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[Has nobody given him anything before? Haruki's heart hurts, but her tone remains light.] Mm, just because. [There's a pause as she pours in the flour and some oil. She refuses to pay for eggs.] They go in the cookies.

[Just because. Just because, some people will hate him forever. Yet, just because, Haruki is preparing cookies for him. Kaworu's face feels so much warmer all of the sudden. It isn't too far off from arousal, but it's...

He's blushing.

He's blushing?

He clasps his cheeks, the warmth, definitely bewildered. This hasn't happened to him in an extremely long time--to be honest, he almost forgot what it would feel like.]

You're making me blush, Haruki.

[Kind of an accusation, even though he laughs afterward. Lilin, why...]

I am? Can I see? [There's a smile almost audible in her voice. She feels warm herself, realizing she's never really seen him flush. Kaworu's been so down, for good reason-- anything she can do to help him feel less like that has to be a help, or so she hopes.]

[What's even more alarming than the blushing is what follows right afterward. It's a sensation similar to... the urge to hide under a blanket, to prevent himself from being seen. But not because he's disgusted with himself? It's less dreadful than that.]

All right...

[He's crossing over the threshold of his bedroom when he recognizes what it is: shyness. Something that might as well not exist in his vocabulary for how few times he's felt it. Shyly, and amazed at his shyness, he sits down on the carpet in front of the preinstalled, floor-length mirror. Then, his reflection literally blinks into view: he's sitting cross-legged, with his hands sloping over his knees, and his hair looks rather messier than usual... oh, his face is definitely red... even more so because he's so pale. He isn't wearing a shirt, either, and some of that color has spread onto his chest.]

My face really does feel strange, [he comments, fidgeting with his fingers.] This isn't a typical reaction for me. But, sharing food is an intimate act that has existed for thousands of years. Your chocolate chip cookies, being a part of that, help me to feel a greater connection to you. It's wonderful.

[Haruki's struck, oddly, by how flat-out adorable the sight of him like that is. He looks like he sort of wants to bury himself under the covers, true, but for some reason that makes him look more precious for all of that. Poor thing, he looks like he just rolled out of bed, too, face so red, at least, compared to how pallid he is normally, that it's almost startling.]

God, you're really cute-- [She bursts the words out without thought, quickly amending--] ... you can stop now, sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you worse... I-I'll get 'em in the oven, just let me finish mixing and dropping them on the cookie sheet...

[Kaworu sits up a little straighter in response, resembling a hopeful house pet that has recognized its name. Cute? he wonders, even though this isn't the first time he's heard that. It's just an odd description for him as an entity. If anyone is endearing here, it must be Haruki...]

Hmm, how long will it take for them to finish cooking?

[By the way, he hasn't switched off the video yet. He actually scoots a little closer and closer, until he's intimate in spite of the distance between them, with his ruffled hair and reddened cheeks on display. There's still a sort of shyness to his face, but he leans in and presses a kiss onto the mirror's surface.]

Thank you, Haruki, [he adds softly.]

Edited 2015-05-18 22:32 (UTC)

[Haruki feels like she might melt a little just watching him. He looks almost pleased, and definitely sweet, and she has to bite her lip to keep from saying anything more silly or embarrassing. But she swaps to video, too, the second she sees him kiss the mirror, feeling soft and warm.]

Ten minutes.

[She lets her gaze drift to the dough she's dropping on the cookie sheet, a little unevenly. Fuyuka was the cook of the family, really; Haruki just brought the money home, but she thinks these will be all right. There are more than enough chocolate chips in there to hopefully mask any failings.]

[She puts the sheet in the oven, putting on the timer, too, before propping herself up on the kitchen counter, bowl resting on her knees. For a minute she almost forgets she's still got the video on, and she's about to start eating the raw dough, scraping it up from the sides of the bowl with the spoon-- but then she remembers and stops herself. Kaworu probably doesn't need to pick up any more bad eating habits.

Hey, you don't have to thank me for anything.

[She's not near a mirror, so she blows him a kiss instead.]

[There's no way "failure" and "chocolate chips" can go together in the same sentence. Kaworu actually feels an answering flicker of hunger, even through his layers of upset and apathy. Ten minutes isn't a long time at all; in fact, that's about how long it would take him to eat the entire sheet of cookies. But he does want to share them with Haruki, if only to limit his own growing greed. Too much food has a way of provoking his other forms of appetite.

The raw dough looks especially incredible. On his tongue, it would be cool, granular, with unforgettable flavor.]

I'm thankful for you, [he says, making himself clear.] It's not an obligation, but a matter of fact.

[He perks up, again, when he observes the way Haruki kisses her palm and then blows on it. Something like that he hasn't ever seen before, so it's kind of mysterious. He wonders if it's a gesture of affection, as it seems to be, or something else entirely. Instead of asking after details, he tries mimicking the gesture for himself: a solid kiss to his hand, then blowing across that spot at the mirror. Is that how it's supposed to work?]

I'm thankful for you, too. I mean it.

[Haruki mentally talks herself into giving into temptation-- after all, there's no eggs in the dough, certainly none of that expensive real food went into making these cookies. So the dough ought to be safe. She scoops some out for herself, licking the spoon contentedly. But this is way selfish. He probably wants some right now himself. So she sets the bowl back down on the counter beside her.]

Haven't you seen somebody blow a kiss before? [From the eager look on his face and his imitation, she's starting to wonder, faltering as she tries to explain.] It's, um, when you like somebody but you're not close enough to really kiss them.

[Kaworu wants for Haruki to eat whatever she finds delicious... but he does feel a little bit envious. Some selfish part of him wishes that he could intercept a bite of the raw dough. Up until now, he has been in a depressive slump where food is concerned, trying his best to avoid eating too much of it. The chocolate chips have seriously recaptured his interest.]

No; I didn't realize it was possible to blow kisses. That's interesting. I'll have to do that more often.

[It's kind of surreal to sit and discuss aspects of affection while someone is preparing nice treats for him. He started off the day in the ugliest mood imaginable, a single pinprick away from losing his shit. Now he's actively looking forward to something. Seeking serenity in Haruki was the best course of action.]

Humans have so many fascinating ways of expressing how they feel. I wonder what else I haven't seen yet.

Um. Most of the other gestures I know are kinda rude... [Haruki's bashful for half a second at best, making not-quite-surreptitious glances at the dough-- she should probably be offering that, too, come to think of it...]

Like the finger, you raise your hand and just hold out your middle finger. ... Actually, you might've seen that one. [It's distressingly probably more common than blown kisses, at least.]

[In a multicultural world, the middle finger might be a universal gesture... though it's one that Kaworu has never heard of before. He stares at the mirror, wracking his memory, before he offers,] Is that derived from sign language? [He studied Deutsche Gebärdensprache in his youth, but nothing familiar is coming to mind, unfortunately.

In comparison, the way Haruki keeps glancing at the raw dough is kind of obvious.]

Hey, if you're hungry, then you should eat your fill.

[He told her that once before, with his blood. He's telling her again. His relationship with food is complicated, but he really enjoys watching someone eat up.]

Nah, I've had this before. You don't eat enough. I'll save you some.

[She gives him a thumbs-up, remembering to actually look in her hand's direction, then hops off the counter, the better for not giving into temptation.]

And I don't think so. It's more.... 's basically like saying 'fuck you' to somebody.

Oh. [Kaworu's list of people who might deserve a "fuck you" is very short indeed. Still, it's something he didn't know about before, so he's grateful to hear it.] That does remind me of... [Lifting up a hand, he forms the "OK" gesture with his forefinger touching his thumb and his other fingers spread.] In many parts of the world, this means something or someone is fine. However, in Germany, it represents a bodily orifice and is considered to be very rude.

[He seems pleased with sharing that bit of trivia.]

Bodily orif-- [Haruki doesn't know what an orifice is, but she can make a pretty good guess by the context, video bobbing up and down with the motion of her head.] That just means money in Japan. Mm, hang on--

[She feels a little weird, not being near a mirror while he still is, so she heads off to her bedroom, sitting in front of the vanity mirror there.]

Hey, did you get to go to Germany? Or did you live over there for awhile? [Haruki feels like there's got to be some story there. Mentally, she's trying to catalog her own list of other signs she can show him, however meager and vulgar.]

[Haruki is such a beautiful sight, as ever, and Kaworu spends a few seconds just staring at her reflection. If it's possible to love someone more with every glimpse of them... well, that's what it feels like for Kaworu. He wishes he could reach out and palm her cheek from here. He wishes he could be with her for longer than a single visit, but he doesn't know how to ask for something like that. Probably, it would be too presumptuous of him.]

I lived in Germany for a while, [he says.] That's where I first gained consciousness. Later on, I immigrated to Japan. But, if you're wondering, I was born in Antarctica.

Edited 2015-06-06 09:08 (UTC)

Antarctica? Whoa, seriously? [The intrigue of Germany pales massively in comparison.] Is that where all the Angels are from?

[She doesn't know what he means by consciousness. Maybe when he got out of being a toddler-- it beats the thought that he'd been in a coma, at least. Haruki purses her lips.]

I thought you had to be Japanese 'cause of your name, before you told me you weren't human. [She can smell the cookies baking in the kitchen, the aroma sooting, reminding her of home.] Were you named that from the start?

Edited (html fail) 2015-06-06 22:29 (UTC)

I was the only one to be born in Antarctica, I think. [Everyone else came from abyssal sea trenches, the interior of volcanoes, dense storm clouds, the vacuum of space... no more or no less interesting than Antarctica, in Kaworu's opinion. He doesn't bother to elaborate.

It's the question concerning his lineage, his name, that completely catches him off-guard. Much like when Haruki asked him about choosing to live his own life, Kaworu freezes up. He's still smiling, warm and certain, but something inside his eyes is all wrong. A few seconds later, he says,]

Nagisa Kaworu has always been Nagisa Kaworu.

[He shed his other identities a long time ago. With a soft exhale, he decides to stand up from the floor and stretch his arms above his head. His ribs are much more visible as of late.]

So, did you ever travel outside of Japan?

Oh, no. Sometimes for work I'd get to go all the way to Osaka, but that's as far out as I've been. I'm from Higashimurayama, Tokyo. There's not a lot of industry over there.

[Haruki notices how long a pause he's taken, just to tell her he's had the same name just like most people, and is tempted to comment, but she's distracted by the prominence of his ribs. Damn, she doesn't need to be giving him chocolate chip cookies. She needs to be giving him a four-course meal.]

... 'M gonna send some more food over with the cookies. You gotta eat more, Kaworu.

Tokyo... I wish that I could have seen Tokyo in its prime. [Tokyo-3, while beautiful, couldn't serve as a replacement for viewing the original.

Now lowering his arms, Kaworu brushes his hands over his lean chest, along his prominent ribs, all the way down to his concave stomach. His grey flannel pants hang lower on his hips than they should...

Even so, he says,] I'll be all right, Haruki. [This is the closest he's willing to get to lying. He doesn't know if he'll ever be all right, but he's quick to reassure Haruki on it. Then again, he can't know what will happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. Anything is possible, isn't it?] Humans always seemed so fragile to me, but they're more durable than I gave them credit for. I should be thankful to experience this for myself. [He's really trying to rationalize having an eating disorder.] If not for empathy, it would be difficult to change one's perception of something.

Kaworu.

[She stares at him with a look stuck between pity and mild aggravation. Practicality can't help but overcome his philosophizing. Those cookies are going to burn if she's not careful. She holds out her index finger in a signal to wait, and then scurries off to yank them out of the oven, setting them on the oven eye.]

[Then she rushes back to the mirror and, without preamble, fanfare, or any hint of a come-on, yanks off her shirt.]

Look at my stomach. [It's taut, tanned only thanks to her copious amounts of croptops and penchant for half-unbuttoning blouses. A few ribs are visible but indistinct, not really jutting out, mostly the result of a naturally wiry frame.] Does it look like yours?

[To say Kaworu is confused would be an understatement. What is that tone of voice for? That look on her face? Did he say something wrong? Is he being scolded for what he said? Reviewing the conversation, he supposes Lilin don't like it when their reasonable advice is disregarded. But he has his own reasons for avoiding food and they're equally reasonable (if only in his own mind).

... He didn't anticipate Haruki's eventual reprimand would involve the removal of her shirt. Though it isn't meant as a come-on or a come-hither, he can't help but stare at the tanned skin she's exposing to him. She's a beautiful representative of humanity. And, not for the first time, he has the urge to lick a stripe from her breasts to her navel.

What's left of his weight is shifting from foot to foot, a bit restless.]

It doesn't.

[He looks into her eyes again.]

What does that matter?

[Is he being serious? He must be. Haruki bites back a sigh. It's awfully cool in her room, and she crosses her arms on automatic, rubbing them for a little warmth. The mild side benefit of the gesture distracting from her nipples peaking through her bra doesn't hurt. Haruki's been naked before without sex, sure, back in the on-campus onsen, but that was around a bunch of other girls, only one of which she'd been even crushing on. It's not the same. Shirt on the floor, she soldiers on anyway, hoping she's not undermining her own point.]

It matters 'cause you can't just eat when you feel like it. You've got to eat to live. If you don't, you're gonna start fainting, and then you'll get to the point you can't even get out of bed. You don't want that.

[Irrational though it is, Kaworu feels unpleasantly cornered when he hears such an admonition: You don't want that. Haruki can't tell him what he does and doesn't want, even if it's unhealthy for him. He thinks a lot about dying. He thinks a lot about what it would be like to waste away and disappear from sight.

He has observed Lilin long enough to know when they're uncomfortable.]

Your shirt, [he says softly.] You should put it back on.

[Maybe he's ready to ignore the rest of her lecture, but then:]

When something tastes good, I don't want to stop eating it. I want to eat until there's nothing left of it. The feeling of fullness is satisfying, but it's arousing, too. It means I'll want to have sex, and when sexual contact feels good... [Hedonism can be insidious and compelling.] In other words, it's a self-perpetuating distraction. But I'm trying to find ways to limit that.

Eating's not a distraction. It's survival.

[She pulls her shirt back on, looking agitated. She can't even say she doesn't get it, because she does, or thinks she does. He doesn't really want to live.]

I've got nine brothers and sisters. You think we always had enough to eat? You think I've never gone hungry before? It sucks! So why aren't you eating when it's there for you?

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video. really sorry for the delay.

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