For once, when Paul says his name, Kaworu doesn't look up. He neither takes the statement as teasing and squares himself to refute it nor does he take the opportunity to bask in it, ever hungry for the scraps of attention anyone will give him. Instead, he reaches up and pulls his hood over his light, messy hair and keeps his gaze firmly on the dusty ground ahead even though it's just a space of nothingness.
It's hard to look at the figures Paul speaks so gently. There's discomfort so powerful that he averted his gaze as soon as Paul addressed them. It's like there's a gate that stands between them. A clear message: This is not for you.
He's never had parents. He's had teachers and caretakers but not parents and he understands enough to know these things are fundamentally different. And the small steps he'd made here towards understanding what it means to have someone like that in your life only makes it more clear how far he and Paul stand apart here. How vast the difference in their experience is that trying to cross it seems like trying to bridge the ocean. Like an ant trying to perceive the experience of an eagle.
Then he thinks about Paul's hands on his shoulders and how the gentle touch tugs him out of the dark edges of his mind and back into the world. How it makes him at ease about his body or his experiences even if Paul could never understand what it means to be without just as Kaworu could never understand what it means to be with.
Kaworu forces his eyes up and walks through the gate, letting the hood fall back from his head and the small bits of light catch on his light hair in an almost ethereal glow. His approach towards Paul is slow, not casual, not careful, but soft, like an early riser trying to maintain peace in the house.
"You have her eyes. But... your forehead and your eyebrows are more like his. It's like you're both of them."
It may seem obvious but he's never considered parents in this light. Of course, he understands how human reproduction works on a scientific level but he's never seen a child and their parents together. Never seen how two come together to create another that's both of them and yet all their own at the same time. He knows those aren't the right words and maybe no words would have been better. But he's certain he had to try. Paul would have for him.
no subject
It's hard to look at the figures Paul speaks so gently. There's discomfort so powerful that he averted his gaze as soon as Paul addressed them. It's like there's a gate that stands between them. A clear message: This is not for you.
He's never had parents. He's had teachers and caretakers but not parents and he understands enough to know these things are fundamentally different. And the small steps he'd made here towards understanding what it means to have someone like that in your life only makes it more clear how far he and Paul stand apart here. How vast the difference in their experience is that trying to cross it seems like trying to bridge the ocean. Like an ant trying to perceive the experience of an eagle.
Then he thinks about Paul's hands on his shoulders and how the gentle touch tugs him out of the dark edges of his mind and back into the world. How it makes him at ease about his body or his experiences even if Paul could never understand what it means to be without just as Kaworu could never understand what it means to be with.
Kaworu forces his eyes up and walks through the gate, letting the hood fall back from his head and the small bits of light catch on his light hair in an almost ethereal glow. His approach towards Paul is slow, not casual, not careful, but soft, like an early riser trying to maintain peace in the house.
"You have her eyes. But... your forehead and your eyebrows are more like his. It's like you're both of them."
It may seem obvious but he's never considered parents in this light. Of course, he understands how human reproduction works on a scientific level but he's never seen a child and their parents together. Never seen how two come together to create another that's both of them and yet all their own at the same time. He knows those aren't the right words and maybe no words would have been better. But he's certain he had to try. Paul would have for him.