[Kaworu says it like it's simple. Not easy, or thoughtless, but simple. You're my favorite human, and it blooms inside the folds of his heart like sunrise's first rose light. Breath to breath, Paul's catches on a silver hook so fine he never saw it slipping past the ward of his teeth.
He's not anyone's favorite anything. Not here, where everyone else (he knows it isn't true, he knows it isn't fair) seems to find familiar face after familiar face brought forth, and Paul scours the beaches for faces he only ever finds in nightmares.
It's too much. It's just enough. It's not enough. He can't decide. He can only take another breath, and brings his face to half-hide against the reckless softness of Kaworu's hair.]
You're my favorite angel. [Only a little muffled.] Even if I met a thousand others, you'd be my favorite.
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He's not anyone's favorite anything. Not here, where everyone else (he knows it isn't true, he knows it isn't fair) seems to find familiar face after familiar face brought forth, and Paul scours the beaches for faces he only ever finds in nightmares.
It's too much. It's just enough. It's not enough. He can't decide. He can only take another breath, and brings his face to half-hide against the reckless softness of Kaworu's hair.]
You're my favorite angel. [Only a little muffled.] Even if I met a thousand others, you'd be my favorite.