, begins to sprint, and it's only when Shinji is outside the building that he hears the unpleasant shrieks of a captured Mari.

Now, Shinji feels like it is his responsibility to visit Kaworu at least once every few days. It's astonishing, really, just how easily he succumbs to the idea. As he throws on a jacket for what seems like the thousandth time this season, he blames it on the fact that he is the very reason that Kaworu was hurt in the first place. Well, not really, but... somewhat.

Brushing down the rebellious part of his fringe, he checks that same orange-stained mirror he had the days previous. That delinquent piece of hair continues to act up, and so, he licks his finger a bit and tries to pin it down. No luck finds him, however, and he's stuck simply huffing and glaring at the happy, dark strand atop his head.

It's not as though he dislikes visiting the weird, pale guy. If anything, doing so is substantially entertaining, between the forgetful dork and the quirky employees of the medical facility. It's something to do.

Yet, at the same time, Shinji feels that if something so listless can be described as 'something to do', then he has no idea which way his life is heading. He's always extrinsically motivated, always waiting for the world to make his decisions for him.

So, to say the least, this is odd. This is completely independent, this is clearly by Shinji's will and nobody else's. With a simper, he thinks that this has never happened before, not that he remembers, anyway. Then, he realizes, with that same simper still lining his face, that he does, in fact, look rather cute when he smiles.

He chuckles a little, feels himself shudder, and wipes away at the pink on his cheeks with excess sleeve, diving out the door.

"A piano!"

"Uh-huh." Shinji mumbles. He is both amused and perplexed.

"For me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Wow!"

"I got that for you a few days back, Kaworu."

Kaworu gives him an odd look, then proceeds to press his index finger into one of the higher notes. The sound that rings out is obnoxious without anything accompanying it. He giggles, folding his hands into his lap.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, again."

There's a bout of silence. This time, Shinji realizes, it's not his fault.

"How do you know my name?" Kaworu inquires. He does not appear wary, only curious. It's funny, how patient he looks, with his hands folded into his lap and all. You'd think he'd be at a business meeting.

"Because you've told it to me." Shinji says, matter-of-fact. "And I'm Ikari."

Kaworu's eyes widen. His mouth parts, and his shoulders hunch, as if in realization. Shinji feels fluttering in his tummy, a clear symptom of hope.

"Ikari!"

"Yeah!" Shinji nods feverishly, eager to get Kaworu embedded into the healing process.

"That's a nice name."

Shinji deflates.

Kaworu, although apprehensive, soon smiles. "How did you know I played piano, Ikari?"

Shinji, too, offers a hesitant smile. He sits in the same chair he has been lately, realizing that his hands are oddly cold. Maybe he's nervous.

"You told me. When you dropped your ID to go where you were going to play. I picked it up for you, then it blew away and you hit your head."

Then again, he thinks, he's talking a lot easier than he usually does. Perhaps it has something to do with telling the same story time and time again.

"Oh, yes, I do recall that. But that was today."

"No, it wasn't. You've been here a while."

"But..."

Shinji pities him.

"Are you going to play it?"

"Hm?"

"The piano. It's nice."

"Oh."

Kaworu's eyes scan the keys. He jabs at another one, this time closer to the middle. It has a bland tone.

"It doesn't feel right to now." he says. His voice is simmered, and Shinji thinks that it's uncharacteristic of him, that it's saddening.

So used to Kaworu smiling, Shinji is uncomfortable to see him frown.

"Why? What's wrong?" he asks, almost blurting it. Now he feels awkward again, out of place. This is a conversation he has never had before, something he has never rehearsed.

At his outlandish tone, Kaworu's head bolts up to look at Shinji. He blinks his strange red eyes.

"Nothing is wrong, necessarily. I just feel odd. I'm lacking in motivation, I suppose. I feel... oddly pointless right now."

Shinji reasons that it's probably because the poor boy has been locked in a bright white room for days on end. That, he thinks, would erode anyone, even someone as bright as Kaworu.

"Do they ever let you outside- uh." Shinji realizes too late that even if they did, Kaworu wouldn't remember it. It seems that his particular case is quite nasty, as rather than forgetting anything in his life prior to his little bump, he lacks severely the ability to process new memories.

It's as if he's reliving the same thing, again and again, without even knowing it.

"I-I'll be right back." Shinji stammers, standing and jerking a thumb over his shoulder and toward the door.

Curiously and silently, Kaworu watches him leave the room.

When the door clicks shut, he prods at another piano key, this time a low one. It's nearly silent.

"Look." Kaworu says. Shinji pauses mid-yawn to see, opening one eye.

"Hhha?"

"I made you."

In between Kaworu's skinny fingers, there is an oblong... thing... made out of what appears to be blades of grass tied haphazardly together. Shinji quirks an eyebrow.

"What's your name again?" Kaworu asks.

"Ikari."

"It's you, Ikari. See, there are arms." he points to one blade, tied to the longest strand by the middle. "And these are the legs- er... leg." then, he gestures to a scraggly looking knot on top of his creation. "And this is your head. It even has your cowlick! It's cute just like you!"

Shinji twitches. He gets over the usual shock easily, though, and quirks an eyebrow. Kaworu Nagisa is truly one of the weirdest people he has ever met.

"... I don't even know how to respond to that." he mutters, picking grass himself and merely discarding it.

It turns out that yes, they did, indeed, let bored, able patients go outside into the courtyard. Currently they are both sitting in a patch of damp grass, doing so simply because they can. Already, Shinji can tell that Kaworu has regained much of his usual vivacity. It seems that, even though he had been unaware of it, being in solitude for so long had gotten to Kaworu eventually. Shinji contemplates asking if anyone besides him ever visited, before remembering that Kaworu would have no idea.

"Do you like to do anything but play piano?" he decides on instead, just to make artificial conversation. Again, he thinks that this is the first time he's ever had the urge to do so.

Kaworu grins at him, impish. "I like people."

"What do you mean?"

"It may sound odd, but I like to learn about people, the little things... for example, what's your favorite color?"

Shinji has no idea. He's never really had a favorite.

"... Blue." he says, not really meaning it.

"Blue." Kaworu mimics. "Blue. Why blue?"

"Because I guess it looks nice. It's calm. I like it when things are calm."

"Is this calm?" Kaworu asks.

"What do you mean?"

"This building and atmosphere. Is it calm to you?"

"It's weird, but it's not scary."

"What is scary?"

"Scary things are scary."

"Water is wet."

"Thanks."

Kaworu beams, sunny. Shinji shakes his head.

"So you mean you like asking weird questions?"

"When you say it like that..." Kaworu falters, his smile fading. "It makes me sound creepy."

Shinji is not going to deny that. However, he is going to deny that creepy is all that Kaworu is entirely. It's obvious that he's abnormally innocent, and creative, and, well, a whole lot of abstract concepts wrapped into one pallid lanky package. At Shinji's lack of denial, Kaworu grimaces.

"What do you like to do to pass the time?" is the next question Shinji is faced with. He's not sure if this is part of Kaworu's same bizarre survey, or a new topic entirely.

He thinks hard. Then, he shrugs.

"Whatever comes to mind, I guess."

"Such as?"

"I listen to a lot of music, but that's not very productive."

Kaworu's happiness level seems to skyrocket.

"Music? Do you like piano?"

"It's nice."

"I play the piano."

"Do you really?" Shinji deadpans, morbidly amused.

"I do! Perhaps I can show you sometime."

Licking his dry lips, Shinji laughs under his breath.

"Sure, I guess." he says.

It's almost disturbing how much he enjoys being more aware than another person for once in his life. The sun is beginning to set.

"Do you play anything?" Kaworu questions eagerly.

"A little cello."

"Mmh." Kaworu nods. "I will never understand how you all carry those gargantuan instruments around. You must have great strength."

"You ever try moving a piano through a crowd?"

"... No."

"Good. Because you'll hit a kid in the face."

The next time Shinji thinks of visiting his gangly friend, it's on a Sunday, early in the morning. He's groggy, but he's conscious, and that's all that really matters when it comes to Shinji Ikari. Birds are chirping outside, and as he sips a mug of coffee with the most unamused expression known to man, he rests his head on the sole, cool window of his minuscule room. It's doubtful that the hospital is even open. Despite this, he finishes his coffee, hardly noticing its bitter flavor or its scalding temperature.

Next, the usual jacket is over his head, and he is checking his face in the orange mirror.

Cute. Tired, but cute. He wants to punch himself in the face.

"These are nice." Shinji mumbles to no one in particular. Only one person is in the room with him, sitting behind the decrepit register with a piping hot cup of coffee and a great morning demeanor.

The buzz of the fridge and the fluff of the stuffed animals are rather comforting, Shinji has to admit. Perhaps he should consider working in a hospital gift shop, for the sake of being cozy.

He's poking at the spotted petal of a moderately sized bouquet of flowers. They're all of the same variety, orange, with little brown spots and a sickly white center. Lilies or something, he thinks. He doesn't really know much about flowers, just that they look nice and smell nice and are a nice gesture.

"How much are these ones?" he calls to the lady behind the counter. She turns, the dark circles under her eyes shining in the bright light of the early morning. Her hair is a dark violet.

"Twenty." she says. Her voice is surprisingly kind. She takes a sip of her coffee, shifting her attention back to wherever she had been staring before. Somewhere into the void, probably.

"Twenty?"

"Twenty."

Shinji thinks that that is a lot of money to spend on some cutesy plants that he could go outside and pick. However...

With a sigh, he digs for his poor wallet.

"Why am I spending so much money on-" Shinji starts, walking into Kaworu's room for what feels like the hundredth time, even though it has been less than twenty times. He pauses, though, finishing weakly.

"-you."

Kaworu is fast asleep, his face planted into a fluffy white pillow. He snores lightly, so lightly it's almost inaudible, but Shinji hears it, and he thinks he is going to tease the entertaining boy about it later. For now, though, he simply sets the flowers on the side table, and leaves the room.

… the color of orange softly scatters.

AN: To clarify any confusion, Kaworu has a case of anterograde amnesia, which is the opposite of the type you would normally hear about (retrograde). It is when, rather than forgetting your past, you lose your ability to create new memories. I learned in my psych that there is a man who suffers this permanently, and every day, when his wife comes to visit him, he is so overjoyed to see her, and he expresses that she is the most beautiful person he has ever seen. He also remarks, at every interval, that this is the first time he has ever been awake. I thought it was interesting. Plot bunnies!