Shin Seiki Evangelion - Seasons
Haru - Red Flower
Neon Genesis Evangelion created by, registered, and copyrighted to GAINAX Project EVA, Movic, and any other company and/or division associated with the creation and/or production of Neon Genesis Evangelion. A.D.Vision holds the copyrights to the English version of Neon Genesis Evangelion. This work of fiction is not intended for any commercial purposes but was created for the entertainment of the Author and Fans of Neon Genesis Evangelion.
No copyright infringement was in any way intended.
Seasons written by Jino Turtlegod
M Rating. For mature readers only. Some scenes, themes, language, and situations are not suitable for younger readers. Reader discretion is advised.
HTML ver 10 APR 08
Ver 1 – 22 APR 08
Haru - Red Flower
I can feel the movement in the apartment in the back of mind. He was like a beacon calling out to me in a voice that compels an answer.
Yet I cannot respond.
I refuse to.
He deserves no answer from me.
I close my eyes as I follow him. I have known him for so long that I know what he is doing at each moment that he is near.
There he stands by the stove, his apron wrapped about his waist. A slight frown on his face as he contemplates the meal he cooks. There are exactly three portions of breakfast, and the same number for lunch. He never wastes food.
He carefully sets the table for breakfast, and prepares two boxed lunches. One portion of lunch he covers in shrink wrap and places it in the fridge for Misato.
He eats alone.
I can feel the sadness radiating from him yet I hold firm.
I shall not break. For nearly four years I've held firm. I refuse to give in.
Finally he finishes his breakfast and leaves.
I can't help but sigh in relief.
That boy is a temptation that I must resist.
000
I stand before the mirror and took account of myself.
I stand a couple of centimeters taller than him. Wet, my hair looks like offal rejected from the charnel house as it fell in stringy locks down my back. My skin is deathly pale from lack of sun, even whiter than that Doll's skin. I raise my hand and trace the crisscrossing lines of puckered pink flesh that started from my palm, goes up my arm, down my shoulders, to the base of my breast and under, to terminate in a scattered pattern across my belly. A jagged lightning strike separates from the main mass of scars and climbs the swell of my breast, the end joins the pink peak in a way that always brought a bitter smile to my lips. Broken china doll. A personal, morbid joke on my part.
And of course there were my eyes. My eyesight is perfect. Functionally, there's nothing wrong with my eyes. But they are the greatest mark of my downfall. One eye as blue as the morning sky, the other as gray as Death.
I shudder. I cannot look my reflection in the eye as I dry myself.
All my other clothes are in the laundry. I wear a black turtleneck sweater that I bought several years ago. It is tight against my body as I have grown a lot since I bought it. The same goes for the cream slacks that accentuated my narrow waist. For a moment I felt a sense of pride as I noted that covered up in tight clothes, my figure is still firm and slim. I squashed that thought.
I am ugly.
The outside must match the inside. I ruffle my hair for several minutes and smile at the effect as I watch my reflection. A red haired hag. For fun, I cackled a bit.
In the corner of my room I saw my torn jersey.
I remembered the struggle yesterday.
He tried to touch me.
I resisted.
The nerve of that boy! As if I'm a little girl to be consoled by the strong, invincible prince! As much as I hated the touch of others, his I loathed the most.
His touch makes me feel dirty.
I pick up the torn rugs and hug it to my face.
I will not cry.
I feel so dirty next to his pure light.
I cannot answer him as he deserves better than someone like me.
God. Finally he is leaving.
I can finally be free.
In the end, everybody leaves me.
I can feel wet streams run down my face. My hair is still wet. Yes, that's it.
It's water.
It can't be tears.
Because I refuse to cry.
Before I leave for work, I comb my hair and pin them back with black clips and settle my shades upon the bridge of my nose. I glance at the mirror one last time and a stranger looked back at me.
I know I am weak, but I think looking beautiful just this once won't hurt.
Tsu Zu Ku