Welter

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/2469482.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Relationship: Ikari Shinji/Nagisa Kaworu
Characters: Ikari Shinji, Nagisa Kaworu, Souryuu Asuka Langley, Makinami Mari
Illustrious, Ayanami Rei
Additional Tags: Coffee Shops, Asexuality Spectrum, Kaworu's Fashion Sense, Dork
Dates, Slice of Life, Mental Health Issues, College, Classical Music
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of Welter
Stats: Published: 2014-10-17 Completed: 2015-05-29 Words: 94,888 Chapters:
35/35
 Welter
by Budinca

Summary

One day, Shinji inadvertently finds himself in a coffee shop. Then the next day too. Then the
next. Then the next. He's probably doing some work along the way, but that hardly makes a
difference.

Featuring: sweater enthusiasts, big cats, 367 date ideas, macaroni & cheese, Christmas
Spirit, 3 days of sun per year, a disconcerting amount of tea for a coffee shop, and existential
crises.

Notes

wel·ter /wɛltə/
n.
1. A confused mass; a jumble
2. Confusion; turmoil.
 Chapter 1
Chapter Notes

Chinese translation: here

Russian translation: here

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Shinji wondered whether this was what all his life had led up to. Spending an afternoon being
neatly compressed in a sweating burrito of thick clothes and academic disappointment was
surely not a point he’d planned to reach as a kid. He was probably going to die soon, either
from the smell or from suffocation, and that was his only comfort.

“Please stand away from the opening doors,” a voice on the receiver said sarcastically, as
said doors opened in an unprecedented feat of machinery and Shinji, along with a milliard
other commuters, spilled out of the subway.

Literally spilled. Shinji felt like his skin was a bag for the chunky stew his insides had
become. If so, he thought morosely, he ought to have worn something thinner on the outside,
to avoid consumer protection lawsuits and all that.

There was no avoiding pedestrian traffic, but Shinji could still go against the laws of human
nature and climb up the stairs to the outside world rather than take the escalator. He was 10%
sweat and 50% regret by the time he reached the surface. He’d lost the other 40% on the way.

If all this wasn’t already bad enough, he wasn’t even going anywhere, not quite. On the one
hand, he was going to meet somebody or other about an apprenticeship or voluntary service
of sorts; on the other, he knew it was futile.

The guy – or ma’am – would only have to look once at his face, whisper a “my, that’s a really
impressive portrayal of a dying squirrel” to their assistant and then turn a sad smile towards
him and wave him goodbye. Shinji would thank them – for the squirrel compliment – while
systematically breaking his jaw muscles to form a smile and no longer than five seconds later
he’d be gone.

In consequence, Shinji was going nowhere. However, as his aunt used to say, you gain
something every day. Shinji agreed whole-heartedly with this; every day he gained some new
feeling of mortification to add to his ongoing collection. He was kind of proud of it, truly. He
used to think about it every night before he fell asleep.

It made no sense that, despite all this, his aunt every once in a while expressed a hint of
concern. Even if I jump in front of that car right now, that lady will have traumas for the rest
of her life – or at least a very hard time with the insurance company. Shinji glanced away
from the busy street, with its appetizingly fast cars, and kept pushing one foot in front of the
other. I don’t want that.

Everything’s fine, he reassured himself as his steps dragged him closer and closer to the
address written on a note inside his pocket. Let’s see, I go in, I stay for a few minutes, and
then I’m out, he forced a smile on his lips and kept looking around. I go in, I get out. Even if I
fail, maybe afterwards I can stop and get a coffee, he looked at a small coffee shop on his left
and failed to actually see his point.

Nothing bad happened to him. Shinji went into the building, got lost and ended up in the
bathroom, almost got stuck in the lift because he didn’t know how to operate it, found the
appointed room, smiled at the people in it, tried in vain to register what they were saying in
that noise, received a piece of paper, went out, found the bathroom on purpose this time, took
the stairs, and went out of the building.

He was now staring with concern at a big mug of coffee. That wasn’t so bad, his mind
thought by itself while Shinji pondered life as a fully-automatized being. He was kind of
dizzy.

Little by little, sip by sip, bell-chime by bell-chime, however, Shinji got back to himself. At
some point, a long while after ordering his coffee and taking a seat at small corner table, he
finally raised his eyes from the now-cold, half-full mug and realised where he was. It did
nothing to alter his view of the world, because he still didn’t know where he was. Sure, he
knew the immediate vicinity, but – nevermind.

Shinji took another gulp of coffee, looked at the wall clock which told him that he’d probably
sat there for an hour, and sipped self-consciously. I wonder if they commented on the squirrel,
he thought guiltily. He’d put the paper they’d given him on the table, and only now wondered
what it meant. He had automatically taken it for a refusal, even though he didn’t think they’d
actually give him a paper in that case. He turned it over.

Shinji liked to think he was good at reading; after all, it had been one of his favourite school
activities – silent, individual, non-threatening, non-demanding. However, now that he looked
at this piece of paper, he started second-guessing himself.

“Nerv office assistant? That’s quite impressive,” said somebody behind him and Shinji
jumped so high he took a bite out of his own heart as he swallowed it back down. “Oh? Sorry,
it was mean to intrude.”

“Uughhh-umm-hh,” Shinji’s body tried speaking before Shinji himself was aware of it.

This was why he was going to have heart problems, he thought grimly. He almost felt like he
was trembling, but it was just his heart-beat shaking his body. He looked to the side and
observed the white shirt and black apron of the coffee-shop workers. Shinji didn’t look higher
than his chest; character flaw.
“It’s fi-ine...” he did a flawless dying old lady enactment, holding tighter to his mug of cold
coffee.

“Would you like something to eat?”

He had the impression that the barista bounced on his heels.

“No, thank you.”

“Another coffee?”

His voice was so cheery.

“No, thank you...”

“Something else? Some tea? Milk? We have a nice recipe of hot cider now.”

Well, at least one of us is happy they got a job, Shinji thought morosely.

“No, thank you...”

“Am I bothering you?”

“No, thank you...”

It was quiet after that, and he took the opportunity to finish his drink. All around, normal
people were having normal conversations and drinking normal coffee at the other tables.
Sometimes – read: always – Shinji felt like the only antisocial person on the planet, which
was ridiculous, since the world was so shitty.

I’m such an idiot, he frowned at his mug, at his hands on the mug, at his small, bitten-off
nails over the white china. It was okay, he was just having a bad day. Next day he’d come
again and act like someone in a commercial, all ambitious eyes and straight back, emanating
confidence and success. They’ll forget about it in no time.

Shinji actually let out a breath-long laugh that somehow made his throat clench around itself.
It hurt as if to remind him: Hey, you’re here now. What you are now is what you’re always
gonna be. You’ll never be any better than this.

He bit his lip and the next moment a tall glass of water was placed silently on his table. “For
the intrusion,” somebody said. Shinji looked around and saw the departing back of one of the
baristas. He felt bad speaking up, so he circled his hands around the glass instead and took
deep gulps, until he felt his throat unclench and water reach his intestines rather than his eyes.

This was what Asuka was talking about, back in high and middle-school. You’re a charity
case, she had said, glaring at him with her hands on her hips. You have such a way of
attracting pity that people can’t help themselves. Shinji drank the entire glass of water in one
go, refusing to get unreasonably angry over past events.
 I’m a charity case, he agreed now, walking out of the coffee shop with the conviction that
he’d be back. Tomorrow was his first day as office assistant, after all.

Chapter End Notes

Updates on Fridays. Possibly.

P.S. Playlist.
 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Shinji was back the next day. Back on the subway of hell, back to being systematically
asphyxiated. The walk to the Nerv headquarters seemed shorter now, and he ended up in the
bathroom only for a few minutes. From the looks of it, he didn’t have much to do, not quite.
Someone or other was permanently giving him papers – trash – to take to the shredder, and
that was how he occupied most of his unpaid time there. Making the world a better place –
one trashcan at a time.

So far, it was better than he’d expected, with the additional bonus that he could imagine that
the shredded papers were his brain. It was quite calming, truth be told. At one point,
somebody even asked him to buy coffee, so he jogged down the stairs and into the boulevard.
It wasn’t like he knew any other place from where he could buy coffee – at least, one that
wasn’t a vending machine.

The barista at the counter looked – a minute mistake on Shinji’s part, he’d raised his eyes –
rather pleased to see the nametag attached to his shirt, but didn’t comment on it or on the
other day’s fiasco as Shinji waited for his 4-item coffee-carrier. He was careful to tip well this
time, emptying his pockets of change.

The day was going well, and apparently Shinji had got the right coffee, so everybody seemed
pleased. Shinji almost had an attempt at feeling proud of himself before he remembered the
pills he’d taken at home to ensure this attitude. Well, all in a day’s work.

By the time he was done and the sky, what could be seen of it above the skyscrapers around,
was black, Shinji wondered whether it would be weird to enter that café the fourth or fifth
time that day – people at Nerv either drank a lot of coffee or wanted a lot of potty breaks, he
wasn’t sure. He opened the door self-consciously, and the bell jingled almost guiltily.

“Good work today,” the barista told him instead of asking for his order, and Shinji kept his
eyes neatly cast down, looking at the variety of over-priced corporation candy. “How may I
help you?” he eventually asked, and Shinji raised his eyes to look at the menu on the wall
while carefully avoiding the barista’s face.

“Eh, um...” The mocha variety sounded good, the lattes sounded awful, the tea sounded good,
the iced coffees sounded better.

It’s been a long day, maybe I can get a mocha, Shinji thought, while the feeling of being
watched and waited on crept over his spine. Or an iced coffee. It is cold outside, would that
be weird? Shinji tried to look surreptitiously behind him. He was the only person at the
counter. But I really want something sweet, it doesn’t even need to be coffee, I don’t even like
coffee that much. His hands clenched at his sides.
“Coffee,” he hung his head, dejected. There was nothing up there short enough for him to be
able to pronounce.

“Hmm,” the barista probably pondered at him. “Okay,” he said, as if it was up to him whether
Shinji’s order was sound or not.

Then he slipped to the side, working the coffee makers, and Shinji dared a furtive look
around, wondering why there was only one attendant. The place was emptier, that was true.
Maybe they have simultaneous shifts only at rush-hours, Shinji thought unnecessarily as he
waited.

“Um, excuse me,” the barista called and Shinji turned to him so fast he made eye – face –
contact. Ugh, Shinji thought. “Milk or sugar?”

Shinji shrugged. “Yes, thank you...” He peeked again when the barista’s back was turned.
Ugh, Shinji thought once more.

It seemed to him that the other was humming, but he was distracted from that as another
person entered the shop. Shinji got in the pressured-first-man-in-line pose. “Do you mind if I
improvise?” the barista called again.

His back was still turned. Shinji didn’t know the code-word for somebody-else-is-waiting, so
he mumbled a forlorn “No, thank you...”

The barista turned to him and approached the counter, horrifically with no coffee cup. “Does
that mean I can or that I cannot?” he asked with something Shinji thought normal people
would call playfulness, then he appeared to see the man behind Shinji. “Oh! I’ll be with you
in a moment, sir,” he said joyfully and turned to the coffee makers. “Yes?” he emphasized the
word and Shinji looked at him with a wry, beaten look before he nodded. Ugh, his mind
responded to the view.

After that, his cup was ready in no time, and Shinji seated himself at the same table as
yesterday, the result of a day-old habit, no doubt. He took an anxious sip of foamy liquid and
stared. He examined his mug. His coffee didn’t taste like coffee. Shinji took another, more
confident gulp and conceded. It didn’t taste half bad either.

Another day, right as Shinji was retrieving the first coffee order of the day, the barista pushed
an oversized muffin towards him. “Breakfast,” he stated, and Shinji wondered whether he
was a full-time worker.

“I, I don’t...” Shinji’s free hand flailed and his eyes jumped to the other’s face. UGH, his
mind reeled. “I don’t have any change,” he stated, so unexpectedly clear that he felt bad
Asuka wasn’t there to hear him. Drugs were a beautiful thing, although Shinji’s were so
terrible they practically only acted as placebo by now.

The guy smiled toothily, and pushed the muffin a little closer to Shinji. “Don’t worry about it.
Have a nice day at work.”
Shinji took the muffin and returned to headquarters wondering if he was going to be sold on
the black market one of these days. He added the payment for the muffin the next day in the
tip jar.

Shinji didn’t get what was the deal with all these Angels Company contract requests he kept
shredding. For all he could guess, they were just an overenthusiastic agency that didn’t know
how to take no for an answer. The Nerv guys sure seemed relieved to see Shinji tear them –
by mechanical means – to pieces, so Shinji didn’t complain and just kept doing it.

It had been a week and he had not died or killed himself, which his aunt and uncle must’ve
been thankful for; no money wasted on funerals. The other day, Shinji had actually tried to
catch a glimpse of the barista’s nametag while waiting for Nerv’s Americanos to be ready. He
had failed at both seeing it and being subtle about looking, so when the guy turned to him,
obviously on the ready for a greeting, Shinji kept his eyes firmly planted on a trashcan.

It wasn’t weird not to talk with the barista that served him almost every day. He’d got on very
well without talking to people he’d known longer. Granted, those other people didn’t offer
him breakfast.

I don’t even like coffee, Shinji contemplated for the hundredth time as he waited in line for
one. His conscience prodded at him. Well, unless in an emergency situation, he conceded. He
certainly didn’t like coffee enough to get one at 9 in the evening.

How long have I been doing this, again? He asked himself as he became second in line and
started taking out his wallet. Some may think I am up to something. Up to being a freak, that
is.

It’s late, this is completely unnecessarily, I have classes in the morning, Shinji glanced at the
menu overhead and started practicing the word tea in his mind. What am I doing with my
life? He refused to consider the possibility that he didn’t have a life.

“Hello,” the guy behind the counter said, and Shinji didn’t have to look at him to know that
he was beaming. He didn’t have to, but still he did. Ugh..., his mind whimpered.

The word tea was already on the tip of his tongue, ready to be spilled. Instead, Shinji uttered
a pathetic “Hi,” and proceeded to stare elsewhere.

“How may I help you?” There were other attendants in the shop today, probably because it
was Friday and rush-hour.

Shinji wondered why time seemed to flow so slowly when he was in this exact spot. It made
it really hard for him to realise whether he should rush or hang on. “Tea, please,” he managed
and, as an afterthought, “To go.” It was too crowded for him today.

“Right away,” the guy took his money off the counter and dealt with them swiftly. Shinji’s
eyes drifted once more to his nametag, took it in, looked away. “Okay?” the other asked after
 a moment and Shinji raised his head, a slip caused by surprise. Warm eyes, a smile still
waiting for him. His mind was practically sobbing.

I’m not supposed to stand in line any longer, Shinji reminded himself and just about jumped
to the right, where his tall cup of tea was waiting.

On the way back to the subway and, indirectly, to his aunt and uncle’s place, Shinji wondered
why his barista couldn’t have been an old, faded man. That would probably have triggered
my deep-rooted parental issues, his mind, having got over its crying fit, pointed out.

Still, maybe it would’ve been better than this. Shinji couldn’t remember the last time
somebody like this had spoken to him. There was Asuka, but Asuka didn’t count because she
was, well...herself. There had been Rei, but she hadn’t given him any attention in their high
school years. They had only talked during assignments. Rei, that guy reminds me of Rei,
Shinji thought.

Maybe that is it! He almost fooled himself for a moment. He recalled every glimpse of his
face that he’d stolen so far. Not at all like Rei. But...

Ugh, his mind answered.

“Ugh,” Shinji agreed, lips hovering over his tea.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you to all the people who comm'd, kudo'd and many other 'ds. You're so sweet,
jesus christ.
 Chapter 3

Shinji didn’t live alone; he couldn’t quite afford it, truth be told. He’d been staying with his
aunt and uncle for over 10 years now, and he was okay with that. It wasn’t like there was
anything for him not to be okay with. He had his own room and they never bothered him.
When he was younger, his cousins used to go up to his room and try to engage him in some
sort or game or other, but they had stopped doing that soon enough.

All in all, Shinji was left alone. And he was okay with that.

Back when it first started, college had caught him in a wave of symphonies and aggressively-
composed music sheets. By now, Shinji was used to it, and to the orchestra buzzing in his
ears at least three times a week. He was almost thankful for the hours spent around shouting
people at Nerv. Almost.

Shinji was still a burrito of gloom and sweat everytime he went to the office. The weather
just couldn’t seem to decide whether it wanted to get warmer or colder. Half of Shinji’s face
was covered in a thick blue muffler his aunt said had belonged to his mother. He didn’t feel
any sort of attachment towards it, but he couldn’t be picky about clothes, especially when
they were free. He’d had this scarf for years now. Dug it out of his aunt’s attic.

He usually went to Nerv in the afternoon, when he had morning classes or cello practice at
midday, or in the morning when he had seminars in the evening. It was one of the latter times
when he chose to go and order the first batch of coffee before climbing up the stairs to Nerv.
They’d send him down for it anyway, and their orders never truly changed.

It had been a few weeks and finally he could tell the baristas changed from time to time. He
hadn’t intentionally paid attention; he just could tell when it wasn’t that guy greeting him.

Shinji had to practically hold his muffler down from his mouth in order to ask for the usual. It
was early morning, very quiet, just before the first rush-hour. They were the only two people
in the café. Shinji worried his fingers over the knitted material and didn’t think about it.

“How is work so far?” the guy asked as he poured simple black coffee into Styrofoam cups.
Kaworu Nagisa, Shinji had once read on his nametag.

Shinji’s eyes drifted nervously to him and everywhere around him. “It...it’s going okay,” he
answered, the first words he’d spoken that day. It felt weird, like he was responding to lines
spoken in a cinema and not to himself.

“Hm... It’s a shame about the weather, I don’t envy anyone getting out of the house so early
in this temperature,” Kaworu said and filled the third of four cups. Shinji drummed his
fingers a little on his scarf wondering whether somebody was actually talking to him about
the weather. “I’m here too, after all,” the other continued and turned his face to grin at him.

“I guess...,” Shinji mumbled, probably too quietly. For God knows what reason, he continued.
“I come with the subway, so... it’s alright.”
“Ah, that’s good to hear,” his coffees were brought in a cardboard carrier. He sounded almost
sincere, Shinji thought morosely. As if. “Isn’t it too early for you?” Kaworu asked as Shinji
paid for the drinks.

It took a moment for the meaning to register. Shinji glanced at the clock hanging on a wall. “I
guess I came 30 minutes too early...,” he conceded, if only because he didn’t know how to
stop talking now that he was finally doing it.

Doing everything in excess, Asuka had once said. Shinji couldn’t agree more. He only had
switches, not gears.

Kaworu seemed unperturbed by his uncharacteristic sociability, though. Quite the contrary,
apparently. “Wouldn’t you like me to make you a coffee too? You can take a seat, it won’t
take long.”

“No, I...” Shinji panicked for a second, squeezed his scarf, let it go. “Um...yes, thank you.”

A warm smile brightened the other’s face. “I’ll bring it to your table.” It was such a subtle
change from how he’d smiled before. Shinji dwelled on the hypothesis that he was
experiencing hallucinations.

Nevertheless, he took his company coffees and went to a table, pretty close to the counter.
After a few moments’ hesitation in front of the chair, he unwound his scarf and took off his
coat too. The air in the coffee shop felt much colder on his loose, black shirt.

“I never really understood how you take your coffee,” Kaworu said before Shinji had a
chance to sit down. He froze, instead, and looked over his shoulder. Kaworu grinned over the
brewer. “I have yet to learn.”

Shinji looked away, to the wooden floor, broken lips pressed tightly in a thin line. “Two
sugars and milk,” he muttered and sat down.

“Got it,” Kaworu pressed the switch and in a while the room was filled with the smell of
ground coffee.

It was enough time for Shinji to consider what he was doing, or at least to attempt it. Here he
was, sitting in an empty café at a godforsaken hour in the morning, talking to the barista like
he was some kind of normal person. A normal, put-together person who didn’t think it a great
chore to get out of bed every morning and who could act friendly with nice, kind baristas
who smiled everytime they saw him.

A normal, put-together person would not make a big deal out of this. They wouldn’t make
anything of it, Shinji admonished himself. It was just small talk, after all. It didn’t matter that
sometimes it was the only kind of talk Shinji got the entire day.

“Here you are,” a big china mug was placed on his table. Shinji hadn’t heard any movement
behind him.
Instinctively, he wrapped his hands around it. They were still so cold. “Thank you...,” he said
to the mug, although aware that Kaworu was still standing beside the table.

The other didn’t comment on it, though, and soon Shinji was left to nurse his coffee. The
counter was somewhat behind him, so he couldn’t glance at it without being obvious, but
from the sound of it Kaworu was simply putting away china mugs.

I might even start liking coffee if I keep drinking it every day, Shinji thought and was
surprised to feel a tinge of relief at that. He took another gulp of coffee and almost nodded to
himself. Definitely. At least then he wouldn’t feel so out of place while coming here.

He stood there for 20 minutes, for the first time drinking his coffee while it was still warm,
and then put on his coat and walked with the mug to the counter. The shop was still empty,
although there had been somebody who had taken an espresso to go at some point.

Kaworu was wiping white china on a cloth when Shinji finally caught a glimpse of him
again. Shinji put his mug down and fished for his wallet. “Don’t worry about it,” he heard
said, as always, and still placed the necessary amount beside his empty mug. “Have a nice
day,” Kaworu smiled.

Shinji wasn’t used to people smiling at him like that, like it was something directed
specifically at him and not at a joke or situation. It made him feel empty and insufficient
since he could never do it in return. On top of it, he was still coming to terms with the fact
that he really liked the other’s face as it was, smile or not. He was such a powerless thing.

“Thank you...,” he said, and went back to the table to button up his coat and put on his
muffler. The air had been cold, but still his clothes felt warmer now. He went out prepared to
be back in a few hours.
 Chapter 4
Chapter Notes

There is a special Tartan-Clothes Shop in heaven and nobody aside from two or three
individuals in the multiverse are happy about it.

Shinji didn’t expect to meet him on the street, of all places. This was kind of idiotic since
50% of the time he was out of the house he was on a street, with a further 40% percent of
when he was at college. Still, Shinji didn’t meet people, ever. Coincidences just never
happened to him.

Thus, it was a surprise to almost bump into Kaworu just as he was metres away from the
Conservatory. But it was okay, they could still pass each other without mentioning it. After
all, who starts talking to their barista on the street? That’s just like talking to the fruiterer
outside of the market, Shinji tried reasoning.

Reasoning wasn’t his forte, apparently, or he was the only reasonable person left in the world,
because Kaworu pushed his bicycle a little closer to him. “Hi,” he said, as if they’d been
friends forever. Shinji wasn’t even sure he knew his name, despite seeing him look at his
nametag once too.

“Hi,” he said back, couldn’t help himself.

Kaworu pointed towards the Conservatory. “Were you coming here too?” Shinji nodded, kept
his ground, took a deep breath. For a moment, Kaworu’s smile widened, but then something
seemed to click behind his eyes. “Are you a student?” He asked, as if it was something
impressive, learning about music. No one does that, Shinji thought grimly, remembering
every mocking look he’d got when he applied. He nodded again. “What do you play?”

And now they were moving again, him towards the building and Kaworu maybe towards a
place to leave his bicycle. It’s freezing outside, how are you using that thing? Shinji pursed
his lips and hid his chin in his scarf. “Cello...and a little piano,” he said and stopped to wait
while Kaworu harnessed his bike to a spot.

“Really?” he said when he was done, and his eyes were almost shining in that glacial
weather. His eyes reminded him of Rei’s, but they were livelier, stronger. Shinji liked them
more. “I come here to play the piano. What year are you in?”

“Second,” Shinji muttered, ascending the stairs to the front entrance.

Kaworu hummed, and it ended in a chuckle. “And you’re working at Nerv? How did you get
there?”
Shinji couldn’t help feeling irritated as he opened the door, kept it open. “I had to get some
work experience. It’s not like this is going to be very helpful.”

He heard the chuckling again. “Don’t say that, music is very important. One of the greatest
discoveries of humanity.”

Are you real? Shinji actually turned to look at him, half-scared he was not, half-scared he
was. He hadn’t expected someone like him to defend music. Kaworu looked so... able to
make something of himself, even if he was currently working in a coffee shop.

“What composers do you like?” Kaworu asked instead, leaning his head to the side.

“I don’t know...Saint-Saëns, Handel,” Shinji tried to shrug it aside, act like he wasn’t already
spending his academic life listening to music.

“I like Beethoven, and Vivaldi. Do you like Bach too?” Shinji nodded, and Kaworu got in the
elevator with him. “Thought you would,” he grinned. “There was a nice minuet in G major, I
think it was BWV 841? Do you like it?” Shinji nodded again. “Me too.”

They had very slow lifts, something Shinji hadn’t realised before that moment, and he needed
to go a long way up. Even in there the sounds of other classes could be heard. It was no
surprise that Shinji often got out with all these sounds still in his head.

“Hey...Shinji?” He turned his head instantly, and Kaworu smiled at him. “Wanted to check.”
Shinji really had no idea what was happening to him, but Kaworu offered him his hand and,
holding his breath, he took it. “Kaworu Nagisa.”

Shinji nodded, realised it was stupid, shook his hand. “Shinji Ikari.” How long since he had
last held someone’s hand? Probably second year in high school when Asuka wanted me to go
to the rooftop with her, he reasoned.

Kaworu liked to improvise. Shinji saw that now when he indirectly let him know that he
didn’t really care how his coffee was made as long as it wasn’t too strong – enough problems
sleeping already.

He hadn’t really known how to act, seeing him at his work place after meeting him at the
Conservatory, but soon enough Shinji realised that he didn’t have any other way of acting
with someone. Switches, not gears, as he’d already acknowledged.

In his defence, he was trying to seem as un-awkward as he could. Shinji started to get the
impression that Kaworu didn’t mind it whichever way. When his mug arrived, it was a
steamy mass of cream and syrup, and Shinji tried not to look too sceptically at it.

“Doesn’t this cost a fortune...?” Shinji asked, gathering a few napkins just in case he spilled it
until he got to a table.

“Not at all. It’s your +1 drink,” Kaworu said, almost proudly, and Shinji’s eyes flickered to
him.
“I...only got a stamp card yesterday.”

At which, of course, Kaworu handed him another, blank one. “And now you got another.
Enjoy your drink.”

You look too pleased with yourself, Shinji thought sourly and turned carefully towards a table.
It was evening, so the café was buzzing, but he managed. At this rate, it’s no wonder I can’t
fall asleep anymore. His sleep schedule had transformed into something that started at 3 in
the morning, on the good days. It wasn’t all bad, though. He liked having someone to talk to.

It took them a couple of months, but finally Shinji was assigned to do more than paper-
shredding at Nerv. Apparently, now he had to take papers up the stairs to the last storey, come
down to the fifth, go to the third, get back to the eighth, and so on. During the first week of
this new programme, Shinji’s knees seemed to always wobble. Sometimes, though, he still
got around to Angel-shredding before being dismissed, so all was well.

I wonder if they’re not just using me for some social research, Shinji though one day as he
rushed down the stairs. How much can college students endure for a bit of experience, he
rounded a corner and kept going down. How much can we use them? Now he started going
up again. Wasn’t there some talk about some Human Instrumentality Project?

He had met – stumbled over – Kaworu at the Conservatory exactly three times during this
time. They hadn’t talked that much, which Shinji thought was genius. Even with his vague
understanding of people, Shinji found that, even though Kaworu was good at talking to
others, he didn’t always feel the need for it. It made breathing around him easier.

After another round of rushing up and down the stairs, the soft downhill walk to the coffee
shop felt almost like a nap. Or maybe Shinji was really tired and in danger of falling asleep in
the middle of the street. His work-hours had changed, a little, and it was around midday when
he entered the café on his way home – and, from that, to the auditorium. He supposed he
shouldn’t have felt so distraught when somebody else was there to take his order. It
happened, from time to time.

He ordered a tea to-go, as he always did in these instances, and he was just reaching out for
the door when he hard shuffling behind him.

“Wait,” and there was Kaworu, in his ridiculous tartan coat and mustard jeans and frayed
scarf. Like always, Shinji eyed these with suspicion and mild horror. “Lucky, I’d almost used
the back door,” Kaworu beamed at him, like it cost him nothing, not an ounce of energy, and
Shinji pulled open the door.

Outside, he was cradling his milk tea like a shield, with both hands, hoping that his bag won’t
fall off his shoulder. Kaworu looked like the world couldn’t crush him if it tried.

I wonder, when did I agree to this, Shinji thought, face pushed as far as it could go inside his
blue scarf. He had no idea if talking to someone a few times outside of their workplace was
enough to make walking together on the street normal. The most perturbing thought struck
Shinji’s mind. Are we friends?

“How was work?” Kaworu asked, like he always did.

“It was fine,” Shinji answered, like he almost always did.

I haven’t made a friend since middle school. He was slightly panicking, but that was nothing
new. He took a gulp of tea and the panic subsided to a low buzz. They walked in silence after
that, and Shinji didn’t know whether he ought to say something before descending to the
subway.

“Hey, Shinji,” Kaworu solved that problem for him, and Shinji looked at him out of pure
gratitude. “Can I have your phone number?”

He almost dropped his tea.

 Chapter 5
Chapter Notes

Maybe wearing a fish-patterned scarf is considered a health hazard while living with a
cat, but this is breaking the stereotypes.

How did this happen? Shinji looked at his phone around midnight. It shone white and blue
over his face, in the room illuminated only by the streetlamp outside.

Friendships didn’t happen to Shinji, much less obscure, random ones. He’d only been friends
with Toji and Kensuke because they sat near him in class. Once they were off to college,
Shinji started only hearing from them at Christmas. Busy, he thought. It’s not like he tried too
hard, either.

Despite his fears, Kaworu texted rarely and briefly. And then mostly to keep Shinji up to date
with his cat’s moods. Shinji wouldn’t have taken him for a cat person. Then again, what did
he know.

It felt weird, at first, to have his phone buzz and not see Asuka’s name there. Come to think
of it, he ought to change his password, in case she’d get curious during Christmas break.

Then it happened.

Kaworu: Would you like to go out to lunch sometime tomorrow?

It had come in the afternoon, so nothing too unreasonable. Shinji had doubled over coughing
in the kitchen just as he was taking his herbal supplements; his aunt told him to stop being
overdramatic and take some syrup. He hadn’t seen Kaworu that day; their shifts didn’t match,
which made it all the more confusing.

Shinji decided to let it simmer for a while. I was probably a wrong number, Shinji reasoned,
catching his breath. He waited in the kitchen for seven minutes before he conceded that there
was a possibility the text was for him. He tried typing.

I don’t like eating in publ—

And stopped. What was wrong with him? He left the kitchen, went to his room quietly, so as
not to disturb anyone any more. Once behind closed doors, he tried again.

I don’t think I can, I’m sor—

Stopped again. He didn’t like eating in public and he didn’t think he could act normal enough
to go, that was true. Why couldn’t it have been another cat update? He thought morosely and
took a seat at his desk. The mere existence of that unanswered text gnawed at his insides. He
didn’t know how to refuse someone. Usually, he didn’t have that choice.

Kaworu was kind, though. He asked about everything and always waited for an answer. It
was ridiculous. What am I afraid of? Shinji frowned and squeezed his arm tightly.

Shinji: Okay.

It lasted an eternity and a half before the phone buzzed again in his hand.

Kaworu: Great! Is 13.30 okay for you?

What am I doing, what am I doing, his mind chanted to keep itself occupied while Shinji
actively didn’t freak out. He bit his lip.

Shinji: It’s okay.

He felt like he was falling, but it was a slow process. He took a deep breath and felt better,
somehow.

Kaworu: I’ll meet you at the subway station near the Conservatory, then. :)

Shinji: Alright.

Shinji wondered whether Kaworu had actually smiled while typing that.

Trust Kaworu’s fashion sense to make even Shinji feel adequate in public. It took a few
moments of staring before he could close the distance between them. Green boots, was one of
the only things Shinji’s mind acknowledged. And a fish-patterned scarf. He had to admit, that
one he liked. Shinji was too cold to wear anything than his thickest winter clothes, which
were...pretty much what he’d worn the past few weeks.

“Sorry,” Shinji said, because that was what he’d been taught to say whenever he wasn’t the
first one to arrive. I’m early, too.

Kaworu didn’t seem to mind, though. He was scanning the boulevard with a smile. Once he
seemed content with what he saw, he glanced at Shinji. “Are you cold?” He almost seemed
surprised, which was ridiculous. Shinji attempted a mellow glare when he wasn’t looking.
“Your nose is red,” Kaworu added without looking at him, an amused smile on his lips.

“What are you looking for?” Shinji asked instead. He kept being tricked into talking, and his
teeth hurt from the cold.

This time the other’s eyes actually settled on him. “Pigeons,” he said, simply. “What would
you like to eat?” Shinji did a meticulous shrug. “I was thinking macaroni and cheese.” He
must’ve felt Shinji’s stare at that. “What’s wrong?”

Shinji pulled at his scarf again and kept his mouth shut.
He hadn’t expected Kaworu to actually find a place serving macaroni and cheese. Of course,
he should’ve known better. Shinji had to admit, though, he was glad to have something to
roam his fork around.

The place there were in was small, smaller even than the coffee shop. It was a little yellow-
and-blue themed restaurant that, if lacking space and good lighting, had some of the cosiest
chairs Shinji had ever been acquainted with. It helped a little bit, with the mood. The tables
were small, though.

“I never see you around on weekends,” Kaworu gathered back his attention. “At the
university,” he clarified.

Shinji’s eyes flickered up to his and back to his pasta. He kept moving it around. “These are
my free days...”

In retrospect, he should’ve known that hadn’t been a good thing to say. “Ah, yes, I guess
having to go there still counts as work when you’re enrolled. What do you like to do in your
free time, Shinji?”

Shinji looked up at him, biting his lip, trying to convey the answer through that look alone.
He looked down and shrugged.

“Nothing? You sure?” Kaworu asked, as if amused, and got back to his food, a sign that he
was giving Shinji more than enough time to think about it.

Shinji decided he wanted to start eating too, so he composed a short answer. “I sometimes
read...and, I guess, I listen to music.” Again, he hadn’t mentioned exactly how much, but he
somehow had the feeling that Kaworu had picked up on that already.

“Then we’re pretty much alike,” Kaworu smiled as if the sun had got out of the clouds. “I do
that too, except I sometimes go to the Conservatory and at night I take Tabris out for a walk.”

Tabris sounds like such a conceited cat, Shinji thought, chewing with the patience of a
thousand worlds. Though, I guess,he sounds pretty normal, he chanced a glance at Kaworu,
just to check if his last admission hadn't made him sprout feathers or something, just to spite
him.

All these months and Shinji still had a hard time believing Kaworu didn’t live his life
somewhere else. It was very strange to see him at his job, read his texts about how his cat
liked to hide his socks, and even be here, at a table, having lunch with him on a Saturday
afternoon, and think that this was all part of Kaworu’s life. That it wasn’t some way to fill
time in between his real life events.

“Tabris sounds nice,” Shinji said, because he had yet to verbally acknowledge her, even if
they’d exchanged phone numbers weeks before.
Kaworu grinned. “She is.” And he started telling Shinji of how just the other night he’d found
her fighting an owl on the balcony and had to drag her by force back inside. Shinji had noted
a while before that Kaworu lived alone, another thing that made him seem so untouchable.
“You should meet her sometime.”

Shinji blinked at him and stopped moving his fork around. “Me?”

Duh, Shinji imagined Kaworu saying. “It’s only you and me here, isn’t it?” the other said
instead, the Kaworu version of what Shinji was thinking.

Shinji made a weird sound in his throat, which he hoped sounded affirmative, and focused all
his attention on his pasta. Somehow, that last question made him nervous, for whatever
reasons. He wished he could stop moving his food around and actually eat it, just so he’d
seem more preoccupied.

“Hey, Shinji,” and Kaworu’s fingertips brushed his knuckles, lingered for a moment. At first,
Shinji couldn’t move. Then he thought Do that again. “How good did you say you were at
piano?” He seemed completely unperturbed.

Shinji’s hand was still a little numb on his fork. “Not very,” he offered, wryly.

It didn’t seem to matter. Kaworu had an indecipherable smile on his lips. “Have you ever
played á quatre mains?”
 Chapter 6
Chapter Notes

Nobody will even know through how many storage rooms that duck had passed before
finally ending up in Kaworu's wardrobe.

Kaworu liked those stamp cards way too much. Every time Shinji went to get coffee for
Nerv, he looked so pleased to stamp out all the slots in Shinji’s card and tell him to drop by
later for a free coffee. When he wasn’t on duty, the system worked perfectly and Shinji got
only one stamp a day, as he ought to. Of course, the following day Kaworu would look at it
the way you look at a naughty child and fill up all the rest.

Shinji chose to humour him. This must have been the repercussion of all the times he refused
to accept free coffee before. He still didn’t get it, though, what all this friendliness on
Kaworu’s part was based on. It wasn’t like Shinji was great friend-material. He
wasn’t...anything-material.

“Morning,” Kaworu said on this occasion, delighting in the emptiness of the shop. There was
another barista doing the dishes somewhere behind him, but that was all. Shinji was a little
early, again. He had stopped telling himself he wasn’t doing it on purpose, by this time.

“Good morning,” Shinji pulled out the necessary money for Nerv’s coffees and started
unbuttoning his coat as he waited for Kaworu to finish making them.

Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he’d heard more Handel-humming since he’d
said he was one of his favourite composers. Shinji had no idea how Kaworu managed to hum
– intelligibly – The Harmonious Blacksmith, but he was doing it nonetheless.

“It’s colder today,” Kaworu said, stopping mid-song. Shinji gave a noncommittal nod and
watched his hands as he placed the coffees in the carrier. “Would you like a hot chocolate?”

Shinji had been, indeed, freezing, but it wasn’t like he was going to admit it. He was iced-
over to his very toes, his hands red from the wind outside. After so many months of cold
weather, maybe it was going to finally be winter.

He nodded again, pulled the coffees closer to himself, warming his fingers over the cups.
“Yes, thank you.”

“Is Saturday still okay?” Kaworu asked as he prepared his tools. Mostly cocoa powder and
cinnamon and, Shinji frowned, hazelnut syrup, for some reason.

The answer was on the tip of his tongue when Kaworu turned and exchanged a few words
with the other barista, now arranging the mugs. The other went out of the room and Kaworu
turned back to him, all-smiles.

“It’s okay,” Shinji conceded, moving his fingers over the warm Styrofoam cups. “Do you
think they’ll let us?”

“Of course,” Kaworu gathered a mugful of steaming hot chocolate in front of him and started
a weird process of adding cream. “I go there all the time. Nobody minds, we’re not going to
be the only ones.”

“Yeah, but...,” Shinji found it hard to concentrate while watching him make different forms in
the liquid cream. “I think most of them are students.”

Kaworu started powdering cocoa over his masterpiece. “You’re a student. I’ve been a student.
I think that counts.”

“Really?” and Shinji didn’t quite recognise his own voice there.

Kaworu glanced at him without raising his head and grinned. “Yeah, for two years, mostly
axed on composition, but I spent more time playing the piano.”

“You dropped out?” Ugh, idiot, Shinji almost slapped himself.

“It didn’t make me happy. I guess I couldn’t enjoy it as much when it was taught to me as
when I did it for pleasure. I took up another degree after that.”

Shinji blinked. “So you’re still in college?” Kaworu hummed in agreement. “But you’re here
all the time,” Shinji said, dejectedly, and Kaworu actually laughed.

“That’s just a lucky coincidence. Nevertheless, it’s only distance learning, at the moment.”
He was only now adding syrup, which made no sense. Shinji wondered what that thing was
going to taste like.

“Studying what?” he inquired, eyes still trained on his cup.

“Social studies,” he looked up and must have seen Shinji grimacing, because he laughed
again. “Don’t make that face,” he almost cooed and Shinji wanted to hide in his scarf.

Instead, he kept frowning. “That’s my normal face.”

“No, it’s not,” Kaworu grinned at him and Shinji felt his face warm up. Luckily, Kaworu
chose that moment to look over his shoulder, as the other barista returned. “Wait here.”

Apparently, the other guy had gone to bring diverse items for the counter display. Kaworu
returned to him with two fresh cookies and placed them on a plate, beside Shinji’s drink.

“I-I’m gonna be late,” Shinji took his hands away from Nerv’s coffees to flail them a bit.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kaworu used his calming voice as he took the plate in a hand and the
hot chocolate in the other and indicated for Shinji to go to a table. “You’re bringing them
coffee.”
“That’s...that’s the point...,” Shinji mumbled, defeated, and followed him. “Who knows what
they’ll be like without coffee...”

“Relieved when they see you?” Kaworu placed his “order” on the table and stared until Shinji
gave in and took off his coat.

“I’m going to lose my job because of you...”

At which Kaworu raised an eyebrow, and Shinji didn’t know why he felt frustrated at the
sight. “Do they pay you?”

He scowled at nothing in the far distance. “Not from what I heard...”

He heard a chuckle and felt Kaworu’s hand on his shoulder. “If they fire you, you can
complain to me about it on Saturday.”

Nerv didn’t fire him. Of course. They didn’t even notice. That didn’t mean Shinji was going
to admit that when he next saw Kaworu. One of his cousins had looked at him weird when he
got out of the house for the second Saturday in a row, but maybe he just then remembered
that Shinji was part of their household. Either way, Shinji hadn’t waited to find out.

He got to the Conservatory way too early and had to wait ten minutes outside. Giving
Kaworu’s usual choice of clothing – if he could depict a usual from the four times they’ve
seen each other out of the café – Shinji had no doubt that he’d be able to spot him when he
arrived, but he felt bad going inside. The air was so crisp and so cold that it seemed static. No
wind could run through it.

Of course that had backfired too, and when he arrived, Kaworu fussed way more than Shinji
would’ve ever expected him to. They had to wait in front of a radiator for a quarter of an hour
before Kaworu deemed them mobile enough to go up to the piano room.

Once there, Shinji stared apprehensively at the piano. What’s it been? A few weeks? I don’t
even remember, he bit his lip and made a fuss of unbuttoning his coat. It’s not like I’ll die, but
if it sounds bad it’s gonna be so awkward for both of us.

“Shinji?” Kaworu asked, pulling him back to Earth. He was already beside the piano and
wearing a big blue sweater with a stitched duck on the front that almost made Shinji smile.

“Um,” he approached, “I’m not sure I’ll be good enough at this...” The piano looked so big,
bigger than the ones Shinji used to play on before. Figures, if it’s for both for us, but...

“It’s okay, you can only get better,” Kaworu took a seat on the stool, leaving more than
enough space for Shinji. “But I think you’re good enough. You have good hands.”

Shinji seated himself down carefully. “How would you know that?”

“Just a hunch,” Kaworu grinned as he looked over the keys. “Shall we?”
It turned out that Kaworu was a very enthusiastic player, and Shinji had had to stop at one
point and just stare at him, playing so fast with his eyes closed. He felt an urge to look over
their music sheets just to see if Kaworu was actually respecting them or just playing it off.

It sounded nice, though, even when Shinji accompanied him, so Shinji soon got over it and
just played with him, managing not to feel quite in mortal peril when he missed a note.

“I told you,” Kaworu smiled at him, which Shinji saw only from the corner of his eye, “we
sound nice together. Do you want to try this one too?”

He pulled new sheets out of his bag and half-handed them to Shinji. They were close enough
to touch from shoulder to thigh, so Kaworu usually just leant a bit more into Shinji’s side and
showed him the notes. And, somehow, it was only the smell of detergent from his clothes that
made Shinji feel like they were too close, too comfortable around each other. He only realised
he had been relaxed when he no longer felt that way.

“We can try it,” Shinji nodded to himself, willing himself back to that tranquil place. “J-
just...slow down this time, please,” he said and felt himself reddening in embarrassment just
as he did, but Kaworu was ever undeterred as he put the sheets in their place.

His sweater was so large it fell to his knuckles when he lowered his hands and down below
his wrists when he raised them. Shinji wished that he didn’t stare at his hands as much as he
did. That his fingers didn’t quiver every time Kaworu’s touched them while they played. It’s
not a big deal, he told himself just as he leant the slightest bit on Kaworu’s shoulder, just to
see that he could.
 Chapter 7

Kaworu: So now me and Tabris are no longer on speaking terms.

Kaworu: We’re usually running our peace treaties on fresh salmon and doleful stares.

Kaworu: Talking about fish, I heard the aquarium is now open! Do you want to go this
weekend?

Shinji no longer had any excuses to make; they had a routine. The other weekend, he’d had to
help his aunt unpack a new set of living room furniture; with this occasion, Shinji
remembered how the living room actually looked like. However, if it weren’t for that, this
would’ve been the third week in a row that Kaworu asked him out. In town.

If he didn’t know himself better, Shinji would’ve thought he was giddy, as his legs hadn’t
stayed still since morning. Unfortunately, he did know himself better, so he could attest that
he was, in fact, downright volatile. As he stood beside a small aquarium beside the main
entrance, he felt like he had too much oxygen in his body. Soon enough, starting from his
fingertips, he’d start breaking apart and float into the air. A perfect sublimation.

“Got them,” Kaworu returned to his side with two bubbly-blue tickets and an excited smile
on his lips. They were surrounded by children and dim blue light and Shinji thought that
Kaworu’s expression could’ve stood on equal ground with any of these children’s. It made
his own face ache to imitate it.

“Don’t get lost,” he said half-heartedly as they waited in line.

Kaworu was literally bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I won’t get lost,” he said, still
grinning and hooked two of their fingers together without glancing Shinji’s way.

Which was good. Shinji wouldn’t have liked to see his face in that moment either. He had a
suspicion he’d started turning to gas from the belly up.

“Is there any plan to this place?” he asked to keep himself occupied a little while after they
got their tickets checked. Children were gasping all around and parents were cooing to
encourage them. The lighting was so dim Shinji worried he’d step on a child sooner or later.

“I think we’re good any way we go.” Kaworu walked in step with him, never tugging or
swinging his hand around, but his eyes were everywhere, roaming the tank-full walls like
they couldn’t see enough.

Out of sheer sympathy, Shinji walked even more slowly. “I think we should,” and he stopped
to let an energetic toddler cut their way, “wait to see which way everybody’s going and then
turn the other way.”
They stopped in front of an aquarium filled with small tropical fish. Back when he was little,
Shinji remembered wanting one of these; now he thought they rather looked like Doritos.

“Sea birds,” Kaworu claimed with a big grin on his face. Shinji shot him a surprised look
then turned away and let out a single puff of laughter. When he looked back, Kaworu was
gazing at him like he was some sort of wonder.

Nevermind that; Shinji knew his laugh was weird on his good days. He was lucky there were
a lot of children around to make even weirder sounds. They kept going, looking at one side of
the first corridor, then turning and looking at the other, both getting a bit distracted by
fluorescent fish. By the time they turned again, there were considerably less people around.

Hearing a lot of gasps coming from the opposite direction, they went to saltwater and marine
fish next. “Oh, these look familiar,” Kaworu said and led Shinji to a tank full of small
bicoloured fish. “I think I had some when I was little.”

Shinji tried to picture a small version of Kaworu doing, well, what he was doing now, staring
all sparkly-eyed at colourful fish. Though, Shinji had to admit, said colourful fish were very
distracting. They probably owed it to the lighting.

“What do you want to see most, Shinji?” Kaworu asked, touching one finger to the glass to
see if any of the fish came closer.

Shinji had to think for a moment. “Lionfish,” he said, shrugging.

Kaworu grinned and held his fingers a little tighter. Shinji opened his mouth to let some of all
that oxygen get out of his system. “I really want to see the jellyfish.”

Really? Shinji almost asked, but when he turned his head Kaworu was smiling at him, not at
the fish, and the question died on his tongue. “They’re probably that way...,” he looked over
Kaworu’s shoulder and at the row of signs placed before the transition to the next ward.

They met the array of kids again around the moment they got to the big hall, where the
dolphins and other larger-than-life fish could be seen, and it had only been mildly life-
threatening. They did take a better grasp of each other’s hand as they dwindled through the
crowd, though, only to stop at the end and sit down beside a kindergarten group and listen to
what their educator was telling them about dolphins and starfish and whales.

“Is this really okay?” Shinji asked as Kaworu got comfortable on the floor, grabbing a few
children’s attention with the rabbits knitted in his jumper’s pattern.

“It’s okay,” Kaworu whispered back and motioned for Shinji to listen to the educator.

It was calming and enjoyable and Shinji didn’t even have time to worry about looking
ridiculous, sitting on the floor of a museum. Besides, soon enough they weren’t the only
ones.
They had to go up from there, being a bit unsettled by the size of the place, and by the time
they were done with the upper floors Shinji felt for a few short moments very compelled to
lean his head on Kaworu’s cotton jumper and close his eyes for a while. The thought was
strange; he couldn’t remember when he’d last yearned to be this close to someone.

The jellyfish were even better than the lionfish, with their tall aquariums and diverse lighting,
and Kaworu got right back to bouncing for a while. Shinji stared at them until his neck hurt
or until Kaworu pulled his attention towards different ones. He could see why he liked them,
seeming so ethereal and graceful at the same time. Most things people liked seemed like they
were not quite of this world.

By the time they were back at the entrance, five hours had passed, and Shinji had to check his
watch twice.

“Are you hungry?” Kaworu turned to him as they got back into the outside world.

He was starving; but, at the same time, he didn’t want to ruin the day with his self-conscious
public-eating, so Shinji shook his head.

“How about something warm to drink?” With that, Shinji was more comfortable. “There
should be a place nearby,” Kaworu pondered at the clear blue, freezing sky. His hand
involuntarily reached for Shinji’s again, and he let him take it.

Kaworu only took it for a moment, though, gave it a warm, reassuring squeeze and let go.

He was huddled in three layers of clothing, and still Shinji felt like he was evaporating.
“Have you and Tabris made up?” he tried to ground himself in mere words.

“Ah,” Kaworu chuckled, an unusually warm sound in that cold weather. “We’re on the way
there. I still have to get her some fish. But now...” and he grimaced, having probably all the
fish in the Aquarium flash before his eyes.

Shinji grimaced, experiencing the same thing. “Maybe later,” he decided.

“Maybe later,” Kaworu agreed.

 Chapter 8
Chapter Notes

Let's not think of how the author's search history looked like after writing this chapter.
Also, these comments keep me awake at night. In the best possible way. Thank you,
really.

Finally, after months of carrying hundreds of coffees up two or more flights of stairs, of
going up and down said stairs, and of shredding Angels' contract forms, Nerv had told Shinji
that they didn’t need him anymore until after New Year’s. With a couple weeks left of classes
before the winter holidays, Shinji didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

He’d got so used to squeezing his assignments in every possible niche of time that an entire
free afternoon looked like an impromptu vacation now. His sleep schedule had got better,
though. Of that, he was glad. Moreover, he got to experience again the feeling of having the
entire house to himself when everybody else was out. Well, not that Shinji actually got out of
him room even now, but at least the thought that he could with no impediments was nice.

He’d found himself making coffee in the kitchen in the afternoon, which he’d never done
before. After taking a couple careful sips, however, he discovered why. Only an angry call
from Asuka saved him from having to finish his cup. And, even though he didn’t catch if she
was angry at him or at the world in general, he guessed these two were usually intertwined,
so he listened to her and made a note of her flight number and time for when she was going
to visit at Christmas.

“What the hell happened to you?” she asked after a long-winded rant about her colleagues,
this guy or that.

Shinji was still waiting for his undrinkable coffee to get cold so he’d feel less bad throwing it
down the drain. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“You’ve gone half an hour without making any of your pathetic sounds. Were you even
listening to me?” she sounded irritated, but nevertheless waiting for an answer.

“Wha...Of course I was listening. You were talking about the guy you’re doing your biology
project with,” he poured the coffee in the sink. He could still feel its bitter taste on his tongue,
unpleasant but reminiscent of the other good coffees he’d had.

“Yes, I don’t get why I keep getting paired with idiots. I thought I’d get out of that vicious
circle once I got rid of you,” she huffed.

Shinji found himself checking the pockets of his coat on the hallstand. It’s not like you were
doing all the work back then, he replied in his head. He had good enough instincts to keep
that to himself. “Tough luck,” he muttered instead, looked to see that his boots were beside
the entrance door and turned to go to his room.

“What did you say?” Asuka used the inflexion that usually meant you were dead.

“Nothing,” Shinji practically chirped, climbing the stairs to his room. “So, anyway, I’ll tell
aunt that you’re coming later this year.” With all that acting like Shinji wasn’t actually there,
his aunt and even uncle seemed downright delighted with Asuka, for some reason. For some
reason, sure, he thought morosely.

On her end, Asuka sounded almost wary now. “Are you actually hanging up on me?”

Shinji looked at the outside clothes he had gathered on his free arm and just now became
aware of it. “Uh, yeah. I’m going out.” He couldn’t remember those words ever getting past
his lips before.

“Out?” Asuka pressed, as if she was thinking the same thing. “Where?”

“Er...,” Shinji looked out his window at the darkening sky. “I’m getting coffee.”

There was a bit of a queue when Shinji got to the coffee shop, at an unusual hour in the
evening. Baristas were milling all around, and that was a bit intimidating, but the line was
dwindling fast. When he eventually got to the counter, Kaworu did a double-take and then
smiled like he’d been told somebody had paid off his college loans. So maybe Shinji was
projecting.

“That was a short holiday, are you here on a secret mission? Tea or coffee?” he grinned and
held out his hand for Shinji’s stamp card.

“No, I’m not. Coffee,” Shinji gave it to him begrudgingly, eyes shifting left and right, scared
somebody will comment on the illegal number of stamps Kaworu was giving him. “I just
came from home.”

Kaworu made a smooth shift for the coffee makers, leaving somebody else to take his place
at the cashier, and Shinji followed him along the counter. “You should be careful, I heard it
might snow tonight, at last.” He caught Shinji’s eye and gave him a small, personal smile.
“But thanks for coming to see me.”

Shinji bit his lip against the sudden warmth that spread over his face. “Can you get back
home okay?” Putting the cream jug away, Kaworu gave him an inquisitive look. “I-I mean, if
it snows...”

“Of course,” Kaworu smiled more openly now and put the big mug of...something within his
reach. “Do you want to go to the Planetarium this week?”

Shinji gripped the mug carefully, looking with curiosity at its foamy surface. “We could. Next
week I have some...assignments,” he said with a shudder, to which Kaworu replied with a
sympathetic grimace, even as he was moving away to start working on another order.
“Good luck with that,” he called out at last. “We’ll talk about time and place when I get
home.”

So Shinji nodded and took his coffee to a miraculously empty table nearby. For a while, he
felt so proud of his social endeavour that he almost texted Asuka to keep her up to date with
his character growth. That was only averted because his nerves still had a very sickly
disposition, no matter how regularly Shinji took his winter-demanded vitamins nowadays.
The idea was still good, though.

The first snow of the year caught him on the way home.

It was a good thing that the Planetarium was quiet, because this time they met on a Friday
and Shinji had been subjected to a lot of loud, symphonic music earlier that day. At the same
time, he hadn’t slept the required 7 hours in days – for whatever reason he couldn’t fathom,
since exam-induced stress apparently wasn’t an accepted cause – and the very same quietness
was attempting to put him to sleep.

Sitting down and looking overhead at the billions of stars, Shinji felt that, like this, he could
well believe he was sleeping already. If it wasn’t for the fact that every now and then Kaworu
whispered something to him, about this or that star – and how did he know all this? – Shinji
might have forgotten the real world.

All around the dome was the Astronomy Museum. They dwindled from one room to the next,
resting for a bit in each one, unawarely being as quiet as they’ve been before. When they got
to a hallway with planets hanging overhead and tall windows looking onto the bright, snowy
outside world, Shinji’s eyes fell on Kaworu; he smiled, finally taking it the other’s black
jumper with its big, pale-yellow stars standing out.

“You match,” he said spontaneously and Kaworu drew his gaze away from a model of planet
Venus.

It had been, in Shinji’s opinion, a relatively harmless remark, but Kaworu seemed to look at
him for a long time, his vibrant eyes taking in his whole face before speaking. “You have
dimples,” he finally said, somehow making even that sound important.

Shinji let out a nervous chuckle and looked away. “What?” It’s not like I haven’t smiled
around him before, his mind started an argument.

Have I?

Kaworu didn’t deem him with a response. Instead, he touched his arm lightly and directed his
attention to a different room. “Telescopes?”

It looked like yet another dimly lit room, which would probably discourage staring, so Shinji
nodded. “Telescopes,” he agreed and they went in.
“Why are harps like elderly parents?” Kaworu asked him later, when they’d stopped at the
museum’s cafeteria for a very late lunch. Morning practice in the Auditorium wasn’t
beneficial even on a full stomach, and Shinji couldn’t remember when his last meal had been.

He stared, waiting.

“Because they’re unforgiving and hard to get into and out of cars.” Shinji’s face must have
been priceless because Kaworu only laughed when he looked up at him. “Okay, another one.
Let me think...”

He bit his lip, eyebrows scrunched in concentration and it was quite enough to make Shinji
forget about eating for the moment.

“Why...does an archaeologist often get depressed about their work?”

“Does it have anything to do with Indiana Jones?” Shinji tried.

“It’s because their career is in ruins,” he grinned, and seemed delighted at Shinji’s puff of
laughter. Several bites of sandwich later, he perked up again. “What do you get if you cross a
pigeon with a woodpecker?”

Shinji was merely on his second bite; he put it down again. However, he chose to humour
him. “What?”

“A bird which knocks before delivering a message.”

Shinji’s shoulders shook. This was ridiculous; he found himself laughing more at the reality
of Kaworu trying to make jokes than at the jokes themselves. “Did you look them up?” he
managed to ask when his breathing got back to normal.

There was a look of proud joy on Kaworu’s face. “Maybe,” he drawled.

Shinji raised his head to look at him. He was still grinning, and it hurt his face, but there was
a pleasant feeling resting in his stomach. It was also nice to finally be able to look at
somebody without feeling the immediate need to avert his eyes. He wondered how long it
would last.

Feeling quite good, at the moment, Shinji leant forward. “How many folk singers does it take
to change a light bulb?”

The concept of eager patience could be constructed using Kaworu’s face in that moment.
Shinji leant back, taking his sandwich in his hands as protection.

“Two: one to change it and one to sing about how good the old bulb was.” Months ago, he
would’ve been embarrassed to even think of that joke in public, but look at him now.

It was all worth it, because Kaworu was giggling, assuring Shinji that he was the one with a
better sense of humour out of the two of them. Still, he was giggling. In a moment of extreme
bravery, Shinji started eating again, and didn’t stop until both of them were done with their
lunch.
“Are you tired?” Kaworu asked when they were out of the restaurant area and climbing the
stairs back to the museum floors.

“I’m okay,” Shinji spoke the truth, but he knew that he was going to have his first sound
sleep in weeks once he got home.

They got to the first floor and Kaworu pulled a bit at the striped sleeve of Shinji’s shirt to
direct him to their left. Once done, their hands remained close enough to touch and it was a
mutual choice when they reached out for one another.

“I thought we could stay a bit more in the Planetarium,” Kaworu confessed after the silence
took away any heavy feelings lingering in the air.

Shinji nodded silently to himself. “I’d like that.”

There was a gentle press on his hand. “You have a really nice smile, you know,” Kaworu
stated softly, à propos of nothing. Shinji looked at him with wide eyes, already feeling his
fingers slipping from the other’s grasp.

However, when Kaworu caught his gaze and gave him a reassuring smile in return, Shinji
couldn’t help reciprocating, even if a little guardedly.
 Chapter 9
Chapter Notes

Here you have it.

The apogee of my work.

By the time the city was finally snowed-in, Shinji was living the short amount of time in
between two of the most stressful recitals of his life; to that moment, at least. Only one more
and I’m free, was the mantra he kept repeating to himself as he dodged ice patched on the
pavement. A few more days and the holidays would start and then he’d be able to channel all
his tension on preparing Asuka’s room at home.

It was nice to be busy, that he knew, with no time to fuss over personal affairs. However, if he
was going to be tormented both by college and by his mundane life, he would’ve rather done
without it. He was on the way home from the Conservatory when he saw the poster
announcing one more of those Christmas-centred events. He could’ve walked on if it weren’t
for his mental turmoil. Of course, he didn’t.

What do music boxes have to do with anything? Shinji wondered, just as he typed the time
and place in his phone. It was safe to say he was screwed, since he’d started piling up date
ideas in his head. Dates, he thought glumly. Another one of his favourite topics these days.

He would’ve liked to say he’d had a breakdown regarding this. It would’ve made him feel
better if he could later say Oh, that was such a shock, my world turned upside down and there
was a giant eyeless skull peering down at me from a primordial red sea of death. But, of
course, that didn’t happen.

One moment he was in class, listening and eventually writing down some notes, the next a
small, bright, completely unrelated idea that he’d somehow fallen in love struck him; which
was a fair summing-up of his academic experience. It would’ve been perfectly
understandable to panic at that point. Well, yeah, was, instead, his mind’s completely
disappointing reaction. Glad we got that out of the way. Maybe he’d known it all along.

Not like he knew a lot about liking people.

Shinji couldn’t suppress a long-forgotten memory of Asuka smashing his mouth with her
own and with that claiming his first kiss. Shinji had initially thought it’d been a rather
creative punch, but it wasn’t like he could argue with her and win. So, okay, Asuka had
punched his first and only kiss into him in middle school. Shinji couldn’t say he’d felt
anything more than a slight toothache afterwards, but what did he know?
Still, he’d liked her, for a while, in a very weird and twisted way. He’d liked Rei, and Rei
ignored him right back, which was exactly the way Shinji thought crushes were supposed to
work for him. But now – now, this was different. He guessed.

After a few more vague attempts at driving himself into a panic – and when had that failed
before? – which proved entirely unsuccessful, Shinji decided that it didn’t matter. If the panic
was going to reach his bowels and make him hide in bed for days on end, that was alright, the
holidays were almost there. However, for the time being, he couldn’t really fake concern or
surprise over the fact that he liked someone. It seemed, in a way, inevitable. It seemed like
he’d been expecting it to happen for a long time.

Grimacing one more time at the poster, even though half his face was hidden in his mom’s
blue muffler, he turned away and went home. He’d have time to ignore this further once he
was done with systematically breaking his body with a cello.

Kaworu: Can you look up Bach’s piano duet in G major?

Shinji had survived, but for as long as he lived he’d be sure that he had left half his soul in
that university and in his cello. He was lying in his bed when the text arrived and he couldn’t
make himself move to the laptop on his desk if his life depended on it.

Shinji: I thought we settled that Bach was a little too hard...

He tried. What else was he to do? He’d come home from his last recital this year and made a
detour for their guest room, deciding to prepare Asuka’s bed before his aunt could intimidate
him into it. Afterwards, he went to his room, fell on the bed, and rested in heavenly silence
until his phone buzzed. Or, well, until his cousins arrived home, a little before that. Why were
they home so early? It was only midday.

Kaworu: No, I think we can pull it off. I can take the sheets out and make a few
adjustments if you’d like.

Shinji squinted at his phone, finally raising his face from the pillow.

Shinji: Do you have that much free time?

He answered immediately, practically confirming his suspicions.

Kaworu: Maybe.

Kaworu: But actually, not really. Tabris and I tried to decorate the room and the
Christmas tree and it proved to be a harder task than we’d been prepared for. So now
we’re sitting amongst boxes of decorations and avoiding our responsibilities.

He couldn’t be blamed for it, of course, but Shinji’s face started a slow process of falling
back into his pillow, where it stayed until he could get over the image Kaworu had projected
into his head. Some things were just too much.
 Shinji: Do you need help?

Silence was his answer. They were the longest five minutes of his life while he waited for
Kaworu’s response, and Shinji felt all the panic he hadn’t felt the last few days rise up in his
gut. He’d probably gone too far. Inoffensively, his phone vibrated in his hand.

Kaworu: Sure. Let me give you the address.

Which was how, 40 minutes later, Shinji found himself abusing Google Maps and then
standing in front of a twelve-story apartment complex. The snow had stopped, so it was
horribly cold; his face was freezing, his legs were freezing, he couldn’t feel his toes and his
hands were ready to fall off, holding the box he’d acquired from a nearby bakery. He
would’ve felt bad going empty-handed; he even got a small bag of cat food, just to be on the
safe side. He wondered if Kaworu really lived alone. He sounded like it.

He took the lift to the 6th storey and found the door on his first try. He was still cold, only
now everything hurt. Kaworu opened the door and the first thing Shinji experienced was a
gush of warm air smelling like vanilla and baked apples. Then, Tchaikovsky on a low
volume.

“Welcome,” Kaworu took a few steps backwards to let Shinji enter and closed the door.
Everything was so warm, but that was probably his body’s dangerous temperature. Shinji
pressed the box carefully into Kaworu’s hands. “Hm? Ah, thank you,” he drew away with it,
leaving Shinji enough space to take off his crusted-over clothes. “Sorry if this was sudden,”
Kaworu said, as if it was him who had made Shinji come. Well. “Have you eaten? I was
preparing something. Oh, are you done with your classes? Any more finals?”

Shinji unfurled his muffler in silence, letting Kaworu go through all his fuss-state before
replying. “I finished this morning,” he said, putting his scarf alongside his coat and stepping
out of his boots. He took a few careful steps on the wooden floor before he reached a soft,
orange rug, which was much better for his frozen feet.

“You must be tired,” Kaworu gave him a worried look, then left the box on a table and
crossed the distance between them. He flicked some frost off Shinji’s hair and pointed to a
small grey couch. “Sit there. I’ll bring you something warm to drink.”

Lacking any other options, Shinji obeyed. It was only when he was seated on the soft couch
that he was able to take in the apartment. It was only one room, really, and smaller than Shinji
had expected. It seemed to be divided in two, on one side the couch, a bed covered in boxes
and unfurled wrapping paper and a relatively large Christmas tree in between them, and on
the other a small kitchen, followed by a lot of bookshelves different in form, size and colour,
which made the room seem crowded and alive. Everything seemed a bit chaotic, but it had a
nice vibe to it, and Shinji managed to breathe freely.

Kaworu came back with two colourful mugs and placed them on a small coffee table beside
him. “I rushed it a bit, but it should be okay.” His hair was more ruffled than Shinji had
usually seen it and, for once, he wore a simple sweater, pale teal with no patterns. Shinji
wondered where he kept them.

When he brought one mug to his lips and tasted the drink, he decided that everything he’d
been through that day had been worth it. “It’s good,” he exhaled, and maybe he sounded too
surprised, because Kaworu chuckled before taking a seat beside him.

“That’s a relief. I have a pot full of this and I was afraid it would go to waste,” he admitted to
his own mug, then he tried it too.

He made an appreciative sound and leant back on the couch. Shinji would have followed
him, but he was on a lookout for cats.

“Do you want to see Tabris?” Kaworu asked and sprang from the couch, almost spilling his
drink.

He can’t be nervous, Shinji thought to himself, and then gave him a self-conscious nod.

“Just a moment,” Kaworu put his mug down and went to a half-closed door to their left. “She
likes to sleep on the towel rack,” he heard Kaworu explain, and then watched him come back
with a big, grey cat in his arms.

It was the biggest cat Shinji had seen in a while, and the soft, long fur made it look almost
mythical. “Ah,” he said without volition as Kaworu came back to the couch, Tabris purring
loudly against his chest.

“She looks scary, but she doesn’t even know how to use her claws,” Kaworu told him,
smiling and petting the cat’s large head. Shinji took another gulp of his hot drink, if only to
fortify himself. “I’m sorry if you’ll end up full of cat hair, though,” he gave him an apologetic
look and Shinji shook his head, putting his mug down and turning a little bit towards them.

“I don’t mind,” he clarified and watched Tabris intently until she opened two bright blue eyes
and returned the stare. “Um.” She looked so comfortable against Kaworu’s chest that Shinji
didn’t know whether he was more intimidated or jealous. He reached out a hand to touch her
fur nevertheless. “I’ve never seen you full of cat hair before,” he looked up at Kaworu once
his petting got into a steady rhythm.

“I keep all my clothes tightly locked somewhere in the bathroom,” Kaworu grinned, stroking
the cat’s slightly darker ears. Her great grey paws kneaded a little at his sweater. “Was college
alright?”

“Yeah.” There were few things that weren’t right for Shinji at the moment. “I’m glad I have a
vacation now, nonetheless.”

Kaworu hummed in agreement, massaged Tabris’s paws a little. Shinji could make out the
tunes of The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy on the background. Kaworu proceeded with
longer strokes over the cat’s back and caused their fingertips to brush a few times. Shinji was
a little anxious about petting a cat on its belly; he’d heard stories.
“So, the decorations,” Kaworu said and distracted Shinji. He pointed with his head at the
boxes lying on the floor and on his bed. “There are a few that usually go in the tree, but my
bad habit is to put the rest all around the house.” He sighed and looked back at the cat in his
arms. “Tabris really likes knocking all of them down a few times a day.”

“How can I help?” Shinji drew his hand back upon realising that Kaworu was petting her on
auto-pilot and thus enveloping all of her into a cuddling embrace. He took back his mug so he
wouldn’t feel out of place.

“I think we should start with the tree,” Kaworu mused, looked over his shoulder at it and saw
something else. “It’s snowing again.”

Kaworu had poured them more of his concoction – which he’d later admitted was basically
alcohol-free eggnog – during their afternoon and he was now humming Gloria in Excelsis
Deo while hanging silver angels from the tree’s branches. Shinji was less festive, currently
untangling fairy lights. Tabris had been coiling around his feet for a while now.

“Are you going anywhere this winter, Shinji?” Kaworu stopped to clean the coffee table and
bring it near the tree so he could climb it.

Shinji watched him put a silver star on the top, his gaze glancing from time to time at the
probably-slippery table and his socked feet. “No, I’m –” he watched cautiously as Kaworu
got back on the floor unscathed. “I’m staying here. My aunt and uncle – um, I live with them
– will probably go somewhere for New Year’s. But I, ah, have a friend coming over, so I’m
staying with her here.” He stared at his feet, where Tabris was watching him carefully. She
probably thought the same thing: why did you talk so much?

“Hmm, that doesn’t sound like a bad way to spend your holiday,” Kaworu appreciated the
Christmas tree and turned to get the fairy lights out of Shinji’s hands. He didn’t look
bothered.

Mindful not to step on any paws, Shinji sat down on the rug, pulled a second box towards
him and started unpacking it. “What about you?” he asked, pulling a small jingly reindeer
from the box. Tabris extended a paw towards it so silently that Shinji yelped when it touched
his arm instead.

Kaworu turned on cue, took in the sight before him and giggled. Once again. “That’s her
favourite one,” he explained and turned back to his lights. “I’m staying here too.”

Shinji kept the reindeer in his lap, safe from harm and pulled out a soft snowman. Tabris was
nudging lovingly at his arm, now and then attempting to knead his leg.

“Maybe you can visit again around Christmas,” Kaworu finished the first set of lights and
started searching the other boxes for whatever was left. “If you’re not busy,” he said, bent
over a box and Shinji leant his head to the side to see his face, unsuccessfully.
“I won’t be busy,” he tried to say lightly, gathering more and more items on his lap. “Usually
I’m only needed to cook and lock the door at night, so...”

Kaworu peered at him, ruffled hair falling over his face, and smiled. “Do you like to cook?”

“Sometimes,” Shinji shrugged. He realised only too late that Tabris had left his side, and then
he felt something press on his back. “Wha— what is she doing?”

With a shake of his head, Kaworu dropped on his knees in front of him and leant in to take
the cat currently escalading Shinji’s shoulders. There was that smell of detergent again, and
Shinji grabbed unconsciously at the hem of Kaworu’s sweater. He let go, aghast, as soon as
Kaworu sat down in front of him and coddled Tabris.

“I think you didn’t give her enough attention, Shinji,” Kaworu said, in a tone of mock
chastisement and gave Shinji a furtive smile.

On his part, Shinji only managed an incredulous smile and looked down at Tabris. The cat
looked back, unimpressed, and he raised an eyebrow which made Kaworu laugh.

“Hold her for a moment,” he said, tone still amused as he put her in Shinji’s arms and got off
the floor. “I’ll go look how the streets are. It’s been snowing for hours.”

He got out on the balcony, leaving Shinji with several pounds of fluffy, purring cat in his
arms. He tried looking at her, but she was even more intimidating up close, so he set up a
petting exercise, in which Shinji stroked her head and her back and she, in return, kneaded at
his chest. Shinji guessed she was already familiar with the process.

“Um,” Kaworu looked at him with apologetic embarrassment once he got back inside. There
were big snowflakes melting on his hair. Shinji guessed the worst.

Thankfully, he’d been wrong, but the roads still didn’t look good and the sun had already
gone down, so he decided to go while he still could. He thought he’d heard the first meow
come out of Tabris when Kaworu had taken her from his arms and put her gingerly on the
couch. That had been a real confidence boost, if there ever was one.

“Thank you for coming,” Kaworu smiled at him when they were both standing in the
doorway.

He’d never known what to say in response to thank you. Shinji raised his shoulders, let them
down again, and smiled too. “It was nice to be here,” he said before he could change his
mind.

It was apparently a good idea, because Kaworu’s expression grew warmer and he glanced
back inside, where they’d left only the fairy lights on. “Tabris had a good time. I think I’ll
have to watch her sulk for days now.”
Shinji let out a small puff of laughter and Kaworu’s gaze returned to him. “I’ll be back then,”
he said, feeling breathless for no reason.

Kaworu nodded. “Take care,” and then he leant in, a little to the side; and Shinji knew he
only wanted to kiss his cheek, but still his face followed the movement and soon enough they
were looking at each other again, faces so close that things became blurry. Kaworu seemed to
stop, looking into Shinji’s eyes and Shinji wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, but he did
it anyway, raising a trembling hand to Kaworu’s jaw just as they both closed the distance
between them.

It was very close; it was the closest he’d ever been to someone, and his mouth couldn’t seem
to be able to stay closed as they kissed each other carefully, but deliberately. He hadn’t even
realised he’d been yearning for it until it happened. And perhaps he trembled with every
movement, but maybe that wasn’t just him.

Then Shinji found himself raising his other hand to feel Kaworu’s hair tread through his
fingers as with the other he made soft spots of pressure on his jaw everytime he feared he’d
pull away or everytime he felt the need to ground himself. He didn’t become aware of
Kaworu’s hands until much later, when warm fingers caressed his chin fleetingly as they
pressed down on his scarf and others rested on his arm.

Maybe it was better that Shinji didn’t realise the reality of what was happening until they
were coming to a halt, wet lips still touching but not pressing against each other anymore.
Maybe it was better like this, stopping slowly, like when climbing down a hill, so they
wouldn’t fall head-first into the unknown. They both pulled back carefully, watching each
other the entire time, just to see if the other ran, so they could run too.

But neither of them did. Kaworu pressed his lips together, which Shinji watched more
intently than he would’ve wished to, and gave him a small, uncertain smile. “You sure you
don’t want to stay for one more cup of...well, whatever that was?”

Turns out Shinji had had so much extra oxygen in his body that an entire new ecosystem had
taken life inside of him, from the way he his insides were behaving. He shook his head and
took a shuddering breath which ended up going back out in a small laugh. “No, I’ll...I’ll get
snowed in.”

Kaworu seemed to echo his laugh. “Okay, then. Take care.”

 Chapter 10
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“Your room hasn’t changed one bit since I was here last year,” Asuka felt it her duty to
remark 5 minutes after her arrival.

I still live in it, why would it have changed in any way? Shinji thought silently and watched
her drop her bag on the floor before claiming his bed.

“You still have yours, you know?” he grumbled, because it was part of the tradition.

Asuka pretended not to hear him. She was flipping through the books and music sheets on his
bedside table – one small coffee table he’d stolen from the living room at some point. “Did
anything happen to you since I was here last?”

Shinji fixed her with a look that would have killed several less-developed organisms in its
sharpness. He blinked before he cut himself and adopted a more characteristic expression of
calm reticence. “No,” he said and closed the door nonchalantly.

“Figures,” Asuka gave in too easily and Shinji realised with apprehensiveness that he was
unsatisfied with it.

His bed was a small thing which occupied the right half of his room. With the two windows
his bedroom offered, it was probably seated in the most shaded corner. Shinji didn’t own a lot
of things; most of his belongings, including a great amount of his clothes, were hand-me-
downs from older cousins or various bargains his aunt had got her hands on across the ages.
What was truly his was the dizzying quantity of music sheets and music theory books, along
with other college-related materials that had gathered on shelves and boxes and any other
available niches. Shinji didn’t know what that implied, personality-wise.

“So,” Asuka drawled, stretched on his bed while Shinji had taken a humble seat at his desk.

She didn’t follow that up with anything, so Shinji stopped playing tic-tac-toe with himself to
look at her. “What?”

“I wasn’t finished,” she snapped instantly and Shinji returned to his game with an eyeroll.
“Have you got my present yet?”

Shinji grimaced purely out of an Asuka-induced habit. “I haven’t done any Christmas
shopping yet.”

“What are you waiting for, then?” she asked, raising her head from his pillow; he looked at
her again. “I’m not coming with you, you know,” she held his pillow defensively. “I’ll go
with Hikari later this week.”
“I wasn’t asking you to,” Shinji gave her another look and reached for his phone. Asuka
offered him a forceful huff as he opened a new message box.

He had waited for a few days, thinking that he was entitled to do that at least until the winter
holidays started. That made this the fourth day. He still had that photo in his phone; and he’d
written the information on a post-it too, and stuck it on his desk, just to be sure.

Shinji: There is a music-box exhibition on the 23rd, near the city hall.

Although Asuka was still ignoring him – and, indeed, this was probably for the best – Shinji
tried to gather as much power from her presence as possible as he looked at the text and sent
it. That wasn’t exactly an invitation, Shinji thought, pursing his lips. I should’ve asked him.
He put the phone away and his fingers started drumming involuntarily on the desk. He
gnawed at his lip.

Then, the phone buzzed. From the corner of his eye, Shinji saw Asuka give him a suspicious
glance.

Kaworu: How did I miss that? It sounds nice, anyway. Should we go?

It was as if his body was splashed into stillness by an unprecedented wave of relief. Maybe
Shinji hadn’t allowed himself even to think of panicking, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t
been a distinct part of his brain constantly worrying over it.

Shinji: Yeah. Is 9 am alright?

Shinji: I think I also have to do some Christmas shopping...

Pushing too far, Shinji admonished himself.

Kaworu: 9 am is good.

Kaworu: Can I join you? I’ve been postponing that forever.

“You’re smiling like an idiot,” Asuka said, the bed creaking under her movements as she got
up.

Shinji: Of course.

An instant reaction to Asuka coming to peer over his shoulder, the text was sent and the
phone put away with the speed of lightning. When she tried to grab it, Shinji pushed it farther
away on his desk, so that she’d have to straddle him to get to it. An effort which, he knew,
she wasn’t willing to make.

“You’re really weird, you know that?” Asuka grimaced and knocked her knuckles on Shinji’s
head once before going back to lying on his bed.
9 am wasn’t good at all, Shinji reflected as his teeth ground into one another as if they
intended to shut his shivering mouth forever. But, seriously, who knew it was going to be so
damnably cold?

I did, Shinji answered inwardly, staring in pain at the clock perched on the side of one of the
buildings around the City Hall. I did and now I’m going to die, he tried to hide his face in his
muffler but that, too, was frosted over. It hadn’t snowed in two days, and the temperature
stood proof of that.

There was a hole in his stomach and it was making him want to squirm and draw himself into
a ball just to keep his body still. Shinji felt like he was trembling all over, which could’ve
been either due to the drum of emotions inside of him or just to the cold claw of premature
death sinking into his core. He thought, thus, that he was nervous; that ought to be it. But it
was hard to pinpoint a certain feeling when he couldn’t even stay still long enough to take a
deep breath.

Maybe it wasn’t all bad. After all, if hypothermia got to him before Kaworu, at least they
would’ve been spared the awkwardness. For once, Shinji was almost glad for his social
ineptness, since it would probably mask the worst of him.

On a repressed, inward analysis of his own replies, he had decided that awkward-while-
ordering-pizza him was, on the outside, no different than awkward-while-trying-to-ignore-
that-our-lips-ever-touched him; that had come as a relief. But then Shinji had spent the next
20 minutes replaying their last meeting in his head as his hands aggressively made some
paper cranes.

He didn’t really know what to think about anything.

“I’m so sorry.” When Kaworu arrived, the invisible sun didn’t fall from the sky and neither
did the snow melt under his steps to let snowdrops grow.

It was anticlimactically normal, honestly. Kaworu looked kind of breathless, kind of sweaty
and kind of too colourful. Two of these could be blamed on the subway system; the other was
purely him. Shinji forgot to think that anything was wrong.

“You’re so early,” Kaworu panted, and tried to catch his breath. Shinji didn’t grace him with
an answer; he felt vaguely cheated, seeing as he had been the one writing his mental
testament for the past quarter on an hour. “We both need to work on being on time,” he
looked at his phone and laughed, “I’m early too.”

“I couldn’t help it,” Shinji clenched and unclenched his fists in front of him, holding on to the
last shred of feeling he had in them. “Morning traffic,” he said without mentioning that he’d
been awake since 6 o’clock, made breakfast thrice and had a vague attempt at cleaning the
bathroom before he decided to leave home way too early.

“Same here. Who thought public transportation was so effective?” Kaworu chirped while
readjusting his backpack on his shoulder. “How are you?”
 A faint memory of a feeling of dread crept back into Shinji’s gut just as he looked up. “I’m
alright,” he tried, uncomfortably aware that maybe he was hunching into himself a little.
“Can we go in?” he took initiative, because he couldn’t feel his thighs anymore.

“Of course,” Kaworu’s voice shivered a bit, taking after the rest of his body. It was only a few
paces later that Shinji became aware that he was keeping his hand free for him to take it. At
first, he thought about the wind and thought it was ridiculous, both of their hands would fall
off, but in the end he took it in a loose hold, wishing he had more feeling in his fingers.
“Don’t get lost,” Kaworu said, apparently very amused at himself.

Shinji frowned a bit reproachfully at him, but he wasn’t sure it was effective. “I won’t.”

Chapter End Notes

Gosh, finally, holidays.

So, yes, next updates from the 22nd to the 26th.
See you then and thanks.
 Chapter 11

When he’d seen the word exhibition Shinji had been ready to glimpse maybe half a dozen
tables on which elders presented their antique music boxes. This was on a different level
altogether. From what he could see, there were at least two rows, of a dozen tables each.
True, there also appeared to be a Christmas fair happening in and around it, but, still, the
amount of music boxes was amazing.

Shinji tightened his hold a little; he wasn’t so sure he wasn’t going to get lost anymore.
“Where shall we start?” Kaworu asked, seeming perfectly radiant as he faced a giant room
full of people and weirdly colourful objects.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” Shinji eventually asked when no other ideas
came forth.

Kaworu had one hand up to his chin and a thoughtful frown on his face. “I don’t really know.
I was thinking that maybe I’d know when I see it? Do you think they have any playing Ode
to Joy?”

Shinji turned around to look at the nearby stalls. It was a scary place with a lot of people who
had much more Christmas Spirit than him. Shinji wasn’t even sure why Christmas was a
thing. “I don’t know,” he said, because he didn’t, and so they just plunged into the crowd and
went about it more or less systematically, from one table to the next.

It wasn’t long before Shinji realised that it was going to be a very long day for him. This
miraculous epiphany had come, probably, around the third time Kaworu stopped to talk with
an unknown elder behind yet another stall. Grandfathers seemed to take well to him. It’s
probably because they wear the same kind of clothes, Shinji supplied for himself, eyeing
suspiciously the sweaters the people in question were wearing. In Kaworu’s defence, at least
his elaborate holiday pattern had been knitted on a background of dark blue.

Finally, it was only so long he could gaze at the same table without feeling the imminent fear
of somebody addressing him too. “I’ll look around,” Shinji called furtively and went a little
way farther down the aisle, hoping he’ll stay true to his word and not get lost.

Shinji tried to thread as carefully as possible without feeling like he was parting the sea in
two everytime he side-stepped someone. He stopped in front of other small music-boxes, one
of his hands playing idly with his scarf, and scanned their titles. On his part, he didn’t really
know what to get, and neither did he have a lot of money, even though the guys at Nerv
eventually felt inclined to give him a small salary just before the holidays. Shinji was still
baffled about that.

It was while he was pondering what to get Asuka in order not to get smacked when he saw
the small purple music-box. So maybe he had been looking for something in particular.
Shinji’s eyes got a little wider and he got closer, looking at it as if impressed that it was
remaining a reality in front of his eyes. It was an actual Ode to Joy edition.
He almost instinctively called out to Kaworu when he kept himself in check. With a frown,
Shinji drew his scarf over his mouth in contemplation. So far, this seemed like an extremely
lucky event, one which wouldn’t happen twice in a week; and Christmas was days away. Still
– he glanced up suspiciously at the person behind the stall – he’d have to speak up.

“Um,” he started cleverly, and pulled his scarf back down. “This one, please,” he pointed
carefully and looked sideways as the vendor was wrapping it in a small paper bag. He hadn’t
been seen, yet. “Thank you,” he said and stuffed it guiltily in his bag, covering it with all the
useless things he had in there, consisting mostly of tissue-packs and various vitamins, just to
be on the safe side.

One down, Shinji let out a breath. When he found Kaworu again, he was looking at a variety
of small bells. Shinji felt it his duty to stand a little way off and stare at him instead.

“Found anything interesting?” Kaworu asked while piling bells in his palm.

“Not really. I mean, there were some pretty nice ones, but, uh, you know...” Shinji made a
mental note not to overestimate his social skills from now on; ever. “What are those for?”

They were all jingling in a festive bag now. “They’re for Tabris. I figured she’d like one, but I
couldn’t choose.”

Shinji imagined Tabris wearing a tiny bell round her neck as she went on with her business;
personally, it made him feel like Captain Hook. Then he thought of Kaworu being careful to
guess which bell she would like and there was that ecosystem in Shinji’s stomach again,
making him all wobbly. That’d be really cute, he allowed himself the remark and offered
Kaworu an uncertain smile.

“I was thinking,” Kaworu drawled a few aisles later. Shinji made an inquisitive sound while
turning a snow globe in his hands. “Regarding music. Have you ever had a try at vocals,
Shinji?”

The snow globe was put back down carefully, and Shinji directed a suspicious look at him.
Kaworu had been cautious to put his best angelic smile on. “I refuse to give you that
information.”

Shinji hadn’t expected to make him laugh quite so openly.

Usually, one didn’t have that many choices where postcards were involved, in their city. A
few touristic attractions that got old very fast, especially if you were to send them to
somebody who’d used to live there, and that was about it. In consequence, Shinji was pretty
thankful to the holiday season for offering him new possibilities.

He’d got a short e-mail the day before saying, in a half-apologetic, half-rushed tone, that
Kensuke and Toji had decided to spend their holiday around their university grounds or up in
the mountains, so they wouldn’t have the chance to meet this year. Shinji was okay with that,
or at least that was what he replied in his e-mail. On the one hand, he’d had a bigger share
than usual of socialisation already, what with Asuka being around now and with Kaworu
being himself, and he was a little tired. Maybe a lot. Shinji was pretty tired.

On the other, the change in schedule made him a little antsy; he could already see how distant
they’d grow in the future.

Thus, he was doing his part to prevent that, while trying to be as passive as possible in the
attempt, so as not to drain his remaining stamina. This was why, at the moment, he was
examining festive postcards. Thought not acknowledging it, he was also maybe paying more
attention to those with ready-made messages.

“Any luck?” had that been said on a slightly louder note, Shinji would’ve jumped in his skin.
As it was, he merely blinked in surprise.

They were outside the City Hall now, and it wasn’t much warmer than in the morning, but at
least the crowd of people kept them safe from the wind. Of course, Shinji was not completely
sure he didn’t prefer the latter in these circumstances.

Kaworu was putting on a better show of being unperturbed than he was, even though Shinji
had seen him eye the multitude warily from time to time. For now, though, he seemed quite
alright, since he’d found a bench beside the street-stall Shinji was exploring, and also
because, as a matter of fact, he’d been able to procure them both free hot chocolate from the
Christmas fair. Shinji wished he could just choose two postcards already, and take possession
of his own cup before it grew cold.

“Not sure, not really...,” he answered, vexed, and kept on turning cards over. “Sorry, I didn’t
mean to take this long.”

Kaworu didn’t stop mid-sip to disagree with him, but gave him a mildly amused look over
the cup’s lid. It was one of the small things he did, Shinji realised, which made him feel more
like a real person. Contrary to popular belief, he was glad not to have his mental anguish
constantly pampered.

“Take your time,” Kaworu finally voiced his feelings, putting his cup back down.

Shinji drummed his fingers a little on his scarf. “No, I think I got them,” and he took two
vaguely creepy, unwritten postcards from the shelf and went with them to the cashier.
 Chapter 12

“Okay, so I’ve got...almost all of them. I just need one more.” It was amazing how well
Kaworu could handle life with his hands full of colourful bags. Shinji considered him with
his chin in his hand as they sat on another empty bench in the city centre. Outside – in the
snow.

That means a lot of sweaters, he thought. “I didn’t think you had that many relatives,” he said
without meaning to and stopped his other hand from slapping his face through sheer power of
will. Some people have friends too, he had to remember.

Kaworu laughed to himself. “Oh, no, I do. They just don’t like me, that’s all. Still, they
sometimes give me a call, so I guess presents wouldn’t be that unwelcome if I were to send
them?”

There were error screens all over Shinji’s mind. How can they not like you? He didn’t even
know which word he wanted to emphasize in that question more. He got his face more
comfortable in his hand and feigned nonchalance. “I guess not...”

Kaworu raised his gaze from his future presents and leant a little bit on Shinji’s side. “What’s
your situation?” His tone reminded Shinji of long hours in the Aquarium, of excited gasps
and hand-holding. Then of something else. He drew his chin deeper into his scarf.

“One more too, I think... Then I’m done.” Theoretically, mentally and physically.

It wasn’t like Shinji had had a lot of presents to buy, anyway. He’d long since decided that
instead of getting his aunt something he’d just cook a more festive dinner at some point.
Then, he’d got some small things for his cousins, since they usually made an attempt to wish
him happy holidays around this time of year.

After that he only had Kensuke, Toji, Rei and Asuka to worry about. He considered sending
Rei a box of chocolates, even if they hadn’t seen each other since they’d graduated.
Sometimes, she sent short, almost ciphered letters. That left him needing something vaguely
impressive for Asuka.

Though, impressive – Shinji risked a small pained grimace at the mushy sidewalk – was
maybe not the right word. He really wasn’t good at this kind of stuff. Also, the fact that
Kaworu seemed to be able to cross one person off his mental list of presents every time they
entered a shop didn’t make Shinji feel much better. Still, he had to hope for better luck as
they went along.

Shinji only realised he’d been gnawing at his slightly damp, slightly frozen muffler when
Kaworu looked his way and scrunched his eyebrows. Typical, Shinji looked away and held
the knitwear away from his mouth. Way to impress someone. He ought to write a book.

“Can I give you something?” he heard Kaworu say and turned back to him. Shinji’s first
thoughts were Pills? A chew toy? but Kaworu seemed to be serious about it so he ended up
shrugging. “Okay, um...,” an uncertain smile crept over Kaworu’s face as he opened
backpack. “I wasn’t really sure, but this one’s for you,” Kaworu grinned and offered the thing
to him.

In any other circumstances, Shinji would not have believed it possible for someone to find
something almost identical to his muffler, but 300 shades more abundant in colours.
However, this was Kaworu, who at the moment probably had a walrus hoodie waiting in his
wardrobe or something.

“Um...,” he dared to move the thing around after staring at it for a while. His hands were
freezing, but they were still functional enough to tell him that it felt softer than the one he had
around his neck. It was probably due to it not being 20 years old. “Thank you, but why...”

“I kept seeing it on my way home and I thought why not,” Kaworu said, easily. Shinji
involuntarily started squishing the spotted material.

A few days ago I was almost thinking you would stop talking to me and here you go buying
me a present, he thought tiredly. That pretty much summed up their entire relationship. Um,
Shinji tried to start a counter-argument and gave up prematurely.

“Christmas present?” he finally asked out loud, not really knowing what to do with his hands.

“Of course,” Kaworu grinned, a tiny sun on that swarming avenue. “Now,” and his smile
dimmed to mortal standards as he turned to look along the street; Shinji made a shy attempt
at switching his mufflers. “Shall we look for our last items?”

He should’ve said no. But without that I would be still letting my brain wither and die as I
nudged my way through this crowd, Shinji acknowledged. The shop had looked by far
smaller and less threatening from the outside; from the inside, it was like a wooden cabin that
had housed a lot of bored grandmothers for a long period of time.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” Shinji almost whined – almost – as he let Kaworu
pull him deeper into the shop.

Kaworu, who merely snickered at his words, which proved right his presentiments that he
was both enjoying it and doing it on purpose. “Trust me, it’s not as bad as you make it
sound.”

Of course it’s not, Shinji directed a rather dry look at his back, and then they stopped in a less
explored corner, underneath the wooden stairway. If this proved successful, Asuka would be
indebted to him for life, so he decided.

“I really don’t think she’d like it...,” he muttered as he looked at the different sweaters hung
at hand-level. It was by pure instinct that he started shuffling through them, really. Instinct
and a little bit of desperation.
“Everyone likes them once they go through their first night without central heating,” Kaworu
stated matter-of-factly and Shinji stopped to give him a wary look. He grinned without even
glancing Shinji’s way. “First year in college, I had just moved out.”

“Right,” and he turned back to his rack.

After a couple minutes, Shinji was working on begrudgingly admitting to himself that some
of them looked quite nice. He was mostly putting them in two categories, depending on
whether he could see Kaworu in them or not; which was not such a good idea as he ended up
learning quite a few things about himself and about how low he was willing to go because of
a nice smile.

From time to time, Shinji had to remember to look around for Kaworu, just to make sure he
hadn’t bought half the shop while he wasn’t paying attention. But Kaworu was mostly
behaving, quite taking his time in choosing the last present he needed for his inconceivable
relatives. At least the outrageous items of clothing that surrounded them kept Shinji’s
thoughts away from any undesirable things that could take place in a cosy place such as this,
with maybe some more hot chocolate, less people, and more silence.

“Oh, this is perfect,” he whisperingly exclaimed at some point and displayed his findings to
Shinji. “What do you think?”

He had no idea how Kaworu kept finding these things, but this one was vaguely orange, with
three eye-like designs on the chest and sleeves. It was not what Shinji would’ve classified as
perfect, but then again Kaworu had, at some point during the day, been ecstatic over finding
one with a large, blue rhombohedron on it.

“It’s...nice,” he got out, cringing only a little bit, but that seemed to satisfy Kaworu just as
well as anything.

Shinji’s eyes flickered for a moment behind him and he moved almost automatically. He’d
seen it, the perfect thing, up there; he only needed to reach it. With only wool to lean on, it
proved a greater task than anticipated.

“Do you need any help?” Kaworu inquired and Shinji shook his head; they were the same
height, anyway.

Kaworu had nothing on him other than, probably, a better grip of his limbs. Still, Shinji could
manage, so it took him only a few more moments to hold the desired sweater in his arms. He
hoped Asuka still had a vague antipathy towards penguins, or else Shinji wouldn’t get any
amusement out of this holiday.

Thus, it was over faster than either of them had expected. Once they were back outside, it
looked as if one or two snowflakes were making vague attempts at reaching the earth, then
thinking better about it. Shinji couldn’t blame them.
“Done?” Shinji nodded. “Good,” Kaworu declared with a very satisfied voice. Shinji
wondered whether he ever got tired. Then Kaworu glanced his way and gave him a small grin
and Shinji wished he never would. “Anything you want to do now?”

For an instant, Shinji’s guard was so far down that he thought he wouldn’t mind finding a
quiet, warm place to sit close together and hold hands for a while. Then reality crashed into
his mind so hard it smashed the windows of his soul. “Anything is good.”

A talk, the rational part of him said. A talk would be good. Are we okay?

Of course, Shinji couldn’t ask that outright. The mere thought plunged him back in the
nervousness he’d been feeling in the morning. He could only wait and hope. For once, his
chances at a positive answer seemed good.

“I’m hungry,” Kaworu reflected, looking at the street around them. Shinji made a small sound
that could’ve meant anything from yeah, same to I think I forgot the oven on. “If I make a
really quick lunch, will you consider coming over?”
 Chapter 13
Chapter Notes

would you look at this, it's christmas eve.

well. happy holidays to you too. we're halfway there.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good meal must be
in want of a guest. At least, this was what was passing through Shinji’s mind as the subway
trudged on and drew them closer and closer to Kaworu’s place.

Kaworu, who had been questioning him about recipes for the past quarter of an hour.
Kaworu, who had stopped at three different stores to get ingredients before they even boarded
the subway. Nevertheless, Kaworu, who looked like Shinji had just made his day by agreeing
to accompany him home.

“It might be a little cold,” the same Kaworu warned him as he scanned his entrance card and
let them both into the building. “I usually turn off the heating when I go out and then it takes
a long while for it to get warm again. But we haven’t been gone that long, have we?”

Just a little over 4 hours, Shinji’s mind announced. “I don’t mind,” he said instead, as a
means of putting Kaworu at ease. “Are you sure I’m not intruding?”

Kaworu turned to look at him and the incredulous expression made Shinji feel silly for
asking. In hopes of brushing the moment aside, Shinji offered him a helpless smile. These
came easier to him now.

Once they got inside Kaworu’s apartment, Shinji had to agree. It was cold. He didn’t feel it at
first, coming from outside and fully clad in winter clothes, but once his coat and scarf were
off, he was left in a thin, long-sleeved shirt which seemed to struggle not to freeze on him. He
stepped out of his boots warily, while Kaworu mumbled apologies and went round the room,
turning on the heating system. Shinji couldn’t help catching sight of his green reindeer-
patterned socks. Reindeers and snowmen were staring from every direction of the house too.
He’d quite forgotten.

“It usually takes a little less than an hour,” Kaworu tried to sound reassuring and failed,
although Shinji had a distinct feeling that he could get used to the cold faster than that. “Are
you alright?” Shinji nodded, giving him another instinctive smile. Kaworu frowned like a
worried mother. “I’ll make tea.”

Remembering that it was easier to get warm while moving, Shinji took a few steps until his
feet were on the carpet. “Do you need any help?”
Kaworu was already sorting out tea boxes on the kitchen table. “No,” he said, mind
elsewhere. Then he looked up at him and a bright bulb of an idea seemed to light up behind
his eyes. “Oh. Wait a moment,” and he was gone in the bathroom.

It wasn’t like him – at least, not like him in other people’s houses, but totally like him at
home – but Shinji used this chance to fill a kettle with water and put it to boil. It felt weird,
using somebody else’s kitchen, but it wasn’t the weirdest he’d felt. He was looking at
Kaworu’s array of teas when he heard sounds of mild wrestling from the bathroom, and he
remembered that Tabris was most likely reigning in there.

“I found it,” Kaworu re-emerged cat-free, even though his hair was mildly ruffled now. Shinji
was about to comment on it or on the absence of cat when he saw it. Uh oh, he thought. Here
it comes. Kaworu got closer and laughed. “You’re looking at me like I just descended from
the Moon. Here,” he offered Shinji his cargo, which proved to be a large brown sweater. In
retrospective, he should’ve expected this.

“No, I’m alright, thank you...,” he said, even as he accepted it. How did I get talked into this,
he wondered defeatedly.

Ever so cheerful, Kaworu passed by him and looked at the cooker. “Oh, you took care of the
water, thank you. Now,” he turned back to the table and Shinji gave him an unconvincing
withering glance right before pulling the sweater over himself. “Is black tea alright?”

The response he got was a distracted nod, since Shinji was busy turning over his sleeves so
his hands would be functional. “Smells like Tabris,” he mumbled while Kaworu was sorting
out their mugs.

That got him a grin. “Don’t let her hear you say that. She still thinks I don’t know she
sometimes sneaks over the laundry.” Shinji scoffed, hands back in business, and took a seat at
the table, a little put off by the fact that the sweater did help. “She’s still sleeping, by the way.
It’s an act of rebellion until the house is warm again.”

He couldn’t help the smile that spread over his lips. Kaworu came with the steaming kettle to
fill the mugs and Shinji made himself useful, yet again, by holding each tea bag’s string as he
poured the water.

“Until then,” the kettle withdrew and was safely put in the sink. “I get to have you all to
myself,” Kaworu pushed one red mug towards him and gave him a meaningful glance which
made Shinji stop breathing for a moment.

Oh, God, he wants to talk, was his only thought.

Wasn’t that what I wanted, too? he asked forlornly, pulling the mug closer, hoping the steam
will mask his face. Of course he’d act scared now.

“Are you alright?” Shinji’s eyes snapped to him and, yes, maybe he’d gone very pale along
that thought process, because Kaworu was directing a worried look at him.
Shinji kept his eyes on him and took a gulp of tea, a sort of: Look, I’m fully functional, see?
“Er, yes...?”

The worry seemed to melt into slight, fond aggravation, and Shinji hunched a bit under that
look, since he didn’t really know if he’d ever had something like it directed at him before.
Then Kaworu seemed to lose his zest too, his expression settling on calm patience. So maybe
he had been drained by the multitude of people of their early morning too. Shinji found
unexpected relief in thinking that.

They both sat in silence, Shinji at the table and Kaworu leaning back on the counter facing
him, until most of their tea was gone. He wasn’t a good judge, but Shinji felt as if they both
tried to find a way to start talking about things. “Um,” he heard his own voice and was as
astonished as Kaworu that he was the first to speak. “Are we...alright?”

Alright? Seriously? He stared at the bottom of his mug as if it held all the secrets of quite a
few small universes.

“Of course we’re alright,” Kaworu answered, but apparently even he realised that he’d said it
too quickly, since when Shinji looked at him again he found him blushing. “I—I mean...yes.”
Shinji was quite transfixed and it had everything to do with his complexion. Kaworu seemed
to have decided to gather his strength from the centripetal force of his revolving mug. “I’m
sorry. I’m not quite familiar with this.”

“I guess we could...,” and Shinji stopped, realised he’d only spoken because Kaworu had
sounded so honest, and went on again at a less steady rate, “...just, um.” He went back to
staring mutely at his empty mug.

“Figure this out?” Kaworu tried, a bit sheepishly, and Shinji nodded to the small, soaked
leaves of his brew. “As we...,” but here Kaworu seemed to be suddenly entranced by his tea
too.

Shinji counted a few seconds and fifteen leaves. “...go along?” he finished and gazed up,
finding Kaworu looking much relieved and kind of happy. However, there was still a ghost of
red on his cheeks; but Shinji guessed it was not his place to comment on it.

“Yeah. We’ll be fine,” he stated now, more decisively, and Shinji was kind of glad to have
someone be so sure of him for once.

It was impossible to tell what a quick lunch had meant, exactly. After another, less awkward
cup of tea, however, Kaworu had vaguely hinted at starting to prepare it, so Shinji agreed to
leave himself completely at his mercy. Kaworu decided to make curry.

“That’s not very Christmassy,” Shinji noted laconically, hoping that the dozens of ornaments
on the background would help construct the perfect sense of sarcasm necessary.

Kaworu was unperturbed. “We’ll add ginger,” he stated simply and went on slicing red
peppers.
This way, half an hour later, they were hovering over the pot of vegetables, while throwing
one or two glances to the rice steamer too, from time to time. Shinji felt quite well, if a little
warm, and it was quite nice to finally be on equal grounds with someone, even if it was only
regarding cooking. It felt nice to know what he was doing.

“When I was younger, I think Edvard Grieg was my favourite,” Kaworu said, tending to the
pot with a particularly deft move of his wrist.

Shinji waited for a moment, listening to what was currently playing from Kaworu’s small
sound system and caught the notes of Morning Mood. “And now?” he asked, squinting a bit
at the food mixture before adding a little more black pepper.

“I still like him, of course, but he kind of intimidates me,” Kaworu admitted with a small
laugh.

A frown formed on Shinji’s face. Intimidation, in his opinion, was something that happened
to other people, not to Kaworu. Other people – take Shinji, for example. “More than
Tchaikovsky?” he asked, unawarely raising one eyebrow.

Kaworu glanced his way and grinned. “Kind of? Tchaikovsky reminds me of childhood. The
Nutcracker was one of my favourite things about the winter holidays. Still is, really,” he said,
shredding coriander leaves with his hands.

Shinji watched the green shreds falling from Kaworu’s fingers into the pot. “Yeah, I...I
remember that.” It was so long ago that he wasn’t quite sure whether he’d watched it with his
mom or with his cousins, but it was still a memory.

A short while later, it was done and Shinji only had so much time to think over his eating
strategy when Kaworu pulled out the strange, cat-patterned plates he possessed, for some
reason, and effectively distracted him. As a means of getting back at him, Shinji resolved to
gather as much of the ginger as he could on his plate.

Their lunch went better than anyone would have expected, all things considered. Shinji
wondered how long it would take them next time they saw each other to reach the same state
of comfort. Kaworu had even let him help with the dishes, although he kept Shinji strictly on
drying duty.

The apartment had got warm, in time, with a little help from the open cooker, and Shinji
pondered the pros and cons of taking off Kaworu’s sweater. It had, and he would have never
admitted it out loud, grown on him. He considered taking off his shirt instead, but that would
probably have been creepy, were anyone to know. So, for the time being, he kept his sleeves
up to his elbows.

Shortly after they had finished sorting up the dishes, Kaworu had excused himself. Now,
there were mild cooing sounds coming from the bathroom. They contrasted quite a lot with
the Rimsky-Korsakov he was hearing on the background.
It was around this time that Shinji’s phone vibrated, making him feel like he’d woken up
from a very long nap.

Asuka : So, you’re not home yet (for once!!) and now I’m the one being asked about
your whereabouts. Are you dead? I’m spending the night at Hikari’s, but tell me if you
want me to wait for you before leaving.

That was completely like her, and Shinji really wished he wasn’t good at reading between the
lines so he wouldn’t know she was worried. A soft wave of guilt seeped into his
consciousness, and he wished it away instantly, if ineffectually.

“Did something happen?” Kaworu asked, coming back into the room with his arms full of
fluffy, sleepy Tabris. Shinji involuntarily smiled at them before remembering himself and
looking back to his phone.

“No, just...someone checking on me.”

“Do you need to get home?” Kaworu had that look in his eyes like he’d be able to fast-dial a
taxi in a matter of seconds, given the right answer. Shinji felt a little sick at the thought of
leaving, and maybe this was shown in how vehemently he shook his head.

“N-no, no, it’s fine. She was actually telling me she won’t be home tonight, so...” So what?
He let out a breath.

He let out another.

There is a special kind of grin worn by people who know they’re about to do something
mildly devastating and Kaworu had it on his face. “Well,” he drew out, habitually getting
Tabris into her cuddling position. A small part of Shinji’s mind thought that whatever was
coming after that wouldn’t be fair. “We have a really nice view of the city, at night,” he
inclined his head towards his balcony. “If you care to stay.”

“Er.” Shinji articulated, phone forgotten in his hand.

Kaworu’s grin dimmed until it turned into him biting his lip. “Ah.”

“Um.” Shinji went on in the same academic manner and stared. Even Tabris made a slight
sound of inquiry as she fixed a second pair of deep blue eyes at Kaworu.

Kaworu cringed slowly. “Too much?”

Shinji decided a few more seconds’ thought was in order. “No,” he decided, at the end of it.
“I—okay. I’ll stay.” That might not have been in the plan, though.

“Really?” And it was now Shinji who found himself stared at by two pairs of eyes. He
nodded, squeezing his phone in his hands. “Okay.”

Shinji : I’m okay. I’m staying with a friend tonight. See you tomorrow.
 Asuka : Is this a joke?

Shinji : No. See you tomorrow.

I’m never going to hear the end of this, Shinji thought morosely.

Asuka : Fine. Stay safe.

 Chapter 14

It had been Kaworu’s idea to watch cartoons for a while, at least until it got dark enough to
see the city lighted up or until Tabris demanded her nightly walk. Shinji didn’t have anything
against that, since he was left with an armful of cat while Kaworu arranged the couch and
coffee table so they would be comfortable while using his laptop.

There was a light feeling in his chest, had been hovering above his heart ever since he’d
agreed to stay. There was a constant hope. Maybe it will be alright. Maybe it will be nice, and
so Shinji chanted inwardly while petting Tabris with long, careful strokes. She was purring so
loudly he couldn’t even feel his heart.

“You know, when I first got her, she was so tiny. Well, she still is, in a way,” Kaworu related
as he placed some small colourful pillows at both ends of the couch.

Shinji risked a suspicious glance at Tabris, who looked at him as if daring him to say she was
not the smallest thing he’d ever held.

“I had only moved here two months before and I just happened to see her in an animal
control worker’s van.” Finished, Kaworu straightened himself up and went close to them to
join in the coddling party. “Nobody thought she’d get quite so pretty,” he cooed, then glanced
up at Shinji. “You can sit down now.”

“I thought she was older,” Shinji remarked as he sat himself cross-legged on the couch
without letting go of her; he was kind of proud of this achievement.

“Oh, no. She’s still a child, so you can understand the tantrums,” Kaworu said from the
kitchen table, where he was now busy preparing instant hot chocolate. Shinji rather thought
he hadn’t been spoiled in all his 19 years of age as much as he’d been during these visits.
Tabris curled a bit in his arms, proving his point.

In retrospect, everything had been perfect while they’d just gone through different episodes
of various old cartoons each of them used to watch when they were little. For some reason,
Kaworu found Courage hilarious. For some reason, Shinji had once really liked Inspector
Gadget. They’d somehow sat on common ground with Chip ‘n’ Dale, which they both
irredeemably loved.

“Guess who daydreamed of being the next David Bowman when he was ten,” Kaworu said
after they somehow found themselves talking about outer space.

Shinji laughed; he couldn’t stop himself. “No, that’s horrible!”

“Debatable,” Kaworu rebuked, but he was laughing too, swinging a sleepy Tabris in his lap;
she had abandoned Shinji for more experienced hands. “It all seemed so amazing, all that
knowledge...”
“I thought you only wanted it for the spaceship,” Shinji smiled and swirled his remaining hot
chocolate around in his mug. “Wouldn’t it have been very lonely, though?”

“There are many people who are very lonely in this world as it is. I took the knowledge and
the lack of a bodily manifestation as a bonus,” Kaworu explained, a grin still apparent in his
voice. It nudged at some pretty uncomfortable bits in Shinji’s soul.

“I used to like Sci-Fi books when I was little,” he said instead of indulging himself into the
feeling. “I had found all the Space Odysseys when I visited my dad once, and I remember
enjoying them. It occurred to me how vast the universe was, and that strangely put me at
ease.”

It was a funny thought, given that sometimes even the world around him felt too big for
Shinji, and he had such a small, little world of his own. He guessed it was just a matter of
proportion.

“I haven’t thought about it in a while, but thinking about it somehow made me feel like I
could stop worrying and calm down. We are such small things...,” he stopped, a trace of
embarrassment etched on his face. “That is, being so small you could almost forget you exist.
It thought David didn’t have that anymore. It seemed pretty sad.”

Kaworu mused and stared for a bit in space. “There is a certain solace in an abyss. It resists
change, for one thing.” He made a pause, during which Tabris found her chance to stretch
better on his lap. “So the Planetarium...”

“—was nice,” Shinji said before he could continue, only a bit too fast. Yep, that covered it
really well, his mind muttered.

“That’s a relief,” Kaworu sighed happily and made a quite carefree, quite unsubtle, but
successful attempt at sliding closer to Shinji, cat and all.

Shinji looked at him and hated how the first, second-long thought that came to his mind was
whether it was morally wrong to kiss someone in front of their cat. Then that passed and he
put his efforts in deciding whether he wanted to stay like this, close, but not yet touching, or
to scoot a bit himself and lean on Kaworu’s side.

Tabris looks quite comfortable, he found an excuse to hold his ground, in the end. I wouldn’t
want to be the one to bother her, he went on, but even so placed his hand in the space
between them on the couch and waited.

It was quite okay, too, because Kaworu simply shifted the cat a bit on his lap, so as to have
his hand free, and gently slid it into Shinji’s. It was, somehow, just enough.

If Shinji had been even a little surprised about the calmness that had lied around the place,
once Tabris was awake the apartment seemed to spring to life. Or, at least, to be knocked off
shelves to life. Shinji was just having a nice time looking through Kaworu’s bookshelves –
unexpectedly, a lot of 20th century literature – when Tabris jumped on the desk chair and
from there to the top of one of the shelves, deliberately knocking a reindeer figure to the
ground. Thankfully, it didn’t break.

“Get down,” Shinji tried whispering authoritatively, and was promptly ignored. He wasn’t tall
enough to gather her in his arms without knocking a few books in the process, either. “Come
on...”

“She’ll get down as soon as I turn on the lights,” Kaworu said, peeking up from where he was
placing back in place the tree ornaments she’d knocked off. Then he glanced outside and
grinned. “It’s dark now. I guess we can show you the sights.”

In surprise, Shinji turned to the windows and saw that the winter night had already settled
over the city. It was a transient splash back to reality, but still he felt like too long and too
short a time had passed since that morning. The mere thought that this was still the same day
he’d been freezing on the street in front of the City Hall was almost enough to knock him into
utter exhaustion. He tried to get the thought out of his head.

A pair of soft slippers was dropped in front of him and before Shinji gathered himself
Kaworu was already helping him pull down the sleeves of his shirt-and-sweater combo.
Shinji would’ve almost complained, if he didn’t find the act endearing. Besides, Kaworu
looked pretty proud of himself once he’d brought the sweater’s sleeves down over his palms.

Shinji had nothing to busy himself with; Kaworu was wearing his sweaters by the book. “Is
Tabris not getting a night walk today?”

It was a bittersweet relief that they seemed to have this topic to get back to everytime they
got emotionally incapacitated. Shinji was beginning to feel more and more like a cat person.

“We decided not to,” Kaworu got into his own slippers and opened the balcony door.

Right after him, Shinji stepped outside the room too and found himself immediately in need
to hold on to the railing. Not that he had a problem with heights, but just because that was
exactly where his hands landed as soon as he was there. Nobody bothered to make balconies
bigger than flowerpots in these parts, apparently.

However, the city centre was only a couple of subway stations away, and the main shopping
alleys, with their winter lights and decorations could be seen in between patches of black,
spotted buildings.

“That’s the City Hall,” Kaworu pointed only with his look, as his hands were also on the
cold, metal railing.

It was a big building crowned by amber lights and Shinji, once again, had some trouble
believing that he’d been waiting in front of it just that morning, worrying his life away.
Kaworu went on to direct his glance to the Central Station, where Shinji used to go with his
cousins as a child, to visit the countryside and get his compulsory dose of fright and
tiredness. Then he showed him a couple small museums and, with some difficulty, a rather
narrow street on which Kaworu maintained he’d found the best raspberry tarts at some point.
“There is the Planetarium.” The dome seemed to glow blue from within, while the outer halls
of the Astronomy Museum shined white. If Shinji strained his eyes, he could see the shape of
the hanging planets. “The Aquarium’s the other way,” Kaworu added, sounding sorry.

Shinji stayed silent for a bit longer, searching. “There’s the art museum...,” he said in a low
voice, not pointing with anything but his gaze at the grey building. We should go at some
point, he thought, but didn’t voice it. An idea struck his mind and his face almost broke into a
grin. “You’re going to tell me you’re a big fan of Picasso, aren’t you?”

At this, Kaworu ducked his head, trying in vain to conceal his amusement. “I’m more of a
Jean Metzinger fan, truth be told.”

“Of course,” Shinji mumbled, contented, vaguely aware of his hands freezing on the
balustrade. “We should go, sometime,” he said and it sounded more confident than he’d
expected it to. He was kind of proud.

“Mhm,” was Kaworu’s response, and Shinji turned to look at him he found him looking back.
“Are you cold?” he asked, and tittered when a shiver broke through his sentence.

“Y-yeah,” Shinji admitted, smiling, looking away now. His fingers hurt on the iron. “I’d like
to stay a bit more, though...”

There was something really calming about looking from this high place at the streets bulging
with the people who usually made one feel so small.

Once they were back in, the warm air seemed almost surreal, and Tabris openly narrowed her
eyes at the cold steaming from their clothes. “I want to try out the fairy lights,” Kaworu said
when Shinji was halfway across the room. “I changed some of them. May I?”

Shinji sent him a confused look and shrugged. “Sure...”

But as soon as he’d said it, the lights overhead were turned off and for a few moments the
only light in the room came from the moon and from the city currently glimmering behind
Kaworu. Then, small bulbs of colourful light started a slow process of lighting up all across
the apartment.

As if thinking his mere presence near them would make them malfunction, Shinji drew his
steps back to Kaworu’s side. Kaworu, who, amidst this twinkling show of colours, was
smiling childishly at him. It was somehow both making Shinji’s heart beat really fast and
making his face ache for a smile too; and it made Shinji forget that his hands were frozen as
he raised them to his face and drew him in.

Kaworu kissed him like he was more aware of Shinji being there than Shinji himself was.
Shinji, generally, just tried to keep a clear head about the whole thing; it wasn’t going very
well.
His hands shook, and he feared they were maybe too cold, maybe unwelcome. There was a
rising feeling in his gut, one that at other times rendered him quite breathless. His lips were
chapped. Then he felt hands on his waist, going slowly up his back, and he let out a breath,
and shakily let himself fall forth into whatever feeling awaited him.

It maybe wasn’t much, but he felt safe.

It was nicer now, Shinji also realised, with his hands free to tread through Kaworu’s hair and
with Kaworu holding him close, with only soft clothes in between them and no need to go
away.

It was nice that Kaworu stopped to breathe when he did and that they never knew which one
of them leant back in. It was nice to feel his lips get softer under his touch, and to be so aware
that everything he touched was part of the person he was kissing. Dimly, Shinji decided that
he had a special place in his heart for the small chuckles he heard everytime their movements
got clumsy.

When they pulled apart, it was easier than last time, and Shinji noted hazily that his hands
weren’t shaking anymore. “Um,” he specified and made them return to his sides.

“Yeah,” Kaworu answered back, breathily, and took his hands away from Shinji’s back too.

They stood still for a while, and Kaworu stared at him calmly, affectionately, like he had all
the time in the world. Then, in a moment, he seemed to suddenly get animated once more.

“I’ll make something. I fear we might catch a cold after staying outside that long,” turning to
put the water to boil even as he said it.

“Okay,” Shinji blinked. “But let me wash the mugs this time,” he muttered, following
Kaworu to grab them out of his hands. There wasn’t that much resistance on the other end,
this time.

Figuring things out as we go, his mind conceded to itself.

 Chapter 15
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Leaving Tabris without a walk ended up having some consequences. So, by the time Shinji
expected her to be well into dreamland on the towel rack – he had had a rather scarring
meeting with her in the bathroom when he hadn’t expected to see her in the mirror – she
instead produced various sounds and looks, asking for play and attention.

In the end, Kaworu’s bells had found a noble purpose, as it seemed like Kaworu never
intended to hang them around Tabris’s neck. Shinji only spared a quarter of an hour looking
at the two of them – human and cat – sitting on the floor and moving the colourful bells from
one another before deciding to do something productive. It only took minor mumbling and
care to get Kaworu’s laptop and place himself along with it in Kaworu’s bed.

It took a while for Shinji to realise that sitting in someone else’s bed was not something he
did on a regular basis, or at all, and by that time he couldn’t find a good enough excuse, for
himself or anyone concerned, to move to the couch. Besides, the bed was softer than his own,
so he had grown comfortable dangerously quickly. Kaworu’s sheets had tiny robots on them.

“I remembered, I have to show you something,” Kaworu said, grinning as he knocked two
circular bells towards Tabris, who in turn looked beside herself, who ended up with both her
forepaws in the air, not knowing what to hit first.

Huh, imagine that, Shinji glanced curiously at the pouncing cat and surreptitiously opened a
new playlist in Kaworu’s music player. “What is it?” he asked, once he made sure that he
wasn’t yet required to move.

“Ah, it’s...,” he stopped to push a green bell farther away. Shinji’s eyes drifted from them to
the laptop’s screen and he quickly added a couple of songs at the top of the playlist.
“Something I found quite recently. They’re really nice, I wanted them to be a surprise.” He
looked up to give Shinji a shy smile, which Shinji returned while including Bach’s Prelude
Suite No. 1.

Allowing himself to be a little biased, Shinji then added Saint-Saëns’s Cello Concerto No. 1,
and followed it with Biber’s Annunciation while Kaworu retrieved some runaway toy from
under the kitchen counter. On a sideway note, Shinji glanced at the clock, finding it close to
midnight.

A slight sparkle of alarm burst in his stomach at the realisation that he had lost track of time,
but it subsided just as quickly. It was hard to panic when Kaworu had insisted on lending him
a pair of black and white pyjamas that must’ve been equally large on both of them. So, he
thought of what was actually relevant about the hour. I have to give him his present soon.
Casting a casual glance at him, Shinji added Dvořák’s Song to the Moon.
“Ok, here, look,” Kaworu came near the bed moments later with a black box in his hand. He
looked bemusedly from Shinji’s cross-legged form to the vastness of the empty bed beside
him and raised his eyebrows. “Can I?”

Shinji frowned as if to show him how stupid asking permission to sit on his own bed was,
then pulled the laptop closer to his chest. It wasn’t ready yet. “Sure,” he said, for formality’s
sake.

The bed bounced a bit with Kaworu’s excitement. “Look,” he said, and, once Shinji made
sure that he wasn’t prying at the playlist, he did. “I thought they were quite pretty so I got two
boxes,” Kaworu explained as Shinji stared at the tiny renditions of planets encased in black
plastic. The inscriptions above them told him they were presumably made of chocolate, but
he found it hard to believe. He wondered who would have the heart to eat them. “This one’s
for you,” Kaworu added further.

“Ah, no,” Shinji said on instinct and raised his eyes to see Kaworu giving him a mistrustful
look. He turned back the box. “I mean, you don’t have to.”

“Of course,” Kaworu smiled and closed the box. Shinji actually thought he was going to take
it back to where it came from before it was placed on his lap, beside the laptop. “I just want
to. Merry Christmas.”

“It’s not wrapped,” was the most casual thing Shinji found to say when he handed Kaworu
his present. It kind of got in the way of Kaworu making the bed. “I don’t know your views on
wrapping paper,” he even added.

“My views on wrapping paper?” Kaworu seemed to hold back a laugh with the help of a
raised eyebrow.

He let the soft-looking robot-y blanket fall back on the bed and received the music box. It
looked way smaller than Shinji remembered it to be. He tried not to act self-conscious.

“Oh,” Kaworu said once he got a good look at his present and Shinji maybe held his breath
for a moment.

He was barefooted on Kaworu’s orange rug, in the middle of his house, at midnight. Things
couldn’t go too wrong.

“This is so nice,” followed, a breathy affirmation that didn’t seem to be directed at him.
Kaworu turned the key and listened attentively to a few notes. “Oh,” he said again, at nothing
in particular, then raised his eyes to Shinji’s and beamed. Shinji didn’t think his microscopic
gift deserved such admiration. “Can I kiss you?”

A stop. Shinji dug his feet deeper into the carpet. “Yeah,” he said, hoping the question hadn’t
been rhetorical. It probably hadn’t, since Kaworu had waited for him to answer.
Kaworu pressed his lips to his and he made it seem so easy; he made it seem so natural that
Shinji’s heart hardly skipped a beat. In a way, he realised this kiss was also a kind of thank
you. So, even thought he’d never known what to say to that, this time he placed a kiss of his
own over Kaworu’s and that felt right.

The blanket was too large for his bed, Shinji thought as he saw it fall over the other side and
felt it clogging at his back. Even the pillows, wrapped in the same patterned material of the
rest of the covers, were too big, in a way. Shinji wasn’t complaining; he was merely
observing.

“Are you sure it doesn’t bother you?” Kaworu asked, lying on his side and gazing at him
from his own oversized pillow.

There was more than enough space in between them, even if Shinji usually wasn’t a fan of
being touched while he slept. At the moment, not even their knees touched, a simple effect of
them not being yet quite at ease in such close proximity. It was mostly each of them thinking
the other would find it unwelcome.

“I’m alright,” Shinji answered in a low voice, as if the darkness pressed him to be quiet. He
could hear Tabris threading her way around the bathroom.

“Okay,” Kaworu shifted a little bit, seeming to become aware of the covers dripping behind
his back and pulling them up again. “Do you need to be anywhere tomorrow morning?”

Shinji thought about it, absently following the outline of a robot with his finger. He could
probably cook in the afternoon. “No,” he said, and looked up, if only because he enjoyed
seeing Kaworu’s face in the dim light of the moon outside. “Do you?”

“No,” Kaworu smiled, and after a moment of thought he poked Shinji’s restless fingers. “No
classes during the break.”

“I’ve never heard of you actually going to class,” Shinji rebuked him and poked at his hand
right back.

“I have a very mysterious schedule.” Kaworu’s hand kept being a decent opponent until
Shinji eventually opted for lacing their fingers together. It didn’t feel like too much, and he
rejoiced in that. “I’ll opt for a delayed breakfast then, is that okay?”

It was late; Shinji nodded. Something kept his gaze glued to their hands together.

“Also, Tabris might join us later.” This time, Shinji looked up. “After the first nap on the
towels, that is. It’s just so she can wake me up better in the morning.”

She wakes you up, Shinji thought helplessly and then smiled at the image.
 Hours later, when he woke up with an additional weight pressing on the space between the
two of them, he was, if anything, confused. That was nothing, however, compared to the
disorientation that followed even later, when the weight seemed to have moved on his chest,
from where it even now and then produced slight, pleading sounds.

Chapter End Notes

this was nice. thank.

updates will go back to their weekly schedule now, hopefully.
 Chapter 16
Chapter Notes

new year, new you, new me, new eva

but this is still here

Asuka had either been inventive, a very evil mind-reader, or bored. At least, that’s what
Shinji decreed after opening her Christmas gift. Truth be told, he’d expected something more
metaphoric (i.e. cheaper), but apparently she had somehow decided to get him a sweater. It
was nice, really, maybe a size too big, but nice nevertheless, with thin beige and brown
stripes, and softer than most of the hand-me-downs in Shinji’s wardrobe.

She’s being nice, Shinji decided, and didn’t know how to feel about it. He didn’t know how
he felt about Asuka opening her present to find knitted penguins staring back at her.

“Can you believe this?” There the person in question was, stomping on her way upstairs just
minutes after exchanging gifts.

She probably wasn’t talking about his present, else that question would’ve sounded much
different. Shinji looked up to see Asuka in his doorway, looking kind of flushed and kind of
maddened, holding an envelope in her hand.

“What?” Shinji asked, remaining seated in the middle of his bed, sweater lying in his lap.

“She—” Asuka shook the envelope angrily. “She sent me a letter!” Never had those words
sounded bitterer in somebody’s mouth.

Shinji remained nonplussed. “Mari?”

With an exasperated gesture and a very suggestive roll of her eyes, Asuka entered his room
and pushed his door shut. “No, not Mari. That—” but she didn’t finish so Shinji frowned a bit
before widening his eyes.

“Rei?”

Asuka seated herself aggressively on his bed, hit herself on his knee in the process, and gave
his guilty leg a push, nearly making him fall on his side. “Yes. Here’s one for you too,
anyway,” and she threw another letter his way. He couldn’t help noticing that his was
perceptibly thinner than Asuka’s. “The gall of that one, I swear,” Asuka kept grumbling while
opening her own letter.

Instead of following her example, Shinji merely watched her do it. Her hands were picking
furiously enough at the paper, but under that appearance she was still putting some effort into
not damaging it. He glanced at his own envelope, then placed it over the sweater still lying
over his legs.

Asuka seemed to catch that gesture from the corner of her eye. “How does that fit you,
anyway?” she asked, trying a little too hard to sound cranky, in Shinji’s opinion.

“It fits alright, I think. Thank you,” he said, but probably without being heard, as Asuka had
finally taken the letter out. It had three whole pages.

“Who knew she knew this many words?” she threw the question in the air, twisting the pages
this way and that. She forgot to sound angry this time. “Alright,” she set them down and
made herself more comfortable in Shinji’s bed before poring over them.

They stayed like that a long time, reading and talking about what other people had done since
they’d last seen them, and it felt a lot like other Christmases they’d had. And, when Asuka
finally got back to her room to retrieve her amateurishly-wrapped present, she only reacted to
her own sweater with mild contempt and eventually pulled it on by the end of the day.

It was hopeless. By the time the second week of the holiday rolled around, Shinji was already
up and about, and on his way to the Conservatory. According to his internal plan, he could
get at least a few good hours of cello practice a day, in peace and what could be more or less
considered silence, since most of his peers would still be home for the break. Shinji planned
to go there around three times, just so he wouldn’t feel too guilty sitting at home, relaxing.

He was on such an outing, just after New Year’s – which had been a peaceful night of
multiplayer videogames while he and Asuka had done their best to drink a bottle of cream
liqueur she had bought for the occasion – when Kaworu had asked for his help in consuming
a pizza. Basically, he had asked him out for dinner.

If it’s pizza, it should be okay, Shinji thought, a connoisseur of how much time one could kill
by cutting a single slice in small, aesthetically pleasing pieces. For one thing, barely finding
the knife up to the task at hand would get him through most of the small talk.

Kaworu was waiting for him in the central hall of the university, quite safe from the cold and
peacefully reading a book. Shinji would’ve liked to grumble, at least internally, about the
inefficiency of him having come all the way there, but he was a little too pleased. There was
no stopping the giddy smile that poked at Shinji’s lips as he drew closer, but he still made a
valiant effort.

However, the amount of effort got immeasurably smaller once he saw Kaworu gazing
knowingly and triumphantly at his sweater. He hadn’t even realised he’d put on Asuka’s
present before leaving home. Just my luck. He’ll never forget this now.

“How do you feel about fairy tales?” Kaworu asked before they even ordered their drinks.
Shinji looked at him inquisitively, lowering the menu a little. “I guess I’m impartial, more or
less...”

That had not been the safest thing to say. Fifteen minutes later, Shinji found himself almost
reaching the bottom of his lemonade as he listened to Kaworu recounting some new rendition
of old folk tales. Their food was not there yet. He hadn’t even tried the knife.

“So then the cat says ‘Let’s put the pelican child in the oven.’” Kaworu gesticulated with a
napkin.

“But—”

The napkin met the table for the thirteenth time. “I know! They preheated it and left her in
there for half an hour and then she was alive again.”

“Um.”

“Yeah, so...there was that one. Then—” But, this time, the waitress luckily approached their
table and Shinji could put his almost empty drink away. Kaworu gave him a bashful smile
across the wooden table, as if he’d only now realised how much he’d been talking.

Shinji shook his head, though he was a little relieved that there were no birds of any kind on
his pizza. Vegetarian menus were a life saver. Shinji glanced from his cheesy broccoli to
Kaworu’s pineapple – and why wasn’t he surprised? – before starting to carefully unravel his
cutlery.

“How do you fix a broken pizza?” he asked blankly, staring at his napkin. Kaworu made a
slight inquisitive sound and Shinji only felt a little bad before saying “With tomato paste.”

“Why did Mozart sell all his chickens?”

Twenty jokes later, and they were barely done with their first slice. Shinji contemplated that
he’d found his soulmate. “Why?”

After they realised one drink wasn’t going to see them through the entire meal, Kaworu had
taken upon himself the responsibility of ordering some complex fruit juices. Shinji’s wasn’t
so bad, though it had a tint of purple around the bigger mass of green. Kaworu, however, was
brandishing a glass of intimidating pink.

It was with this exact thing that he busied himself before the punch line. “Because they kept
saying bach bach.”

“I’m never talking to you again,” Shinji said under his breath, trying in vain to control his
shaking shoulders. In the end, he hid his shame in his own radioactive drink.
It occurred to Shinji that Kaworu was the best person he could complain to about his
teachers; since he most likely knew them, and since they obviously hadn’t made such a big
impression on him, seeing as he’d quit his studies there. So that was exactly what Shinji did
while they pushed through the last bits of their meal.

It led to a discussion about subjectivity and objectivity with regards to the subjects taught in
school, which led to teachers expressing their personal worldview in front of their students
and what this meant, taking into consideration the different levels of authority.

“It mostly sounds dumb when I say it,” Shinji drew a hand through his hair, self-consciously.

“I disagree. I think it sounds just fine. Honest, if you like.”

It was self-evident that Kaworu had a much better grasp of his words and of what they said,
too, given his current choice of a university, but Shinji appreciated that he never picked on
his lack of fluency to strengthen his arguments. More or less, Kaworu listened for as long as
it took him to formulate a coherent idea, and even more if he sensed that he hadn’t expressed
what he wanted.

They eventually gave it up for lighter subjects after their plates were collected and Kaworu
suggested waiting for a little bit before deciding whether dessert was a valid option. “Thank
you for the playlist, by the way.”

Shinji looked at him as his hands were busy twirling a blue straw in the remains of his drink.
“It was a little hurried...”

“I left it untouched, so you can return to it anytime you feel like it,” Kaworu grinned, and
Shinji involuntarily started folding a napkin. “I like Shostakovich, why didn’t you mention
him before?”

“It had been a while,” Shinji shrugged. “I almost forgot Rachmaninoff, too.”

He saw Kaworu leaning over the table from the corner of his eye, so he tore his gaze away
from his compulsive handkerchief origami. “Say,” Kaworu smiled once he had his attention,
“do you think we should go to the opera?”

“To see what?” Shinji drummed his fingers faintly over his unfinished masterpiece.

Kaworu shrugged. “Aida? Nabucco? Maybe Evgheni Oneghin, depends on what’s on at the
time.”

Nodding at what he heard, Shinji glanced out the window. “When it’s not snowing shovels,
though.”

Happily obliged, Kaworu leant back on his chair. “As soon as it gets warmer, sure.” He made
a pause during which he stared at Shinji’s hands. “You’re pretty good at that.”

Shinji dropped his gaze too, only to see the only mildly incapacitated handkerchief crane he’d
made as they talked. “Yeah, well...,” he made a face at it before starting to flatten it back.
He could tell Kaworu how he’d once spent a few days going over an online course on
origami just because he thought it would look less weird than constantly fidgeting while
sitting at a table with someone. He could also mention how now he had got into the habit of
folding paper even at home, whenever he sat at his desk for extended periods of time. By
now, he was pretty good at it, too.

Shinji glanced at Kaworu. Maybe on the way home, he decided.

 Chapter 17

It was a Tuesday, and it was drizzling – of all things. Taking into consideration the level of
snow above-ground and the temperatures they’ve had since, basically, November, Shinji
guessed the world was a joke. So here he was, frozen boots battling their way through ankle-
high snow and an umbrella over his head. It didn’t help that classes had started the day
before, or that he had to be back at Nerv today.

In spite of everything, he felt vaguely happy – which was very uncommon, since it was a
casual feeling; no particular reason behind it. Content, Shinji tried to ameliorate it. That
didn’t sound quite right either. Unagitated, he felt like he was getting closer. Calm.

Shinji was feeling calm. Nothing very unusual there but the fact that it was a calm given by
lack of worry than by a secure sense of doom. He faintly wondered whether this was because
he’d taken the bus instead of the subway of hell.

He hadn’t even realised how close he was to the building until he got in and hot air slapped
his face. The lady at the reception didn’t seem to be bothered by this, which Shinji deemed
highly unhealthy, but he wasn’t in the right place to talk about health. Only a miracle had
kept a cold far away from him this winter.

At Nerv, the guy behind the first desk – one Hyuga or other – actually smiled briefly at Shinji
when he entered the room. Shinji was mildly distressed by it, as it could have meant that the
work load was going to be especially heavy that day, as a welcome-back present.

He was on the brink of picking up the first batch of to-shred contracts when another intern
burst in the office, a big smile on her face and an intent look that seemed to be directed at
Shinji.

“You’re not going to believe this,” she said, and Shinji wondered if they’d ever said more
than good morning/afternoon/evening to each other before. He produced an appropriately
curious face. “They’ve got us a coffee maker!”

This was true, as Shinji discovered once he made his way to the recreation area. It was a
pretty complicated machine with too many functions to be healthy and a very intimidating
interface. Upon taking a closer look, Shinji decided that the machine could prepare more
types of coffee than the entire Nerv personnel knew existed, in his opinion.

“So I guess that’s one or six trips up and down the stairs less for you, now,” the intern giggled
and Shinji got the point: Oh, so I’ll actually have to learn how to use it.

He nodded, though. “I guess.” That seemed to satisfy her enough to leave him alone. He
looked at the coffee maker again, felt his face form an involuntary grimace. No more trips
down the stairs, alright.
Asuka hadn’t left yet, which didn’t bother Shinji all that much. It was only the first period
after New Year’s, she wasn’t hurrying anywhere, since her classes started in a week, and his
aunt loved her, so the guest room was still hers. The only problem was that, now that both
Shinji’s classes and his work had started, she got bored without him at home. She didn’t say it
out loud, she just over-texted him all the time.

Like now; a couple of hours into his second day of work, Shinji decided to answer her texts
by complaining passively about the coffee machine, texts which Asuka either ignored or
replied to aggressively. Shinji was annoyed that part of she’d said had actually helped him
make it work. He had started cherishing the time spend shredding papers.

Asuka: If I hear one more question about that coffee machine I’ll shove my future bio-
chemistry diploma down your throat. How long till you get off?

Shinji: Around an hour.

Asuka: Fine. Meet me downstairs. You’re taking me out to coffee.

Of course, he hadn’t expected her to be there. Back in high school, she did this all the time.
Well, all the time Shinji actually agreed to get out of the house for her. She’d say a place and
a time on a whim, he’d go there and eventually end up returning home some time later, music
on his phone turned to the max, as if that would help him feel more comfortable. Next day,
she’d look at him with mild surprise and slight annoyance and say she didn’t remember
anything of the sort, or that he should’ve been able to tell she wasn’t feeling right for it.

Now, however, she was there. Shinji actually stopped in front of the entrance to stare at her,
with her black hat, coat and trousers and her flowing ginger hair. There was enough wind to
make it billow all around her. She had her arms crossed, and held herself as if she’d decided
to be the last person standing even if the wind was going to tear everyone apart around her.

Shinji took all of that in and nodded to himself. That, he could deal with. Letting go of his
muffler to stick his hands in his coat’s pockets, he approached her.

“Took you long enough,” she sent a hasty glare his way and pushed herself away from the
wall she had been leaning on. “I was going to just go and buy myself coffee,” and she turned
down the busy street and started walking without looking back to see if he was following her.

She didn’t have to, of course, since he was. They went through a particularly crowded part of
the sidewalk and Shinji thought for three or four moments that he was going to die or end up
human mush, and when they got past that, he saw with an interesting mix of emotion that she
was going for Kaworu’s coffee shop. Well, not his, but, yes, same difference.

“Ah...you want to go in there?” Shinji asked breathily, struggling to reach her before another
surge of people came to break their way.

Asuka was most decisively going in the right direction. “I looked it up on Maps, this is the
closest one in the area.” Before reaching the door, she turned to him with a frown. “Why, is
their coffee shit?”

Shinji sighed and smiled wryly, more at his life than at anything else. “...No, their coffee is
good.”

“Right, then,” she turned briskly and opened the door, making such a dignified entrance that
even the bell chimed gravely. Shinji slithered in after her with the air of a recently-kicked
small animal. She only looked at the menu on the wall for a moment before drawing her eyes
away. “Get me something large, with as many shots of espresso as is legal,” she was
unbuttoning her coat and making for a small window table. They were lucky the place wasn’t
too crowded, Shinji realised. They – meaning everyone inside except Asuka. “And syrup,”
she added as an afterthought before taking a seat.

Right..., he took a breath and went to the counter, where a girl his age smiled at him before he
drew his eyes away. He wasn’t going to be so transparent as to actually look around the
counter for Kaworu, naturally, so he placed his order, going through a few trials in order to
put as many shots as he deemed healthy in Asuka’s drink. He was ushered to his table with
the promise that the drinks will be ready shortly, so he complied.

Asuka was sulking. He should’ve picked up on that sooner. She was looking broodingly at
the table while her fingers twisted the sleeves of what he wasn’t sure was his shirt or hers. He
would’ve expected that after such a long time of living with himself he’d be able to deal
pretty well with other people’s moping too, but, of course, that wasn’t so. As per usual, Shinji
seated himself better and decided to wait until Asuka would be well enough to start talking
about it on her own.

It took, maybe, five minutes; then she looked up at him through her fringe. “Forget it, that
look on your face is enough to drive even the most miserable people out of their gloom.”
Coming from anyone else, that would’ve sounded like a nice compliment. Shinji smiled,
despite himself. “Ugh, that is even worse. Since when can your face do that?” But soon she
was hiding a smile herself, so it was all good.

When the coffees arrived, Asuka’s was a tower or broken dreams and future nights full of
regret – namely, a tall glass full of perfectly black liquid smelling faintly of vanilla. Shinji’s
was a medium cup of intimidated milky coffee. But he wasn’t examining that at the moment.

For now, his face was magnetically drawn to Kaworu’s, who glanced his way as he set their
drinks on the table. It had only been a couple weeks since he’d last seen Kaworu in his
barista clothes, but already he looked unusual when Shinji looked at him, wearing only black
and white. They should let him dress himself on special occasions, he pondered, thinking of
all his thematic clothes. He liked the black shirt, though, liked how it didn’t make his eyes
water and how Kaworu’s arms moved inside its sleeves. His mouth ached to say something,
but ached in vain.

Finally, as he took his time placing Shinji’s coffee in front of him and then giving them
teaspoons and napkins, Kaworu put him out of his misery. “I take it that Nerv’s deus ex
machina is still working, then?” He said it in a low voice, conversationally, and Shinji
guessed that was because Asuka was there. Right.
“Y-yeah, I’ve tinkered at it for two days, but it’s still functioning. It seems pretty...sturdy,” he
said with badly disguised dislike, looking at his cup and turning it in his hands without
raising it from the table.

He read Kaworu’s grin in his breath. “That’s a shame,” he said, unexpectedly blunt but still
smiling.

There was a small commotion behind the counter and Kaworu looked over his shoulder in
mild curiosity, and Shinji knew he was going to go back to his work in just another moment,
but he couldn’t find his words, so he let him go.

He turned in his seat back to Asuka, who had apparently finished ¼ of her deathly drink
while watching them converse. She was doing her best to look as if she hadn’t observed that
other people existed around her, but in a short while she was directing an unreadable look in
Shinji’s direction. Her piercing blue eyes seemed rather terrifying when they looked over
more than 0.5l of raw coffee.

Shinji knew that when her words would come, they would put across every thought she had.
It all came down to a rather cold “Is the coffee free?”

Which made him blink, then cradle his coffee closer to him. “No.”

She huffed and downed another much-too-black mouthful of her drink, then moved her head
to the right and seemed to admire the rest of the tables, their occupants, and everything else.

Shinji couldn’t remember the last time Asuka had been this quiet in his presence, apart from
those few weeks in middle school when she’d done nothing but play video games at Hikari’s.
That had been a nuisance for her guardian. That had been completely terrifying for Shinji. He
couldn’t remember ever feeling that afraid for someone else before or since that. It was okay
now.

Shinji counted his gulps, and when he reached the fifth he spoke up. “Did you want to talk
about something?”

In a completely expected way, Asuka looked rather bored once she glanced his way. “No. I’m
leaving in two days,” she dropped the news and, as if using that as groundwork, she
proceeded rather hastily, “Who was that?”

Shinji took another mouthful and put his cup back on the table. “Kaworu,” he said, just as
hurriedly. “Isn’t two days too soon? Did you get your plane ticket, or...”

Asuka followed his example, but kept her eyes on the rest of the café. “Asked your aunt to
get one for me when they went on their New Year’s trip. It’s all ready. Do I know him?”

Shinji really wished he’d left his muffler on. It was strangely unsatisfying, just drumming his
fingers on the table and on the coffee mug. “No. So you’ve got everything packed?”

“Of course not, I still want you to iron a few things for me,” she said as if it was the most
natural thing in the world. “How do you know him, then?”
“I’m not ironing your things for you,” Shinji felt the urge to cross his arms. “And I told you I
had to buy a lot of coffee at work before they got that...thing.”

Asuka turned back towards him, looking exasperated. “You can’t let me iron them. You know
what happened last time, right?” And, seeing Shinji’s grimace at remembering burnt trousers
and a smell that wouldn’t leave the living room for days, she leant back on her seat,
triumphant, and took another swing of coffee. “So you’re friends now or what? By the way, I
also got some of your shirts because I need something to wear at the gym.”

Shinji tried to look as disgruntled as someone could look while drinking weak coffee. “No
way.”

“Too late,” she said, terribly interested in her reflection in the teaspoon. A few minutes
passed, and she looked up at him, evidently telling him that she had not overlooked that
missing answer.

He hadn’t managed to say good-bye properly; Shinji was especially hung up on that. By the
time Asuka decided she wanted to go, the whole café was transformed, with many evening
shifts coming in for their coffees to-go and also Kaworu seemed to be pretty busy with the
grinding machine. The most Shinji had managed to do was wave helplessly at him over a few
rows of people. Kaworu had smiled rather warmly back, so it was okay, but it still didn’t feel
like enough.

Asuka was treading the snow with annoyed steps alongside him, and the street was
displeasingly dark and unnervingly cold. She seemed to be thinking very hard of something,
either way, so Shinji went on sulking in his soul and trying not to fall face-first into slushy
snow.

“You’re really annoying, you know?” she asked when they were a couple streets away from
home.

Shinji’s head turned to her in surprise, but she wasn’t looking at him. “...Why?”

It was quiet for a while. “Because,” Asuka started, punctuating her word with a hard kick of
her foot. “With all my other friends – they’re normal, you see? – I can just ask them whether
they like someone or if they go to bed with them, and all that. But you,” and she gave a great
sigh and another kick, “You always get around so weirdly to doing the things you do that
you’d probably have no idea what I’m talking about.”

Shinji thought a little bit about it, glancing up at the black, starry sky. “You said I was a
charity case,” he reminded her.

Asuka’s boots splashed slush around like it had personally offended her. “Yeah, well, I don’t
see you begging for anything right now, do I?”

He decided to leave it at that. It was more than enough mind food to nibble on until she came
back again. They walked for a longer bit in silence, going around already-made paths on the
road, trying to avoid ice patches as well as they could.

They were pretty close to home by the time Asuka spoke again. It started with another
emphatic sigh, as if she’d just decided to do him a favour. “Are you seeing someone, Shinji?”

His mouth was dry; he felt a little feverish, but cold. “Yes.”

She seemed to nod. Her hat was bobbing up and down. “Good. That’s good for you. That
guy?” She didn’t turn to see him nodding, but he did it anyway. “Good,” she said again. She
was silent for a couple more steps before she stretched her arms over her head, as if trying to
make herself seem more untroubled. “I always feel so shitty when I leave here.”

Shinji didn’t really need to be told; he’d seen her sulking for the past few days. “You can
come again during spring break,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t accuse him of being
condescending.

“Yeah.” Apparently, she didn’t feel the need to be quite so acidic when she knew he couldn’t
see her face. “I think I shall,” she seemed to hesitate for a moment before getting into the
light of the house’s windows. Then she turned to him, scowling. “Are you gonna be a creep
or hug me?” She was so obvious that Shinji shrugged and actually acted indecisive for a short
moment before getting closer. “Not that you should if you don’t want to,” Asuka added, but
only after she was sure the hug was happening, and thus rather missing the point.

“Take care,” Shinji said, gaining courage from the simple fact that Asuka had subjected
herself to the weirdness of hugging in the middle of the street. Still, he felt light; it had been a
while since his last hug.

He felt her nodding into his shoulder. “You too,” and she pushed him away soon afterwards,
crossing the small distance to the front door with an excess of nonchalance. “You’re making
pasta tonight.”
 Chapter 18
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

In February they were half-coaxed, half-abducted into the animal shelter at the edge of town.

It started in a funny way. It was a Wednesday and due to some lost blessing in their
timetables they accidentally found out that they could meet halfway. Shinji, coming from his
cello practice, Kaworu from his morning classes, which Shinji was still amazed to know
existed. It was true, though, that if he wanted to look in between the lines he could see that
Kaworu had a variably busier schedule this semester.

The snow was still present at a lower level on the ground and Kaworu had his green boots on.
Shinji threw those a look before deciding that he’d got more or less immune. He wasn’t even
flinching at yellowy tartan anymore. He had a vague impression he’d worn a plaid shirt just
the other day; truly, a feat.

Kaworu didn’t even have the chance to finish smiling and say hi to him before a cheery
stranger came to him, armed with various fliers and talking rapidly. Shinji’s first instinct had
been to flee, or to hide somewhere until they’d be gone, but he felt kind of weird leaving
Kaworu alone in the street, prey to social predators, when they were just a couple metres
away from each other. Still, that didn’t mean he walked too fast to get at his side.

“ – so we’re glad for any kind of help we can get. Here’s the address, hope to see you there,”
the stranger finished and handed Kaworu a flier, then looked with the same open smile to
Shinji, almost giving him a mild fright. “You too. Have a nice day!” Then they were gone.

“Uh,” Shinji shuffled from one foot to the other and glanced at the paper in Kaworu’s hand.
“Hi.” Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing this on purpose, he pondered, wincing at his own
voice.

“Hello,” was the answer he received, on a pleasantly amused tone. Right. He really had to get
it into his head that Kaworu had got used to his antics. No need to worry about every blunder
he made anymore. No use crying over spilt milk, Shinji’s mind offered cheerily.

“What’s that?” he pointed at the leaflet, taking his own advice to just get on with his life.

Kaworu bounced a little on his heels, which Shinji remembered seeing him doing a couple of
times before but nevertheless felt his mouth quiver into a smile at witnessing it again. “They
wondered whether we could go and stay with the animals at the shelter for maybe a couple
hours, play and keep them company. They seem to be lacking volunteers.” And he looked
mystically thoughtful as he said the last part. Shinji made a mental note to know where to
find Kaworu in his remaining free time from there on.

“A couple hours?” he asked, with the patience of one that knew their plans were quite made
for the day.
“Well,” Kaworu’s face moved into an embarrassed smile. “They said at least half an hour,
but...” he stalled. Shinji waited. “I thought that maybe.” There was quite an apparent full stop
there.

According to circumstances, Shinji decided that the best approach to life was a careful
inspection of his own boots, mildly splashed with muddy snow. “Okay.”

“Really?” Kaworu sounded delightedly surprised. “I mean, we don’t have to,” he then
redressed himself.

Shinji shook his head, inspected his own boots a little bit more. “I don’t mind. We can go.”

It had been a good decision, and not only because Kaworu had glanced at him with faintly
flushed cheeks all the way to the animal shelter, but also because once they arrived there –
cats. Truly, Shinji had hoped for some dogs for a change, but apparently it was lunch time for
them.

This isn’t going to be good for my health, he announced even before they were admitted in
and, when ten minutes later Kaworu was becoming every kitten’s best friend, he agreed that
he’d been completely right. There were other people there, of course, but among so many
animals they didn’t seem so oppressing, so Shinji only felt his usual mild amount of
discomfort.

It got even a little better later, when he claimed one of the playroom corners for himself and
an old tabby cat that seemed to want nothing more from life than a hand to pet her head
continually and a bowl of warm milk. Shinji could somehow relate.

His aunt and uncle had never allowed animals in the house, and after the first years of their
life his cousins ceased asking for a dog too. So there remained Shinji, kind of wanting a pet if
only because it would have been a quiet, non-judging being to have around and acknowledge
his existence. He’d kind of forgotten about it, left it at the back of his mind, until he’d seen
Kaworu with Tabris.

“It feels pretty nice...”

Shinji looked up some time later, a little startled to be taken out of his calming cat-petting
trance, and saw Kaworu, two young black cats in his arms, looking wistfully around the
room.

“This place, I mean. It’s better than the one Tabris would have ended up in,” he clarified and
carefully took a seat on the floor beside Shinji. The kittens in his arms were quite fast asleep.

He ended up a little closer than they usually preferred to sit, especially with people around
them, but it was something to say about the power of relaxation a cat possessed when Shinji
didn’t really mind it. Maybe, a little while later, he’d be struck by a gooey, warm feeling of
need for them to be very, very close to each other; but usually this happened after he got
home, to the privacy and quietness of his room, when no more attempts at contact could be
made. For now, though, Shinji was alright, and Kaworu seemed to be so too.

Kaworu: After a week of being in denial, I have to admit defeat. Tabris has developed a
certain penchant for the brand of food you usually bring her.

Kaworu: Being kept under a constant resentful gaze, I must capitulate and ask you
where you’re getting it from.

Shinji: I’ll bring more next time.

Kaworu: No, no! That’s really, really nice of you, but you don’t need to trouble yourself.
Just tell me where I can find it.

Shinji: It’s okay, really. I’ll bring more next time.

“You really did bring more—Oh dear...” That, was a perfectly reasonable reaction.

It wasn’t like Shinji had visited him too many times since Christmas. Well, there had been
one questionable Scrabble game that had required him to come over two or three more times
to finish it, since it was occupying the entire coffee table and Tabris was growing restless.
After that, just a couple innocent movie-nights held after the variable weeks during which
they hadn’t been able to see each other.

It wasn’t that much, really, but now Shinji felt like it was a lot and he was imposing. It had,
indeed, occurred only too late to him that maybe Kaworu didn’t want him over. One of these
switches again, for sure. He’d just assumed—

That it was okay.

I didn’t just assume things before, Shinji thought in a panic. “I, um, sorry...it was
just...cheaper this way,” and he hefted the box of cat food he was holding with both hands. It
wasn’t that big, but at the time it felt like he’d robbed the national reserve of cat food.

I’ll just…go, he wanted to say, but it ended up just as a bitter thought in his head.

“Well, oh…alright. It’s not like we’ll be complaining,” Kaworu tore his surprised eyes from
the box and smiled at him, causing a painful knot in Shinji’s chest to unfurl and let him
breathe. “Come in,” he opened the door wide and retreated into the apartment.

“Uh,” Shinji got inside almost incredulously and hesitated a few moments before closing the
door behind him. “Okay...,” he said after shutting it, his hand was still on the handle, and
looked fearfully over his shoulder. “If you’re not busy...”

“I’m not busy,” Kaworu piped up from where he was already putting water to boil. “Take off
your coat and let us envelop you in our endless love and gratitude. I just have to make tea
first.”

Shinji actually hurt himself unlacing his boots. Looking up from his feet, and willing the
blood to leave his cheeks even by a small amount, he met the large, inquisitive eyes of Tabris,
sitting on the orange rug and eyeing the box of food with interest. He snatched it back from
the floor as soon as he was out of all his outerclothes and tried his best to ignore the stare she
dug into his back.

“I don’t think she likes me very much at this very moment,” Shinji conceded, placing the box
on the kitchen table and following Kaworu’s hands as he poured water in two purple mugs.

At his words, Kaworu raised his eyes in surprise and looked around him at his dear cat. “Oh,
no,” he grinned at her, and then at Shinji, “she likes you very much. If you’d just...,” he
pointed to a small bowl beside the balcony door and Shinji understood that there he was
supposed to leave his offerings.

It was a minute’s miracle. Tabris was purring even as she ducked her head into the now-filled
bowl.

“See? Love and gratitude. Now come here.” And Shinji did, feeling a little lightheaded that
he was gonna get his share of love and gratitude from this end too.

Kaworu simply put a warm mug in his hands, and that was the extent of it. Shinji looked at it
for a moment before appreciating the nice feeling the warmth was sending to his brain.
“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” There was an identical mug in Kaworu’s hands, and they weren’t yet
moving to the couch. It took some power of will for Shinji to meet his eyes, and then a little
more not to go vaguely inarticulate because of the way he was being looked at, but he was
getting better at it.

Kaworu was not a kissing person, not quite, but neither was Shinji, and the kisses they’d
shared until that moment had been, if few, very pleasant.Still, there were these moments
when Shinji thought he wished Kaworu’d kiss him a little bit more often, if only as a means
of distracting him from the world at large for a while. He was sure there was a better
approach to this.

His tea was burning his fingertips a little, as if to remind him to drink it, so Shinji obeyed,
glad to keep his mouth busy from any other activities. He did, however, move a little closer.

“Look who’s happy now,” Kaworu sounded amused, so Shinji looked up from his mug to see
a satisfied Tabris curl in the middle of Kaworu’s bed. He nodded, a little overwhelmed by the
realisation that he was making people happy now. Well, people.

A few more quiet moments later, Shinji glanced suspiciously at his tea. “You never make
coffee at home.”

Kaworu was currently wiping the dust from the little pots of herbs he kept on the window sill.
He’d acquired a few of those as soon as it started getting warmer outside. He looked at Shinji
 with some surprise. “I don’t really like coffee.”

Shinji put all his current feelings into his expression.

“It’s not unheard of,” Kaworu grinned, taking a gulp of his tea as a punctuation mark. “I like
pretty much everything else.”

In all seriousness, Shinji crossed an item from the list of things he was going to prepare for
him once he eventually got Kaworu to visit. “Alright...,” he said, just as he wondered how he
could subtly inquire about his opinions on wheaten biscuits.

“You know what I’d like right now?” Kaworu inquired after a philosophical pause.

Shinji stopped naming biscuit brands in his head. “What?” He saw Kaworu staring out the
window, deep in thought.

“Ice-cream,” he said, turning to beam at Shinji and the movement accentuated the sunrays
landing on his face. Shinji wanted to point out that it hadn’t even been a full week since
temperatures got above 0, but in the end he just shook his head and offered his company to
the nearest shop.

Chapter End Notes

Far too many kind people are reading this.

Thank you all. Really.
 Chapter 19

It seemed that, whatever ecosystem had formed itself in Shinji’s body early into his social
endeavours had decided to flourish, rather unimaginatively, in Spring. At least, if the
somewhat wet, bleak, early March outside his window could be called that. Shinji frowned
apprehensively at the dark grey clouds covering half the sky.

Maybe going outside wouldn’t be a good idea, he pondered, but couldn’t make his hand cross
out the entry. There was a small, cramped list in front of him, laid out on a small post-it, as
though he thought that by making it as small as possible it would be quicker to fade out of
existence.

But then I’ve got nothing, Shinji pressed his lips in a pained line and tapped his pen on his
desk. He looked once more over the crossed-out names of various museums and bistros; all
of them, he’d already seen – in company.

Once more, Shinji thought he hadn’t been made for this. He muttered that to himself even as
he searched Kaworu’s name in his phone and finally dialled it. He had time to say it once and
a half before the other picked up.

“Uh, hey,” Shinji started, a true romantic, and twenty minutes of blundering and dodging the
subject finally led him to “If it’s nice, I thought we might go for a walk in the park this
weekend...”

So, maybe Shinji wasn’t good at planning, or dates, or planning dates, but he tried. With his
umbrella hanging uncertainly from his left wrist – and with him being careful to give it a
shake every now and then, so it wouldn’t feel left out – and pondering that maybe it was yet
too early for sneakers, Shinji hovered under an ancient lamppost.

It may have been too late for formalities, but he had put on a button-up shirt. It was maybe
too soft, and too big, and too cosy to be called formal, but it was the thought that mattered.
This was the first time he had specifically asked Kaworu out on a date, in a date-like place –
i.e. a park.

Absently, as he watched a puddle of water shiver in the wind, Shinji wondered whether not
all outings counted as dates once the people in question were together. That would’ve been a
little weird; he hardly imagined anything romantic taking place as one went to buy groceries.
He shook himself once he saw a frog leap across the pavement.

The most important thing about Kaworu, once he arrived, was that he was wearing a T-shirt.
Sure, it was under a coat and a cardigan, but it counted. Shinji felt refreshed even before he
had spoken a word. “Do you think it will rain?” Kaworu asked, eyeing his umbrella,
seemingly unaware that he was being investigated.
Shinji shook himself once more, frowned at the realisation, and started buttoning up his coat.
“Of course not. I just took it to fend off wildlife.”

Kaworu had laughed, but, then again, it had been too early a reaction. After all, it was Shinji,
and nobody ought to have been surprised when the rain poured on them half an hour later.

Despite Shinji’s ferocious protests, they entered a small coffee-shop on the side of the inner
park lake. He could hardly help being sulky, and the dripping umbrella at his side did a most
exquisite portrayal of his mood.

Still, Kaworu – slightly damp and with his fringe sticking to his forehead – seemed to be in a
perfectly good humour as he smiled at the young barista and chose a table beside the rain-
splattered window. Shinji followed, but dolefully, deeply convinced that, had it been Kaworu
planning the date instead of him, the skies would’ve split open to let the sun through five
minutes into their walk.

“It’s no problem, really,” he said now, eyeing Shinji’s mute distress with sympathy. “It will
get better in no time. These rains don’t last long.”

Shinji didn’t look the other customers’ way, but he would’ve been extremely glad if at that
moment they turned to give Kaworu the same disbelieving look he was directing at him.
They didn’t, so Shinji was a lone soldier facing a battalion of optimism.

It got irremediably better as soon as they had to order, though. Shinji asked, out of sheer
habit, for coffee, rather unawarely, but Kaworu seemed to find something really funny about
the situation as he looked over the menu and inquired about different items on it. It hit Shinji
only after the vaguely confused barista left them that Kaworu probably had very rare
occasions to order.

A not-really-apologetic grin was sent to him over the table. “I couldn’t stop myself,” he said,
practically confirming Shinji’s thoughts. “I have something for you.”

Shinji kept his eyes on him as he dug into his bag and pulled a package wrapped in yellow
paper. For a moment, he frowned. Did he bring something especially to distract me? He
thought, because it was a fun thing to do; he knew that Kaworu was too much... himself, to
go that far.

The box was pushed towards him over the table and no coffees were spilled, not even the
sugar tin. “Um, thank you?” Shinji tried, cautiously touching the paper. He wasn’t sure it was
a present yet. Though, what else it could be under the circumstances, he had no idea.

“Not yet. It might have malfunctioned in the meantime, and that would make things
awkward.”

Now I’m scared, he gave Kaworu an apprehensive look and attempted to unwrap it.
“What...,” he started, as soon as he got to the box inside the paper, but that one opened easily
enough and its contents dropped in his lap. “Oh.”
He hadn’t seen one of these in ages; hadn’t held one in his hands since it broke on one of his
and his cousins’ trips to the countryside and he’d felt too ashamed to tell anyone about it. It
seemed a bit surreal.

“Where did you even find this?” he asked Kaworu, shaking the walkman in his hand.

“Found the pieces while in the attic back home when I last visited. I thought I’d repair it as a
hobby, though I’m not sure how useful it will be in this day and age...” It was surreal.

Shinji stammered in his rush to answer. “No, I-I have a lot of tapes at home, I used to have
one exactly like this one until a few years ago. I... um.” Sudden stop, the embarrassment had
finally caught up with him. “Thank you,” he fought not to whisper.

Kaworu was fixing a dimly overwhelmed smile at the walkman. “You’re welcome. Just,
remember to send me a text and tell me if it works.”

In the end, since it was still Shinji’s day and he was still, in the universe’s eyes, the one
responsible for the date they were currently having, the rain hadn’t stopped. There was only
so long that they could stay in a café – and so long Shinji was willing to accept defeat at the
hands of nature – so, later that day, they found themselves in the downpour.

Shinji had made a valiant attempt at using his umbrella, but it had proved unsuccessful from
the early stages. They had only been out for a quarter of an hour and they were drenched.
Thinking of everything he held dear, Shinji made a silent prayer for his bag to find itself
waterproof by miracle.

Kaworu’s fringe was plastered and dripping over his cheeks and forehead, and the rain had
probably got as far through his layers as it could have, but that didn’t seem to have an effect
on his mood. Shinji was too stunned to be bothered.

“So, before we got those tropical fish, I was the only one who had any pets,” Kaworu
narrated different parts of his childhood, his feet not minding any puddles in their way. Shinji
did, on a metaphysical level. “In middle school, I had three crickets. I kept them in a big
plastic box in my room and at night I opened the window so they could hear their friends
outside.”

He felt like a thousand universal laws pushed him to ask his question.

“Crickets?” Shinji peered at him, thought it was easier said than done, what with all the water
getting in his eyes. He really didn’t want to think of himself as a material being in that
moment.

When Kaworu grinned, the first thing Shinji thought about was whether rainwater got in his
mouth because of it. “Jiminy, Pinocchio and Geppetto. I let them go after a few months, but it
had been fun.”
“My cousins tried to keep a dog when I was twelve, but two of them and my uncle proved to
be allergic and nobody spoke of that ever again,” Shinji contributed, habitually putting his
hands in his pockets before pulling them back out as only a soggy mess awaited them there.

Kaworu seemed to consider that for a bit. “When you’re living alone, would you like a pet?”

When you’re living alone—the words tumbled over Shinji’s head like dice. As if it’s that easy.
He couldn’t really, ever see himself as a functioning, independent human being. Not of the
roof-overhead and meal-on-the-table kind, at least. Naturally, he never expected to live out
his life with his relatives. He mostly waited for the day he’d have to find shelter on some
street or on Asuka’s couch. Of course, he was exaggerating a bit.

“Maybe,” he answered, but was unable to hold back a sigh. Some things had to be spoken out
loud, too. “I just don’t think I’ll ever have such a stable condition to afford one...” Or even to
afford to keep myself in the first place. Thinking was fun, as he’d previously established.

“It will be okay," Kaworu said, without hesitation. "As long as you’re alive, there will always
be chances to be happy, is what I think. You’ll be alright, as long as you remember they
exist.”

There were willows whistling wetly around them, and the rain felt only as a compact mass of
cold by now, but Shinji managed to widen his eyes at him, and something hurt inside of him
even as he looked away.

How could I not have fallen for him? It could’ve been anyone else and they would have fallen
for him just the same. Be that as it may. It hadn’t been anyone else; it had been him and
maybe that was all that mattered here.

“You’re amazing,” Shinji said quietly, rainwater dripping down his lips.

He felt a little shy about it, but Kaworu didn’t laugh his words off; didn’t laugh at all. There
was only that subtle, different gaze he had everytime he said something only Shinji had to
hear. “I think the same about you.”
 Chapter 20
Chapter Notes

Vague amounts of laughter at the thought that this was initially planned at 20k words.
But thank you, guys.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Once started, the rainy season kept on going, with slight variations, for a few more weeks.
Once or twice, Shinji had cast a glance at his leather boots and wondered whether they’d live
long enough to see the sun again. But, on the whole – and quite paradoxically – it was getting
warmer.

When he didn’t have recital practice on Fridays, Shinji had got used to take a less direct path
towards home, one that usually let him meet Kaworu halfway after he was finished with his
afternoon shift. From there on, they only had around twenty minutes of walking before it was
necessary for them to go different ways. It was a long detour for both of them, but they didn’t
care.

One particular Friday, Shinji got out of the Auditorium to see the streets coated in fog. It was
a little disconcerting, since they’d almost had a sunny day the day before, but not quite
surprising. He took sharp turn towards the winding, narrow streets of the residential area
beside the University and went on his way, water splattering under his steps.

After a while, the noise of the boulevard he left behind him dimmed; it was one of the best
parts of taking this route. Shinji had found a box with all his old cassettes in the attic, shortly
after receiving the walkman. He’d spent a night going through them, shuddering slightly at
some mix-tapes he’d made in middle school and putting aside the ones he still liked. Unlike
before, he never listened to loudly to these as he went on his way now; just enough to hear
something on the background as he made his way around town.

Kaworu was waiting for him at the corner where their paths met, and he was leafing through
a heavily annotated and highlighted book Shinji had seen somewhere on what Kaworu called
his “college-shelf”. It reminded Shinji of his Advanced Music Theory books, heaped on an
intimidating pile underneath his desk; and bedside table; and a few on the windowsill.

Completely absorbed, Kaworu didn’t see him until Shinji got relatively close and cleared his
throat, a little embarrassed with the theatricality of it. “Hey,” Kaworu said, blinking at him.
He shut his book and stuffed it in his heavy-looking bag, then looked at Shinji again. “Hi.”

It was ridiculous for Shinji to feel so animated while thick fog was encircling them like a
low-budget horror movie, but Kaworu’s grins usually had this effect on him nowadays. “Hi,”
he grinned too, pulling off his earbuds and letting them hang over the collar of his coat.
They spent their twenty minutes talking about the different upcoming theatre and opera
pieces and how they ought to divide their small wages in order to see as many of them as
possible, and when the time to wave each other goodbye came, they both looked around at
the empty, grey street and floundered a little.

“I’ll walk with you to the next subway station,” Kaworu said, more like a tentative question
than an affirmation.

It wasn’t far, and the streets still seemed stolen from Silent Hill. Shinji nodded. “I was
thinking of signing up for an audition in summer,” he said, once they had walked a little bit
farther and it seemed like the mists were dispersing.

Kaworu skipped so he’d be able to see his face better. “An audition?”

Not looking at him, Shinji nodded. “I looked over the announcements on the student board.
It’s just for a small orchestra, of sorts...”

This time he gazed up and saw Kaworu downright beaming at him. “I didn’t expect that,” he
said with a grin and Shinji laughed.

“Yeah, me neither.” The fog was definitely clearing away as they progressed, and he could
already see the subway sign, two streets away. “But it’s not like... I have anything else to do
during the summer, and they didn’t ask for professionals, so...” He took a deep breath. “I’m
kind of terrified.”

“I think it’s going to be okay,” Kaworu ran a tentative hand over his back. “It sounds great,
too,” and maybe he was going to say something more, but they were both stopped in their
tracks by the first wobbly drops of rain.

It just had to be this sort of day, Shinji thought and searched for his umbrella. Once it was out
and safe over the both of them, they went over the last crossroads. The rain seemed to have a
mind to get steadily heavier just as they stopped again, beside the subway entrance.

“Well, at least you won’t get wet...” Shinji attempted a light tone and grinned before feeling
self-conscious and looking away like the rain had suddenly got immensely interesting.

“Yeah, well...” Kaworu drummed his fingers on the umbrella’s handle, just above Shinji’s.
They waited. Cars passed on the empty street. The rain got thicker. A cat meowed. None of
them moved.

“Um,” Shinji started while still looking away, then let their eyes meet again. “If you want,
you could come over.” There was that out of his system, at least.

“Really?” There was relief in Kaworu’s voice; it made Shinji almost giddy. “I’d like that.”

There was that. None dead, none injured. On the way home, they even took the bus.
“Cosy,” Kaworu vociferated two steps into the house, and Shinji fought the urge to roll his
eyes just as he was taking off his boots.

“Not quite,” he mumbled, only because he remembered the rat inquisition his aunt had pulled
the summer before. “Um, there’s probably nobody home yet,” he took Kaworu’s coat while
he was busy glancing at the wooden birds above the front door. He strained to listen for any
sounds, failed to intercept any.

Of course, any apart from the pouring rain outside. “Thanks for letting me come over,”
Kaworu said, on account of it.

“No, it’s fine, really,” Shinji fell back into his domestic habit of mashing his words together
and dragged his feet along the hallway. “Um,” he stopped not too much later and turned, only
a little surprised to see Kaworu flanked by such familiar surroundings. “I’ll make dinner.” It
had got so dark it was hard to remember that it wasn’t that late. “Or lunch,” he added,
uncertainly.

“Can I help?” Kaworu asked, all bright eyes and expectations, and by comparison Shinji felt
like a sad, gloomy, indoor cloud.

Well, I guess it’s either that or leaving you all to yourself in my room. I’m not prepared to see
you that traumatised, he reasoned and nodded before opening the door to the kitchen.

“Make tea,” Shinji instructed and he more or less shoved the box into Kaworu’s arms.

It was around the time Shinji was evaluating the shortest way to the sink in order to stop
Kaworu from doing the dishes – he’d learnt much during the past months – when the weather
felt the need to get boisterous with an unwelcome clap of thunder. They both shot an
accusing glare at the window.

Well, here goes, Shinji drew a deep breath and got up from his chair, hand on one empty rice
bowl. Kaworu immediately shot him an expectant glance and made to grab his own. Shinji
frowned; he’d need a better plan. Some distraction.

Another thunderclap rolled happily outside the window. Shinji grabbed another plate. “Er.”
An encore. “You can stay over, if you want.”

He hadn’t really meant to say that, but Kaworu seemed as surprised as he was, so Shinji took
the opportunity to gather his plate too and rush to the sink. He had never had anyone else
aside from Asuka staying over on his account. His cousins brought friends on a regular basis,
so it probably wasn’t a problem. Still. I’ll have to talk to people about this.

“I mean, if you’re not busy,” he added hastily and busied himself with an apron.

“I actually have a sort of an exam tomorrow,” he heard Kaworu say from the table behind
him, then felt his hands tie his apron behind his back. Admitted defeat, apparently. “But it’s
in the afternoon. I can stay.”
Some more vigorous gusts of rain, just in case he was going to get back on his word. “Don’t
you need to study?” Shinji swivelled around, a soapy china bowl in hand.

The smile Kaworu gave him was, at most, sheepish, verging on ashamed. “That was in the
original plan too, yes.”

After blinking a couple of times at him, Shinji returned to his dishes. “Well, you can study
here. It’s pretty quiet, except at rush hours.”

This seemed to amuse Kaworu quite enough to make him laugh. Exam stress, Shinji
reasoned, leaving the last plate to dry.

They had retreated to Shinji’s room after that, and lived in peaceful silence until the rest of
the household started to arrive. Taking into consideration the fact that for the past couple of
hours they had just kept quiet while Kaworu continued reading his desperately annotated
book and Shinji just dwelt into a book of his choice, it wouldn’t have taken much to break
their tiny haven.

Shinji’s room was small, and not quite prepared to house a guest, but he had been worrying
over this for quite a while already. Shinji really felt like he’d spent too much time at the
Kaworu’s, given the fact that he’d never invited him home in return. He looked at his own
room uncomprehendingly, as one is wont to do when they have someone over. It wasn’t like
he had much to show.

With only mild insistence, he had seated Kaworu somewhere on his bed. There weren’t many
other places on could sit in Shinji’s room, since his desk chair was currently housing all the
books he had to return to the library at some point in his life. At first, it had felt weird, having
somebody other than Asuka in his room.

“I’ll go tell them you’re here,” Shinji announced as soon as he was sure, through the wind
and splatter outside his windows, that there were enough voices downstairs.

Quite peaceful, Kaworu closed his book. “Can I look around?”

It was as if he’d been waiting for it. Shinji felt himself narrowing his eyes, but eventually
conceded to shrug in an inviting manner and left him to it. He’ll probably forget any shock he
suffers here once he’s sitting his exam tomorrow, he tried to be optimistic.

It was unusual for Shinji to go into the kitchen when everyone else was already there. Well,
this time it wasn’t the entire family, but he still felt out of place as soon as he stepped through
the door and saw three faces peering at him. His habitual mood almost made him give one of
his cousins an unimpressed look when they asked if he had a girl over. In fact, he might have
actually done that, from the face they pulled afterwards. Still, the world didn’t end, and he
got permission.

When he returned, he found Kaworu, not at all distressed, looking over his shelves and any
other areas where Shinji had thought it appropriate to store books lately. If anyone asked, he
wouldn’t have thought there was much to see, but Kaworu started giving small comments and
questions as soon as he had closed the door.

“It’s nice, it looks like you have a lot of historical books hidden in between high fantasy,” he
remarked while Shinji watched him from the edge of his bed.

“Er...,” Shinji gave an embarrassed titter and walked over to his desk, unearthing a cardboard
box from under it. “Not quite,” he summarised and showed Kaworu his old collection of
ancient Sci-Fi novels. That seemed to amuse him enough.

Shinji had a specific relationship with literature of any kind, which meant that he took
everything in it for granted and gave it bonus points if it made him forget his existence.
During the past period of his life, Kaworu had made ardent, but otherwise natural efforts to
make him more inquisitive. It had ended up in making Shinji feel slightly paranoid every
time he opened a book now. At least it kept him busy.

In an instance of unexpected silence, Shinji looked up from where he was analysing

Kaworu’s sociology book and saw him carefully studying a picture somewhere on his desk.

“Hmm,” was all Kaworu offered for his efforts and patience, and Shinji understood that his
presence was required in the conversation.

“That’s mom,” he said helpfully when he caught sight of the photo too. He was presumably
in it too, but he didn’t feel inclined to claim ownership of his 4-year-old face just yet.

“I was thinking of that; you look alike,” then he smiled. “She’s beautiful.”

Shinji scrunched his eyebrows at the warm feeling in his cheeks. “Was,” he said, to keep
himself occupied. “Accident at work. It was long ago, I don’t remember much.” Luckily, he
didn’t feel much either, not anymore. It sometimes scared him how he’d got used to it, but
apparently that was the way it was supposed to go.

Kaworu, however, gave him a look that was at once sad and apologetic. It wasn’t over the
top, it didn’t try to express a feeling he couldn’t have possibly felt, and that was more than
enough. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m okay,” Shinji attempted to smile, taking a step back. It had been a while since he’d had
to tell people about this, but he’d never felt comfortable with the pity that usually followed.
“As I said, it was long ago. I got used to it. Forgot, probably...”

“Most people don’t think like that,” Kaworu said, a tentative smile of his own. It looked a
little melancholy. “There’s always that what if that lingers and that’s what hurts, usually.
Dissatisfaction seeks a definite object, and finds it in the privation of an untried good, so
Eliot said.”

“I guess,” Shinji shrugged, glancing at his feet. “I was never too imaginative.”

He glanced up when he heard Kaworu give an unintentional chuckle. “Sorry,” he muttered

and Shinji felt his heart melt a little at the sight. He let it do that, just the same; quite happily,
actually. “Can I give you a hug?”

You don’t have to ask, Shinji wanted to say, but then he realised he kind of did; and that was
okay. “Please,” he said, as a means of okay, and laughed a little in embarrassment, but by that
point Kaworu had already pulled him close.

This is dangerous, Shinji thought just a moment later, when he realised he never wanted to let
go. It was just the right thing at the right time, but he felt like he’d never yearned for a hug
more. Involuntarily, he held Kaworu a little tighter, burying his face into his shoulder. He was
wearing a bleached purple T-shirt today, it was ridiculous. Shinji felt happy.

By human standards, it ought to have got awkward after the first few minutes, but they didn’t
feel it. After a while, Kaworu had started humming, lowly, almost imperceptively, but it was
hard not to hear it, feel it, when they were nearly glued together. It was strangely relaxing.

But if I don’t step back now I’ll never do and we’ll end up standing in the middle of the room
the entire night, Shinji mused, adjusting his cheek a little bit on Kaworu’s shoulder. He could
still hear the storm outside; along with everything else, it made him sleepy. Shinji stepped
away and thought that this was how breaking your own heart must feel like.

It was a little while later, when it was late enough for everybody else to have gone to their
rooms, thus letting the silence set in again, that Shinji realised there was no Tabris around.
Well, of course there wasn’t. Kaworu had even called one of his elderly neighbours to beg
them to check on her. Apparently, he had these kinds of situations all solved out.

Still, that wasn’t what Shinji meant. Up until now, Tabris had been a very helpful addition to
their relationship, either distracting of demanding their attention whenever they stepped into
unknown territory. Not always employed, but at least there was something.

Shinji realised she wasn’t there when Kaworu, again immersed in his course book, leaned
into his side. Not casually, either, but with his entire body turned towards Shinji so that his
head rested somewhere between his shoulder and his chest and part of his book was propped
on Shinji’s abdomen. He’d done it so naturally, though, that Shinji couldn’t help envying him
a little. Had Tabris been there, she would’ve long before taken care to stretch her fluffy mass
in between them, restricting all snuggling possibilities.

Shinji tore his gaze from his own book. Lacking anything else to do, they had gone through
the short process of making the bed wide enough for both of them, of finding a second pillow
in the depths of Shinji’s wardrobe and of Shinji throwing oversized T-shirts and sweatpants in
Kaworu’s general direction. They were half-covered by grey tartan sheets, leaning back on
their pillows in Shinji’s bed and reading by his dim lamplight when it happened.

He must be sleepy, Shinji also reasoned, feeling still a little mushy from their earlier hug, and
he carefully moved his arm over Kaworu’s shoulders until he could thread his fingers softly
through his hair. Of course, in that case this wouldn’t exactly help, Shinji thought giddily and
kept at it, until he felt Kaworu give a little sigh and close his eyes.
For a while, they kept making attempts at reading their books, looking over words and
sentences that suddenly felt so far away while the two of them were so close. On his part,
Kaworu didn’t seem to show any visible signs that his attention to his courses had dwindled,
but after a while Shinji caught on with the fact that he was flipping the pages at longer and
longer intervals. It made his heart do an erratic skip, every now and then.

It was a mystery when either of them had fallen asleep like that, but when Shinji opened his
eyes an undetermined while later he saw that they’d slid down to a more natural position on
the mattress. His left arm was kind of numb, having ended up at an awkward angle under
Kaworu’s head, and Kaworu’s book was digging into his chest; his own had presumably
fallen on the floor at some point.

Still, it was a first. Or, at least, a very rare occurrence that just happened to occur now. Shinji
didn’t take naps. Thinking that respect would make nature a little kinder, he addressed his
every attempt at lying down as sleep. Shinji didn’t take naps because he could barely make
his body follow a decent sleep schedule.

But here he was. Kaworu’s face was so close that Shinji fought the wish to lean their
foreheads together. He would’ve done it too, maybe, if that didn’t mean another batch of
impromptu sleep. As it was, he only tried to pull his arm away slowly and carefully. Next, he
gathered both their books and slid them safely on the bedside table. His phone told him that
they hadn’t been asleep for more than an hour, and also that it was quite early after midnight.

Shinji prodded Kaworu’s shoulder tentatively, then with slightly more determination. “Hey.”

Kaworu mumbled something that would’ve been good morning in another dimension. It
made Shinji smile, and he got out of bed to go and fetch a couple glasses of water.

When he returned, Kaworu was more or less back in their reality, although his hair was not
quite familiar with the laws of gravity yet. He was pensively playing with the plastic and
paper highlights on the side of his book.

Shinji placed the glasses beside his lamp – one of the advantages of having a coffee table
instead of genuine bedside one was the space it offered. “Sorry I didn’t keep you awake,” he
said. And also because before that I didn’t let you concentrate, he thought guiltily.

Kaworu glanced up at him as if he’d been in the middle of recounting all his courses in his
head; which he probably had. He seemed to think for a while, then he smiled. “No, I think
I’ve got it,” and put the book away.

“Good luck, then,” Shinji smiled back and made to straighten the sheets and covers. “So, er,
back to bed?”

“Sure,” Kaworu puffed up their pillows. “Early to bed and early to rise.”

“It’s not really early,” Shinji said instead of his requirements, making Kaworu grin. “But we
might still be able to wake up early.” Not that Shinji knew what sleeping in was, anyway.
 “Any more quotes?”

“Not yet, but I’ll think of something,” Kaworu smiled pleasantly and nursed his own glass of
water.

It was a little while later, when they were in the dark, and the rain had ceased enough for the
moon to find a place between the clouds and give them a little light. Shinji remembered
Christmas, and seeing the same light fall on Kaworu’s face back then. Granted, his room
lacked the fairy lights, but the effect on his heart was the same. It didn’t seem to beat faster,
but louder.

“I thought of something,” Kaworu said, as if by magic, at this right moment. They had been
pressing their fingertips together, waiting for sleep to come.

“What is it?” Shinji asked in a similarly low tone, eyes wide open, as if they could catch his
voice.

Kaworu smiled and the moonlight played on his lips. “For you was I born, for you do I have
life, for you will I die, for you am I now dying.”

In any other instance, Shinji would’ve rolled his eyes and said he was ridiculous. On this one,
however, he gave him a look and kissed the moonlight off his lips. He felt Kaworu’s laugh
against his mouth. He felt his hand in his hair, on his neck, his thumb on his cheek. He felt
him exhale against his lips before kissing him too. It was the quietest thing, it was like saying
I’m here, and Shinji fought the urge the smile into his pillow until he fell asleep afterwards.

Chapter End Notes

Qtd. George Eliot's Silas Marner, Benjamin Franklin, and Gabriel García Márquez's Of
Love and Other Demons.
 Chapter 21
Chapter Notes

I might as well apologise now. I ended up using the European school year, more or less,
because I hadn't borne in mind the differences when I first started the thing. Oh well,
that's about it.
Other than that, you are still too nice.

“—so afterwards they told me I’m free from mid-May onwards, seeing as they’ll undergo
some renovations and they want as little personnel around as possible.”

Glasses clinked. There was a good amount of steam rising into a dispersing cloud. “I heard
that about some other offices around here too. This square is gonna be a nightmare if it rains.
Two sugars?”

“Yes, please. You could use the back entrance. They probably won’t get as far as the side-
streets.” A warm smell of fresh pastries emerged from the sidelines.

“My bicycle won’t appreciate it anyway, I guess. Milk?”

Shinji nodded, fiddled with his green hoodie’s sleeve hems while he waited. It was a week
day, and afternoon, but there were only maybe three customers in the entire coffee shop.
Passing the time, Shinji eyed the pecan tarts with wry discontentment.

“If you want one, you’ve only got to say so, you know,” Kaworu grinned from where he was
still abusing the coffee machine. Shinji turned the same expression on him. Obviously, it was
wasted. “Can I make a drawing on it?”

A slight glance behind him told Shinji that he was still the only one in line, so he shrugged.
“Don’t you have anyone to help you here today?” he asked since he realised that it wasn’t
only his side of the counter that was deserted.

“I do,” Kaworu said, bent over his in-progress masterpiece. “They’re on smoking break right
now.”

Sensing that he was nearly done, Shinji busied himself with looking for change. It had taken
a lot of effort, but he was finally allowed to pay for his coffee two out of three times a week.
He was going to abuse that privilege for as long as he could.

“So, pastry or not?” It was reckless indulging, so Shinji only paid for his latte before moving
to the other end of the counter to receive it.

There was a strange kind of butterfly drawn in the foam. He smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Kaworu wiped his hands on a kitchen towel, then leant on his elbows
over the counter.

He was smiling quite pleasantly, and for some reason Shinji didn’t know what he was
supposed to do. He pushed his glass to the side and glanced around a little before looking
back at Kaworu. Then, with an internal shrug, he leant a bit too and gave him a relatively
quick kiss.

It seemed like he’d been reading it incorrectly, because once he pulled back the look on
Kaworu’s face was one of pure surprise. “Um,” Shinji said, because of course he did.

But then Kaworu’s expression melted into a smile again and he shrugged a little, as if
embarrassed at himself. Not having the heart to leave him there, Shinji pondered starting his
coffee standing.

“You remember I told you something about that bakery I found last year?” Apparently, it was
a felony to refuse a pastry here.

“Yeah?” Shinji asked, starting to twirl a straw around his coffee and realising only too late
that destroyed the design. He looked at it, dread settling in his stomach for only a second.

Nonetheless, Kaworu didn’t comment on it. “Do you want to go there?” It sounded safe
enough; Shinji nodded. “Great.”

The small bakery was supervised by a short, tartan-loving old lady, so it made sense that
Kaworu liked it. It was also inconveniently situated somewhere in the middle of a maze of
narrow, winding, and cobbled streets Shinji could have gone his entire life without being
aware of their existence. Luckily, Kaworu kept an entirely carefree and optimistic attitude
even when he took the wrong turn four times in a row.

When they finally stumbled upon it, it was only because the red drapes from the inside had
caught Shinji’s attention. There was a minuscule gnome holding the door open. Shinji had
given it a wry glance just before going inside.

What the bakery lacked in size, it surely had in attitude. Shinji had never seen something so
aggressively fairytale-y before. “It’s cute,” he found himself saying, nevertheless.

“Isn’t it?” Kaworu grinned.

It was relatively early on a weekend, so they indulged and took the window table. Red and
white tartan hung diagonally over it. Shinji eyed it, glanced at the old lady behind the
counter, cast a seemingly undisturbed look around the walls to see if they had any stuffed Big
Bad Wolf head on a frame.

“So, I’ll go and order,” Kaworu said once he’d twirled his leather bag around the back of his
chair and they had a moment to take in their surroundings. “Anything you wish?”
Shinji gave him the wry, tight-lipped smile of one who knew when a reference was asked of
them. “Whatever you decide,” he answered, not going along with it, and gave Kaworu a look,
just in case he was thinking of quoting Aladdin.

Kaworu, instead, succeeded in keeping his smile innocent as he got up from the table, only
raising his eyebrows by the time he was out of Shinji’s reach. In the end, he came back with
two raspberry tarts – as promised, ever since Christmas – while a girl followed behind him
with two pots of hot water.

It took effort for Shinji not to feel a little distressed over not helping, so he gave his best
when it came to adding teabags in said teapots. He managed to go through it without dipping
his hoodie’s sleeves into them, too, which was a real accomplishment. After that long winter,
Shinji had kind of forgotten how to deal with only two layers of clothes. When the girl
returned with a minuscule jug of milk, he knew he was being tested.

“What did the 0 say to the 8?”

“Huh?” Shinji snapped his eyes to Kaworu’s face. “What?”

“‘I like your belt’,” Kaworu grinned. “Sorry, you suddenly looked so serious.”

It wasn’t like Shinji could just admit he’d been pondering over the most efficient way to pour
milk into a mug. He looked for a few moments at Kaworu, processed, and let out a puff of
laughter. “Don’t,” he said and pushed his sleeves up a bit, getting ready.

“Okay,” Kaworu gave him a look and started twirling his teaspoon.

The sunny weather seemed to have had a visibly curative effect on Kaworu’s fashion choices,
although Shinji wasn’t so sure anymore, since he’d almost got used to his sweaters. Still,
apart from some weirdly white-washed T-shirts, Shinji had failed to see anything too
outrageous.

Kaworu wore cardigans, however; long, and usually plain coloured, with big pockets. It was
an improvement, Shinji had to admit that. It was an improvement, but it also showed that
Kaworu had a compulsive habit of pushing up his sleeves to his elbows.

Like now. “I got red tea, of a sort. I hope you don’t mind.” Forearms now bare, Kaworu
started a weird process of dealing with the teabags.

“No, it’s fine,” he said because he didn’t mind anything when it came to this. He let Kaworu
take care of both teapots, and then pushed the milk jug towards him too, since he was being
so prolific.

He accepted his job graciously. “When I first came here it was really empty so I ended up
spell-checking her English essays,” and he indicated the young girl who was currently
delivering small cups of coffee to another table.

Shinji stared at him for a while, and then smiled to himself. He remembered Asuka doing that
for him too, although he doubted Kaworu was quite as unforgiving as she was; back in high
school, she’d even used a red pen.

“At least you’re making friends,” he accepted the cup Kaworu was giving him. The bakery
had supplied them with a couple of thick, yellow china mugs, with blue handles. Just looking
at them was a therapy for the soul.

Kaworu was currently adding milk to his own, seemingly enjoying the effect. “I feel better
when I help people. Or when I’m included in larger groups, or talking to someone by
circumstance,” he looked at Shinji and made an inarticulate gesture. “But I’m not that good at
making close friends. I suppose it’s a result of growing up in a big family.”

Shinji shrugged in what he hoped was a helpful manner. “I don’t have any siblings and it’s
still hard for me too.”

That got him a more heartened smile; he was grateful. “A couple of weeks ago I invited a few
colleagues over; we had a group project of sorts. Tabris almost locked herself in the
cupboard.”

“Poor child,” Shinji suppressed his laughter by raising the mug to his lips. He caught
Kaworu’s gaze, saw the way his smile changed once Shinji started talking as if he’d
somehow adopted his cat, and promptly didn’t comment on it.

He thought a bit about what Kaworu had told him. It bothered him to no end that he wasn’t
better at reading people. He couldn’t even tell if it was something Kaworu felt particularly
sad about. Not like Shinji would be any good at giving advice, as he’d already stated, but he
felt the need to try.

“I met Asuka because our moms went to university together,” he found himself talking,
looking at the table and already taking hold of a napkin. “We kind of grew up together
because of that, so there was no active effort involved. I don’t think we would’ve ever talked
to each other any other way.” He could count on one hand the number of times Asuka had
insinuated their friendship. It was more than most people got; at least he got to count.

Propping an elbow on the table, Kaworu let his cheek fall into his hand. “Hmm, I can’t really
remember if we ever had someone over at our house when we were little. I mean, we were so
many, and dad was kind of overwhelmed most of the time. I remember that when other
relatives came to visit we would open the third story and hide in the attic.” He was looking
out the window, and Shinji enjoyed the nostalgic smile that had crept over his lips. “Broke a
few vases, stole grandma’s shoes. We weren’t angels,” he grinned, then let out a sigh. “But
we kind of grew apart after that. Moved out, quarrelled, stopped visiting. Even I am in a
passive fight with dad at the moment.”

His smile was sheepish, embarrassed, but Shinji’s answering one was dry. He put his finished
crane beside the sugar bowl. “I think I fought with dad from the moment I was born.” He
gave his mug an experimental whirl. “He’s not allowed to visit; not that he’d want to.”

“Bad?” Kaworu asked, carefully taking the napkin-crane in his hands.

Shinji only shrugged, making another one. “My aunt took me to him once after mom died, to
see if there wasn’t anything to be done. We stayed in different rooms for four hours and then
left.” For all he knew, that was one bullet dodged.

“Then it’s not such a big loss,” Kaworu said airily, and Shinji looked up to see him placing
his crane on the windowsill, basking in the sun. His smile returned when he saw Shinji
looking, so that was again familiar territory. “However, we should probably eat these before
they get cold,” and he pointed to their plates.

It was a nice change of subject. The pastries must’ve been really fresh, since they still
steamed a little in the air. The smell of hot raspberries was kind of making Shinji want to cry;
he’d tried not to give it too much attention for fear of inappropriate eating. He saw Kaworu
cheerfully taking a spoonful while giving him a meaningful look, so Shinji put his best efforts
into an outraged stare.

“No. That was one time,” he felt his cheeks warming up while Kaworu giggled over his
spoon. “And my hands were full,” he mumbled further and made a point of feeding himself
on his own.

They had originally planned to also make a visit to the art museum that day, but in the end
decided to stay for another pot of tea since it had taken them so long to get there in the first
place. The way back to civilisation took way less, now that they’d actually asked for
directions from the owner – whom Kaworu had shamelessly charmed in just a few sentences.

Shinji also learnt that Kaworu got an immense sense of satisfaction from fishing out his
fingers from the depths of his hoodie’s sleeves. He did it so easily, too, as if he’d had
professional training. Not even Shinji found his own hands that fast.

“I’d like to travel,” Kaworu said, just as they were getting out of the residential area.

Shinji followed him down the more crowded street towards what looked like a crosswalk in
the far distance. “Where to?”

“I don’t know...” He got a slightly better hold of his hand, avoiding a teeming bus station.
“Somewhere nice... quiet.” As they waited for the first green light, Shinji found himself
involuntarily running his thumb over his knuckles. “Do you like travelling, Shinji?”

Shinji had never gone farther away than the countryside before, and that had been a while
ago. Still, he guessed he’d like to see other places; not that he could afford it. “I guess so.”

“Maybe—...” The green light cut off Kaworu’s thought, and it seemed to be permanent, since
he didn’t pick it back up on the other side of the street.

They walked in relative, content silence until it was time to see Kaworu off at the subway
station. Shinji was going home by bus. “Um, if Tabris needs more food...,” he said, as a
means of comfortably letting go of Kaworu’s hand.
The same Kaworu who was laughing a bit at his words right now. “You can just visit, Shinji,”
he said, and his light tone nearly made Shinji blush. “Neither of us would mind.”

The response was a nearly imperceptible nod, and a grateful heart. “Take care... and thank
you for today. It was nice.” It was more than he had thought himself capable of.

Kaworu looked at him for a moment, then his expression lit up. “I’m glad. It was very nice
for me, too.” There was another moment, but Shinji just gazed at him during it. “Take care.”

And he was gone down the stairs. Shinji blinked, and chose to remain in the same place while
he fished his walkman out of his bag. He stood there, unravelling the earbuds and putting
them on, and then, just because it was a nice spot and nobody was bumping into him, stayed
put while he wound his current cassette to a preferred song. He didn’t notice Kaworu
climbing back up the stairs until he was again beside him. Shinji pulled out an earbud and
blinked one more time.

“I changed my mind,” he said, a little breathily, a grin playing frantically on his lips.

Shinji would have asked what about if he’d let him, but he didn’t, since one moment later
Kaworu put his mouth to his. He lingered, letting their lips only brush for a while and then
applying more pressure again. It didn’t last long, but it left Shinji quite light-headed.

He pulled away slightly slower than he’d leant in and gave Shinji a quite undisturbed smile.
“Take care,” and he was gone again.

Shinji put his earbud back in place almost mechanically, and didn’t have any difficulties in
reaching the bus stop after that. It was only after he’d been waiting there for a minute or so
that the events had caught up with him, and he bit his lip for a moment, before raising a
sleeve to his mouth in an attempt to hide a smile.
 Chapter 22

Holidays weren’t supposed to come faster than expected. Or so Shinji thought when, in the
middle of a Music History class, the professor mentioned spring break, which apparently was
starting in a matter of days. At the end of the course, Shinji gathered his papers haphazardly –
he was going to buy a hole punch and put them in a file, he’d promised himself – and went
out of the amphitheatre.

On his way to his next class, he pulled out his phone and, guilt dripping off him like honey
from an overturned comb, tried for nonchalance.

Shinji: Are you still coming over during the break?

Peers were gathering in small groups, some of them already starting a 2-hour nap, and he was
surreptitiously taking his midday medication by the time the reply came. His phone buzzed
silently over his bag.

Asuka: Look who decided to remember the rest of humanity. I’ll think about it.

Shinji: Okay. Take care.

He did it almost by habit. From what he could remember, he didn’t send replies like that to
people before. Not without having a heart-wrenching talk with them beforehand. Still, maybe
she won’t pick up on it, Shinji turned his phone off completely once he saw the old professor
enter the room, down below. He sighed, and it turned into a yawn. Just a few more days of
this, apparently.

There wasn’t much he could be doing during the break, really, Shinji thought the next day as
he was busy stamping holes in his papers in the library. Hadn’t had much luck remembering
to go to a stationery shop yet.

Nothing, of course, apart from forcing his body into a perpetual state of lethargy in an
attempt to get as much sleep as possible before the exams to come. That usually didn’t work,
what with his anomalous morning-person-genes, but Shinji wasn’t one to give in to Biology,
of all things.

While stapling some other papers, he managed the amazing feat of stapling his own finger
along with them. That got a very subdued yelp out of him, along with a dire realisation that
the colourful plasters Kaworu had given him at some point in the past would finally come in
handy. They had dolphins on them, for morality’s sake.

He used one, nevertheless, even with something akin to dignity, and went back to his stapler
before some other undergraduate stole it from him. If anyone asked, he’d even given the
dolphins names.
Asuka still hadn’t given him a conclusive answer.

“Me?” Kaworu asked over a serving of too-creamy ravioli. Their schedules met, and the
macaroni & cheese place had a good lunch offer. “I decided to visit dad for a few days, in the
end. Maybe make up.”

It was still hard for Shinji to imagine Kaworu arguing with someone, but not impossible, by
this point. “Going by train?” He nodded, and an even more important thought came through.
“What about Tabris?”

“We’re going together,” Kaworu stated proudly, mechanically gathering all the mushrooms
from his plate in a single pile. “She’s been on a train before, but I don’t think she
remembers.” He seemed to reflect on this a bit. “We should be fine. What about you?”

“I – ...” Shinji swallowed, cut a ravioli in two. “I don’t know. Nothing special, I guess.
Sleep,” he offered, and along with it added a couple small mushrooms to Kaworu’s plate.

It seemed to make him happy, at least. “You could just relax. It sounds like a good idea,” he
agreed, starting a systematic process of eating all those exiled mushrooms.

Maybe I should, Shinji thought, carefully chewing a small bit of pasta. From the look of
things, there was nothing better left to do.

On Friday, he had barely got out of his day clothes and pulled on sweatpants and one of his
ancient T-shirts when he received a photo of Tabris looking sombre in a colourful travel
carrier. They were apparently still waiting for their train, so Shinji took this chance to wish
them a safe trip one more time. They couldn’t blame him for being a sceptic.

He was in the middle of reading one of Kaworu’s epiphanies about travel snacks when his
phone started vibrating in his hand. In a moment or two, Asuka’s name appeared on the
screen, so Shinji pulled his feet up on his bed and prepared himself for what was probably
going to be a very educational talk.

“Are you in class?” was the first thing she asked. There was the muffled sound of traffic in
the background of her voice.

“No, I just got home.” He crossed his legs, for emphasis.

“Good. Well.” There was a pause, and then the noise ceased. “You’re on break too, right?”

This time, her voice had a slight echo. “Yeah, I just finished today.” He’d gone to the library
one more time after practice, too, and got out of it with two plasters on his fingers.

“You’re not doing anything, then,” she stated simply, and he hadn’t even given it any
attention until she stopped and reeled back. “Are you?” A little confused, Shinji confirmed
that he wasn’t doing anything. “Right. Do you want to come over here, then? I can book you
train tickets.”

For a moment, he didn’t know what she meant by that. “Wait, there? Uh, I... Why?”

He could practically hear her shrug. “Why not? It’s only a few hours. I’ll even put a pillow on
the couch. You can stay for a few days.”

There ought to be another reason behind it. He didn’t ask about it out of fear. “Are you sure
there’s enough space?” Not like he needed a lot of it, but it was polite to ask.

“Yes?” Sometimes, Asuka used question marks as insult-abbreviations instead of

orthographical signs. This was one of them. “I moved since you last came here. This one is
much bigger.” That was good to hear; the last time he’d agreed to visit, he’d had to sleep in
between the washing machine and the dryer.

“Alright, then.”

“So you’ll come?”

He couldn’t quite understand why she sounded so surprised. A distant rustle of keys told him
she’d just arrived at her door. “Yes,” he said, not really apprehending the situation.

“Good. See you.”

She sent him the details and the ticket reservation later that evening, which reminded Shinji
of how dreadfully punctual she had been during their school years together and how that
usually meant he had to be punctual too. Asuka wasn’t one to let her peers slack off beside
her. Maybe that was why he was only mildly stressed by college.

In the meantime, however, Shinji had had time to both prepare dinner – since he hadn’t done
so in a while and he didn’t want to wait until his aunt would call him out on it – and keep
track of Tabris’s nightmarish journey. Well, it wasn’t all that nightmarish; Kaworu had sent
him another photo of her after they had taken their seats and in that one instance she looked
quite like Shinji before an oral presentation. He’d got another message after that to assure
him she was quite okay now.

After that, while he was chopping vegetables in tear-wrenchingly small pieces, Shinji got
another update. It was good that he’d held his phone in both hands this time because
otherwise it would’ve fallen into his soup-in-progress.

Apparently, circumstances have made it so that Tabris had been freed from her colourful
confinement, so now she was residing happily in Kaworu’s arms. It had been quite
impossible to capture this without also having Kaworu appear in the picture, so he was there
too, offering one of his slightly helpless, but outwardly happy smiles. Shinji shut his brain off
for a moment while he saved the photo in question and turned it back on only when he was
safely back to his celery.
From there on, he got pictures of some of the stations the train pulled at – and of Tabris
inspecting them with her paws on the window. Apparently, Kaworu lived farther away than
he’d expected. Shinji offered him various succinct replies and, in general, took his time.
Friday meant that his relatives wouldn’t be home until early in the evening.

When he was making a show of adding tofu, his phone buzzed again – he’d safely set it on
the spice rack, for easy access – with one last text, telling him that they were quite close to
their destination, and quite safe. Shinji prepared the rice with an unusual flourish afterwards.

Kaworu: Miscalculation. I seem not to be the only one who chose to visit.

Kaworu: I’ll have to start peace treaties immediately.

It was 8 in the morning. Shinji had been reading steadily, exasperated by his sleeping habits,
for an hour. He stared for a while at the screen of his phone, gave in to the yawn that had
been building up inside him for the past half hour, and typed.

Shinji: Good luck.

In response, he got a photo of Tabris curled on dark blue tartan sheets, belly-side up.
 Chapter 23
Chapter Summary

Kind reminder that just because somebody is shorter than you doesn't mean they're short
short.

Chapter Notes

Yes, it does.

Most of Asuka’s three-room apartment was occupied by plants. There were orchids and
bamboo in the bathroom, maidenhair ferns and a few other heavy-leafed plants in the living
room, and Shinji also guessed she ought to have a moss terrarium hidden somewhere. He’d
brushed by some English ivy on his way in.

She seemed mildly impressed that he’d arrived there alive, at first. Afterwards, she pushed a
plate of greenish omelette in his face and commanded him to eat it. “Thanks?”

“Eat,” she repeated.

The morning hadn’t been particularly comfortable for Shinji. He’d put all his things in a
backpack, so it hadn’t been hard to board the train, but after that he’d been immersed in a
long process anticipating one stop after the other while taking care nobody fell asleep on him.
It had been early enough to still get to see the dew gathered on the train window, and once or
twice he found himself raising his hoodie’s sleeves to his mouth in order to cover a yawn.
The plan had been to get there before midday; which he did.

Now, Shinji chewed his late breakfast while watching Asuka tinker with a coffee-maker. It
was quite shiny, but he hardly felt intimidated by the sight of it after being subjected to
Nerv’s infernal machinery. Asuka seemed to be just as unimpressed, from the way she was
punching buttons.

“I don’t think it’s gonna work anytime soon,” she finally conceded and fell down into a chair
opposite Shinji. “After you’re done, you wanna go get some coffee?”

He’d barely been there 10 minutes; he nodded. Then, he got back to chewing his vegetable
omelette. “You said you had something to do?” he asked after he’d gone through half of it.
Asuka switched her gaze from a small potted plant to his. “Yeah. Apparently, I still have to
sign some terms and conditions before I leave my laboratory unsupervised for half a week.”
She yawned, covering her face with the sleeve of a red hoodie. “It won’t take long. Think you
can manage on your own?”

After actually managing to finish off his breakfast, Shinji felt confident. “Yeah.”

“Good,” she said, then her bored look took a more mischievous turn. “’Cause I’ve got some
chores that need doing.”

Oh, Shinji thought. So that’s why I’m here. Thank God, he’d almost started to worry.

The coffee place was only two blocks away, so it wasn’t an unthinkable trip for Shinji to take,
after being shaken like a salt pot for the best part of his morning. “—so I left everything you
need in sight when you enter the bathroom. It shouldn’t be so hard; all the clothes are already
there. Mostly,” she added as an afterthought.

So that’s washing, cleaning, ironing and watering the plants, Shinji looked over his mental
list. Then, he cast a glance over the café’s menu and decided that, if external forces were
willing, he was going to have a white hot chocolate.

“How’s aunt?” Asuka asked, looking over someone’s shoulder at the pastries and cakes.

Shinji thought that over. “She’s alright. Busy,” he guessed. He’d had to prepare three more
meals before he left.

Thankfully, that talk, promising a few other formalities coming with it, was cut short by the
simple fact that they got to the counter. Shinji managed not to goggle too much when Asuka
placed a relatively mild order, and then requested that four more shots of espresso be added
in it. Thus, he couldn’t keep the dry humour out of his voice once it was his turn, and that
resulted in almost getting a laugh out of the barista.

Shinji blinked, stared, and then looked around. He hadn’t even realised he’d ordered without
making a big mess out of himself. Consequently, he wondered whether he’d got any texts
lately.

“Okay, so,” Asuka declared once they sat themselves at an empty table. “I’ll have to argue
with some guys when I go down there, so I’ll practice with you.”

And so she started telling him about whatever research she’d been doing the past semester –
most of which he was already accustomed with from her phone calls, so he could contribute –
while taking aggressive gulps of her coffee every time she remembered something annoying.

They didn’t stay there too long, since she had that to get over with and he had chores, but it
was a pretty nice change. Regardless of his doubts, Shinji felt quite refreshed, talking to her,
and surrounded by an entirely different city.
She left him early in the afternoon, after telling him how much and in what way and from
what direction every plant needed to be watered. She probably just wanted an excuse to talk
to him about them, though. As soon as she was gone, Shinji reclaimed the clothes she’d
borrowed from him at Christmas and got to work.

Since the apartment’s floor was wooden all around, he thought he’d also wipe it, after he
dusted the place over, and while the washing machine did its job in the bathroom. He was on
his knees when his phone buzzed unexpectedly, making him hit his head on the coffee table.

It was a photo taken while Tabris was seemingly digging through a hundred sweaters and
mufflers layered over an old wooden floor. The message arrived swiftly afterwards.

Kaworu: Spring cleaning. Now you know.

So he’s aware, Shinji narrowed his eyes, a shattered victor.

Kaworu: Are you alright?

Now he blinked in surprise. It wasn’t like Kaworu to question him so bluntly. He rapidly
thought over what he’d said the past few days. Other than his coming here, nothing special
had happened to Shinji. He blinked again. Did he expect me to keep a travel log? It was, after
all, what Kaworu’d been doing.

Shinji: Yes, I’m okay.

Then he looked around, bit his tongue, and took a picture of one of Asuka’s most verdant
corners, emphasized by the big sunny window behind it, and by the bottle of blue glass
cleaner Shinji had placed there for later use.

Shinji: Also spring cleaning, if that helps.

Kaworu: Makes my day. :)

With everything made nice and clean, Shinji couldn’t bring himself to take the laundry back
to the living room. At least, he felt like he could fold it up first. Then he’d have to bring the
ironing board in from the balcony, and that would end in more careful manoeuvres so as not
to disturb any greenery. Asuka surely seemed to be taking her time coming home.

Just as his mind said this, there was a sound coming from the front door, so Shinji contented
himself with the fact that she was, indeed, a psychic. He heard a few plastic bags hitting the
floor outside the bathroom door and sighed. His clean floor had had a short life.

“Ah.”

The door had opened behind him. Shinji turned, still holding a black T-shirt up for folding. It
took his mind a little while to readjust, to take in that this wasn’t Asuka, and then to go
through the small list of other possibilities, all having pictures attached to his mental
landscape.
Mari grinned. “Adorable,” was the first thing she said, which made Shinji momentarily
question his existence. Nobody had called him adorable before.

“Er, hi,” he gave her a little wave, and then finished folding Asuka’s shirt.

She leant into the room seemingly to get a better view and adjusted her glasses. “Mistress of
the house left you in charge, eh?”

For lack of anything better, Shinji let out an embarrassed chuckle. “You can say that...”

“Good! I like new authority,” she grinned even wider.

Abandoning her grocery bags in the hallway, stepped into the bathroom and assumed a casual
seat on the washing machine. Shinji stared at her for a moment, and then took another
freshly-dried shirt out of the basket. Mari had only moved in with Asuka since she’d changed
apartments – and, in Asuka’s words, this was only because (1) the rent was ridiculous and (2)
she needed someone to do the dish-washing – but Shinji had met her a couple of times
before. First, on graduation day, and then when he’d last visited. In his own terms, she was
safe.

“She been gone long?” It was still mildly unsettling to have her cross-legged on an appliance,
but he bore with it.

“A few hours,” he folded two more shirts and started a second pile. “Something to do with a
laboratory.”

“Oh, yeah. I heard about that,” she seemed to ruminate for a while, swaying a little on her
spot. Shinji considered putting the laundry basket beside the washing machine, just so she’d
have something to alleviate her imminent fall. “So, what has been going on with you?”

However, Shinji didn’t even have time to process the question when his gaze was caught by
something on the hallway. “Er, I think the milk’s leaking.”

“Huh?” Mari leaned forwards, and Shinji’s expression froze in anticipation of disaster. “Oh,
shoot!” She leaped off the washer without so much as missing a step. With a few swift
movements, the bag of milk-soaked groceries ended up in the sink.

The minor incident ended with no casualties, and they had managed to salvage all groceries
before they all became some sort of post-apocalyptic porridge. Thankfully, Asuka was still
MIA, so she hadn’t been there to see their near-failure.

“That was intense,” Mari let out a big breath and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

Shinji offered a noncommittal sound and decided to just throw away the unlucky plastic bag
before it could be used as evidence. He’d managed to soak the better part of his T-shirt.

“You know what I’d like?” When Shinji turned to face her, he saw her leaning dangerously
on the back legs of her chair, feet in no way close to the ground. He gulped, and waited. She
leaned just enough to be able to knock on the coffee maker. “I’d like for this thing to be
working. It’s been driving me nuts for weeks, and I’m supposed to be all about machinery,
you know?”

The first time she told Shinji she was studying Robotics Engineering, he’d had vertigo for
days. Now, he looked, once again, at the mysterious appliance. “You want me to try?”

This seemed to excite her. “Oh, think you can do it, shorty?” For brevity’s sake, Shinji
grimaced at the appliance instead of at her, but he hoped it didn’t take it personally. “Go, go,
try it.”

He was no expert, of course, but he guessed these things ought to have a pattern, one way or
another. He felt disinclined to believe that this small thing could have more functions than
Nerv’s Doomsday Device. Plus, Kaworu had helped him carry a ridiculous order of pastries
from the café when the Nerv guys decided to have an impromptu meeting, and just before he
went back to his job he’d taken a look at the famous coffee machine and showed Shinji a few
tricks. That ought to be enough.

He tinkered at it a bit, moved a random mug around to see if it minded, ignored Mari
cackling at every unsuccessful attempt, and then finally something moved; and stopped.
Shinji narrowed his eyes at the controls, then turned back to Mari.

“Does it have any coffee in it?”

“Oh, Asuka might have taken it out of it at some point, but she probably forgot.” They looked
at each other, then Mari laughed so hard she had to take her glasses off and dry her eyes.
“Gosh, your face.”

Afterwards, they busied themselves with finding the house’s coffee reserve, the adequate
coffee filters, and enough mental strength to start again. The second time around, it only took
a few minutes for Shinji to send the machine working, and this time it didn’t stop halfway
through. It also came to their attention that they had been looking at it from the wrong side all
along, so the first cup of coffee ever made by it was one spilled on the counter.

“You’re officially a genius,” Mari declared once she had secured the second cup of coffee
ever made in her hands.

Coming from her, Shinji felt a little flattered. “I only added coffee,” he still mumbled,
wringing a coffee-soaked towel into the sink as he waited for the third cup of coffee ever
made.

It was at this point that Asuka decided, quite professionally, to return home, and all possible
words of greeting were seemingly taken from her by the smell of brewing coffee. “What have
you done?” she asked, once she stole Shinji’s designated mug without a second glance.

“Apparently, Shinji here has extended knowledge in the ways of preparing bean water by
mechanical means,” Mari said without blinking and leant in her chair, wallowing in the
satisfaction of a fact well said.
“Yeah, well,” Asuka offered blandly, but then she cast Shinji a glance over her mug which
made him quite self-conscious for reasons willingly unknown.

Kaworu: You’ll never believe how interested siblings become in you once they suspect
they can embarrass you in front of someone.

Kaworu: It’s not me, by the way! Apparently, one of them got engaged without telling
the rest of us, which is viewed as high treason already.

Shinji refused to admit that his breath had hitched there for a moment. For some reason, the
thought of Kaworu talking about him to someone was, for lack of a better word, kind of
terrifying. He put the phone down in order to shake off the sheets before putting them on the
couch. It was kind of a messy task too, since he had to be careful not to accidentally slap any
plants.

There was some ivy beside his pillow which seemed to tell him that it would definitely make
his acquaintance during the night. Other than that, the place seemed comfortable enough.
There was a muffled sound of psychedelic music coming from what was presumably Mari’s
room.

“Can you manage?” Asuka poked her head out of her bedroom, hair pulled up with a number
of potent clips. She looked mildly impressed by the fact that he was almost done. “If you hear
me walking around in the morning, don’t talk to me.”

Shinji nodded, folded the blanket and set it beside his crane-patterned pillow. Then, he looked
at her. “Are you going somewhere?” Because she was in the process of tying her hair in a
bun, and that was no usual occurrence.

“We’re going out, didn’t I tell you?” She managed to tell him over the clips currently residing
in between her teeth. Shinji signalled that she hadn’t. “Oh, just the same. Put something on.”

Changing back into his travel clothes didn’t take him too long, even if he had to stumble
across the 3 steps of floor in the bathroom before managing to pull on his jeans. Since Asuka
had probably meant that he’d get cold, he also decided to put his hoodie back on before she
could comment on it again.

By the time he got back to the living room, Mari was already residing on his rented couch,
wearing above others a pair of jeans so baggy they reminded Shinji of his classmates in 6th
grade. She was also spinning his phone in her hands, so that was probably slightly more
important.

“It beeped,” she said simply. Shinji got it out of her hands as casually as possible.

“Where are we going?” he asked and, since Asuka was nowhere in sight, he sat back on the
couch.
It looked like she’d been waiting for that question all along. “It’s a secret,” she said, and
grinned at the face he subsequently pulled at her. “You’ll see. Oh, wait a moment,” and she
pulled her own phone from the depths of one pocket. It reminded Shinji to check his own so,
while she was shuffling through hers, he did.

Kaworu: Accordingly, we’re kind of planning a trial with interrogation.

Shinji: Tabris should be the judge.

Kaworu: Exactly!

“Okay, look,” Mari leaned into his side, surprising the smile that had begun to form on his
face into stillness. “What we did last summer,” she clarified and showed Shinji around a
dozen photos of her and Asuka trying to fish on an empty promontory. It all ended up quite
dramatically with a picture taken just as Asuka was falling into the sea.

Shinji let out a laugh before he even registered what was going on, and Mari left his side just
in time to greet their third companion, freshly arrived in the living room. Asuka turned a
suspicious eye over both of them; given the circumstances, Shinji had a hard time keeping a
straight face.

It was quite late, and the streets were as badly illuminated as they were crowded. Meaning,
they kind of burnt Shinji’s retinas if he raised his eyes from around ground level. It was
probably kind of cold too, but there was a constant layer of humid warmth coming from the
swarm around them. That is, until they got out of the city centre and entered a dark, grassy
area. Shinji was assured it was actually called a park. Why this was supposed to be a secret
and a surprise, he didn’t know. Everyday excitement, probably.

They had got something hot to drink from a street corner on their way there, and as the mild
frost of the night settled around them it proved quite useful. They started going downhill, and
Shinji caught the glimmer of a lake from in between the trees.

“So, Shinji, how’s the musical school going?” Mari asked after she’d finished debating with
Asuka the necessity of adding cinnamon to drinks.

“It’s going fine,” he answered wittingly, sipping his tea.

“Aw, come on,” Mari prodded him in his side. “We’re all a bunch of engineering nerds here;
we were expecting some drama and entertainment from you liberal arts people.”

“Pff, as if,” Asuka contributed, scoffing into her third coffee that day.

“What? Nobody serenading a teacher in the courtyard? Poking their eyes out with a viola?
Having intercourse on the piano?” There was a sombre silence. “Falling down the stairs with
a double bass?” she whined. Shinji mumbled something. “What?”

“That only happened once,” he mumbled a little louder.

 Chapter 24

On his first morning on Asuka’s magic couch – and it was magically comfortable, after one
of the longest, most productive days of his life – Shinji woke up to a photograph of Tabris
strategically placed under a rococo curtain so she looked exceedingly judiciary. His eyes did
the momentous effort of looking up a bit to see the clock.

It wasn’t exceedingly early. That hardly mattered.

Impressive

He eventually managed to spell that, but made the mistake of letting his head fall back into
his pillow before sending it. It seemed like too much effort to raise it again. There was ivy in
his hair. He kept hitting the screen until he heard the shutter go off. Then he looked up, horror
waking him almost instantly.

There it was, a picture of his outrageous bed-head, with a bit of hanging ivy, and a wrinkled
sleeve of a T-shirt. That’s not possible, Shinji would’ve thought had he been in a better state
of mind. Seeing as he wasn’t, his only thought was an ice-cold Oh, no. The only good part
about it was that his face was still hidden. When his head fell face-forward in the pillow
again, it was intentional.

Kaworu: I’m so sorry!

Shinji knew he had to be reasonable about this; accordingly, he freaked out for a few seconds.
Then, he officially got out of bed. Or, at least, rose to a sitting position in the midst of his
covers.

Shinji: No, I didn’t mean to...

Shinji: Tabris looked very imposing.

Kaworu: Thank you; she was quite a presence in the court room.

Shinji: Surely.

Kaworu: Sorry for waking you up.

Shinji: It’s alright, I slept in. Sorry for the impromptu picture.

Kaworu: Not at all, I quite like these. :)

Shinji: I noticed.

At this time, Asuka pushed her door open and made her silent, sleep-drenched way to the
bathroom, dragging a red dressing gown in her wake. Taking this in, Shinji decided in was in
humanity’s best interest to start preparing breakfast.
Just to be on the safe side, he prepared a full pot of coffee, and once this was done, started
assembling multiple sandwiches. Asuka joined him at the kitchen table by the time he was
halfway done and grabbed one of them without questioning it.

“Slept well?” she asked, then took a thoughtful bite. Shinji watched until she started chewing
and, since no disaster befell him, decided that he was doing a good job.

“Yeah, I haven’t slept this much in a while.” It had probably lasted over six hours; he didn’t
know what he was going to do with all this energy, not that he felt it.

It seemed that Asuka didn’t feel it either. “Give me a...,” she made an incomprehensible
gesture towards half of her kitchen, so Shinji got up and poured her a cup of coffee.
“Thanks.” She took a gulp without putting her sandwich down. The review seemed to be a
positive one. “You used to be shit at making coffee, you know,” she said, looking into her
mug, as if it held some hidden trap.

“I still am,” Shinji finished the last sandwich and pushed the plate to the middle of the table.
He was saying the truth; he’d tried to make some at home, and it still tasted wrong. “It’s the
gismo that does all the work.”

“That’s right, don’t accept my compliment,” she muttered, taking another sip. When they
caught each other’s eye after that, they both laughed. “She’s probably going to be out cold for
another couple hours,” she took another sandwich. “So we’ll have to put some of these away
until then.”

Later, was the decree; Shinji was nursing his own drink right now. “It looks like you’re
getting along fine,” he eventually said, because Asuka had had several existential crises
before accepting to share an apartment with someone.

Of course, she scoffed. “You have no idea.” She stared at a gardenia for a while. “Speaking of
which, how’s the relationship going?”

Shinji regarded her over his coffee mug. He looked at the table. Thought hard about it.
Shrugged. “It’s going fine.”

“Fine?” Asuka echoed him, and almost lost herself to laughter. “What kind of answer is
that?”

He shrugged again, got a better grip of his coffee mug. “What was I supposed to say?”

As chance would have it, he didn’t get to hear the answer to that, since the next moment Mari
emerged from her bedroom, hair like a comet playground.

“You were supposed to say, oh, I dunno, something mushily disgusting, or what you’ve been
doing lately, or something,” Asuka got back to her subject an hour or so later when they were
taking another walk in the park. Apparently, this had to be a thing for her, in order to calm her
nerves every day. Otherwise, really, there was nothing extraordinary about it.
Shinji glanced at her, stared for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. “You know what I’ve
been doing; I talk to you all the time.”

Asuka glared at him, but then pondered a bit and relaxed. “Fair point. I’ll just take it that
everything is going well, then.”

“Everything is well,” Shinji agreed, and smiled.

That seemed to appease her. “Here comes the avenging warrior, back from protecting the
world from alien forces,” her tone took a solemn path and she looked into the distance. At
first, Shinji was confused by this. Then, he saw that it was just Mari, coming towards them
with ice-cream.

“Are you two always making these weird faces when you’re alone?” she asked, with a look
of exasperated fondness which, Shinji took for granted, wasn’t directed at him.

“You’re making weird faces,” Asuka retaliated wittingly, snatching an ice-cream cone from
her hands.

The next day, after a slightly more violent morning call, Asuka dragged them to the train
station and took them for an impromptu picnic in the woods outside of the city. Of course,
they had not been told that until after they’d been forced to prepare twenty sandwiches, six
water bottles, and rush up the first rusty train they saw.

It was damp, and very humid, and there was more vegetation than Shinji had seen in months,
but he guessed it was nice. The air was better, that was for sure. They took a long walk
between the trees, where paths of other days could be seen, and in the end found a decent
clearing.

They had taken two different blankets and laid them one on top of the other. They seemed to
be waterproof enough. Shinji hugged his hoodie to himself until the sun got high enough to
reach their spot.

“Act natural,” Mari said and passed him a beer can while staring into the distance.

Shinji stared at it, then dropped it on their blanket because it was so cold it was kind of
sticking to his hand. “What?”

Huffing, Mari rolled her eyes. “Spoil sport,” and just passed a can to Asuka too. Asuka, who
was currently ignoring them and enjoying the warm shadow of a tree. “Do you think we’ll
have to fight bears in here?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Asuka responded in his place, standing up in order to open her beer. “You
took Biology in middle school at the same time I did, bears don’t live here.” She paused for a
moment, put the can down and pulled the hair out of her face.

Mari passed her a large pink hair clip without a second glance. “Why must you always shatter
my hopes and dreams? My esteem for you grows every day,” she looked at Shinji, “for
having been subjected to this tyranny and still growing up to be a good person.”

“Yeah...,” Shinji said only because his mind was occupied with other things at the moment.
Am I a good person? He certainly never felt like one. He offered Mari an apologetic smile.
“It wasn’t that bad.”

Hair clipped in what almost looked like a very ginger bouquet of Spider Lilies, Asuka stared
at him in surprise, as if she hadn’t expected so much generosity coming from him. Maybe I
am a good person, Shinji thought sarcastically, and rolled his beer can in his hands.

When she got over it, she directed a triumphant gaze at Mari. “See? If even Shinji can put up
with me better than you do, it means the fault is not mine.”

Shinji would have commented on that himself, had it not been for Mari immediately bringing
up a scene where Asuka had been left to do the dishes and instead left them all on the balcony
overnight, and, of course, had it not been for his phone buzzing in his backpack.

He fished it out and unlocked the screen out of habit, not minding his casually bickering
surroundings.

Kaworu: Look at what we found!

Kaworu: Don’t worry, I didn’t let her touch them.

It looked like Kaworu certainly had some supernatural abilities, or an abnormally good
intuition, because the current photo had Tabris standing on a mossy tree stump and glaring at
a weird-looking mushroom. Their forest looked slightly warmer and drier than the one Shinji
was currently settling in. He remembered Kaworu once mentioning that their house was
pretty far from town.

“That’s such a pretty cat,” Mari said, making Shinji jump out of his skin. Some part of his
soul was definitely lost in between these trees now.

At this mildly interesting statement, Asuka turned to take in the sight too. A light frown
formed on her brow. “Is that from some Old Norse photoshoot? It looks like one of Freya’s
cats.”

Shinji gave both of them a distressed, then a mildly upset look. “She’s not as big as she
seems,” he stated, quite clearly, and because he wanted to keep the appearances of being
normal he typed his reply without running off into the woods first.

Shinji: I hope you haven’t either.

Not as big, sure, but maybe that was only because he’d got used to her.

“My neighbour used to have one of these giant cats you sometimes see in really snowy
environments,” Mari started and made wide gestures with her hands so as to show the size,
ferocity and fur quality. She had a large, dotted hoodie on. It didn’t quite help with the
ferocity component. “But I was around 8 when I used to play with it, so to me it almost
looked like a small, purring pony.”
“Stop,” Asuka intervened and pushed her enthusiastic arms down. “I don’t wanna be
traumatised by association.”

“No, c’mon, I was cute,” Mari grinned, which seemed to only stir mild disgust on Asuka’s
complexion. “Who’s the lucky cat owner, Shinji? Because, just so you know, if it’s you, I’ll
be very vengeful.”

Meanwhile, Shinji had kept very quiet. On this occasion, he waved a hand in front of him.
“No, my relatives are still allergic,” he said with content resignation.

It was okay, so a moment later he had no idea why he panicked. What should I say? He
wondered, and it was so easy, but it still made him breathless to think it. He wished he could
go through life without thinking so much.

In the end, he didn’t say anything more. Mari raised an eyebrow. “Shame,” she said, and
Shinji agreed wholeheartedly. “We should get one, you know?” she turned back to Asuka,
who was drinking thoughtfully.

“No way, it’s enough your hair’s everywhere, we don’t need another calamity in the house.”
As if knowing what he needed, she poked Shinji’s can in his direction, bringing his attention
back to it.

It wasn’t something he found helpful or enjoyable, as it took a lot more if one was trying to
make him loosen up by alcoholic means – a fact both he and Asuka found out during New
Year’s – but at least it was something to keep him busy while his thought process got back in
order.

“Feeling better?” Asuka asked him that evening, which happened to be his last there. Shinji
had been staring at the steadily darkening buildings on a background of grey-blue sky. “You
spaced out a bit earlier today.”

“I’m okay,” he said without thinking about it. She’d taken a shower just a while before, so
her hair was damp, and she sat on his sheets on the couch in a pair of loose pyjamas. “I just—
I don’t know...,” he shrugged helplessly and took a seat beside her. “I’m not used to talking
about this.” He made a small pause and then continued in a lower voice. “I don’t think I like
to...”

It didn’t take a planetary clash for Asuka to find her words, however. “Well, that’s your
choice, then. If you don’t want to talk about it, just don’t.” She wasn’t looking at him, the
only sign that she was embarrassed. “Sorry for prying.”

“You didn’t pry, you just asked,” Shinji let out a strained laugh. She glanced at him with a
look that purely said she dared him to defy her once more. “I accept your apology,” Shinji
said, defeated.

“Good,” she stated, attempting to sound unemotional and patted his knee before getting up.
“I’m gonna unplug her stereo system before she gets out of the shower. You sure you
prepared your stuff for tomorrow?” Shinji nodded. “Alright. I’ll come with you in the
morning.” Again, she was being nice. Before she broke into Mari’s – unlocked – room, she
turned back to him. “Shinji? Send him a picture.”

Strangely, Shinji did. It had only been a few hours since Kaworu had sent him one more
group photo, of him and Tabris on a small wooden bridge they just happened to stumble upon
during their short hike through the woods. Apparently, Tabris hadn’t trusted him enough to
walk on her own. It had taken another round of mental detachment for Shinji to save it in his
phone.

This time, Shinji got out on Asuka’s small balcony – which did have a moss terrarium – and
hoped against hypothermia. Positioning the city behind him, he took a deep breath. There
was enough light coming from the living room for him not to be in total darkness. Trying not
to cringe, he took a single picture, and sent it before he could change his mind.

Shinji: Last night here.

Kaworu: Thank you :)

Kaworu: <3
 Chapter 25

If there was one thing Shinji didn’t like, it was May. It wasn’t exactly summer, it wasn’t
exactly spring, it wasn’t something in between; it was everything all at once, and he could
barely hide his annoyance when he entered the university drizzling and got out of it sweating.
He almost missed winter. Almost.

Above that, there was the vague – but increasing – anticipation of stress to come. It was the
moment of the year when a student might think that, if they hadn’t studied all year, then now
it would be the best time to do so. It was that time when every passing day told one that
they’re mortally slacking off.

Exams and recitals and performances were still only rumours, things students still pretended
to know nothing about. It was the period of transition from rumour to reality to fact. Shinji,
getting his due amount of anxiety on a regular basis, wasn’t exactly psyched to have this new,
shared one added on his shoulders.

Shinji: I need some help.

Waiting outside the auditorium, everything seemed like a good reason to start a conversation.
His teacher had only asked him to meet her after classes, to discuss the new course they’ll
take in their usual practice sessions, Shinji’s intended audition in mind. This isn’t good. Now
she’s going to have expectations. Shinji shuddered and tried not to look upon the closed door.

Kaworu: What with?

Granted, Shinji hadn’t exactly been slacking off. After all, people more or less left him alone
when he came to practice, and it helped him clear his mind, so it was something he didn’t try
to dodge. Back in middle school, he’d used to practice at home, on a neighbour’s cello, until
they had moved away, so this was only making up for that. Still. Expectations.

He stared at Kaworu’s message and realised he’d forgotten what he wanted to say.

Shinji: Practice, I guess. We haven’t done that in a while.

Kaworu: That sounds nice. I’ll open up an afternoon.

Shinji smiled briefly, pocketed his phone, looked broodingly upon the black door.

I need to get myself a cello.

It took a week and a half for Kaworu to finally be able to find a free afternoon and meet
Shinji at the Conservatory. In the meantime, Shinji had had four meetings with his teacher,
quite friendly, and as a consequence he was visibly fraying at the edges. Due to bad time
management issues, he hadn’t visited the café for a while now. Thus, when Kaworu, after
securing his bicycle, climbed the stairs to the main entrance and greeted him, Shinji barely
suppressed a sigh of relief.

“Sorry,” Kaworu said after some polite inquiries, taking a seat beside Shinji on one of the
university’s benches. “Multiple group projects, and there’s already a lot of fuss about final
evaluations,” he sighed. “Most of them are projects, so I’m currently in two teams leading
different social experiments, well, they’re mostly public opinion polls at the moment, so
we’re on the streets a lot. Half of my apartment is covered in papers, and I have no idea when
I’ll recycle all of it, and there are supposed to be some books I have to take back to the
university library, but I can hardly tell which one of them they are, and I have three research
papers started and I’m nowhere near finishing them.”

Shinji stared at him. He felt like, by comparison, learning about the Franco-Flemish School
was a blessing. “Are you alright?”

It seemed to break the stressing spell. Kaworu turned to look at him, gazed for an impossibly
quiet moment, and then smiled. “I am now. I missed you.”

His heart was a very small thing, which was close to bursting. “Me too,” Shinji said, and with
only minor hesitation raised a hand to move Kaworu’s fringe out of his eyes.

“What do you want to play?” Kaworu asked, unperturbed aside from a wider smile.

Shinji thought about it, retrieved his hand. “Rachmaninoff.” A change, at least, he’d mostly
practiced Haydn lately. He mused for a bit. “And also... I thought maybe The Swan? I mean,
if you can and want to...”

Kaworu took the time to claim back his hand and entwine their fingers while Shinji was
mumbling on his own. “Sure,” he grinned once he was done. “If you have the sheet music.”

Of course he did. The actual challenge proved to be finding a room that suited their needs.

“You sound really nice,” Kaworu told him some hours later, when he let Shinji play on his
own after a rather tiring experiment with Brahms.

Shinji would’ve liked to avoid being looked at while he played, but, after all, the entire point
was that he had to get used to it. He straightened his back a little and looked at the school
instrument.

“I was thinking of getting one for myself,” he admitted, running his fingers over the cello’s
polished wood. Since his 1st year, he’d tried to find the same one whenever he came to play.
He wondered whether a completely new one would make him more insecure. It would be
quite against the purpose.

“Have you found one you like?”

Shinji shook his head. “Not yet. I looked around a bit, but I haven’t had time to visit the
bigger music shops.” He sighed and weighed the bow in his hand.
“I don’t know much about it, but I can come with you if you need company,” Kaworu offered
like the good human being he was, and Shinji smiled helplessly as he put the cello back in its
case.

“Don’t you have enough work to do already?” As a result, Kaworu mimicked his expression,
and he wished it wouldn’t be quite so endearing.

“I can make time,” he said, without too much confidence. “Do you have to go or can we...?”
he pointed at the piano at which he was still seated.

Shinji looked at it too. “What did you have in mind?”

“Dolly, by Fauré?” His smile was a lovely thing. Shinji took his seat.

Strangely, it took way less time than he’d expected. Shinji had actually gone as far as asking
for a day off at Nerv just to go and look into several music stores. The previous night, he’d
spent a worrying amount of time searching online too. In any other instances, he would’ve
wondered at his sudden burst of activity. Then, he remembered. It was May; and he wasn’t
studying.

I should’ve gone for the Literature Major, he addressed himself as he bustled around town
with a black, hefty case pressing down on him. Then I would’ve been busy learning about
Jung’s collective unconscious instead of dragging a cello halfway across the city.

Of course, now he could only hope he’d do well enough in his studies so he wouldn’t come to
regret accessing his emergency bank account. If anything, his dad’s feeble child support had
finally come in useful. That is, if I manage to reach home with it intact.

So as not to make him feel excluded, he met Kaworu somewhere around the city centre,
where he was currently charming people into answering his questionnaires. It was a good
thing the cello case seemed to hold tightly to his body, otherwise Shinji would’ve been a
goner two crowds ago.

There it was again, Kaworu’s fish-patterned scarf. He had kind of missed it. Other than that,
the chequered trousers were a new addition, probably to keep him on his toes. Shinji didn’t
have time to make any other mental comments on them, since he was too concentrated on
reaching him without braining someone.

“You look so professional,” Kaworu grinned once he was closer.

Shinji didn’t wait to be handed the form, but took it right from Kaworu’s hands along with
his pen. “I look stupid and on the way to an early grave,” he muttered, starting to answer the
questionnaire.

“Nonsense,” Kaworu chastised him lightly and made an attempt at organising his already-
signed papers. “We’re four people in this square alone and I kind of feel bad for doing this so
persistently, but at least we only have a day or two more to go.”
The questions weren’t too hard or too prying, as they dealt mostly with views over the
community, so Shinji gave the survey back without breaking a sweat. “And after that?”

“Statistics,” Kaworu sighed himself into a smile. “Those I can do at home, and at night, so it
will go smoothly, I hope. Are you going home now?”

Kind of forgetting himself in the busy square, mostly listening, Shinji was playing with his
hoodie’s sleeves. “Yes. I’d like to see how it sounds in my room before anyone comes home.
I also have to see if it fits anywhere out of the way...”

“I’d like to hear it, too...”

Shinji shrugged, as much as he could shrug with the case on his shoulders. “I’ll probably start
taking it with me to practice, so maybe you could...”

Everything aside, Shinji was quite excited at the moment. It wasn’t every day that he bought
himself something, even less something of this magnitude. He was almost buzzing from
inside with the need to reach his room, open the case and gaze upon this thing that was truly
his. He was romantic like that. It felt like Christmas.

“Er, also,” he started, having loosely rehearsed his lines before arriving at the meeting point.
“I was thinking I could...come to the coffee shop and,” he made a pause, “study,” he decided.
“I have some theory to get down.” And I figured it would be easier to do that in a decently-
cleaned environment instead of my own room.

He didn’t say that, because he still had some appearances to keep, in case anyone was
watching. For a couple of days now he’d slept with multiple course books in bed, since his
classes-induced panic usually hit him at 2 am sharp and by then he could only read two pages
before falling into a fretful sleep.

“Really? I have an afternoon shift tomorrow, right after my morning hunt,” he waved the
papers in the air for emphasis. “I can book you a nice table,” and here, to Shinji’s absolute
horror, he winked.

He stared; and stared; and when he was perfectly sure that he’s got all red he frowned
defensively. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” Kaworu gave him a wider grin, completely aware of what he’d done.

Kaworu: Is it nice?

Shinji: It’s amazing.

That aside – meaning, after indulging himself to a few hours of staring and vague plucking of
notes – Shinji guessed it was time for him to get back to being a conscious student. The next
day, Shinji went to the coffee shop right after his classes, managing to catch his backpack on
several small trees on the way. There was a normal amount of people inside, so, really,
Kaworu needn’t have reserved him a table. But he did; and it was conveniently placed beside
a window so as for him to get his necessary fill of daylight.

There was a small piece of blue paper with his name on it, and with some artistic drawings in
white ink of books and coffees and whatever Kaworu had felt the need to exercise his hand
on while waiting. Shinji sighed and took a seat, allowing himself a few moments of reflection
before he actually took his books and papers out.

This time, he’d actually managed to organise them in folders and what not. It made the idea
of studying just a little more bearable. He also kind of had to prepare a composition. That
ought to keep his mind off things. While analysing this, he busied himself with spreading
everything on the relatively medium-sized wooden table. The sugar and napkins ended up
above a badly Xeroxed picture of Haydn, which was an improvement.

“Got it all in place?” Kaworu asked a while later, while Shinji was sorting out his music
sheets. He pushed a couple papers carefully away and placed a steaming mug there, well
away from Shinji’s elbows.

“Yes, I think, sorry,” he didn’t know what for; it was probably a general apology, anticipating
some sort of doomsday mess to form around him by the end of the day. He looked up and
gazed at the mug. “What is...?”

“According to the menu, green tea,” Kaworu smiled, hands in his apron’s pockets. “It’s not,
really. I always thought it looked like a radioactive mess, but I add a lot of milk to calm it
down and, surprisingly, it’s quite good.”

“You’re giving me radioactive drinks?” Just before the end of the term, too. Maybe he was
thinking of his wellbeing.

Kaworu let out an amused breath. “Don’t worry, you’re quite safe.”

Shinji attempted to send a mistrustful glance his way, but he stopped himself as soon as he
saw his face. It wasn’t all that noticeable, and it might have not been that bad, but Kaworu
looked kind of tired. Shinji guessed it was normal. He saw himself in the morning, after all,
and he saw the people around him wherever he went. Still, it made him look down and just
thank him for the tea without further comments.

He got on fine. After he got used to his surroundings, and found a comfortable position,
Shinji found it relatively easy to concentrate. The “tea” didn’t kill him, either, though it was a
little too sweet. Kaworu had said something about it being incorporated in the radioactive
data. He got on fine; he was actually making progress. He could maybe even sleep at night
after this.

“When I first applied to university, my safe choice was a Literature Major,” Shinji admitted
out of the blue while Kaworu, technically on break, was looking over his theory notes.
At his words, he looked up, quite surprised. “Really?”

Naturally, Shinji shrugged, turning his almost empty cup in his hands and letting his eyes
roam over his papers. “It turned out not to be quite as safe as I expected,” he admitted and
proceeded to mutter a few more details about the entrance exams he’d had to sit through
while also dying of anxiety over his Conservatory recital.

The group of students entered the coffee shop when Kaworu was in the middle of explaining,
as a means of making conversation, of course, the ideas of Russian Formalists. Shinji had to
swallow his question about the difference between that and New Criticism, however, because
some of the group seemed to claim acquaintance with Kaworu.

Shinji glanced over, careful not to make eye contact, and a quick look assured him that they
must have been some of his project buddies. The flying papers and otherworldly sociability
gave it away.

“We got them all!” one of them said, while the others were taking seats at an empty table, and
hefted an unsteady pillar.

Meanwhile, Kaworu, who had probably exceeded his break, got up from his chair. “That’s
just on time! It looks like we’ll make it, in the end,” and he grinned, displaying a rather
unforgiving amount of excitement towards schoolwork.

“Yes, apparently,” was the reply, coming from an indistinct location, and bearing the same
amount of breathless zeal.

Shinji tried to make himself really unobtrusive, quite invisible, as close to an indefinite being
as he could get. However, it seemed like being college-aged and having a bunch of scribbled
papers in front of you made you instantly visible to all similar onlookers.

“Hey, you with us too?” the one still standing asked, quite amiably.

He almost broke his pen over his Beethoven sheets in an attempt to fix his face into a smile
before disagreeing. Better at sensing danger than a seeing-dog, Kaworu intervened. “Ah, no,”
and he fixed his apron, an obvious indicator that he was getting back to work before the
manager came. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Completely unhelpful. “Oh, sorry,” he heard the other’s apology and he smiled at them and
shook his head. It’s nothing. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience.

Soon, the other table resembled his, and, once he managed to convince his heart that nobody
was going to try and spark a conversation, Shinji let go of his empty mug and resumed
studying. In exchange, he soon got an actual, seemingly ecologic tea, which calmed his
nerves even further.

I’m like a dryad, I wonder I haven’t turned into a tree so far, he sipped sardonically and lost
himself in coursework. He’d long ago gave up on studying each subject separately, opting
instead to look over all of them at the same time, pick up similar things in both of them, find
explanations from one for the other, and it usually worked. Usually. It had taken some work
for Shinji to finally accept that his mind was not organised enough to react well to systematic
learning. It had taken some work and some hyperbolical explanations from Kaworu on how
he was approaching his own courses in times of need.

His colleagues seemed nice enough, even though Shinji was a little biased because their
constant murmur proved to be good background noise for him. Every now and then, one of
them would go to the counter and ask something, and Kaworu would answer while his fellow
barista looked more and more doubting of their own existence as a sentient being.

Shinji observed these on the short occasions when he looked up from his pages. Some
indefinite time later, though, he was forcefully pulled out of them by means of a colourful
plate being placed beside some Haydn notes. Shinji looked at it uncomprehendingly, eyes
adjusted to letters instead of objects for the time being.

It turned out to bear a fresh-looking, oversized version of a cranberry muffin. “Ah, thank
you,” he raised his eyes a little bit more, and Kaworu simply gave him a smile before
returning to the counter.

I really need to take him out to a nice dinner sometime soon, Shinji pondered and,
remembering his tea, took a much-needed gulp of it. He took his time with the snack,
however, and by the time he was done, having nibbled on it for over five pages, he decided
that he was probably done for the day. The sunlight had turned to lamplight without him
taking any notice of it.
 Chapter 26

“Just wait and see.”

They had got new mugs. They must have been order-made. There was no way these things
actually existed without somebody with a frame of mind like Kaworu’s first calling them into
existence. Shinji probably wouldn’t be able to hold it in one hand.

“How do you have so much energy?” Shinji asked, wearily raising his eyes from the bigger-
than-life mug to see Kaworu twirling around the coffee makers, gathering hot milk and cream
and other apparently necessary things on the counter.

“Forced myself to drink coffee the past few days,” Kaworu answered, starting a process
which Shinji couldn’t see due to him being on the wrong side of the coffee maker. “As I
usually don’t, it has an outstanding effect.”

“I don’t suppose you’re gonna put coffee in that.”

Kaworu hummed a negation, and opened a cocoa container. He then made a grab for the
hazelnut syrup, and then the vanilla. After glancing at Shinji in a searching manner, he went
to the small fridge they kept beside the counter and retrieved a small carton of who-knows-
what white liquid. Probably poured that in too.

Shinji hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. He couldn’t care less. Halfway through
finals, he took it for granted that life was against him and that, if anyone really cared about
him, they’d sympathetically slip poison into his food. Kaworu seemed to be doing just that.
Shinji felt vindicated.

“Hey...” It made him jump, so he’d probably been on the point of drifting off while standing.
He looked up, only to meet Kaworu’s concerned gaze. “You’re doing alright, okay? Don’t
push yourself too much.”

His voice was so gentle it made Shinji sleepy. Well, air was making Shinji sleepy nowadays.
But this was making him sleepy in a good way; as if he could actually fall asleep if he wished
to.

“Yeah, I’m not,” he said for formality’s sake and looked at his mug, now in sight, topped with
cream and small marshmallows. “What did you put in that?”

“A lot,” Kaworu laughed, and it was contagious. Maybe exhaustion really does make people
hysterical, Shinji pondered. “But this is the best hot chocolate ever. Trust me.” There was
justice in the world, because even he had to use both hands in order to lift it.

It was too big an opportunity for Shinji not to make a sarcastic comment, no matter his sleep
hour count. “Do I get a spoon?”

Kaworu gave him an unimpressed look, and then placed one beside his mug.
It was not much worse than what he’d gone through during the winter exam session, but at
the same time it kind of was, because it was happening now, and not in the past. Maybe the
thought that after that he’d have a holiday ought to have been uplifting, but Shinji hardly had
that much faith in his life span, at the rate things were going.

Nerv had been officially in renovations for around two weeks, so that was out of his studying
and practicing time, but it left him with more time to sit at home and think about the futility
of life, the universe, and everything. At some point late at night and early in the morning,
he’d just thrown his papers away and spent a few hours reading. He was responsible like that.

Midway through his exams, Kaworu asked if he would mind going to the cinema together.
Shinji had been listening to Brahms on full blast on his headphones for hours; real life wasn’t
a thing he was particularly acquainted with at the moment. Untangling his feet and arms and
pushing all his papers to the side of the bed, he got himself two glasses of cold water, and
then made a detour to the bathroom in order to splash his face multiple times. When he was
back, Kaworu’s text still stood there.

Shinji wouldn’t have accepted going out of the house now, especially with his state of mind,
but he remembered Kaworu’s slightly manic voice the last time they’d talked and decided
that at least he needed a break; more than anybody. So he went.

Kaworu had fallen asleep midway through the movie, because there was nothing like really
loud noise to give one amazingly sweet dreams. Shinji had rolled with it, not feeling on the
whole sleep-positive himself, and he’d let Kaworu sleep with his head on his shoulder until
the credits started rolling on the screen.

It had taken half of the way home to convince him that no, Shinji wasn’t mad and that yes, it
had been a nice outing, all things considered. If anything, it had been relaxing, and Shinji
hadn’t said that about being locked in a dark, loud room before.

His last recital took place in the evening, for any number of reasons. It had provided him with
multiple hours of sitting in his room and analysing every single part of his performance that
could go wrong, so Shinji ought to have been grateful for that. According to his brain,
anything short of a mass destruction was better than his expectations.

He arrived too early and thus had to wait and remember how to breathe for a while. It didn’t
really go well. Just when he thought he’d got it, he remembered where he was and what he
was waiting for and his chest got tight and painful and burning again.

I can’t do this, he thought. This is ridiculous, I’ve been through this several times already, I
know it’s going to be fine, he also thought. I don’t want to be here, he continued. It’s not even
that big of a deal, people flunk tests all the time, he also added. But I’ll be fine. I know
enough to be at least decent. I practiced enough, I’ll be fine, he tried. What if I practiced the
completely wrong things? What if all this time I’ve been out of the required works, he
rebuked himself.

I don’t want to be here, he decided. I want to be at home and to sleep for a few months until
this moment doesn’t exist anymore. He took a strained breath. Well, anything over nothing
should be an improvement.

He went for it, settled his cello, took a deep breath, a gulp of water, and gathered as much
courage as he could from the fact that his hands were not shaking. They were icy and damp,
but not shaking. That was as good as anything.

An hour later, the city looked like it had gone through a short rain shower. It was wet, and
kind of blurry, and loud. The phone rang three times. “Hi,” Kaworu’s voice felt like a warm
drink after a long day. “Did it go well?”

Shinji was kind of cold. “Yeah,” he said, but it didn’t reach through. “It went okay,” he
admitted, this time loud enough to be heard. It had, but he still felt exhausted from earlier. He
probably ought to have said something more, since he was the one who had called, but he
didn’t.

“Did you just get out?” Kaworu pursued, and Shinji wondered how late it actually was.

“Yes, I just—I think I’m waiting for the bus.” Think? Shinji didn’t really care.

The worst thing was that he knew he didn’t sound okay. He was okay, though, he was. He felt
awful thinking that he couldn’t express that. I’m just making him worry at this point, he
frowned at his feet and started walking to the bus station.

It took a while for Kaworu to organise his thoughts, it seemed. “Well,” he started, “do you
want to come over?”

“What?” This time, he sounded tired. Not good, either.

“I was just making dinner,” Kaworu said, as if that was an explanation. Shinji looked at his
watch this time and saw that it was only past 7 pm. It felt later. “Would you like to join me?”

Shinji looked at the wet bus station and felt the humidity seep into his bones. His cello
suddenly felt so heavy. “I— It’s late...”

“Okay,” Kaworu said without artifice, and Shinji sighed as quietly and mournfully as he
could. Kaworu usually had a good sense of when to drop a subject, but in this case Shinji was
kind of unsure. “Was this the last one for you?”

“Yes, for the time being...” If he wasn’t going to be called for a re-examination or something.
But I’m being ridiculous again.

“Mine too, I had it this morning.” There was a pause in which Shinji stepped farther away
from the road, vehicles attempting to drench him at full speed. “That means we’re kind of on
holiday, aren’t we?”

His voice was attempting to sound excited, maybe to cheer him up too. Shinji smiled, but
wished it had been stronger. “I guess so. Are you still working?”

“For the time being, I am,” Kaworu consented. “Are you close to home?”

It was the bluntest knife Shinji had ever been stabbed with, and it hadn’t even been
intentional. “I’m still waiting for the bus...”

“In the rain?” It seemed like he was trying really hard not to sound amused. Shinji didn’t
dignify that with a response. “Sorry. I hope it’s not raining.” He presumably opened a
window to check, judging by the sound.

It wasn’t raining yet. Shinji kept quiet, analysed cobblestones.

“Are you alright?” There it is again, Shinji’s mind was swift to point out. Me, making him
worry.

He willed his mouth open. “Yeah, just—tired...” Now, that wouldn’t really help, would it?
Little seemed to help, actually, so Shinji decided to just kick his egotism up a notch. He was
tired. “Can I come over?” His throat hurt.

“Of course,” Kaworu said, as if there was nothing wrong with it.

The warmth in the subway helped a little, enough for Shinji to be able to text him and see if
he needed anything. After all, he could at least try to be helpful.

Kaworu: Pear juice and maybe orange too, if it’s not a bother.

Pear juice..., Shinji squinted at the words, but mostly out of habit. In the end, he got both of
them, from a small convenience store near Kaworu’s apartment building. It had been a bee-
line shopping spree, from the door directly to the refrigerator, and then back to the cashier.
Thanks to this, his cello didn’t produce any damage to the environment apart from a few
stares.

He went up the stairs while still fretting with a feeling of guilt over his latest behaviour. He
wondered whether this was even a good idea, seeing Kaworu while feeling like this. I’m a
normal person, I can keep my feelings in check if I have to, he reminded himself.

“Hey, that was pretty quick,” Kaworu smiled at him and let him in. He took Shinji’s cello as
soon as he’d taken it off and placed it somewhere safe behind the couch. “Was the subway
ride horrible?”

Shinji was busy unlacing his sneakers. He shook his head no. Kaworu had said he was
preparing dinner, so, accordingly, the apartment had a nice smell of baked aubergines. Shinji
started to feel a little bit better, but not by much.
Tabris suddenly emerged from the bathroom just as he stepped on the carpet, and let out a
half-happy, half-whining meow as soon as she saw him. Shinji bent to pet her, let her twirl
around his legs for a while, realised she had started to associate him with diverse cat food
ingenuities. “Sorry,” Shinji said in her direction. The strangest Pavlov effect on a cat.

He looked over at Kaworu to see if he was pleased with his purchase, and saw him already
pouring juice in two striped glasses. “Do you want some water too?” he asked after he
probably saw him looking.

Shinji nodded, gazed after him and numbly pulled at his sleeves a bit. “Were your exams
okay?”

He was brought a glass, and he was grateful to have something to do with his hands. “Pretty
much. I guess we’ll see.” While sipping, Shinji vaguely pondered making a few steps into the
apartment, but remained undecided. Then, Kaworu held out a hand and, with mild dismay, he
realised he’d managed to down his water in one go. “Yours?”

“Okay,” Shinji said, moving closer to the kitchen table once Tabris had let go of his legs.
Kaworu busied himself adding the few remaining titbits to it. It really smelt nice. Shinji tried
really hard not to think badly of himself as he said this. “Kaworu.”

Kaworu looked over, probably saw something on Shinji’s face that Shinji himself half-wished
he hadn’t, and took a few steps towards him. He didn’t need to say anything. Shinji leant his
head on his shoulder quietly and embraced him, careful to let him pull back if he wanted to.
When he didn’t, and Kaworu’s arms were around him too, Shinji held on tighter.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure,” Kaworu whispered, but Shinji simply shook his head into his
shoulder. Trust Kaworu to apologise for not hugging people. Actually, Shinji really wondered
why he didn’t hug him more often. It felt so nice. “Will you be alright?”

Of course, Shinji wanted to say, because Kaworu’s hands were on his back, keeping him
warm and close. Instead, he waited a little. “Yeah, I just—” he sighed, couldn’t make himself
to pull back, stayed there. “Forgot my meds. Sorry,” he muttered, kind of nuzzling Kaworu’s
orange T-shirt.

“That’s okay,” Kaworu ran his hand up and down his back slowly. “You’re doing fine.”

Shinji reflected that he’d never thought this would happen to him. Still unsure of how long a
hug was supposed to last, but convinced that anything close to how much he wished it would
was too long, he pulled back in the end. This time, Kaworu handed him a glass of juice.

“Would you like me to give you some of mine?” Shinji stopped mid-sip to look at him. He
seemed unperturbed. “I have...hm,” Kaworu thought, turned, and went to look in his
bathroom. He voiced out a brand and Shinji acquiesced.

“Thank you,” he said, once it was safely deployed. He looked at Kaworu, strained not to
seem inquisitive, though it was all in vain.
Kaworu smiled a bit in response to his look. “I have my moments. They’re not anything
much, but you should eat now.” Shinji agreed; there was nothing like a safe environment and
unrestrained displays of kindness to make one suddenly feel hungry.

It was probably around dessert when Shinji realised that he felt a little better. Dessert,
though... Shinji thought Kaworu looked quite like a kindergarten teacher, with his enthusiasm
about meals when in company. At the moment, he was amusing himself with adding biscuits
and chocolate sprinkles over two small bowls of ice-cream. Melon and lime. Shinji couldn’t
understand.

“Oh, I should tell you,” he said while placing a glass bowl and a colourful spoon in front of
Shinji. “I talked to one of my teachers today. I might transfer to full-time classes starting next
year.”

“Why?” Shinji asked, taking hold of his spoon and wondering who thought that abstractly
painting its handle would be a good idea.

Seating himself with his own bowl, Kaworu shrugged. “I miss it, I guess. Besides, I think I
made enough at the coffee shop this year, so I should be fine.”

“So you’ll quit?” He didn’t know why he felt so sad at the thought. Maybe it was just that he
didn’t like change that much.

Kaworu smiled. “No, I’ll just work part-time.”

“Okay.” With a careful dip, Shinji tried his prettified ice-cream. It didn’t taste half bad. Plus,
sugar must have been doing something good for his state of mind. “What about holiday?”

“Next month,” Kaworu grinned, and Shinji felt his fingers get a little numb at the thought that
he might suggest they do something together, but Kaworu kept quiet. That didn’t mean they
wouldn’t, though.

It was insisted that Shinji took a nice, hot shower; exact words. If that meant that he had to
phone his aunt and tell her that he wouldn’t get home that night, it was only a matter or
circumstance. Besides, Kaworu had made that face he usually made when Shinji was being
purposely difficult and said that, anyway, it had been quite a while since Shinji had last
stayed over.

That might have been correct. As such, Shinji indulged himself even more, took the
recommended shower, felt quite well thanks to it, got himself into the soft garments Kaworu
had loaned him as sleepwear, and got out of the bathroom, as refreshed as he could be after a
few weeks of minimal sleeping.

He found the apartment bathed in the comforting light of one of Kaworu’s floor lamps. The
balcony door was open, letting in the smell of presently-falling rain. Tabris was seated in
front of it, seemingly keeping an eye on the weather phenomenon.

“Feeling better?” Kaworu was sitting cross-legged on the couch.

Shinji joined him. “Yes, thank you.” He looked at Tabris, completely enthralled. “Does she
always do that?”

“Only when the skies confound her,” Kaworu grinned at his cat, then turned his head to
Shinji and kissed his cheek.

What was that for, Shinji would have asked, but he realised that was kind of beside the
subject, so he only smiled. Kaworu’s hands lay in his lap, so he got hold of one of them. It
didn’t feel either too warm or too cold in his own; that was strangely comforting.

“Do you want to go to the botanical gardens tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Shinji looked up from their palms. “Yeah, I think so...” He had to remind
himself he was more or less free of schoolwork now.

Kaworu seemed to ponder a bit, his eyes roaming around the ceiling while his fingers slid
gently against Shinji’s. “After we’d had a good night, morning, and early midday’s sleep,
though,” he annotated, when he’d organised the words.

He looked pretty pleased when that got him a small laugh, so Shinji only hesitated a bit
before brushing their lips together. Kaworu’s lips were soft, Shinji thought. His were never
that soft, all with constantly biting at them and ignoring them when they got chapped. He
thought that maybe he ought to do something about it.

Not now, though, because Kaworu didn’t seem to mind and, anyway, Shinji was kind of
losing his train of thought, what with Kaworu opening his mouth and pulling him closer. It
was an awkward position to do this, and it was a small couch, but one way or another they
managed, even if it meant that Shinji ended up kind of straddling him.

It wasn’t completely uncomfortable, since now he could run his fingers over the back of
Kaworu’s neck, push short strands of hair behind his ears, trail his fingertips over his jaw, all
sorts of tiny, miraculous things. With the newness of it, it felt wonderfully nice. For a while.
Then, he thought: they hadn’t done this before. Hadn’t kissed so much, over and over again,
until Shinji rather forgot what they were actually supposed to be doing.

They broke apart with the sudden start of a heavier downpour, which succeeded both in
scaring Tabris and in slamming the door to the wall. It took a few moments of staring at the
rain that was kind of reaching inside the room, and of Shinji wondering why no one was
shutting the door, for him to realise that he was kind of on top of Kaworu, thus preventing all
possible attempts.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling himself up and away.

As luck would have it, Kaworu seemed to recover his senses even more slowly than him.
“No, it’s okay,” he smiled, blushful and somewhat breathless, and finally got up.
When did I even get there, Shinji still stared in incomprehension, and, once Kaworu’s back
was turned, wiped his lips on his sleeve. Momentarily, he was also actively ignoring the
leaden feeling that had been building up in his stomach ever since around midway into their
kissing. Tabris looked at him questioningly, and he empathised completely. In accordance,
once she made a few steps towards him, he let her crawl in his arms.

“They didn’t announce this on the radio,” Kaworu mumbled, looking out the window at the
sky-black rain. Even with all of them closed, they could still hear it quite well. “You okay?”

Shinji realised that he was speaking to him. “...Yes?” he tried, holding Tabris to his chest.
Kaworu got back to his place beside him and Shinji petted Tabris’s fur until the electricity
formed between it and his hand was enough to start her purring engine. “Um,” he said once
he was sure he had some background noise. “Let’s not do that too often.” It got out quite
eloquent. If he weren’t scared, he would’ve been proud.

“Agreed,” Kaworu said with something akin to relief and Shinji could breathe again. They
caught each other’s gaze from the corner of their eye and smiled, and that instantly made him
feel lighter.
 Chapter 27
Chapter Notes

So there has been a 2-week break (kinda sudden, sorry) in order to plan whatever's left
of this. Hopefully, that happened. More or less. Thanks for waiting. Do enjoy. Thanks
for reading.

It was hard to say whether Shinji was on holiday or not, or so one of his cousins told him
upon remarking that Shinji was going out at ungodly hours three times a week. Shinji had
simply waved his hand and said that it was only practice, so it did feel like he was on holiday,
in a way. They had shrugged and told him to buy more coffee on the way home.

Shinji couldn’t believe that he’d grow up to be as dedicated as some of his teachers seemed to
be. For a relatively long period of his live, barely getting out of bed had proved a challenge,
and even if that didn’t happen anymore – not on most days, at least – he still doubted that
he’d ever feel inclined to sacrifice his free time in order to help other people. Then again,
maybe the guilt would drive him forward even then.

The fact was, nowadays he met two of his teachers, alternately, as he went to practice for his
audition of sorts. He had around one more month until the big day, and still tried to make
himself believe he would be fine by then. He imagined he’d know so many more things by
then. All in a day’s work of keeping himself sane.

He refused to make any plans in case he would get the seat, however. That seemed to tick off
his teachers, but Shinji felt it was kind of important to do that. If he couldn’t help anyone
else’s expectations, he could at least temper his own.

I’ll be able to get a clear idea only after I get there and see whom I have to compete with, he
kept saying, and at least that was realistic enough. He hoped he wouldn’t be the only one, and
thus get in out of necessity, but his teachers told him that wouldn’t be the case.

Anyway, it wasn’t a big orchestra; it was one for a children’s theatre that was in vague ways
affiliated to the university, so they usually required students. For a few simple reasons: it was
cheaper, it took less time, and students were pretty serious about it since they needed practice
before they graduated. Shinji wasn’t really sure how he’d be able to play there, even if he got
in, once classes started again, but he was assured that that could be arranged too.

That mixed really well with his habit of passivity, so he more or less went with the flow;
except the flow felt more like a bumpy ride on a country road, but those were only details.
Besides, whatever the outcome, extra sight-reading practice never hurt anyone, his teacher
had said before dropping a consistent bunch of sheets in front of him. Shinji looked at them
and sincerely doubted that.
For what it was worth, Kaworu seemed to have more free time, even if that translated into
him telling Shinji on the phone that he’d installed some new shelves or polished the floor or
rearranged the bathroom – or even into the simple fact that he sometimes waited for Shinji
when his practice hours were over. It had happened three times over a couple of weeks.

This was the third time; and it was sunny. Shinji had almost forgotten what sunny felt like.

It was only midday, and the campus was littered with other students come to use empty
classrooms and borrow instruments, so it didn’t exactly feel like summer. Except for the
weather, of course.

As Shinji made his way to the entrance gate, he found Kaworu on a low wooden bench, one
of the few that had resisted renovation because it was quite tangled with the roots of one of
the college’s ancient oak trees. He had on a vaguely sailor-y striped shirt, but what was more
important were his overalls.

I did this to myself, Shinji pondered, taking a deep breath and trying in vain not to let an
exasperated smile creep on his face.

“Good work today,” Kaworu looked up and offered him a medium Styrofoam cup of
mysteries. “Hi,” he grinned, once that task was done with.

“Hi,” Shinji took a seat beside him and analysed his cup for a few moments before taking a
sip. Chai, simple and safe. “You were saying something about big news?”

“I was.” Kaworu had vague-texted him at seven in the morning, which was also when they’d
agreed to meet later. “Apparently, I have to attend a wedding.”

That was too dramatic for Shinji’s liking.

“A wedding?” he asked, and waited for Kaworu to take a gulp of his drink too.

Meanwhile, he got a nod. “Do you remember when I told you about our traitorous sibling?
Well, apparently that had been going on for a while. They only wanted to let us know a few
days before the wedding, but since that plan failed, they just told us the date now.” He
paused, letting the bird song from the oak above them fill in the blanks. “It’s in a couple of
weeks. I thought I’d go and help them with the catering and stuff, so I’ll be gone for around a
week prior to the big event.”

Not knowing what exactly was expected of him, Shinji took another sip. “Are you any good
at that?”

“I guess I’ll find out,” Kaworu grinned, and then laughed at Shinji’s unimpressed expression.
“No, I’ll just talk to people and find more help; but I guess it would still be useful, give them
time to focus on the other important things.”

“So you all made up?” he asked, after hesitating a bit. Kaworu had talked to him about his
trip back home, and it had sounded like it was all better, but he had yet to say it per se.
Kaworu leant back a bit on the bench. “Ye—es. Dad and I had some meaningful
conversations about human fallibility while making quiches, so we get each other a little
better now. And, apparently, the rest of us have grown a lot, so we’re not as susceptible to
quarrelling every time we disagree. I think we’re fine.”

That was good. Shinji continued to look at him, patiently cradling his tea.

There was a sigh. “What I wanted to ask you was to please look after Tabris,” Kaworu smiled
at him, looking kind of apologetic that he was asking for a favour, which Shinji thought both
ridiculous and completely relatable.

“Um, okay, but...” He wondered whether his aunt could feel the presence of a cat if he was
careful to always keep her in his room. But she takes walks, he then remembered.

He was trying to formulate this in such a way that it wouldn’t sound like a refusal when
Kaworu touched his knee, getting his attention again. “I kind of also meant my entire
apartment, since you can’t really keep her at your place.”

Are you a mind reader? Shinji widened his eyes at him, then frowned sceptically and asked it
out loud.

It made Kaworu laugh; a soft, quiet thing that Shinji had always liked. “No, definitely not.
You’d be surprised how many things I can’t get unless people tell them to me.” He mused for
a bit. “Or, maybe, you wouldn’t.”

Shinji would’ve argued that yes, he would. “Sorry,” he said instead, and focused on his tea.
“So, your apartment...?”

“Yes,” Kaworu drawled between his teeth. He looked at Shinji. “Er, it’s okay if you want to
say no, you don’t have to worry about that. I can talk to one of my neighbours to come and
visit her from time to time.” He came to a temporary halt and looked away as if he was
embarrassed of something he wanted to say. To emphasize that, he also shrugged. “I just
thought, with all of this going on,” and he motioned at the Conservatory building in general,
“you might enjoy someplace quiet.”

Shinji stared at him, and then pressed his lips in a tight line as he felt his face heat up. Leave
it to Kaworu to be awfully altruistic even in the midst of family matters. “Okay,” he said,
once he’d digested the feeling. “That sounds nice... Thank you.”

“Not at all,” Kaworu assured him, now that he seemed to have got over his own emotion.
“Thank you too.”

They were pretty quiet after that, finishing their drinks and just looking at the passing
students while the birds were still chirping freely on the branches above them. Kaworu told
him some funny stories about a few eccentric customers that either he or his fellow baristas
had encountered lately. Above all, Shinji was surprised Kaworu could tell what an eccentric
person was, giving the fact that he consciously dressed himself every day. He would’ve
thought it built some immunity over time.
“Another thing,” Kaworu said just as they got up from the bench. Since the sun hadn’t given
any sign of fading away, disappearing, or collapsing, they were toying with the idea of taking
a long walk in the park. “We should go grocery shopping.”

“What for?” Shinji asked after successfully discarding their cups into a recycling bin.

Once again, Kaworu proved himself an expert at finding other people’s hands. However,
Shinji was learning, too, so he met him halfway.

“I haven’t gone in a while and my apartment now lacks a few quite essential things.”
Knowing Kaworu, among these essential things were also numerous spices Shinji had never
heard of and weirdly coloured bath bombs. “It can become really annoying, in time, so a few
days before I leave, we should go.”

Oh, Shinji got the revelation. “You don’t have to. You can just leave me a list and I’ll get
them while you’re gone.”

“Do you find shopping relaxing?” It seemed out of the blue, but Shinji thought about it and
shrugged. “Right. Then let’s do that beforehand so that you’ll be quite comfortable during
your stay.”

“Your flat is not a recreational facility,” Shinji admonished lightly before falling into a
mutter. “It’s just a nice place with a cat.”

“Thank you,” Kaworu grinned. “Still, let’s do that together.”

It looked like he really wanted to, so Shinji gave in. It was hard not to, when it was such a
nice day and Kaworu’s mood seemed to imitate the weather. They embarked a bus and, since
it was a weekday and still moderately uncrowded, they reached their destination quite
quickly, and without being pressed, squeezed and canned in the meantime.

Later on, Shinji would start associating Kaworu’s overalls with baby ducklings and colourful
balloons and green cotton candy, but that was a story for another time.

It wasn’t much different when they met next, a few days later, after Kaworu had successfully
taken an early holiday from the coffee shop and after Shinji was done with his weekly quota
of rehearsal. The days were still nice, but Shinji had decided to be a know-it-all and took his
hoodie with him. It helped him concentrate.

“This is our list,” Kaworu presented a nicely folded sheet of paper to him.

The margins were ornate with doodles, so Shinji guessed this was his possession from now
on. He looked over it while Kaworu pushed their trolley inside the shop, and was impressed
to note that said list was divided in (1) mandatory goods, (2) secondary items and (3) fun &
treats.

As they made their way around the aisle, Shinji cast a sideways look at Kaworu. “Fun &
treats?”
Kaworu smiled without looking at him. “We’ll see.”

It ended up being a 3-hour long journey through aisles, full of debates on subjects they hadn’t
even known they could have debates on. Cereals, for example; and frozen vegetables; and
ketchup. It was a miracle they had got out of the store in one piece.

“Seriously,” Shinji said, when once again Kaworu refused to break their equal-load rule and
hand him one more bag of their grocery shopping. Their. Shinji felt kind of nauseous at the
thought, but not in a particularly bad way. Rather, in a very lost, very out of his depth way.

Never before had a possessive form had such an impact on Shinji, except maybe when he
was small and Asuka always graciously yelled not yours before tearing something out of his
hands and then hitting him.

I’m in too deep, he’d allowed himself to think earlier that day, after they’d had a dispute over
the fruit yoghurt they were going to buy. Kaworu had won, but barely, so that they had ended
up getting relatively equal quantities of strawberry and kiwi.

“Do you want to stay for lunch?” Kaworu asked, since they had been careful to have their
little adventure in the morning.

He was going there anyway, carrying his own painfully equal share of groceries, but still,
Shinji bit his lips for a bit. “I feel like I’m intruding too much, coming over so often and all
that...” he eventually said, regretting it just as he did so.

“You think so?” Kaworu asked after a pause that most probably hadn’t been as long as Shinji
thought it had. “I wouldn’t know,” he adjusted a bag in his grip. “I haven’t had that many
people over so far.” There was another small meditative pause. “But I like having you over.”

Shinji smiled a bit, despite himself. “I like coming over,” he admitted.

At that, Kaworu bumped their shoulders together and grinned at him. “Then are we not over-
complicating things here?”

“I always over-complicate things, it’s one of the few things I’m good at,” Shinji mumbled
defensively.

Well, at least it made him laugh. “Okay,” Kaworu said after he was done. “Want to have
lunch together?”

Shinji gave a lamppost a helpless stare. “Yeah, okay.”

“What are you doing?”

It came out quite out of the blue, and quite clearly in the relative silence of the apartment, so
Shinji almost dropped the spoonful of coffee on the floor. He glanced sideways at Kaworu,
holding Tabris in full cuddling stance, and added the spoon into the kettle.

“Coffee?”

After all, Kaworu had insisted that they bought some, if only for his temporary stay. Shinji
wondered if that was exclusively for that period, and if Kaworu maybe just really didn’t want
his apartment to smell like coffee while he was staying in it. Maybe he’d got sick of it as a
result of working with it so much.

“Coffee comes after the water boils.”

“Oh.” Well, that explains a lot. Shinji frowned at the kettle. He’d washed it just before putting
it there, so he didn’t know what to do about the coffee he’d already poured in. “Um.” This
wasn’t a good idea, he thought unnecessarily.

“Don’t worry about it, I have another one around here,” Kaworu said breezily and, managing
the herculean task of holding Tabris with only one arm, opened a cupboard and offered Shinji
another, flowery kettle.

Shinji almost cradled it. He looked at it for a moment, then back at Kaworu. “How much...?”

Tabris, on the other hand, was busy pushing her entire face alternately into Kaworu’s jaw and
neck. Still, he managed to shrug. “However much you want, I guess. It would be kind of
inconvenient to make only one cup, so you can just fill it all.”

It wasn’t a very big kettle. Shinji did as instructed, put it on the cooker, over a small flame,
and seated himself at the kitchen table. Their lunch, meanwhile, was a casserole cooking in
the oven.

After staring for a bit at the thin strips of steam already rising from the water, Shinji found his
voice again. “And afterwards...?”

“Put the coffee in a paper filter and pour the water over it.” He probably sensed Shinji’s
feelings about his explanations, since he afterwards glanced at him with a smile. “I’ll show
you.”

Oh, thank God. It was still too early to be completely deprived of these sudden outbursts of
nervousness, it seemed. Sometimes, he just forgot whom he was talking to. “Thank you,” he
remembered to say out loud, and reached out his hands for Tabris to be passed to him. She
didn’t even break a purr while being transferred.

It was amazing how much Kaworu’s small kitchen area could integrate. After some effort and
something that came close to a treasure hunt, Kaworu had retrieved a glass tea/coffee pot, a
weird measuring spoon, and a box of paper filters.

Shinji had been content to watch him go through these motions by himself, while he slowly
petted his cat, but after the water had boiled and they had waited the necessary time to let it
settle down, Kaworu required his active presence near the counter. On the brightside, I can’t
get worse at this than I already am, Shinji told himself and let Tabris roll out of his arms.

Kaworu handed him the spoon and pointed him to the coffee pot, with the filter rinsed and
already in place. “I’d say, around 4 tablespoons should be enough.”

With mild hesitation, Shinji opened the coffee jar and added the required quantity into the
filter. Kaworu nodded.

“Okay. Now, the water,” and he handed Shinji an owl-patterned kitchen glove. Shinji put it on
dutifully and retrieved the kettle. “Circular motions, until the water is a little bit over the
coffee, and then let it seep into it. You’ll have to do that a couple of times.”

The picture of concentration, Shinji tried to follow the steps. Every now and them, Kaworu
stepped in either to stabilize the filter or to hold on to the pot or to guide Shinji’s hand into a
more natural rhythm. By the time it was done, Shinji truly felt like he’d grown as a person.

“Well, now,” Kaworu stared together with him at the purple mug they’d filled with coffee.

“Yeah,” Shinji acquiesced, and raised it to his lips. One sip later, he put it down again, and
Kaworu went through the same motions. There was a momentary silence. “It’s good,” Shinji
said in mild stupefaction.

An unexpected sound of merriment coming from Kaworu surprised him even more, but once
it had registered, Shinji let himself laugh. “When I’m better equipped, I’ll show you how to
make latte art too,” Kaworu grinned, bouncing a little bit on his heels.

Shinji wasn’t sure he wanted to know what exactly went on behind the counter just yet. He’d
heard a lot of bloodcurdling sounds during his time in coffee shops. Still, that could be a fun
skill to have, if ever Asuka felt brave enough to let him manually prepare her coffee. Not that
Shinji was that good at skills.

He took another gulp and mused for a bit. “Isn’t that quite above my qualifications?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Kaworu said and absent-mindedly ran his hand through Shinji’s hair.

In turn, Shinji watched with interest as, upon becoming aware of his actions, Kaworu first
reddened a bit, then bit his lip to conceal it, then smiled at him in an attempt to conceal the
other two. It was quite a mesmerising process to watch. Not quite mesmerising enough to
stop Shinji from using his free hand to ruffle Kaworu’s hair in return, though.
 Chapter 28
Chapter Notes

I don't reply to each comment individually, but gosh darn, they each make me so happy.
Thank you for taking the time for that; and for reading; and for everything in general.
I really do appreciate knowing that this thing is actually making people feel better.
That's the best thing there is.
There's still a little way to go, and hopefully it will go smoothly.

It was a sunny day when Shinji made his way to Kaworu’s apartment at around 10 in the
morning, laden with his laptop, his cello, and a just enough clothes to assure him that, if he
didn’t want to take another walk home that day, he wouldn’t have to. It was sunny, that much
was true, but it was also a fact that it had rained the night before, so the temperature was still
kind of low for summer.

He didn’t have practice until the following day, so that was one thing off his mind as he
climbed up the stairs. Around the 2st storey, panting, he realised, given his cargo, that the lift
was more convenient and changed route.

Once up, he took silent steps down the hallway. He hadn’t really realised it before, but there
was a really airy feeling to it. Shinji looked around and realised that it must have been thanks
to really big windows flanking it, letting the sun in. It was quiet and peaceful, and it smelt
mainly of warm dust.

All in all, it didn’t make sense for him to be feeling different this time around, since he’d
been over countless times – enough for the postman to wave to him whenever they met in the
lobby, at least – but he did anyway. I feel like I’m moving into a new house, Shinji pondered.
Or, at least, that was how he thought he felt, since he didn’t really have that experience in his
portfolio. In front of the door, he shook his head. I’m being ridiculous, and, because he
expected he was kind of late, he pushed it open.

It took a moment for anyone to note his presence. Finally:

“Great! You’re here,” Kaworu exclaimed, and heaved a colourful, tinkling rucksack on a
kitchen table, beside a couple bags of what looked like water and snacks.

“Sorry for being late,” Shinji said, an involuntary smile on his lips.

He would have followed that with something else if his mind hadn’t afterwards chosen to
focus on the striped socks Kaworu flaunted underneath his rolled-up jeans. Shinji looked up,
fought the expression that wanted a front-row seat at the display that was Kaworu’s sheep-
patterned T-shirt, and then just let it do whatever it wanted when he’d caught sight of his
piano scarf.

Unconscious of this, Kaworu checked his watch. “You’re not late. You’re kind of early. I
made you cocoa.”

Shinji looked up from where he was unlacing his sneakers. “How long have you been
awake?”

“Just a few hours. I took Tabris on a walk, though, and as a result...”

Having stepped out of his shoes and into the room, Shinji followed his gaze to the fluffball
currently reigning over his jellyfish-patterned bed. It was a very lethargic reign, nevertheless.
Also, she looked fuzzier than usual. Shinji’s expression changed in one of helpless
compassion.

“It rained,” he gave the verdict, and Kaworu nodded gravely.

“She went straight into three puddles and then I had to give her a bath and blow-dry her,
which must have exhausted her.”

What about you? But Kaworu looked overall better than he’d done during exams, so Shinji
guessed that if he’d survived then he’d survive now too. “Um, so, no more walks today?”
Tentatively, he petted her newly washed fur a bit. It didn’t seem to bother her.

“No, you’re free today. Take care tomorrow, though, in case it’ll still be wet outside,” and
Kaworu handed him a nice cup of cocoa, which he accepted graciously.

“I’ll try,” he conceded, already making plans to look up painless ways of giving subtle baths
to giant cats.

This done, Kaworu had gone back to his rucksack, where he entered a careful process of
adding snacks and water bottles in its pockets. Taking slow gulps of his cocoa, Shinji
watched him from the sidelines.

He didn’t know why, but even the apartment had a different feeling to it, with the sunlight
streaming in and the wind blowing into the drapes hanging over Kaworu’s balcony door. It
felt fresher, emptier, as if Shinji could already feel the silence that would envelop it once he
was left alone (sans Tabris) in it. There was a weird kind of excitement flowing through him
at the thought, and he didn’t try to make sense of it.

It’s probably just the feeling of living off his independence, Shinji mused, very unimpressed
with himself, and downed his mug just as Kaworu went to put on a thin, lime-green jacket, a
sure sign that he was leaving soon.

“Are you on time?” Kaworu made an assenting sound and skipped his way to the bed, where
Tabris was now watching him with terrified interest. “Got everything you need?” Shinji was
on a mission to make himself feel useful.
“Yes,” Kaworu entertained him, even as he gave Tabris a few dozen Eskimo kisses. “Be
good, I’ll miss you,” he patted her head and turned to Shinji, who, as a defence mechanism,
raised his eyebrows. “I’ll miss you too.”

Shinji lowered his eyebrows enough to give him a smile. “You too.”

“If you need help with anything, you can call next door,” Kaworu told him for only the fifth
time, then checked his watch. “I should be going now. Come here,” which was a somewhat
misleading thing to say, since he was the one who went to Shinji first and fell into a hug.

Just in case he’d feel the need for it even more the next few days, Shinji burrowed a bit into
his arms too, enjoying both the warmth and the smell of fresh laundry he’d had a thing for for
a long time. “Don’t overwork yourself,” he advised, slightly nuzzling Kaworu’s neck, making
him titter.

“I’ll try not to,” he grinned when they stepped back and took hold of his rucksack. “I left the
key and entrance card on the desk. You two have fun. L—... Take care!”

“You too,” Shinji said, voice quivering for unnameable reasons, and he was gone. Shinji
stared for a bit at the door, then made a semi-pirouette and looked at the rest of the room.
Catching Tabris’s eye, he frowned. “Don’t give me that look.”

Because even the cat seemed unimpressed with them.

Afterwards, he had spent an hour doing nothing. He’d gone out on the balcony, at first, to see
if he could spot Kaworu on his way to the bus station, but he wasn’t on the right side of the
building to be able to do that. Then, he’d carefully picked a kettle and put more water to boil
while he washed his cocoa mug. They were all slow, cautious processes, every clink highly
audible in the silence of the sunny apartment. Tabris had gone back to sleep by the time the
water had started to boil.

After that, he’d tested the soil of each of Kaworu’s herbs and only too late observed that he’d
been left a post-it note on the wall beside the window, with all the necessary instructions for
watering them. I hope I won’t end up killing any of them, Shinji had thought without much
hope, but then he remembered that he’d taken vague care of Asuka’s plants while he’d been
over and they had survived. Come to think of it, he doesn’t have any other plants beside
these..., had been another thought that had been followed by a mental note to make a visit to
the flower market one of these days.

After this first hour of edginess, however, Shinji managed to more or less remind himself that
he wasn’t in any unknown or dangerous place, and that the possibility of him doing any real
damage to the apartment was fairly low. He felt more relaxed after that, and he finally took
off his hoodie. Unthinkingly, he let it fall on the bed over Tabris, and then quickly retrieved
it, but she didn’t show any sign of waking up.

“Don’t think too badly of me after this week is over...,” Shinji muttered to her sleeping head
and folded his hoodie and set it on the couch.
After the inferno that had been the finals period, Kaworu had managed to clean up the place
rather well, from Shinji’s perspective – because of course he’d received a few pictures of
Tabris rolling over his course papers as soon as they had been deemed no longer relevant –
but he’d mentioned some time ago that he still hadn’t found a good day to visit the recycling
centre. At the moment, all his used papers were stacked in two big canvas bags underneath
his desk. Shinji looked at them, and made another mental note to take them there himself, at
some point.

I seem to think I have more time on my hands than I actually do, he afterwards pondered, but
resorted to writing a small schedule plan in order to make sure he’d get everything done. He
was, for one of the first times in his life, discovering the productivity that came with staying
in other people’s houses.

Kaworu had taken his laptop with him, so the desk was empty, at least partially, the rest of it
acting as host for a small printer, a couple odd-looking pencil holders, multiple dog-eared
poetry books and a few colourful folders. Shinji took a place at the wooden chair in front of it
and started scribbling his TO-DO list on a small blank page he found lying around.

Among others:

Water the plants.

Get plants.
Recycle paper.
Walk Tab.

He glanced behind, just to make sure Tabris had not magically awakened to punish him for
nicknaming her. The grounds were safe. Looking at the calendar hanging over the wall right
in front of the desk, Shinji made some annotations:

Water the plants.

Get plants. 26th/28th (if open)
Recycle paper. 27th/29th/30th (in the morning)
Walk Tab. DAILY DON’T FORGET

It wasn’t much, but he was moderately proud. With more reverence than necessary, he stuck
the note to Kaworu’s pin board, praying that he’d remember to get rid of it before his return.
Then, he made the unthoughtful choice of looking through Kaworu’s bookshelves.

A few hours later, by the time Shinji was already done with The Old Man and the Sea, the
almost perfect silence of the apartment was finally broken. That hadn’t happened since Tabris
had woken up, meowed and purred a bit at him, and found her way to the sunny balcony,
where Kaworu had thoughtfully prepared a colourful pillow for her to bask in the sun on.

Shinji had not deemed it necessary to seat himself on the couch or on the bed or on any
slightly elevated flat surface. Instead, he took the – rational, at the time – decision to lower
himself on the floor, where, in his defence, Kaworu had presumably left two big and
colourful pillows, thus signalling that Shinji’s choices weren’t that unusual here. However,
when, upon hearing laughter and skipped steps on the hallway, Shinji made the human and
unnecessary attempt of looking towards the door, as if he could see through it the source of
the noise, he realised the downside of his decision.

It was good that he’d managed to finish the book, because he didn’t think he’d be lying there
again soon, judging from the pain in his back.

A faint meow from behind and pretty high up made him jump and turn sharply, but it was
only Tabris, on the kitchen table, looking at him.

“Do you always do that?” Shinji ogled her, then reminded himself he wasn’t talking to a cat-
sized Asuka, and that he ought to be more respectful. “Do you need something?”

Apparently pleased by the eloquent response, Tabris offered him another softened mewl.
Shinji approached the kitchen table. Sitting gracefully as she did, in all her vastness, Tabris
was almost level with his sternum. He patted her fluffy head.

“Are you hungry?”

No response. With her eyes closed, she only purred.

“Thirsty?” Shinji tried again, to no avail, not that he expected any. “You know we can’t walk
today, so try not to get too bored with me.” By the rate of her purring, that didn’t seem likely.
“Sorry,” Shinji said, just in case.

For a couple minutes, he kept running his hand over her long fur, and that seemed to please
her well enough, but when she gave hints of wanting to lie on her side – or possibly
downright roll on her back, like the cat she was – Shinji made use of his attributes and took
her up in his arms.

Obviously enough, it seemed to be exactly what she’d been hoping for, and she draped a paw
over his shoulder as she pushed her head into his neck, a gesture he’d only been an observer
of until then. “You don’t discriminate at all, do you?” Shinji asked, and when he was actually
able to make eye-contact Tabris gave him such an icy look that he got the message. She could
discriminate a lot; he ought to feel honoured.

To say that Shinji did not have a few moments of low-mode panic upon waking up the next
morning would be a good-natured lie, but also no fun at all, so he did. In his defence, it had
more to do with the fact that Tabris was pressing heavily on his chest and looking down at
him than with him temporarily forgetting where he was.

“Must you, really?” he mumbled as he fished for his phone underneath the pillow. Apparently
pleased with his level of awareness, Tabris soon climbed off him.

Shinji peered at the screen, and saw that it was relatively early. His first night on the property
had consisted of a dinner made up mostly of sandwiches and cold milk, Shinji being rather
unwilling to risk setting fire to the house on the first day, then of a long session of him and
Tabris cuddling and listening to music in bed, and finally of Kaworu’s late-night call to check
their well-being and give them the state of the home abode. Apparently, everything was in
order, so they needn’t worry.

Tabris made a sound at him from the floor now, and Shinji instinctively knew that he had to
open the way to the balcony. Once that was done, he remained in the doorway, looking at the
early sunlight slashing over the city and with the fresh air he was once again hit by the soft
excitement that seemed to come over him whenever he remembered that he was temporarily
on his own. Kaworu had been right; maybe he needed this.

His aunt had been rather good-natured about it, when Shinji had explained his plan of action
as vaguely as possible. Apparently, since he was of age, and practically on holiday, there was
no need for him to worry about getting permission. In her own words, just knowing his
whereabouts was enough for her.

It was the memory of this, along with the growing feeling of relaxation inspired by the small,
sunny apartment, which let Shinji prepare an omelette without worrying too much over
accidentally setting fire to the place. It wasn’t, after all, his first time. Also, he knew how to
cook. That much credit even he had to give himself.

He spent the morning with Tabris watching him from beside her food bowl, tracking his
movements as he ate breakfast and attempted to chat with her.

“Besides, maybe they won’t really be that scary,” Shinji told her of his upcoming audition as
he buttered a slice of toast. “Nobody says they are,” he continued, and added a strip of thin
omelette over his toast. “I think it will be fine,” he concluded and then let silence fall over
them for a while.

To celebrate their apparent freedom, he’d given her a ration of her favourite food, but that
had only kept her busy for a rather short amount of time. Obviously, watching him chew was
more interesting. He wondered whether she was on guard duty, instead of the other way
round.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked after he had finished his toast and gone back to his
tea. Big blue eyes seemed to mirror his. “”Cause I won’t be around for lunch,” he clarified,
and he thought he imagined a mild look of alarm on her countenance. “Practice,” he said
patiently, and then downed his cup.

A short while later, when he left the apartment – and it felt weird to actually take the key with
him this time – no dramatic farewell scenes occurred between them. In fact, he’d left Tabris
chasing the sunrays on the floor. He hoped that won’t end up in multiple damaged goods by
the time he’d be back.

Truth be told, Shinji had no idea what exactly he was looking for in the flower market. It
wasn’t like he had enough resources to get anything amazing, and it wasn’t like Kaworu had
enough space in his apartment to house any fancy-looking flowers, but he guessed he could
still manage. So, on that afternoon he drifted between various merchants, looking at their pots
and seeds from a safe distance and all the while praying that is cello case would not break
anything.

He couldn’t afford to stay too long, since there was still dinner to be prepared, and Tabris to
be petted and made ready for her nightly walk. Thus, after receiving, out of pity, a cardboard
box from a lady, and thanking her profusely for it, Shinji gathered a couple small variously
coloured Echeveria, a pot of Lily of the Valley, some Lavender, and one small pot of
Heliotrope. At last, because he still had some space left in his box, he got one last pot of
African Violet and rushed to get them home.

Of course, Kaworu called just as he was making his way upstairs, and Shinji had to cradle the
box with one hand, press the lift button with the other, and pray that his shoulder would not
give out as he used it to both keep his phone in place and support his cello strap.

“You sound stressed,” Kaworu remarked on the other side of the line.

No really, Shinji thought, and took hold of his phone as the lift started ascending. “I’m not,”
he said instead, because Kaworu’s voice had had an almost whiny tinge. “I’m just getting
home.” There was an insignificant moment of silence, and he mused at the ceiling before
shuddering at his words. “I mean, to your place.”

“Oh, alright,” Kaworu exhaled at the explanation. “I was worried something had happened.”

“No, everything is still fine,” Shinji allowed himself to raise his eyes to the ceiling in familiar
affection. “I wasn’t about to leave your cat to starve, after all.”

A minute chuckle in his ear. “I’m pretty sure she has hordes of innocent bodies stacked
somewhere, if worse comes to worst.” After it was spelled out, they both allowed themselves
a moment to cringe, the view too much for their feeble vegetarian hearts. “Apart from that,
are you feeling alright?”

“Yes,” Shinji acknowledged, feeling the triumph of reaching his storey without having to
share the lift with anyone. “It’s really quiet.” The rare moments of childish laughter when
school gave out were rather insignificant. Unlocking the door, he stepped inside, and felt
strangely content.

“That’s what I thought too, when I first moved in,” Kaworu chirped merrily and there was
some equally jolly background sound to it. “Oh, I’ve got to tell you. We made a teeny bit of a
mistake while ordering the bells –” Why do you even need bells for a wedding, Shinji would
have asked, but abstained. “—and we have a couple hundreds of tiny bells in bags now. I got
permission to use them all in decoration, nevertheless.”

So happy, Shinji bit his lip against a smile, and placed his box-o-plants on the table. “Is that a
good idea?” he asked, for politeness’s sake.

“I see no scenario in which it wouldn’t be,” came the innocent reply.

Well, I can imagine a few..., but he kept them for himself, as he carefully pushed Tabris away
from the table and directed her to wait by her food bowl while Shinji dropped his cello
somewhere safe and took off his outer clothes.

Kaworu’s ceiling was white, but non-threatening. For a moment, Shinji played with the idea
of buying and setting up a few phosphorescent stars on it. Too much freedom, he nevertheless
decided, forcing himself to act his age. Whatever that meant.

Sending a short prayer to other realms, Shinji started placing the new flower pots on
Kaworu’s window sill, balcony, and freshly-emptied corner of his desk. Lastly, he put the
lavender in between his herb pots, because it looked better right there. The prayer remained
for Tabris not to knock them over. Still, he’d taken care not to place them in places highly
frequented by her.

Afterwards, he put more effort and concentration into watering Kaworu’s herbs than he’d put
in most of his academic life. Or so he liked to say.

It had taken some time to relocate Kaworu’s sound system, but, with all the time he had on
his hands, Shinji hardly minded that. After looking through various playlists, Shinji got a
general idea of what he wanted to listen to, so he left it on to play away while he prepared
what he liked to dub an “afternoon snack” – because of course he’d skipped lunch, with all
the flower-hunting.

It only took a short while for Tabris to start looking at him in a funny way. More explicitly, it
took until he started adding cheese in a dozen spring rolls. Shinji threw her a few glances as
he nonchalantly went on with his work, then twice more as he rolled them, then once again
while he waited for the oil to warm up.

Then, he realised she probably wasn’t dumfounded by his cooking skills, but by the fact that
he was humming. Humming, because there was no way Shinji would have ever admitted that
he actually mouthed the words. As he’d stated before, this topic was off-limits to everyone,
even to his own conscience. Still, he gave Tabris a little bit of leeway, since she had no choice
but be subjected to it.

“This remains between us,” he stated clearly, waving a spatula slowly in the air. She seemed
unperturbed, as always, and before long he continued his humming. Knowing his own lack of
discipline, it would be a normal occurrence for the next few days.

“Right, where do you want to go?” She had a harness on, and Shinji had almost broken
himself trying to put it on her. That had mostly been his own insecurities, though, because
she seemed pretty comfortable with it.
It had been suggested that he took their promenades to the alleys behind the apartment
building, since they held more greenery, and were overall more peaceful, being part of a
larger residential area. Trying to be as optimistic as possible, Shinji took them both there.

Outside, Tabris didn’t look too impressed. However, once Shinji descended the three steps to
the pavement, she seemed to feel magnanimous enough to follow his lead. It was around the
time the sun started turning from yellow-white to orange, and these highly pigmented rays
were hitting the strangest spots on the buildings around them. There were a few people
around, some walking dogs, some children, and some coming back from work.

Shinji had never walked a cat – or a dog, or a child, for that matter – but there wasn’t much
for him to do other than keep a steady pace and avoid the meaner-looking dogs. Not that
there were any such dogs around, at the moment.

“Don’t do it,” he hissed to Tabris a short while later when she saw her eye a couple small
birds pecking at some crumbs.

Tabris turned to give him a look of utter indifference, but they went past the birds without
incident.

“There really could be some stars on the ceiling,” Shinji kept pondering later that night when,
after a successful walk and some acquiring of fresh bread, they’d got to the apartment and he
let himself fall back on the bed.

Thoroughly walked out, Tabris gave him a tired look before eventually joining him on the
bed. She was a little dusty and her nose was cold, but a welcome companion, especially when
she made herself into a large fuzzy ball at Shinji’s side. He kept caressing her head until he
started feeling in danger of falling asleep, at which he forced himself to go through the
necessary before-bed rites.

The next day, the midpoint of his stay, Shinji spent the morning once again submerged in
Kaworu’s reading-pillows, having decided to organise his day using quiet 2-hour periods of
Kurt Vonnegut as breaks in between his tasks. Earlier that morning, he’d gone and recycled
Kaworu’s papers, after, of course, sending him a text to make sure there was nothing
important left among them. Then, he’d made a pot of drastically better-tasting coffee and
descended to his lair.

Tabris had her own magic colourful pillow on the balcony, where she slept and absorbed
sunrays and dust. She didn’t seem to be in mourning for her former guardian, so Shinji could
only guess he was doing a decent job.

Right about the time he finished his second cup of coffee and got up from the floor, his phone
buzzed... somewhere. Shinji looked around in mild wonder, and tried to guide himself by the
sound of vibrations as well as he could. Finally, he found it, lost inside the bed covers,
making one especially weird jellyfish glow.
“Interrupting?” Asuka asked, because she had presumably waited until the ninth ring.

“No, I couldn’t find the phone,” Shinji muttered and just then became aware of the ache in
his back. I thought we’d got over this, he addressed his bones. “How are you?”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Holidays here are boring, but they won’t let me in the lab anymore
because they’re scared I’m gonna steal their ancient equipment and sell it at the junk yard.”

“Would you?” Shinji asked distractedly as he rearranged the bed covers in a more natural
position. The rebuff was half-hearted.

“Anyway, I talked with Ayanami this morning,” and here Shinji noted that she said the name
in a painfully casual way, as if they hadn’t had mutual staring matches and one-sided
shouting sprees all throughout high school. “She said she’s been in town for a few days, and
will stay there until they finish renovating whatever shack she’s living in these days.”

Somehow, I’m more impressed that you two managed to have a conversation, Shinji pondered
to himself and bit his lip. “Is that so,” he said instead.

“Yes,” Asuka pressed on her word as a warning for him not to get witty with her. “So I said
I’d ask you if you’re up to meeting up and taking her round in case she’d forgotten the
surroundings or if you two want to talk or, whatever, help her buy viola strings, how should I
know?”

Shinji stared at a blank spot on the wall, words hanging for dear life on his lips. “Oh, so she’s
here!”

There was an audible groan. “Yes, that’s what I said.”

“No,” he had the mind to be a bit offended, “you only said she’s—”

“Okay, fine! Have it your way,” she snapped and, all the worse for him, he couldn’t suppress
a chuckle. “I’m gonna give you her number, okay? You two solve this on your own, I’m on
holiday,” at least she seemed mollified, and after listening to her type for a while, Shinji
noted the arrival of a new text. “By the way, how’s that audition coming on?”

So he took a deep breath and started relating the latest chapters of his serialised life story.
 Chapter 29

Seeing Rei should have been easier than it felt. Then, Shinji mentally slapped himself. Why
did I think that? Because, really, so far there had been nothing that should have given him
that idea.

Overview: he hadn’t seen Rei in almost two years, but they had exchanged the occasional
letter – because old-fashioned ways seemed to come so naturally to Rei people felt
inadequate if they tried to point them out – on diverse holidays. Overall, it could be said that
they had exchanged more words in four letters per year than they had done all throughout
high school. But, then again, high-school-Shinji was quite a different entity altogether and
ought to be an outlier to this comparison, thus rendering it unfeasible. Or so college-Shinji
liked to think.

Although her most vivid memory would still be my high school self, so that kind of goes
against the point, Shinji mused in tired anxiety as he took advantage of a bus stop to fix his
clothes once more.

It wasn’t a particularly happy memory, his high school years.

There was Asuka, not being able to make friends quite the right way, Rei, seeming just as
isolated as always, but a little bit more, since now they weren’t with the people they’d had to
share their lunchboxes with at ten, and him, refusing to take his medication, getting so scared
of his depression that he couldn’t bear any added reminder of it; and liking Rei, for a little
while, a fluctuating thing that always ended up with him being bitter and unhappy.

There was also that, back then, Shinji used to expect people to comprehend whatever he was
thinking without actually talking to them about it. He wasn’t helpful at all, but still he
resented them for not understanding him. Asuka had even taken her time to spell all that out
for him, but he’d arrived at the same conclusion on his own after a while.

It was both ironic and not amusing at all that he’d started getting better only after he was the
only one left in the city. Maybe his fear of loneliness had been so big that, once it supposedly
settled over him, it had been more like an anticlimax. It was as if the feeling had gnawed at
him for so long that, once he’d got to experience it, he realised the hole it had left was bigger
than the dread itself; and that place had remained empty afterwards.

Maybe..., but then he got down from the bus.

It was windy. Before leaving the apartment, he’d put on one of the T-shirts that he’d brought
with him on the first day and, because he felt self-conscious that he’d not aired it before (or
taken it out of his backpack for that matter), he’d nervously grabbed one of Kaworu’s button-
downs, and threw it unbuttoned over said T-shirt, all the while promising that he’d wash it as
soon as he returned. It was a soft, white and blue chequered thing, more white than blue. It
had quite an outstandingly dramatic effect on this windy weather.
They were supposed to meet somewhere around their old school, which was relatively central
and also a more unlikely place for either of them to get lost in. How they got to that
arrangement was another story, involving Shinji making up a hundred conversations in his
head, being unable to actually dial the number, getting accusatory looks from Tabris and then
trying to use her as moral support, failing again, and then getting a text from Rei actually
asking him whether he wanted to meet or not. Asuka must’ve known.

Well, the important thing was that he got there. A little early, that was right, but there was
nothing else one could expect of him, so he waited at the street corner while the wind was
familiarising him with the process taking place inside a clothes-dryer.

“Ikari,” he heard, while he was busy holding the shirt close to his body and staring across the
street at an old flower shop, and he turned.

Rei looked a little taller than when he’d last seen her, and also a little different, as if she was
more tightly-knit within herself, more there, in comparison with how she seemed in the past,
when it was as if she was getting kind of blurry around the edges. She looked better, or else
Shinji wouldn’t have forgotten himself and smiled.

“Ayanami,” he said, releasing the shirt back to the wind’s will. “Sorry, that was kind of out of
the blue, yesterday...” Because, really, it hadn’t been more than a day.

“That’s okay, I don’t mind,” and her voice was unexpectedly soft against the wind, but
unmistakably her own. “Where do you want to go?” Straight to the point.

The question made him feel a little bit like a kid, for a moment, and then it passed and Shinji
was still in possession of his mature self. “Well, I don’t know,” he said as they started to walk
aimlessly. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, thank you,” she answered, thus pushing Shinji into familiar territory.

Rei wore a red dress, which somehow didn’t billow as much as one would have expected in
the wind haunting the city streets. Shinji noted that, before, he had almost never seen her
wear anything other than light blue or white.

“Is it the dormitory that’s getting renovated?” he asked as they walked down the cobbled
streets of the city centre in search of a friendly-looking tea house.

She shook her head, and somehow the wind didn’t push her hair into her eyes. Shinji was
alternately feeling either like a parachute or a plastic bag, but it didn’t bother him very much.

“I got a new place, at the end of the semester,” Rei explained, joining him in analysing the
shops left and right.

Shinji got a better hold of his bag. “Will you be living alone?”

This time, she nodded, and he suppressed the painful knot that attempted to form in his chest.
Nothing to do, their situations were different. He’d get there, in time.
“My scholarship is just enough for rent and groceries,” came the second explanation. “I
calculated last year.”

“Ah,” Shinji blinked at her, not expecting to feel lighter quite so soon. “Won’t you need it for
anything else?” He caught a glimpse of what looked like the place they were looking for,
farther down the street.

“Not so much,” Rei shrugged metaphorically. “I just wanted to be alone. It’s quieter.”

I know what you mean, Shinji mused, then leant his head to the side and drew her attention to
a red, hanging sign. “Should we go there?”

It was a tidy little place, with wooden tables and wooden panelling and a small staircase that
led to a second level, but they remained downstairs, finding a table somewhere close enough
to a window. It was not a place Shinji was particularly familiar with, since he’d only caught
glimpses of it on his visits to the city centre, but luckily it wasn’t too intimidating.

He only realised his arms were icy cold once they’d taken their seats. For all its thespian
abilities, Kaworu’s shirt was still only short-sleeved.

“Are classes alright?” Rei asked when Shinji was thoroughly engrossed in the red-tea menu.

In his defence, he only jumped a little. “More or less,” he offered, and let his fingers fidget a
little on the table. “They’re quite different from anything I had before, so it’s hard to make a
comparison...”

“I know, it’s the same for me,” Rei offered easily and opened her own menu.

Shinji looked at her for a moment, and then gave himself an occupation by flicking through
the rest of the pages in front of him. Unlike him, Rei had actually gone through with the
Literature Major; through and even beyond, if he was honest, since she’d chosen a really
good and distinguished university for it too. When they had inquired about it, she seemed to
regard leaving town only as a mere inconvenience.

“Do you want something to eat?” he asked only to make conversation, when he arrived to the
list of overpriced sandwiches and cakes.

Rei’s face made the equivalent of a noncommittal sound. On his half of the table, Shinji made
subtle attempts at getting really small. Only now did he remember that at one point in high
school he’d pointed out to her – in a quite unnecessarily insistent manner too – that she didn’t
eat enough. He didn’t quite know how he could apologise for that without actually bringing it
up now.

“Okay,” Rei said, however, after she had apparently consulted the required page.

The escape of one problem, consequently, brought about another, consisting of the fact that
Shinji got the sudden mental reminder that he essentially still disliked eating in public. It was
just that, until now, he’d been too busy keeping up with Kaworu’s thoughts to actually
remember that. That, as a matter of fact, was how he liked to justify his letting down of his
guard these days.

After a great, almost one-sided debate, however, they decided on the cheesecake. That
seemed safe enough, even for Shinji.

“So...er, have you seen Asuka lately?” The tea had been brought, brown pots of hot water and
painted blue mugs.

Rei dipped her teabag in the pot in suppressed fascination. “Not...recently. We did have tea
last year.”

That, Shinji remembered. Asuka had called him and talked for 3 hours about everything
except her outing, careful to leave enough “hints” for Shinji to know everything that had
happened by the end of the call.

“I went there in spring,” Shinji continued, feeling a little self-conscious to talk without being
asked a question, but knowing that it was efficient enough in their chemistry. “She has a lot
of plants now.”

He burnt his fingers a bit while putting the lid back on the pot, but braved through it and
looked at her. It felt strange, though. He wasn’t as intimidated or uncomfortable as he’d
expected. He felt quite alright, in truth.

On her part, Rei seemed pretty alright too. “I grew some cherry tomatoes before I moved
out,” she admitted, and Shinji involuntarily smiled, which seemed to surprise her at first, but
then she smiled too and slowly started to tell him more of her agricultural achievements. It
was amazing what one could do in a dorm-room, it seemed.

If truth be told, Shinji didn’t really know what exactly had made him like Rei back in school.
It wasn’t like they talked too much, since she ignored everyone and he avoided everyone,
with only few exceptions. It wasn’t like they had anything in common, apart from, maybe, a
few books. It wasn’t even like they were friendly.

Still, Shinji remembered feeling a bit comforted by Rei’s presence. With Asuka trying her
best to fit in, sometimes maybe too much, there wasn’t room for him to be unsociable around
her. Maybe he’d liked to think that Rei understood. Maybe he’d liked to think that, if they got
to know each other, they would be quite close. Maybe that was why he felt so resentful when
it seemed so easy for everyone else to try to talk to her, except for him.

Or maybe, just maybe – and Shinji liked to think that this was it – he’d liked her because she,
like him, seemed to prefer Asuka at her disgruntled, natural self, whenever it surfaced;
because at one point, on one of his better days, Shinji had made a passing, half-muttered joke
and she had smiled; because, distant as she was, she seemed like a good person.

Sometimes, Shinji pondered, that was all it took.

A later hour found them on the alleys of a nearby park, with Shinji as engrossed as his
existence generally permitted him to be in a retelling of some especially memorable orchestra
moments. No artists had been damaged in that particular production, it needs saying.

It wasn’t like he was saying much either, but at least he was talking, an important thing to do
while Rei was listening. He remembered saying the most ridiculous things in the past, at the
smallest glitter of interest in her complexion. However, since this involved past-Shinji, the
gist of his past-talk had consisted generally of mumbling. That had proved to be a blessing in
disguise.

“I forgot,” Rei said without any special tone when Shinji was done with his tale and they
were watching some ducks in a small pond.

Shinji was just pondering whether that article he’d read somewhere about how bread was
supposed to endanger ducks had been genuine. “What?”

With no particular hurry, Rei fixed her gaze on some random duck before blinking and
starting to look for something in her bag. Shinji caught a glimpse of at least three yellowed
books, but then decided it wasn’t his business and returned his attention to his feathery
compatriots.

“Here,” Rei said just a few moments later, and he found himself faced with a yellow-paper
parcel.

He took it way more gently that it seemed necessary. Then, he looked at her, hoping that his
eyes were expressive enough to send through at least an entire dialogue line.

Rei didn’t seem to be taken in by it, but she answered anyway. “It’s for your birthday,” he
pushed her dress’s skirt back against the wind. “A few weeks late.”

“Ah,” Shinji enunciated smartly, forgot to close his mouth for a while, and then gripped the
package tighter. “Thank you.”

Really, had it not been for some amazingly early wake-up call from Toji and Kensuke
somewhere midway through his exams even he would’ve forgotten about his birthday. It
seemed kind of surreal that Rei remembered. It seemed quite obvious, too, as weird as that
was.

“I hope you’ll like it.” She said it like it was something which was required of her, and thus
made it sound kind of like a hospital get-well card, but Shinji smiled a bit.

Then came a semi-agonising process, because he could see that she expected him to open it
right away, while Shinji would have much better preferred to do it in the solace of an empty
room. He opened it then and there, nevertheless, and found an old leather-bound copy of
various folk tales. He’d actually seen Rei read it, long before, or so he imagined he had, now.

He thanked her a few more times, but this time she graciously ignored him.
Even later, they were approaching the gates of the park, and the sky was just a little bit
orange-complexioned. At least the wind had finally calmed down.

“I’m not sure whether they will hold it only in classrooms or in the auditorium too, but there
are a few festivals approaching, so you could probably find some place to listen to some
rehearsals,” Shinji was explaining.

“I see,” Rei nodded imperceptively. She had just expressed an interest in visiting the
conservatory, since the music facilities at her college had been lacking so far.

Shinji had borne through that bravely, even if that line of thought had reminded him that, yes,
his audition was in a week. At some point, he’d mentioned that to her too, in an overly casual
tone. It made him kind of nauseous, on most days.

“I’d like to hear you too,” she suddenly said, and, really, why would people want that?

This, on a second thought, probably wasn’t a sensible inquiry for a future orchestra member
to have.

With only a small tremor, Shinji offered her a fixed smile. “I don’t think they’ll be open for
public,” and thank god for that.

She seemed to ponder that, deem it acceptable, nod. “Can I come and see how you’ve done
afterwards?”

Hopefully that didn’t mean the actual charts. “I guess?” Shinji shrugged. “I’ll be there from 9
in the morning till around 4 in the afternoon, in the best case.” That is, if nothing stalled and
if he didn’t faint in the meantime.

“Okay,” she decreed and that was the end of the topic. There was still mercy in the world.

Then they went out of the park grounds, and lingered around street corners, took some
uncertain alleys to get back to the more populated streets of the centre, and generally things
went quite well. Shinji hadn’t even had other particularly gloomy thoughts until she seemed
to cut off one of his sentences with the intensity of her stare.

“What...?” he asked, because he didn’t know when to quit or how to protect his mental
health.

Rei regarded him unblinkingly a moment more, then turned her head to look ahead. “You
seem... happier.”

Well. Um. Okay, there was no real response to that. “I-I...,” came the saving grace of a great
reply. Shinji swallowed his surprise then, and thought a little. A little more, since his
eyebrows knitted the slightest bit. “Thank you?” he tried again.

Rei nodded again. Right answer, though nobody knew why, and she didn’t pick up the subject
again.
Then, it was his last evening alone and he didn’t feel quite as forlorn as expected; but neither
did he feel especially homesick. It was close to dusk, and Tabris was well-fed and happy, and
somebody down the street played the radio too loudly, and Shinji was rearranging Kaworu’s
tin boxed spices while surreptitiously adding his own notes in between them.

On the second day of his stay there he’d had the fleeting thought that maybe this would be a
welcome action. He’d had to fight off some dreary conventional thoughts like that’s messy or
that’s uncalled for or who will even care, but he’d gone through it swimmingly and
eventually reached that decision.

As such, now Kaworu’s apartment held small, hidden messages in its darkest recesses. Such
as, for example, in between the cookie jars and under colouring books or behind pencil cases.
Shinji had been unsuspectingly proficient in their emplacement. A small array:

(on rosemary) This goes well with fish. (on a colouring book) Done pages 48-51. (in the 2nd
cupboard) New boxes: blue – cider mix; yellow – cinnamon and the rest of the vanilla; green
– dried mint; orange – raisins and apricots. (beside the bed) Blue drapes would be nice.
(stuck behind the lavender pot) This one looks really nice.

Along with this, he’d eventually bought a couple bundles of phosphorescent stars and left
them around for Kaworu to put to their appropriate use if he deemed it necessary. A few non-
luminous, shiny ones Shinji had stuck on the tea boxes. He hoped they would feel welcome
there.

Now, that he was relatively done with all that, as well as with his temporary stay, Shinji felt
quite bereft. This, all in all, wasn’t something he usually did, even if one was to count out the
cat-promenades. Leaving notes, staying over – leaving his mark on somebody else’s
existence, in short. It hadn’t been nerve-wracking at all, until he looked at it again. Not at all;
because he felt like Kaworu would have liked him to.

Shinji sank into the middle of the couch and stayed there, elbows on his knees and head on
his palms. Looked around, saw a bit, thought more.

In truth, he felt like Kaworu wouldn’t have minded a lot more, if he was put to the test. Shinji
thought that passively, as he thought most things usually. He knew a few things, had picked
up on them along the way. There had been no choice, really. Kaworu was so unbelievably
candid most of the time.

Therefore, Shinji had had to overwrite some of his casual emotions along the way. It had
been as slow a process as he’d expected it to be – because, really, he knew himself better than
he liked to let on – and it was still underway at the present moment. Small steps, like leaving
a note on someone’s desk because he knew – had to remind himself – they would be happy to
find it there.

It wasn’t even about self-esteem or despondency anymore – he was just used to it. Habits had
always been the hardest to combat; because they felt so natural one forgot they were noxious.
Reminding himself that he was not being put up with; because everybody has problems, in
the end, and he wasn’t such a bother.

From one of the carpets on the floor, Tabris looked up at him in wonder and let out a small
sound. It had come in the middle of her siesta too, as she was lying there in the last ray of
sunlight of the day.

Shinji looked at her, face unimpressed just in case he might see himself in the mirror anytime
too. She seemed to think it was meant at her, though. She meowed again. Shinji raised an
eyebrow, chin still resting on his palms.

At the third sound, he smiled, and apparently that was the sign Tabris was waiting for in order
to get up from the floor and jump on his lap.

The message had arrived a quarter of an hour earlier and since then Shinji had prepared a
fruit salad, groomed Tabris, and put water to boil in a saucepan. At the moment, he was
adding an uncertainly large amount of tea leaves to its boiling mass. Hopefully, not too much,
but he’d bought a box of his own for this one, so he could afford it.

In order not to inconvenience anyone – and it was really sweet how he still behaved like
Shinji had a very active social life even after knowing him for ten months – Kaworu had
taken an afternoon train back from his hopefully successful wedding feast. Shinji could only
assume, since they hadn’t had a conversation longer than two texts in four days. It was
implicit that he was going to be briefed on it momentarily.

Checking the time to know where he stood, he turned the flame even lower and poured milk
into the pan too. Shinji frowned at it. Now the real challenge began. He kept a spoon and a
bowl of cold water handy in case he’d lose the fight against bubbling milk. He really didn’t
want to wreck Kaworu’s kitchen only a few minutes before his homecoming.

In luck, he was eventually saved not by these precautions but, quite literally, by the bell. The
door bell, to be exact; and really, Shinji was almost sure Kaworu was the only one who
actually knew where the door bell was, not to mention the only one who’d wait to be let in
into his own house.

Therefore, Shinji turned off the cooker, set the vaguely bubbling tea matter aside, and hurried
to the door, remembering only too late to breathe. Still, he managed to look appropriately
exasperated as he opened the unlocked door.

“Hi,” Kaworu grinned at him before he even made a single step inside and Shinji let his
exasperation melt into a smile.

It was kind of strange to meet him from the wrong side of the door, really. “Hi,” Shinji said
back, then shook himself only a little and reiterated. “Welcome back.”

“Glad to be back,” Kaworu said, stepping out of his shoes and carefully placing his rucksack
on the floor. Then, he looked up at Shinji and his expression softened by several degrees.
“You look nice.”

It was too sudden for Shinji to school his features into polite inquiry, so Kaworu got a look
full of shocked suspicion. It didn’t seem to bother him too much, though, since he hugged
him anyway.

Maybe Shinji should have also prepared himself for sudden displays of affection, in order to
make sure he wouldn’t get quite so soft in Kaworu’s arms, but nevertheless. Kaworu smelled
like sunshine and Shinji really liked being able to hug him like this. Had he not drunk some
tea that morning, he might have cried. Metaphorically.

It had been part of their agreement for Tabris to come and jump on Kaworu as soon as he was
out of his baggage and shoes, but Shinji remarked with disdain that Tabris didn’t pull
through. Once again, he was on his own, and she was probably asleep somewhere in the
house.

“I have,” Kaworu said, taking off his scarf, “so many,” taking off his vest, “things,” putting
them both rather awkwardly on the hanger, “to tell you.”

At this point, he started counting the guests, the relatives, the music players, the number of
waiters that had been scared to death, the atrocious amount of cake, and many other things,
ending it all by saying that he, Kaworu, hadn’t actually stayed for the event per se, but that
he’d got all this gist from watching over the preparations.

“It was pleasant,” Kaworu sighed as a conclusion. “Did you manage to get some rest?”

The smile that replied to that was kind of guilty; Shinji had quite forgotten that part of the
arrangement. “Mentally,” he admitted, and that could have been true, by comparison.

“I’m happy, then,” Kaworu grinned, still standing half a foot away from him, and Shinji
would have rather liked him to sit down; he sounded tired.

Just for good measure, he gave him an once-over, took in his bleached jeans, his clover-
patterned socks, his solar system T-shirt. Kaworu must have been a star in the astronomy
club; literally.

“Are you getting back to work soon?” he asked, as a start to what he hoped would be a
successful arrangement for him to sleep for 12 hours.

“Not for,” Kaworu turned his eyes to different blank spaces in air, “a month, still.” Shinji
acquainted him with his proposal and he, in turn, chuckled. “Okay, I will.”

His work had been an easy one, then. As a thank you, Shinji attempted to familiarise his hair
with the laws of gravity. Like always, it didn’t work, but Kaworu did lean his head a little to
the side, into Shinji’s touch, as if to help him with the task. It had the polar opposite effect, in
that it made Shinji feel quite uprooted from the Earth’s surface.

So, like a true space explorer, he instantly remembered there was some tea to be strained in
his immediate vicinity. He could only hope it was still drinkable.
“There’s also fruit salad,” Shinji said, involuntarily fretting his hands. “And some broccoli
quiche in the fridge,” he also counted, pouring tea. It was just enough for two.

“Really?” Kaworu asked with that shy-child-getting-his-first-present-ever voice and Shinji

pulled a face at him. “Thank you. This is good too. It’s been a while since I had homemade
royal tea,” he peered in unnecessary adoration at his mug.

“Me too, I usually over-boil the milk and it makes a mess,” Shinji shrugged, wondering
whether Tabris thought they were under attack or was just sleeping in the bathroom.

Kaworu’s eyes kept roaming over the apartment now, and Shinji’s did too, as a consequence,
hoping none of his notes were quite in plain sight. He’d been most subtle. He’d also hid his
TO-DO list a few hours prior. All that were in full view were the half-a-dozen plants he’d
bought. Kaworu seemed to regard them without much puzzlement.

It was rather nerve-wracking. “I think Tabris is still sleeping,” he consequently made

conversation.

“Naturally,” Kaworu nodded at the clock. “She has a schedule.”

That was something Shinji didn’t know, but he felt a little better knowing that Kaworu was
not actively ignoring his cat in order to talk to him. He looked down at his tea, gloriously still
drinkable, and rolled a few phrase-starters in his mouth.

“I met Rei two days ago,” he started in an exceptionally careful manner, and Kaworu gave
him his full attention. Rather too much of it, on the whole; but Shinji chose to keep his tale
going, slowly choosing word after words at first, then gradually relating all of his small
adventure in his natural tone.

By the end of it, Kaworu had a relatively dreamy look on his face, and he had taken a not
quite restful position, in Shinji’s opinion, only leaning back on the kitchen counter. “Can I
meet her?”

Maybe Shinji’s look of shock had been a bit too powerful. Kaworu gave him a small, vaguely
embarrassed smile.

“Since she’ll come after the audition...,” he explained, and of course. Shinji was kind of
embarrassed himself now. “You don’t have to say yes,” Kaworu added, clearly.

“No, it’s fine,” and only grace saved him from nervously slurping his tea. “I don’t mind.”

While he anxiously non-slurped his tea, Kaworu found the lavender pot – it was placed at his
elbow, so that shouldn’t have been all that difficult – and smiled at it and, subsequently, at
Shinji’s small note. He made a few comments on the fact that it was pretty, and that he really
liked it, and it was a really nice gesture on Shinji’s part. All in a day’s work, Shinji thought.

“Are you doing alright?”

He was just being deprived of his empty mug, for washing purposes. “In what sense?”
“About the audition,” Kaworu clarified, running soapy mugs under cold water.

Shinji made a face, which went unobserved. “Er, yeah...” He drummed his fingers a bit on the
table behind him. “I mean, I’m practicing, and they haven’t told me to forget about it...”

“Of course not. You’re a very good player,” Kaworu put the mugs face-down beside the sink,
letting them dry. “I asked if you were alright,” and now he was looking at him.

“I’m okay,” Shinji told him, without breaking eye-contact. “Really,” he added in a more
mollified manner when Kaworu seemed to be thinking too hard.

Later, Kaworu seemed pretty excited over his new folk tales book – that is, after he found it
in his bed, under a pillow and half of the duvet, where it had been left after an early morning
reading. However, when Shinji proceeded to tell him the circumstances in which it had been
given to him – i.e. his miraculous late birthday gift – Kaworu looked positively mortified.

Shinji almost panicked before he found out that the horror came from having missed such an
important event in humanity’s history. It was above his cruelness level to make a joke about
it, however, once he was faced with Kaworu’s heartbroken expression. Consequently, he
decided to take him out on that fancy dinner he’d been thinking about since finals; and do it
soon.

When Shinji asked him when his birthday was, the only thing Kaworu did was smile
enigmatically and avoid the subject by starting to eat his fruit salad.
 Chapter 30
Chapter Notes

Oh boy, did it seem to take an eternity to get here. Only a small one. However, here you
are. Thanks and enjoy.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

It didn’t matter how much Shinji would have liked to say he didn’t need someone to hold his
hand as he waited for the auditions to start that morning, because he really, really did. Thus,
he had compromised by holding his own hand, fingers entwined around the top of his cello
case as he waited.

It was pretty convenient, since the case was big enough to give him a false sense of security
and of being hidden from the outer world. Additionally, it was a good day, and from his place
on the stairs of the main hall of the university he could see the sunny vegetation outside the
windows flanking it. It almost made him feel less like shivering.

He thought he hadn’t quite expected to see so many people waiting alongside him. But, as
he’d already stated, there were multiple things taking place. Around three different auditions
were supposed to be held somewhere in the building – which was just big enough to make it
seem possible – and, apart from that, two music festivals were coming soon, so there were
also the rehearsals for that to be taken into consideration.

There were a lot of people. Shinji occasionally forgot how to breathe.

To top it all off, Kaworu had failed to check his phone in the morning – thus missing Shinji’s
last-minute plead to please stay in bed and sleep and let him die an empty, musical death on
his own – and, consequently, arrived at the future scene of the crime only a quarter of an hour
later than Shinji. Brought coffee with him too, thus rendering any complaints impossible.

“It’s a little overwhelming,” Kaworu had said, as an appreciation of the fauna and flora all
around them. “There are so many instruments.” Spoken like a true piano player, Shinji
thought.

“It helps one not get recruited for musical theatre,” he said matter-of-factly, putting on an
expression of past-hardships remembered. Kaworu laughed and asked him if that had ever
happened to him before had started carrying his cello around; he could barely keep count.

Shinji sipped his hot coffee with the thoughtful look of a thousand past lives. “What happens
if I end up at the wrong audition?”
Sitting beside him on the stairs, Kaworu turned a page of the book he’d brought with him.
“One is for the college orchestra and the other is for the jazz band.” He looked up, with a
grin. “I think you’ll be fine.”

Probably, since Shinji’s teacher had tried unsuccessfully to coax him into applying for their
orchestra too, but it would still cause some trouble. He didn’t think he had to worry about
accidentally ending up in the jazz band; undying optimism.

“Yes, but has it ever happened?” Small gesticulations around his Styrofoam cup.

Kaworu turned another page. “Possibly, if the organisation was bad. I haven’t personally
heard of anything like that.”

Great, Shinji huffed, small blessings.

It was quiet, apart from the constant murmur of fellow students around, until he got halfway
through his coffee. Then, his mind started acting up again, sonorous but rather lacking in
actual words or ideas. It was almost as if he felt dread because he knew he ought to. A little
spasmodically, and without moving his eyes from where they had been fixed on a few
unintelligible posters halfway across the hall, Shinji took hold of Kaworu’s hand, practically
pulling it away from the book in order to do so.

It turned out that Kaworu, if willing, was capable of a surprisingly strong grip. While slowly
stabilising, Shinji let him read three more pages, then two more while he finished his coffee.
There were altogether too many people around, and nobody had deemed it relevant to open
the amphitheatre.

When Shinji had unconsciously started to detach himself from the nearby reality, Kaworu
brought him back to Earth with the snap of his book. In retrospective, he might have done
that solely because anything short of it would have gone unnoticed.

“Let’s get ice-cream afterwards,” he stated, turning towards Shinji and relaxing the grip on
his hand. Unfocused, Shinji nodded. “And lunch. Do you want pasta or rice?”

Shinji would have liked some confidence in his mere survival, for a change. “Grilled
vegetables,” he said, because it seemed the safest option. He didn’t really have an appetite
when faced with imminent doom.

In response, Kaworu seemed to think that over, one hand to his chin. “I might have to look up
a decent place for that.” Shinji would have liked to tell him not to bother and just go to a
funeral home directly. “Don’t worry, I’ll find something.”

“I still think you’d better go home and get some sleep,” he tried, nevertheless. “I’ll call you
when I’m done.”

The mere utterance of that seemed to knock Kaworu off-course. He looked, stricken, back at
Shinji. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m gonna wait for you.”

“That’s really –”
Apparently, Kaworu wasn’t interested in what was really. “I talked with—,” he inserted one
of Shinji’s better-known teachers, “and managed to find an open piano room. I won’t get
bored.”

That last statement had a distinctive pleading tone to it. Shinji sighed. “If that’s what you
want, I guess—” but he forgot to guess, because at that time he passively looked over the
crowd and thought he saw Rei. He blinked. “Wait a moment, please,” he leant his cello case
over Kaworu’s legs and got up from his petrified place on the stairs.

“Don’t get lost,” Kaworu said, and grinned innocently when Shinji cast him an unimpressed
look.

He got halfway across the swarming hall before he remembered he didn’t like crowds, and
then just swallowed his thought and continued his bumpy march. “Hey,” he said, but a
clarinet player cut his way. “Rei—,” but he shook himself. “Ayanami,” and he finally got
face-to-face with her.

Rei looked at him, unperturbed, and maybe with a glint of being impressed. “Hello,” she
eventually said.

“Hi,” Shinji answered, a little breathlessly, and feeling kind of foolish. “What are you doing
here?” He saw the viola case in her hand and wanted to give himself a light smack.

“You said 9 am,” she started, and then they both had to make space for a couple bass players.
“I wanted to wish you good luck and then find a place to...,” she lifted her viola a fraction.

“Oh,” Shinji bit his lip, and then smiled without too much difficulty. “Thank you, then.” He
got the smile returned. “Um, the organisation is a bit slow, and there are a lot of things going
on...,” he ran a hand through his hair, looking around. “So nothing is happening, at the
moment. Er, have you been here before?”

“No,” Rei said, joining him in surveying the crowd.

Shinji worried his lip a moment, looking toward the couple staircases, closed off until further
notification. “Then, I guess I should show you where to find a room...”

Not that he had any idea, but he had a distinct feeling the security guard had developed a soft
spot for him from all the days he’d had to ask him for the auditorium key for practice.
However, he guessed that would be a plan for when the hall had emptied a bit.

At long last, he decided getting out of maiming way had top priority. “Come this way,
please,” he said, trying to find a safe path back to where he’d come from, and offered her his
hand almost instinctively. Which is not to say he was not surprised when she took it.

When they arrived at the destination, they found Kaworu reading, cheek pressed to the top of
Shinji’s cello case, and Shinji decidedly didn’t know how one was supposed to make
introductions. Luckily, Kaworu looked up before he had to.
“Hello,” he said with a smile that had made Shinji resent his face for weeks in autumn. Rei
gave Kaworu a mildly confused, vaguely curious look.

Slowly, Shinji pulled his hand out of Rei’s and took a steady breath, as if winding the
machinery inside him. “Um, Ayanami, this is Kaworu,” he said with the ultimate look of low-
battery etched on his face, so Kaworu had to get up and introduce himself in a more sensible
manner.

“Do you play?” Rei asked once these formalities were gone through – though not with any
thanks to Shinji – and looked at the cello case.

Kaworu looked at it too, in wonder, and then swished his book in the air a bit. “That—no, I’m
here for moral support and early morning exercise,” he grinned, and Rei displayed a soft
frown.

Dutifully, Shinji retrieved his instrument from him. There seemed to be some more
enthusiastic movements happening behind him, which caught his attention in a gut-
wrenching manner. “I’m sorry,” he said after a few moments of indecision, because that was
always something safe to say. He didn’t know which one of them to address first. “Um,
Ayanami wanted to play,” he gesticulated into the general direction of her viola case. “Can
you...?”

Looking pleadingly at Kaworu had always had an unbelievable effect. “Sure, I’m sure we can
find something,” he smiled, very close to reaching an actual sunshine state. Dimming it into a
more polite expression, he then looked at Rei. “I play the piano. We should find some
available rooms on the third floor,” he explained.

“Alright,” Rei blinked at him, still bearing that look of suppressed curiosity. “Thank you,”
she added after a moment’s thought. Shinji could start to see what Asuka meant when she
said he and Rei were alike in a lot of ways.

Behind him, the auditorium opened, along with the access to the upper storeys. People his
age were milling about as if this wasn’t some kind of torture session they felt compelled to
attend. Shinji looked at them and worried his lip into a dull pain. Somebody was telling
where each audition was taking place. He registered his own absently and stored that away
for later use; took his cello out of its case and handed the latter to Kaworu.

“I think... I’ve got to go,” he said in the same absent manner and glanced at Rei. “Sorry it’s so
soon.”

Rei merely shook her head lightly. “I’ll see you afterwards. Good luck.”

“Thank you,” he attempted a smile, breaths shuddering all the way through his body. “Don’t
let the teacher sign you up for musical theatre,” he then almost grinned at Kaworu.

“I don’t promise anything,” Kaworu grinned back, then gave his hand one last squeeze.
“Don’t worry, it’s all going to be fine no matter what you do.”

“Yeah,” Shinji exhaled, then took one last farewell and directed his feet to the stairs.
The worst part was that he had to go through multiple ordeals instead of a single one and
have it done with. It hardly mattered whether Shinji was composed and steady-handed when
he entered the first room, because by the time he went out his hands would be shaking like
mad and he’d still have a long way to go.

At least, that’s what went through Shinji’s mind as he walked down the hallway to the
appointed rooms. Luck had also made him be among the first examinees. Not that that meant
he wouldn’t have time to turn his brain to mush before he went in. As his teacher had said,
there were more people than he’d expected. Shinji vaguely started to wonder whether the
small orchestra image he’d built in his mind wasn’t actually too small. One done.

I have no idea what I’m getting into, he concluded, and wondered where he could get a glass
of water around there.

As he felt disinclined to just let his cello lying around, prey to saboteurs and imaginary mice,
he carried it around the 2nd storey hallway until he got to a water dispenser and poured
himself a cold cup. He attempted to drink it slowly, but that didn’t work out for him. Two
more.

He watched as the violins went in the opposite direction and then glanced around his
surroundings. Not making eye contact was a rule practically imbibed in his blood, but he still
caught a couple mildly familiar, scared faces. Granted, most of the others seemed pretty
composed, but it was still a relief to know he wasn’t alone in thinking the skies would fall. If
justice was to be done, he didn’t know what to think about it. There was one more person
ahead of him and they were just going into the first room, so he took better grip of his cross.

I can’t die, I have ice-cream to buy, Shinji told himself, alternately fretting his hands and
wiping them compulsively on his jeans. It wasn’t going too badly. They weren’t shaking as
much as he thought they were. He felt giddy in the strangest ways possible, as if air could not
get quickly enough into his lungs. He tried to steady his breath and ended up twisting his
hands with more force. Drummed calloused fingertips over his knuckles; looked at the
familiar walls; kept his feet from tapping the floor; tried to breathe more slowly.

The door opened, and as soon as he got up to go to it, he plunged into deep water, and every
movement was slow and fast at the same time. He remembered to straighten his back before
going in, but just barely.

In just a couple of hours, I’ll be somewhere far away, having lunch. This will all be over and
it won’t seem like such a big thing, looking back on it, he breathed artificially equal breaths.

I have to live all the time left between now and then first, however.

One of his worst fears, when he was younger, was that he’d fall off his chair while playing.
Sometimes, it seemed unrealistic, but Shinji had always been very careful as to his
placement. At least nobody was exactly hurrying him, even if he felt like every movement
lasted an eternity. It was actually kind of funny to think that somebody might have looked at
him and thought he was completely calm.
So, he handled the formal paper-giving and identification with simulated tranquillity, turned
round, and took a careful seat on the assigned chair. He felt very unfamiliar with his own
being for a few long seconds, before he fitted the bow in his hand and breathed himself back
to consciousness.

He went through Haydn’s D Concerto while trying his best not to auto-evaluate himself as he
played, always one of his bad habits, always disheartening him. It took a lot of effort to
ignore inevitable mistakes, but there was a tiny moment when he felt like he’d played
something exactly as he’d wanted to, so that helped, probably, in the end. It helped his state
of mind, at least.

Best not to run out now, he reminded himself once he was finished and had to leave his seat.
No marks on the floor, so he hadn’t broken it. None of the jury had collapsed. This was
practically a success. Bow and go out slowly.

One down, he took in a shuddering breath and went back to waiting on the hallway, this time
for the second door to open. Whatever players had got there before him looked either more
shaken or more placid than before. Shinji didn’t know what to think about that. However, it
seemed to be going slower here, so he was valiant enough to get another cup of water.

As expected, his hands shook a little, and felt somewhat numb, but he knew from experience
that it could be worse. He’d had worse. Never forget middle school orchestra auditions, when
he’d almost fainted on his way to sigh-reading. He didn’t make it, of course, didn’t make it
by far.

As a consequence, he hadn’t even tried anymore in high school, another reason for Asuka’s
contempt. She’d quite liked playing the violin with him. They’d had some fun with Maurice
Ravel at some point. I ought to ask her to bring her violin next time she comes over, Shinji
mused into his water.

One of the two people waiting ahead of him went in and he wondered, in a frantic attempt to
keep himself distracted, whether Kaworu and Rei were getting along. That hadn’t been a nice
thing to do, on his part, leaving her with someone she didn’t know. Well, it was Kaworu, and
he certainly wouldn’t bother her if he felt like she didn’t want him to, but she didn’t know
that. Shinji kinda wished he wasn’t as good at distracting himself as he was. Now he had two
stressful things on his mind.

Next, then. Excerpts; willing all thoughts of how bad he was as a person out of his mind, he
went into the second room. The easiest thing, of course, would have been to just do whatever
he’d practised before any self-doubt had time to kick in. That, of course, was sound advice;
only, Shinji always had a prolific part of his mind managing his self-doubt.

Took a breath, reminded himself that in a short while he’d be having lunch, and took a seat. It
helped that the first notes came easily; made it harder to panic. Maybe that’s all rehearsals
are about – making sure you don’t wreck the first three notes. Keeping his breath more or less
even, Shinji went through his Shostakovich, Bizet and Beethoven in what seemed to take way
less than what he’d practiced. Bowed and went out while trembling at the thought that he’d
forgot a bar or two.
Well, if I did, nothing left to do about it now, he thought, fighting hard to keep his face in
check as he waited for the third part to start. Nothing to be done. Only he really, really, really
wanted to do this one thing right. It was just one thing.

“Not the time...,” Shinji let out a breath as he raised his eyes from the floor, barely
whispering. It wasn’t the time to think like that. He’d be fine, whatever he did. Kaworu had
said so. Shinji grimaced imperceptibly at the wall and felt his throat constrict a bit. He really
wanted to do this thing well.

After getting one more cup of water – this time from a fellow cellist-in-line and sort-of-
classmate – Shinji wasted time pondering that, for the most part of his life, he hadn’t been a
particularly affectionate person. The few moments when he’d yearned for contact,
unfulfilled, had gone by.

He couldn’t really see when that had changed, except for the fact that it was something that
had taken place after he’d started feeling better. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been like him to
sit here, under a vast amount of stress, calming himself by thinking of finally giving in to
Kaworu’s ridiculous wish of building a pillow fort and snuggling down with him there for a
few hours.

I can’t think about this on an empty stomach, Shinji remonstrated himself and threw his third
empty cup in the bin. Accordingly, he remembered lunch; remembered Rei; looked at the
ceiling; worried. I really hope they’re still alive up there, he thought and caught a glimpse of
his colleague entering the third room. Soon, then.

The end was a breeze of fresh air coming from an open window, and a vague smell of
flowers. Holding his cello in almost unfeeling hands, Shinji looked at the sunny weather
outside and thought I did it, with all the wonder reserved for someone surviving a jump off a
sky-scraper. He looked down at his hands, breathed, and thought again. I actually did it. Went
through an entire audition without a breakdown. It felt amazing. It felt great.

Kind of giddy, he stumbled around the corridor for a while; found a bathroom, breathed some
more, stumbled around again, and finally remembered he had to find Kaworu and Rei,
hopefully alive and healthy too. He climbed the stairs to the third floor with all the care of
one who’d put all his (estranged father’s) economies into his instrument. His legs wobbled a
bit, like the rest of his body. But he’d done it!

He had to open at least four doors, nearly interrupting just as many rehearsals, before he
found them. It wasn’t a particularly well-maintained room, since there seemed to be a
conglomeration of a lot of things the others down the hall hadn’t wanted to keep, but it was
sunny and airy and mostly empty and Shinji’s relief painted the most positive image of it.

Rei was peering at some sheets over the piano, viola held in one hand, so she didn’t
immediately register him, but Kaworu happened to look up after a windblown page and their
eyes met. “Hey!”
Shinji found the first smile form of his face, as an afterthought of his current mood. “I’m
done,” he said, rather needlessly, but he found he didn’t really care at the moment.

“Are you alright?” Kaworu made to get up from the piano, a look of relieved wonder on his
face.

“How did it go?” was Rei’s question, this time, before Shinji had had a second to find a word
for the first one.

He took a few more steps into the room, felt his knees get a little too weak for comfort, but
by this time Kaworu had got away from the piano and relieved him of his cello. Thanks to all
the chairs lying around in expectance for quartet practice, Shinji had minimal problems in
seating himself before his legs gave out.

“I’m...fine. It went alright...,” he answered them both in turn, trying to clench his hands only
to find they were doing all the shaking they hadn’t done before.

Better late than early, Shinji adapted the saying for his own purpose, like the shameful
egotistic person that he was. He smiled at Kaworu, who, having just deposited his cello back
in its case, was watching him with a very polite level of worry.

“I didn’t dash out,” he mentioned, also needlessly.

Kaworu grinned. “I can see that.” Then, after downright drenching Shinji in a proud gaze, he
straightened his back with purpose. “I’ll get you some water.”

It seemed like all Shinji had done that day was drink water. The healthiest he’d ever been, in
a way. Still, with Kaworu gone out of the room on a brave quest for hydration, Shinji and Rei
were temporarily left alone in the room. She didn’t look angry, not like Shinji had feared she
would be, but, then again, her expressions usually were on a low-mode, and he might have
been too shaken to notice them this time.

“Sorry for leaving you alone,” he said after a decently short amount of time.

At which Rei blinked at him in unfiltered surprise. “I wasn’t alone,” and on a sideway note,
“I enjoyed the company.”

That had the effect of making Shinji look just as surprised, which in retrospect maybe could
be taken as kind of rude. Kaworu was good at dealing with people, after all. It was only that
Shinji had started to forget that as he’d been subjected more and more to Kaworu’s casual
self.

Still, it was the first time he’d heard Rei use the word enjoy. That ought to mean something,
but Shinji couldn’t tell what. “Uh, well. I’m glad,” he fretted his hands a little bit, bringing
feeling back into them.

“I hope your results will be good,” Rei affected a small smile, which Shinji reciprocated.
They were such children when slipping into thoughtless politeness it was almost endearing.

“Thank you,” he pressed a little bit more on his left hand. “I hope so too.”
Outside their open door, Kaworu seemed to be caught in a well-mannered chat with one of
his former professors. Shinji hoped with rather a lot of force that nobody will pay any mind
to him. Across from him, Rei seemed to think the same thing. It was a short chat,
nevertheless.

“Here you go,” Kaworu passed him the cup of cold water after getting back inside, and
answered his thanks by letting his hand run along Shinji’s shoulders for a while before
getting back to the piano. Shinji had to suppress all thoughts of pillow forts once again. Rei
locked her viola back in its case. “Lunch?” Kaworu gave them both a bright look, gathering
his music sheets.

“Sure,” Shinji said, because he kind of really wanted to get away from audition-smelling
classrooms now, and turned a bashful face to Rei. “Um, you’re coming with us, right...?”

She examined his face for a moment. “If you want...” At which they both made similar
sounds of acquiescing, and so they finally made their way out.

In what seemed like record time to Shinji – especially since the only internet access had been
had on a phone – Kaworu had managed to find a bistro for them. Bonus points were given for
it having a menu in equal parts comprehensible and non-threatening.

It was a nice, green and airy place with a sheltered, ivy-clad inner garden, the latter in which
they found a wooden table and sat down, amidst low ambient music and quiet chatter from
the other customers. Attempted questions to find out what Kaworu and Rei had been doing
for the few hours of the audition had been cut off with an order of various suspicious
lemonades, which Kaworu seemed pretty happy to subject them too.

“So, did anything happen...?” Shinji tried again, after a large glass of lemon and melon drink
was placed in front of him.

Kaworu glanced at Rei, and Rei occupied herself by sipping her kiwi lemonade through a
blue straw. “No, nothing much,” Kaworu conceded, much to Shinji’s relief and utter
indignation. The latter seemed to stir a grin on Kaworu’s features. “Nothing bad, at least. We
got to our assigned room, and I was just checking to see if the piano was out of tune when
somebody ushered us out because the room was to be used for 1st year choir auditions. Then,
we went to the next one we found empty and waited for while. A few third years came in
because, apparently, we had there the only harpsichord in the entire building, so we changed
location again. This time, we almost stumbled upon a few people crying over Wagner—”

It was almost amusing to observe, but even on the way there Shinji had thought that the best
way to describe Rei’s attitude towards Kaworu was one that said she was enjoying herself
talking to him, and feeling quite annoyed by the fact. Right now, she seemed determined to
hide a smile into her lemonade straw.

“—so we decided to move again, got to where you found us a couple hours later, and played
four songs and a half,” Kaworu finished with a tinge of satisfaction in his voice and
completely oblivious to the feelings he was stirring.
 “At least you didn’t get hurt,” Shinji smiled warily over his lemonade, and glanced at Rei. “I
finished the book you gave me,” he told her.

She looked at him from where she was inspecting some ivy on the opposite side of the table.
“Already?”

Shinji almost slipped into the habit of fussing over replies before he shrugged. “I read it in
between practice.” He would’ve maybe continued, and mentioned how folk tales always
seemed so creepy to read after the first period of childhood, but their peace was disturbed by
the waiter bringing their food.

“Nagisa was telling me different cultural variations of Shita-kiri Suzume earlier,” Rei said
after the plates were deposited in front of them and Shinji’s attention was pulled back from
eyeing the orange sauce adorning his aubergine slices with mistrust. At least they were the
only ravaged ones.

He blinked at her for a moment, thought a bit, then turned to Kaworu, a silent mode of asking
You?. “It’s pretty interesting,” Kaworu said in his defence. “There are a lot of stories that
appear in a great number of seemingly unrelated cultures. I took a course last year.”

“Because of the social side,” Shinji acquiesced, slowly making connections.

Rei sought to place her lemonade in a safe place from wandering elbows. “As for me, it was
in the curriculum. Archetypes of literature,” she explained.

“So we more or less tackled it from two different sides until we got to even ground,” Kaworu
added to that, smiling brightly.

I might have miscalculated, Shinji pondered, looking at them both. They seem to get along
just fine. It was more of a relief than a fear of being left out this time, even though one didn’t
necessarily nullify the other. Still, it was nice to listen to them.

“As long as you don’t go back to those new fairy tale retellings,” Shinji warned him, moving
a thin zucchini slice around his plate before putting it in his mouth. “I keep remembering the
pelican one,” he muttered after a moment.

Over a plate of heavily cooked and assorted asparagus, Kaworu gave him a winning grin. It
would have been a quite harmless end of a conversation topic had Rei not looked up from her
spinach soup then.

“Pelican?” she asked, and it was clear in her tone that she didn’t know what dreadful
onslaught she was bringing about, which was just about the only thing that made Shinji
forgive her in that moment. Nevertheless, with one preparatory gulp of his lemonade,
Kaworu got into storyteller mode.

Chapter End Notes

Anyone remember chapter 16's pelican story bits? Yes, here it is again. Further reading:
Joy Williams's Baba Iaga and the Pelican Child.
 Chapter 31
Chapter Notes

This was quite amusing to write.

Also, after what was probably around the 105th debate with myself, the rating finally
changed. It feels much better this way. I probably would have done that earlier, but I
wanted to be sure, and that meant I had to get quite ahead with the character
development and stuff. Well.
Thanks for all the stuff you're saying and for sticking around, in general.
You're all very nice. Sorry for the upcoming philosophical chat.
Enjoy.

A week or so later, maybe even two, Shinji didn’t really know when and how he’d arrived in
front of the old theatre façade on a dry July afternoon. He was rather close to saying he didn’t
know why he was there, but he could almost hear his teachers remonstrating at the back of his
mind in face of such a thought. All things considered, the entire hellish auditions and casting
suddenly didn’t seem as grand after he’d gone through them alive. After all, how could they
be so, if even he passed them successfully?

So, letting his cello case keep him with his feet on the ground, Shinji pushed open the heavy
front door and stepped in a hall smelling mostly of old wood and dust, with wallpapers and
furniture evidently belonging to another century. The air was cold, after coming from outside,
and felt sterile in an abandoned sort of way, as if it wasn’t used to people gliding through it.
No overhead lights were turned on, even though the windows were heavily adorned with dust
and colourful mosaics and then framed by heavy, long drapes. Voices, if heard, had a distant
sort of echo.

It was kind of cosy, Shinji thought.

“Excuse me, I’m here for the orchestra...?” he turned to the doorkeeper, a rather bored- and
indifferent-looking person, thus making them raise their eyes from a thick register tome and
regard him for a moment. He was asked to sign his name and was then pointed to a side-door
in the far-right corner of the hall.

After a few wrong turns and asking a few cleaners to show him the right way, Shinji got to
what must have been the backstage of the theatre. Well, it’s not Nerv, he thought, noting the
lack of stairways, but neither is it The Phantom of the Opera, he added, noting the lack of
general pomp and chandeliers.

It was pure luck – and maybe some helpful input from the big cello case hanging over his
shoulder – which made someone observe him from behind a few old-looking, wooden cases,
with a call of “Orchestra?” and thus saving him from a wasted evening in an unknown
theatre.

A look of well-meant curiosity glinted in sun-streaked eyes. “So, what happened next?”

Shinji moved the straw around the big ice-cubes in his tea. “There were around twenty
people, had to make introductions, got a small history of the place to pass the time until the
conductor arrived, played a few numbers to get used to the sound there, got a temporary
schedule, got a talk about rigour and responsibility – for us students, I guess – and we got to
go at around eight.”

“Sounds exciting,” Kaworu grinned, rising his shoulders in open display of the sentiment.

Shinji leant back in his chair and took his tea with him. “I’m not sure that’s the word I
would’ve used. But it’s...,” he shrugged, “something.”

“Have you told Rei?”

Shinji took a gulp of his drink. “I tried to, but she was on the way home and couldn’t answer
her phone, so I left her a message.”

This was a new place they were in. A café that happened to have a shady table available
outside, with ivy hanging from the canopy, which made the sunlight only touch Kaworu’s
face in small, dissimilar patches. Shinji enjoyed the view, and felt no need to do anything
more.

“Dad sent me some curtains,” Kaworu suddenly said, making Shinji frown at him mid-sip.
“You left me a note saying that blue ones would be nice.”

Oh, that, Shinji noted, and a minute later looked up sharply. “You didn’t...?”

Seemingly sensing the danger of upcoming stress, Kaworu held up his hands. “No, don’t
worry, I merely asked if we had some. He found some of grandma’s, apparently, and sent
them to me. No trouble given.”

Shinji relaxed his shoulders a fraction, cradled his glass close to his chest and continued to
hold him under a suspicious gaze. “So now...?”

It was Kaworu’s turn to play with the ice in his glass. “I haven’t put them up yet. They’re a
bit long and seem hard to put up. I have to wash them first, though. I think I’ll just take them
to the Laundromat; my washing machine is kind of sensitive.”

“I see,” Shinji said and kept glancing from his tea to him and back again until Kaworu let out
a mock-exasperated sigh and put his glass down.

“Yes, you can help me,” he almost laughed, and Shinji had to bite back a laugh of his own
then.
Two days later, he was watching Kaworu sew the hem of his newly-clipped curtains and
coming to terms with the fact that, by comparison, he didn’t know how to use a needle.

“I just realised,” Kaworu started, without looking up from his handiwork, but also without
putting too much visible effort into it, which just hurt more. “I never asked how you came to
play the piano. Or the cello, for that matter.”

Shinji blinked at him, and then shook his shoulders, leant back on the couch. “A teacher
suggested the cello in primary school, and my aunt decided to take me to classes once a
week. It was pretty soon after mom died, so probably that was why.”

In his place on the floor beside his bed, Kaworu put down his needlework and regarded him.
“Did you like it, at first?”

Shinji went through the same uncertain motion. “I didn’t hate it. I guess. They just told me I
should, so I went along with it.” He offered Kaworu a helpless smile. “I’ve grown to like it,
in time. But. It’s not like I was good at it. I don’t have any talent for it. All this is just 15
years’ worth of practice.”

Kaworu reciprocated his smile, and picked up the needle again. “You’re a wonderful player,
all the same.” Even though he’d got a bit of it before, Shinji still wasn’t quite used to praise;
he felt his face warm up and found it quite hard not to attempt to call the words off. “I think
people put too much importance on talent when art is involved,” Kaworu continued,
graciously not looking up again. “It’s a romantic idea, but it also has the effect of putting
people down before they even give themselves a chance.”

“I was told it ought to motivate people,” Shinji said wryly, picking Tabris up from where she
was napping on the floor and taking her back with him to the couch for a grooming session.

At his words, Kaworu let out an amused, if just as dry, breath. “Did it motivate you?”

“Not really?” Shinji answered for the fun of it, putting on the grooming glove. Annoy and
dismay him? Plenty of times. Give him a sense of security in his mediocrity? Maybe once or
twice. He wasn’t an easily motivated person.

“It might, sometimes, I’m not saying it mightn’t,” Kaworu shrugged, turning the blue fabric
in his hands. “Mostly, however, it seems just to demean hard work. You’re not talented, so
you should work harder. If you had any talent, this would’ve come easier to you. You work as
hard as you can, but at the end of the day you’ll still be beneath true genius, so why even
try?” He cast Shinji an apologetic glance. “It’s not always like that. Everything needs work.
It’s just that most people view talent as a shortcut, and get bitter when they don’t have it.”

“—and the truly talented never think to look for it,” Shinji added, somewhat embarrassed by
his own poetics.

“Maybe,” Kaworu grinned. “Nonetheless, anyone can make something beautiful if they allow
themself to think it. Your music is really beautiful, and I love the way you play.”
“Yeah, I love you too,” Shinji smiled absent-mindedly at the cat in his lap.

It took another moment for his mind to catch up and to still his hand. He looked up, but
Kaworu was still sewing. Another moment, and he stopped too. Slowly, Kaworu looked up,
and their eyes met.

“Ah,” he said, softly, mouth remaining a little open afterwards. Shinji couldn’t look away if
he tried. It seemed to take an eternity for him to draw in a breath. “I love you back.”

Apparently, Tabris had no interest in remaining in Shinji’s lap if he was going to take so long
in between brushes. She jumped away and Shinji was left open, nothing shielding him from
Kaworu’s strange look of wonder, and nothing left for him to do than reciprocate it.

In the end, he smiled, tentatively, feeling a thousand things moving about in his chest, a buzz
that was almost pleasant; and his hands were tinglingly numb. It took a never-ending second
for Kaworu to smile back at him, but smile back he did, and it felt wonderful.

Then, he looked absently at the half-finished curtain in his lap, and carefully put it away. “I
think, before we take these out, I should do the rest of the laundry here,” he said, getting up
from the floor, and Shinji took off his grooming glove while being passively envious of some
people’s composure.

Doing just what he’d announced, Kaworu wandered around the apartment, picking forgotten
T-shirts and forlorn pillow cases, then made to go with them to the bathroom. Halfway
through, he paused in front of Shinji and bowed conversationally, only to press a warm kiss
on his mouth.

Afterwards, he remained close for a moment before pulling away completely, letting their
eyes meet, and Shinji recognised there a look not at all dissimilar from the one he’d given
him before their first kiss. It was faint and careful, almost as if he was checking to see if
Shinji was really there.

Shinji couldn’t imagine spacing out during these occasions, but he appreciated the check all
the same.

“And the piano?” Kaworu asked now from the bathroom, where he was kneeling in front of
the washing machine. Shinji leant a bit forward to catch a better glimpse of him, and once
again wondered how he’d found space for all that in such a tiny place.

“I took a few classes in middle school,” he recounted. It had mostly been because they were
free and he hadn’t been able to say no to the teacher in question. “Nothing professional,
though. Then I picked it up again in college.”

Kaworu turned to give him a grin. “What made you do that?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t like it that much in middle school, but it had been a while, and these
were mostly optional classes.” Once again, he hadn’t been able to say no to a professor’s
plea, but this time it had been with a more relaxed attitude.
“Oh, I think I know...,” Kaworu turned to add a few more T-shirts in the machine, and told
him a few facts about one of his former teachers. Shinji acknowledged that they were
thinking of the same person and indulged him in a few jokes. “They weren’t all that bad,
were they?” Kaworu finally asked, adding detergent.

“No, they were quite nice,” Shinji agreed, and dragged his feet up on the couch to keep him
company as Kaworu went back to his sewing. “I didn’t go this year because I thought I
would’ve been too busy with Nerv.”

“Well, you got some practice anyway,” Kaworu grinned in unblemished pride, and Shinji
gave him an amused look.

It took only half an hour more for the curtains to be deemed usable, though still dusty and
grimy. Kaworu held them up to the light with an expert look on his face. “I think they’re
nice.”

“They’re nice,” Shinji acquiesced, because they were blue and had nice, old, swirly white
patterns on them.

“Good,” and they were cheerfully dropped in a big paper bag, ready to be taken to the
laundrette. “It would probably be safer if we wait until the washer had done its number,
though. I don’t want to accidentally flood my downstairs neighbours.” He caught his gaze. “If
you care to stay a little bit longer.”

“I don’t mind,” Shinji waved a hand, taking the bag from him to touch the fabric. Rougher
than it looked.

“Okay. Any idea where Tabris went?”

Ever since she’d abandoned Shinji, letting him figure out his love life alone? “Balcony,”
Shinji said with a sigh, putting the bag away beside the entrance door.

Kaworu peeked outside. “There she is,” clenching and unclenching his hands. “My fingers
hurt.”

Well, it had been a titanic amount of sewing, Shinji considered, looking at him. Not that
Titans ever sewed anything, his mind continued. It was almost instinctual when he walked
back to Kaworu and took one of his hands in his, pressing down in between his knuckles and
then on his fingers and in the middle of his palm, a process he’d gone through more or less
regularly, whether out of pain or anxiety.

“That feels better,” Kaworu eventually said, after Shinji had started on his other hand.
“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” Shinji said, because, theoretically, it wasn’t. Then he remembered Asuka’s
world-weary lessons on human interaction and offered Kaworu a reconciliatory smile.
“You’re welcome.”
It got a small laugh out of him, and soon enough Kaworu was leaning their foreheads
together and holding onto his hands, as Shinji felt all the partly-suppressed feeling from
earlier come rushing back to his chest. He started kissing him almost without being aware of
it, thus adding proof to Kaworu’s need to do checks like the one before more often.

They kissed slowly, then deeply, then in between laughs as they almost stumbled over
Kaworu’s sewing kit. It would have maybe been a better idea to take a seat on the bed, but
nevertheless they ended up on the floor, with Kaworu leaning against it. It was comfortable
enough, especially since he had brought his reading pillows there while he’d sewn.

“If I lost a needle, I’m so sorry,” he said once he could, and Shinji got halfway through giving
him an outraged look before Kaworu kissed him again, wet lips gliding easily together as
Shinji let his arms go around his neck.

It felt just as good as it ever had, but this time they pulled back before the same feeling of
excess from last time could dampen their mood. Kaworu nuzzled his cheek a bit, interlocking
his hands behind his back, and Shinji pensively started trailing small kisses down his jaw.

They were small movements, barely there at first, then just warm presses of lips to skin, but
Kaworu’s hands pressed on the small of his back as a consequence. Shinji found that he quite
liked the feeling of his skin under his lips, in the same way that he liked holding his hand or
having him lean into his side while playing piano. It was just the same, but also a little
different, because they were so close now, and his heart was beating so fast.

Kaworu pressed his cheek to his hair, and Shinji slowly let his hands go from his neck to his
shoulders before picking his trail up again, this time down his throat. He kept the same pace,
even a little slower, nuzzling his skin a bit at times, but now the pressure on his back got
almost constant. He was quite undisturbed for a while, but then he involuntarily licked his
lips before pressing just another kiss on his neck, and felt Kaworu’s breath hitch in his chest.

It made him stop, but not quite pull away as he waited for any sign that he ought to. A hand
moved from where it held him close, tracing his spine and leaving goosebumps on its path,
fingers going through the short hair at the back of his head. Shinji leant into the touch, and
then kissed him again, this time consciously wetting his lips, and then once more, carefully,
and Kaworu let out a soundless breath, chest dipping underneath Shinji’s.

“Um,” Kaworu said, almost indistinctly, and Shinji was quite glad to stop and pull a decent
distance away. It looked like he was going to say something more to that, but, just when
Shinji braced himself for a reprimand, Kaworu started laughing, a nervous sound when
combined with the fact that he seemed to temporarily find the ceiling more noteworthy than
Shinji’s face. “I think—I’m going to be in a very awkward position very soon if we keep this
up,” he managed to say in between small puffs of laughter, finally making himself meet
Shinji’s eyes.

Shinji, who first gave him a worried and uncomprehending look, then a worried and
comprehending look once the meaning dawned on him. “I’m sorry.”

“No—it’s alright,” Kaworu breathed, hands moving soothingly or nervously over Shinji’s
shoulders. “I just, um...”
Shinji was kind of embarrassed himself; he hadn’t meant to do it in a sexual way, but he
didn’t know how to say that without it sounding like a complaint. Because, really, it was the
opposite of one. “Are you okay?”

This time, Kaworu stilled his hands and looked at him in mild surprise. “Yes. Of course. I just
thought it better to tell you—in case...” He made a face and Shinji imitated it, with only a
little bit more glumness added to it.

“I didn’t...,” he raised his shoulders and decided blank spaces would do the trick in this case.

Kaworu smiled. “That’s what I thought.” And at Shinji’s dubious look: “I didn’t, either.”

It went to show what closure did to someone. Shinji actually believed him. “I should get off
your lap, then,” he muttered, and Kaworu laughed.

“Like this, I don’t really mind it.”

It wasn’t a universally known fact, but Shinji had never before stepped inside a Coin Laundry
place and wasn’t all that confident in his skills concerning such a situation either. Of course,
he didn’t have to do anything, but he had his certain, warped sense of dignity, which decided
that he must.

After all, it’s not like I provided any help at all today. All sound reasons. Which was why he
was now staring unsurely at a washing machine, bag-o-drapes hanging from one hand.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” Kaworu tried for only the hundredth time from
the sidelines, and Shinji decidedly shook his head.

“I’ll do it myself,” he said with more conviction than he actually felt.

After that, Kaworu let him have some privacy with his washer and curtains, which would
have been rather nice of him, if it hadn’t meant utter failure on Shinji’s part.

Fifteen minutes later, Kaworu – freshly arrived from a brave quest for a coffee machine –
found him leaning against one of the place’s tables, glaring at a centrifugal door, with a damp
fringe and splotches of water on his T-shirt and jeans. Shinji almost turned the same glare on
him, as a warning not to hear any witty words, but it was a short-lived attempt.

“Good job,” Kaworu said without any visible traces of irony, looking at him like it was his
birthday come early and he’d been good all year, and not like Shinji had just lost a fight with
a washing machine.

“You can take care of the dryer later,” Shinji gave him a helpless smile, accentuated when a
few drops of water from his fair fell on his face.
 Chapter 32
Chapter Notes

Okay, so first of all, since I've been asked: playlist.

I tinkered a little with the last couple of songs, but it should be vaguely fine now.
It has more or less everything I used and some more over that. Well, except the audition
excerpts which are: here, here, and here.
Or well, they can be whichever you want, I guess.
Thank you for all the comments and messages, they were lovely.
This is the last summer chapter, by the way. Now we're left with three more or who-
knows-what.
Thanks for reading, and enjoy.

Asuka: Do you have ANY idea where the science museum is in this town?

Shinji: Here? No.

Asuka: Find out.

A little discontented by the probable tone of the message, Shinji looked up from his phone,
and at Kaworu, who was currently inspecting the few improvements that had occurred to his
personal library, while most probably ignoring the declining side of it. Shinji needed more
bookshelves, and he was aware of it.

“Do you know where the science museum is?” he asked.

More bookshelves or, at least, more storage space in general. With the mass of new sheets,
books and textbooks he'd acquired during the past academic year, everything seemed to be
drowning in one or another form of paper. Desk, window sill, coffee-/bedside-table;
everything was conscientiously stacked in bigger or smaller towers, granted, but that only
made it look more depressing. It bore not to think of the working space at all, since that one
was already an old tragedy, worthy of its own theatre and a couple movie adaptations.

Well, I like it, Kaworu had said, when he'd arrived less than an hour earlier, inspecting
everything from floor-level while Shinji was staring in desolation at his own personal
circle of Hell. Cosy, he'd continued, and Shinji had raised an eyebrow, wishing that the
stack of papers he'd towered on his topmost bookshelf would have chosen that moment
to collapse and prove his unspoken point.

It's a fire hazard, he had said instead.

Not more than any other room I've seen, Kaworu had countered, rather stirring in Shinji
a terrified curiosity to find out what other rooms he'd been exposed to in his short life.
“Science museum?” Kaworu turned this time, a Renaissance music history book in his hands.
Shinji widened his eyes in apprehension at it, wondering where exactly it had been taken
from and whether its displacement would ensue any collapse in his room's foundation. “I
think so, it's in the far-northern side of town. That one?”

Shinji shrugged to show his total lack of knowledge with regards to the subject, and lowered
his gaze back at his phone, bringing it back to life.

Shinji: Far north.

Asuka: VERY helpful. Totally outstanding. Learn the way by next week.

“Do you want to go?”

“Not particularly,” Shinji muttered.

Staring at his phone with knitted eyebrows, he decided not to follow that up with anything,
text-wise. He registered Kaworu lying down on the floor at the foot of his bed, legs crossed
and sunflower-patterned socks on display, and he absently wondered what it was about him
and floors for a moment.

It was just before noon on a Saturday, at the beginning of August, and all the other
inhabitants of the house had left for the countryside early in the morning. Empty house or
not, Kaworu was due to come around 11 anyway, so there had been no illegal smuggling
involved on Shinji's part.

“We haven't been somewhere in a while...,” Kaworu mused quietly. Shinji guessed he meant,
like, an actual place, with potential entrance fees. That might have been true; it hadn’t
happened since they went to the botanical gardens.

“Yeah,” Shinji agreed, and cushioned his chin in his hands. “Maybe we should,” he tried, and
got a low agreeing hum in return.

However, maybe not before that thing, he cautiously added in his head. That thing being,
more explicitly, the thing he’d mentally worked on since the end of the school year. He’d
been looking for the right restaurant for weeks, even asked around. It was important. He’d
promised himself to take Kaworu out on a nice dinner, after all.

Still, that was a thought to chew on later, when habit wouldn’t put him in danger of asking
Kaworu his own impression on where his surprise date should take place. Shinji knew
himself just well enough to know he’d do that if left unattended.

Instead, he fixed his attention on the present-moment Kaworu at his feet, vaguely
contemplating joining him on the floor. Turning a blind eye to the green-and-yellow socks,
one would have been able to observe that, on that day, Kaworu’s outfit was quite subdued,
pale grey jeans and dark grey T-shirt.

Shinji was thinking that it was pretty rare to see Kaworu in dark colours altogether. It brought
something else to mind. “Are you going back to the coffee shop soon?”
Kaworu was leafing through another book he'd found lying around – meaning under Shinji's
bed. “Mhm, next week, or the week after. Depends on how the others are taking their days
off.”

“Short holiday,” Shinji stated, watching him turn the pages. He did it in a rather careful, but
easy way. Shinji thought that that was the way he did most things, after all.

“You could say that, but I like it there, and I'll only be going there part-time now. It helps
with my sleep schedule, at least,” Kaworu stopped his browsing to look up at him with a
smile.

Shinji could only relate by opposition. After all, during what free time he’d had this summer,
he’d managed the amazing feat or raising his sleeping quota from 4 hours per night to 6, with
8 on good days and 10 when it rained. Granted, the last two had only happened once each,
but he felt rather good about it. He could only view the approaching academic year with
mistrust and apprehension.

Shinji smiled back. “I haven’t had coffee in a while,” he tried, and it positively made
Kaworu’s face brighten up.

The following week, he was just on the point of stress-calling a restaurant to make a
reservation when Asuka’s name flashed on the screen. Shinji almost let out a relieved breath,
and then got annoyed because he couldn’t make a reservation by e-mail.

He answered the call after just another wry look at the web page. “It’s settled,” Asuka said
after not too many introductory syllables.

Shinji pondered for a moment whether he was supposed to prompt her ahead so early into the
conversation. In the end, he decided to stay on the safe side. “What is?” he asked, raising one
leg on his desk chair, just to have something to lean on.

“Our stay. Mari talked with some relatives and apparently they have more space to spare than
your aunt,” she explained while Shinji flicked through different tabs on his laptop, hoping
that at least one of his Plan Bs and Cs would accept online booking.

He blinked once her sentence ended. “Oh. That’s great. Are you coming soon?”

“Yeah,” and he heard her suppress a yawn. “In two days. We’ll take the morning train.”
Shinji closed half of his tabs in disapproval. “Listen, I’ve got to get settled and see Hikari on
the first two days, but we’ll meet after that, alright?”

“Yes?” Shinji replied, a little taken aback. “Of course. You don’t have to—worry about it.”
He hoped he hadn’t drastically shortened his life by using that word.

“Okay, thanks,” she said, and then made a pause just long enough for Shinji to find the
necessary Plan A tab again. “Have you found out where exactly that museum is?”
“Er, not exactly—,” he made a face, playing with a wayward pen on his desk. “I looked it up
and got a general idea, and Kaworu knows where it is, but I don’t actually know how to get
there.”

Eh, I didn’t intend to do that, Shinji grimaced; because it had rather seemed to him like an
unspoken agreement not to mention Kaworu in any of their talks, ever since he’d visited. He
had been right, though. It still didn’t feel all that good to add that into the conversation.

For a while, he’d feared that it signalled something fundamentally wrong with his way of
thinking. Then, he’d reasoned that he just wasn’t comfortable with sharing something he felt
so intimate about with someone outside of it. He wasn’t totally convinced that that made it all
alright, though. Still, there were probably enough worse things about him than this.

If only there was some way to do this, and not make it seem like a big deal.

“Well, then, take him as a guide,” Asuka suddenly pulled him out of it with such strength that
inertia pushed him back against his chair.

“Excuse me?” and, it needs saying, Shinji didn’t use that particular array of words on a daily,
casual basis.

Asuka seemed uncharacteristically unperturbed. “I’m leaving Mari on your hands for a day
while I’m meeting Hikari,” she graciously explained. “I don’t think she’ll mind the
company.” Shinji was on the point of spluttering some incoherency when he heard a muffled
exchange of words. “Yes, she says she doesn’t mind,” the clearer variant of Asuka’s voice
came back to him.

“I, um...,” he worried his lower lip for a moment, then oxygenated his brain a little. What are
you so worried about?, his mind mercifully inquired. “Okay.”

“Sure?” she asked, and Shinji made an affirmative sound. “Great, then you two can arrange
the rest of the details together. I need a nap.”

It took three more days for said details to be arranged, and Shinji had successfully used that
time to prepare the last details of his mystery date. He hadn’t earned a lot at Nerv, but what
was left of it ought to be just enough. It made him feel a little better about not telling Kaworu
about his birthday; and about being himself in general.

It ought to be nice. He’ll like it, Shinji thought, checking one last time the finer details of it.
Granted, final details meant, here, the existence of a good GPS and, just in case, a pocket
map.

He struggled to keep that thought in mind, unchanged. There were five more days to go, and
he was waiting by the side of the road on a very sunny street; waiting for Mari, in general,
and also for Kaworu, who’d notified him about some problems with the subway.
He would have said it was unexpected for Mari to arrive first of the two, but he remembered
that they hadn’t actually ever hung out before, so he couldn’t know.

“I don’t remember it being so sunny here,” she said with a grin, keeping a hand on her broad-
brimmed hat to keep the wind from taking it off.

Having been forced to wear only T-shirts for the past month, Shinji could relate to that. “It
sometimes happens.”

She joined him on the high concrete bench he’d appropriated beside the bus station.
Everything about her seemed bubbly, or at least wavy, Shinji observed. From her giant, peach
hat to her flowery harem trousers. It lifted his spirits.

“Am I early?” she asked. Shinji looked at his phone, and acquiesced. She gave a low whistle.
“That hasn’t happened in a while,” then she turned to him, ecstatic. “I heard you got a job!”

Shinji blinked, then smiled in embarrassment and looked across the street. “It’s not really a
job. I’m still on trial.”

The news didn’t seem to deter her. “How is that going, then?”

A shrug. “Pretty alright, I guess. It’s a little scary, and the conductor is strict, but... I think I’m
doing fine.”

It took another few seconds for Shinji to turn his eyes back to her, but when he did she was
giving him a very warm, almost prideful smile. “Look at you,” she said, teasingly. “All
grown up and stuff.”

He made a face, and he would have probably made some sarcastic remark at that, but he felt a
hand on his shoulder and that drew his attention elsewhere. “Sorry I’m late,” Kaworu said,
having arrived from the opposite direction of the one Shinji expected him to.

“You’re on time, actually.” He scrunched up, habitually ignoring the stylised watermelons on
Kaworu’s T-shirt, then glanced at the street behind them. “Where...?”

“I took the first bus in sight and then ran a bit,” Kaworu said with breathy words, before
looking over at Mari with a grin. “Hello again.”

“Hey-hey,” Mari grinned back, waving from under her hat.

Shinji was left to trace uncomprehending glances in between them. “Again?”

Grins sunnier than the weather turned his way at the same time. Shinji really needed some
protection.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” Mari asked, and that question never bode well on anyone’s lips.
Shinji slightly got into defensive mode.

As a result, he turned a lost glance upon Kaworu. “We met at the coffee shop yesterday. I
figured I’d tell you today,” he mercifully explained.
“We got there quite by accident, though,” Mari picked it up from there. “We had got off the
train earlier than expected, so here would have been no one at home yet to unlock the door
for us, so we thought we’d kill some time on the streets and we ended up there,” she finished,
then seemed to remember something and clapped her hands once. “He offered us quite a
bargain with the frappes and cheesecakes, though.”

He did? Shinji raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

Kaworu smiled. “I’m allowed to, for people I know.” Shinji raised a second eyebrow.
“You’ve been there once... in winter,” he explained slowly, as if to awaken his memories.

It worked. “With Asuka?” he was quite taken aback. “You remembered her?”

“Hard not to,” Kaworu shook his shoulders, and was immediately fixed with two curious
stares. Once aware of it, he raised his hands defensively. “I meant that in the best way
possible!”

That occasioned a laugh from Mari, and even Shinji sketched a smile.

After they’d arrived at what was stated to be the correct bus station, and consequently got on
what was stated to be the correct bus, Mari took a moment to turn and take a long look at
Kaworu. “Hey, you’re pretty!”

Conscientiously holding on to a rail, Kaworu looked taken aback at first, before schooling his
features into a small smile. “Ah, thank you.”

Shinji didn’t quite know what the world expected of him in this situation. “Didn’t you say
you’d met him yesterday?”

This time, Mari gave him a meaningful look. “I had temporarily misplaced my glasses at the
time. I had to guide myself by voice and smell.” He didn’t have time for another weird stare;
Mari had turned to Kaworu again. “And I like your shirt.”

Shinji pressed his mouth shut; there was nothing left to say when Kaworu was beaming like
that.

They found the science museum with little to no problem, even if the ride there, with the
three busses they had to change, had taken close to two hours. It had been two productive
hours, at least, with Mari babbling all sorts of stuff about the engineering projects they’d had
to do at university, and asking questions, and making Shinji go through a detailed explanation
of the theatre’s first show, and then getting more acquainted with Kaworu, prompting him to
tell them funny stories from his group projects, and so on.

Shinji’s head was kind of swimming by the end of it, his quota of words running quite low,
but the museum proved to be full – cluttered, even – of things, unknown and impressive stuff
all around, so there was no real space left to talk. From time to time, Mari offered some trivia
or explanations, if the display in question was related to her own work. Apart from that, they
were content enough to just read the plates on the walls and sometimes run quite close to
tourist groups in order to see if they could catch any words from their guides.

“We should have sent a cat to the moon instead,” Mari said at some point, examining a giant
rocket ship outline hanging from the ceiling. She was probably having too much fun, being
the tallest person in their group. Not by much, but since she held one arm over each of their
shoulders, it kinda felt like it.

Kaworu analysed the overhanging model too, inclined his head to the side. “I don’t think that
would have been very smart. They would have devoured any hypothetical life forms before
the astronauts arrived.”

“No life forms of any kind on the moon, else I would have gone there long ago,” Mari
responded. “Now I’m putting my bets on Venus.”

“Better Jupiter’s Europa,” Shinji said, because old hobbies die hard and he still kind of
believed there was a monolith and vague tentacly aliens over there. “Or Iapetus,” he added,
because at least that would have been interesting and transcendental.

One moment he was walking, the next he was having his hair forcefully ruffled by Mari.
“Nerd,” she said with feeling and disentangled herself to walk ahead of them. “Still,” she
started again. “Cats in space.”

“I don’t think my cat would appreciate a place with such a big lack of gravity,” Kaworu said,
tentatively helping Shinji untwist the bird’s nest she had created on his head.

At that, Mari twirled on the spot and fixed him with a knowing and triumphant gaze. “You’re
the owner of the Viking cat!”

Shinji found himself slowly drawing his hair back over his face, but Kaworu stilled his hand
before he got too far. “That’s me,” he further acquiesced with a grin.

“Oh, I’m such a big fan,” Mari literally mirrored his grin, and in between them Shinji felt like
the world’s gloomiest spot. Then she came back to their side and the solar radiations were
almost unbearable. “Tell me more.”

Kaworu really loved his cat. Shinji was amazed he didn’t have a few pictures of her in his
wallet. It was not a big matter, however, since before long he got out his phone and proved to
have a year and a half’s worth of photos there.

Then Mari was talking about something or other Asuka had done or said, not quite of the
falling-in-the-lake-while-fishing magnitude, but close enough. “I don’t think she particularly
likes me...,” Kaworu had added as a footnote, mostly for Shinji’s ears, but Mari turned to him
too.
“Nonsense, she likes you,” she said with a reassuring smile. Kaworu made a very eloquent
facial expression of the words: She does? “Or, well,” Mari seemed to think, “I know for a fact
she at least likes the idea of you.”

“The idea of me...,” Kaworu muttered, quite lost.

Shinji was quite equally lost, although knowing the meaning of it. “That’s a good thing,” he
still explained for Kaworu, holding his hand just a little tighter. It didn’t come as a quite big
surprise that Kaworu seemed to immediately trust him on it. He was learning.

It wasn’t until they were waiting in front of the museum for Mari to finish getting souvenirs
for various laboratory partners that the most fragile subject was broached.

“You said something about going somewhere in five days?” Kaworu asked inoffensively, and
Shinji felt his palms start to sweat a little.

He consequently put them in his pockets. “Yeah, um. In the evening.”

“Anything I gotta prepare for it?” It was some sort of providence that Kaworu didn’t ask the
more obvious questions.

“No,” Shinji said, looking at the people milling about, in and out of the museum. “Well, uh,
maybe some dress clothes.”

“Alright.” Then there was a pause, and when Kaworu spoke next he sounded fairly more
amused. “Are you going to pick me up?”

“Yes,” Shinji said, pressing on the word as a reaction to said amusement, and then glancing at
Kaworu’s face. “Why are you grinning?” Really, the world was unfair.

It didn’t stop Kaworu from grinning, though. “Because I’m excited.”

About the time Shinji got out of the subway station, the first drops started to fall. Naturally,
since it hadn’t rained in weeks. Naturally, since I planned this, he corrected. Like so, before
calling up Kaworu’s apartment he stopped beside the entrance to call up a cab.

When Kaworu joined him in waiting for it to come, Shinji had only the dying light of the sun
to analyse him by, but still he was surprised. Not to say impressed.

“I, uh, you...ah,” he efficiently expressed his opinion.

Kaworu smiled, looked down at his perfectly acceptable combo of white shirt, grey waistcoat
and black trousers, and then back at Shinji. “You didn’t think I could do it?”

It seemed rude for Shinji to agree. Really, he had rather expected some glow-in-the-dark
accessories, at least. Of course, he wasn’t complaining. “Er, well. You look nice.”
“Thank you. You look nice, too.”

Shinji wondered what kind of state of mind it took for one to be able to swap compliments so
easily. He resisted pulling a little at his own black waistcoat, and looked down the road.

“Are we going?” Kaworu asked, and then looked around too. “Ah, I didn’t notice it was
raining. Should I...?”

“No, I ordered a taxi,” Shinji said while watching the car slow down. His heart was maybe
beating a little too quickly.

It kicked up a notch when they eventually got out of the car, and almost threatened to jump
out and throw itself in a ditch when they were accosted by the first waiter, but luckily they
were taken to a pretty sheltered table afterwards, which helped his nerves considerably. His
breathing calmed down too, once they were left for a long enough time with their various
menus.

While they waited for the hors-d'oeuvre, Kaworu crossed his arms over the table, seemingly
admiring the chandeliers and giant potted plants and tall, dark windows all around. Other
diners were in sight too, eating, chatting and drinking without a care for them, but Shinji was
quite happy to think of the ficus tree beside him as a shield anyway.

“This is a really lovely place,” Kaworu said, a dreamy smile on his lips. There was something
dull and heavy pressing on Shinji’s chest at the sight, but he didn’t worry about it. He knew
what it was, after all. “I haven’t been to such a place since dad took me out for my 18th
birthday. Well, that one wasn’t quite as nice.”

Lucky, he has experience, Shinji thought with the relief of one who’d had to study everything
online beforehand. “Was that a long time ago?” he asked without being really serious about
it.

“Three years next month,” Kaworu answered with a grin. Shinji calculated. Now he also had
the month. He struggled and failed to get the day out of him too while they ate their small
tart-shaped starters.

They had managed to go through that without actually ordering any alcohol, but by the time
the waiter came to ask them about the main course even Kaworu seemed kind of intimidated
by the persistent wine questions, and so they agreed to one glass each. If anything, it served
to mollify the waiter after the shock received by their refusal of poultry.

While waiting for whatever veggie-hell they were being prepared, Kaworu fixed his tall glass
of white wine with helpless distrust. “I, uh... have to tell you, I’m really bad at handling this
stuff.”
Shinji gave the glass an equally powerless look. “I think you can trick the waiter if you drink
it really slowly.”

It got a nod. “Better not all of it, though.”

Consequently, Shinji watched each small sip while being on his guard, but not so much that
he’d feel uncomfortable. Once the main course was deposited in front of them and they were
subsequently left alone for the entirety of it, it was quite pleasant.

It helped that neither of them was especially good at guessing what exactly they were eating
– with the exception of the mushrooms on Shinji’s plate, which he could always identify –
and it was quite good, all in all.

“I’m guessing this has a lot of cheese,” Kaworu ventured, holding his fork like a medieval
weapon.

Shinji glanced at his plate too, took a gulp of water. “You’re probably right.” After staring
down a small, powerless mushroom, he finally made himself try it.

All things considered, Kaworu didn’t seem to be in pain. Shinji wasn’t sure why that had
been a possible outcome of this night in his mind, but he had decided temporarily to stop
trying to understand himself. No; Kaworu seemed to be just fine.

Shinji also kind of appreciated the way he looked in a waistcoat, but that was superfluous
information for his brain. He took another mouthful, this time of wine.

“There’s a string quartet,” Kaworu suddenly said, and Shinji looked up so fast one might
have thought he’d been called out in class. “Getting ready on the tiny stage over there,” came
the explanation and, yes, that was right.

“That’s nice,” Shinji said distantly, looking at the assembly.

He’d had to turn back, because Kaworu was taking another sip of wine. “It’s very nice,” he
said around his glass and Shinji wondered whether he was imagining the undertone.

Around dessert, Shinji’s glass was empty, and he decided to just nurse his water for the rest of
the evening. Thankfully, there was still some wine left in Kaworu’s. Shinji wondered whether
he’d exaggerated earlier or if he really ought to make sure it remained there.

They weren’t too finicky; they just ordered two crème brûlées. Overall, Shinji thought he
could go through this night without getting into debt for life.

“I think dad had an aunt who always made these tiny, tiny tarts,” Kaworu talked with a
relaxed smile on his lips, carefully examining the golden crust with a spoon. “With grapes, or
raspberries, or cranberries on top, you know.”
Having just taken a first spoonful of his dessert, Shinji was making an astounding effort not
to vociferate his love for it. “I only managed to make a large-scale one, once.” It had been a
very stressful day, and his finals were approaching; maybe senior year in high school.

“Really?” Kaworu raised his eyes to his, and there was probably too much admiration in
them. “That’s great. I’d really like to see that.”

“No pictures were taken, for fear of mass publication,” Shinji said sheepishly, and delighted
passively in the wide grin it caused. “Maybe some other day,” he offered.

Kaworu was moments away from trying the culinary miracle on his plate. “Some other day
sounds perfect,” he decreed, and raised the spoon to his lips.

The look on his face had been worth waiting for. Shinji fought to keep his smile in check.
Having thus been initiated in the secret of a five-star dessert, they only spoke in snippets
while they enjoyed it. The music they’d been provided with was quite pleasant too, and it had
only taken a few hours, but Shinji was finally feeling quite relaxed.

Maybe too relaxed, since later, while waiting for the check, he hadn’t been attentive enough
to stop Kaworu from emptying his glass.

Huge overstatement. That was what Shinji thought about his warnings once they were on the
way back home. The weather was quite pleasant; chill, but not raining anymore, even if the
streets were soaked. It had urged them to go by foot, which was what they were doing now.

He’s just the same as ever, he continued, glancing sideways at Kaworu and his lack of
tipsiness. After all, he wasn’t sure he could even imagine a Kaworu who was not sober. The
most peculiar thing he’s done today was letting me pay, Shinji conceded. Now that had been
a fight he hadn’t been expecting to win so easily.

They went on walking for a while, hands holding to each other lightly or fleetingly, and
words just bouncing aimlessly off the pavement, the buildings, the lamp posts, splashing
metaphorically into the rain puddles they were trying to dodge. It was a pretty new thing he’d
learnt lately, this talking without having much to say; it made him feel kind of light.

Oh, well, maybe there was something. There were not enough cars on the street to make
splattering a real danger, but less than an hour later they began feeling the danger of getting
drenched in a whole new way. In several small, drop-shaped new ways. Shinji glanced up at
the black sky, but felt it rather redundant to look angry.

His strenuously-achieved suit had done its job for the time being. It could undergo as much
rainwater as it desired now. He only felt kind of bad about Kaworu’s; it was a nice one. Or,
well, it was pretty generic, but Shinji refused to be cheesy enough to say he just enjoyed
seeing him in it. Definitely refusing that.
Still, on a vaguely adjacent line of thought, maybe he’d been too hasty in deeming that glass
of wine harmless.

As the rain intensified, Kaworu spread out his arms as if urging it to come faster, made a
theatrical twirl in the middle of the deserted sidewalk, and faced Shinji with a childishly
satisfied grin on his face.

His hair is sticking to his face, was the only think Shinji’s mind supplied as his heart did a
few loops of affection. When Kaworu extended him a hand, he stared at it with an
uncomprehending smile. Kaworu kept it there, still.

“I was thinking,” he started, and Shinji carefully took hold of his fingers. Slippery. Rain.
Growing colder. “I know you mentioned once that you don’t,” fingers pulled at his, and
Kaworu started taking a few steps backwards, so they would keep of facing each other. “But I
kind of want to.”

The same incomprehension remained on Shinji’s face, but it was a novel thing in that it didn’t
scare him. What’s the worst that could happen? he would have asked himself on any other
optimistic day. Today, he didn’t wonder, but just waited for an answer. He could barely feel
the rain.

Kaworu’s grin took a softer tone, and he started dragging him closer, only to twirl once more
at the last moment, making Shinji’s feet skip on the pavement. “What?” he asked, but felt
almost like laughing.

“Just for a little while,” Kaworu continued being unhelpful, pulled Shinji closer, turned again.

I really shouldn’t have let you have that entire glass to yourself, Shinji started to muse, but
stopped halfway through because he realised Kaworu was trying to dance with him. He could
have really, really laughed.

The third movement was starting, but this time Shinji reached out and took Kaworu’s other
hand in his. It could theoretically provide more balance, but it wasn’t what he had been going
for. He shifted it to his shoulder. That ought to do it.

“We’re never speaking of this,” he said, because he had to stay in character, after all.

Kaworu laughed enough for him too, and then lead them through a very clumsy, very soggy
waltz through more puddles than Shinji deemed physically possible. There ought to have
been some laws broken in order to achieve that.

He never stopped to think that he’d never danced before in his life, managed to get around it
somehow.

A few turns, and Kaworu barely avoided knocking into a lamppost, and then they left
twirling in favour of a few less dizzying numbers; among others: artistic jumps in puddles
and presumably also artistic wobbly half-hugs.
He maybe thought that it was really lucky there were no cars going down the street. Also,
that he really ought to prepare Kaworu a huge pot of tea before going home, just to be sure.

Kaworu seemed like he really wanted to, so, in the midst of a sudden stronger outburst of
rainwater, Shinji let himself grin and held up his hand, letting him spin once under it. Well, it
made him happy.

Still, not once did he think that he’d one time vowed never to take a step that was anything
less than necessary (He was clumsy enough while walking; no need to embarrass himself
further by caricaturing art.).

Instead, he made sure he told Kaworu just what he thought of his theatre kid mentality; still,
he never let him go.
 Chapter 33

As he’d previously stated, Shinji dreaded autumn. Hardly had they reached the middle of
September when his sleep schedule fell off the top shelf, bumped into several vases on the
way down, and finally smashed in a million sharp little pieces on the ground.

Shinji was sleepy; but he could manage.

Unlike what he’d hoped, his weekly intake of coffee didn’t seem to rise with the start of the
new academic year. It had 90% to do with him not going to Nerv anymore and 10% with his
incapacity to find a good coffee shop around the theatre. Everything that he seemed to find
there were flower or antique shops, sometimes both included in one.

It was pleasant, though. Well, actually, it was terrifying and stressful and Shinji forgot almost
daily to remind himself that, hey, it wasn’t the Olympics, and that nobody had especially
complained about his playing so far. Still, it was kind of good too, because at least now he
dedicated all the coffee-brewing and –buying time to doing something he actually – liked. If
not liked 24/7, then at least to something he was decently good at and which was kind of
productive too, career-wise.

Violoncello Olympics would have been a sight to see, though. He could maybe get one coffee
per week now, if he played his cards right and kept a steady schedule – which, most of the
time, didn’t quite work out for him, but he gave it his best shot nevertheless. Well, he tried to,
at least.

What with the sudden large amount of classes and the shifted and halved work hours,
Kaworu wasn’t quite as easy to stumble upon this year. The change wasn’t all that drastic,
since even before they only saw each other fleetingly at the café at most thrice a week, a rate
which now had been reduced to once a week. At most, Shinji kinda missed the aleatory half-
walk home.

There remained other things, though.

The University of Social Sciences looked far more modern and bigger than Shinji thought it
had any right to be. Or, what did he know; he was basically an art student. He remembered
Kaworu saying that it was a conjoined campus, or something like that, along with the
Psychology and History Departments. Shinji didn’t know which one he was supposed to fear
more, or even if there was any need for fear to come into the equation.

He only had theory courses that day, so he felt quite inconspicuous as he glided through the
college grounds without his cello case on his shoulder. It was a new experience, this first
visit, but nothing groundbreaking, he decreed, as he remarked that, yes, the students here
seemed more talkative, but hardly more threatening. It’s different when one knows there is no
handy clarinet to smash one’s head with.
Shinji was indeed embellishing college life, but having quite a good time with it.

It was around 10 am and he had two hours to spare and an opera ticket to procure. Halfway
through, he stopped to wonder whether the Sociology building was more likely to be the one
with a lot of smoked glass windows, the one covered in beige sandstone, or the brown one
covered in what looked like a really awkward mural.

Taking out his phone, he typed that exact same question and sent it to Kaworu. While waiting
for a reply to come, Shinji looked around, taking in the tall and yellow-leafed birch trees and
making an unimpressed face at the wind that had been gradually raising its strength since the
day before. It was pretty cloudy, but he thought he might have overdone it with both the
cardigan and the coat he’d put on that morning.

Kaworu: Third entrance to the left of the weird mural one. Go in, there’s no check.

Well, obviously, Shinji hadn’t been questioned even when he had passed the guard at the front
gate. By now, anything would have been superfluous. He went to the sandstone one and
observed how, up close, they had apparently had some smoked glass to spare from the other
one.

Still, milling students all around; he went in.

It wasn’t hard to spot Kaworu, since for a week or so it had been sweater weather. Well, okay,
it wasn’t so bad this time. It was an indigo one with small boats on it. It looked quite cute.
Shinji worried that he’d built some kind of immunity.

“Sorry, I was caught up in class,” Kaworu said as soon as they found an empty corner in
which they could make the ticket transaction.

Shinji watched him pull out a penguin-patterned notebook out of his backpack. “Which
class?”

“Media and Popular Culture,” was the answer, coming alongside a shiny-looking ticket.
Shinji placed it carefully in one of the books he carried in his bag. “Quite interesting, after
you get over the constant pain of 8 am classes,” Kaworu said with a grin that didn’t quite
mollify his words. “Was the way here tedious?”

“Not really,” Shinji pushed his hands in his coat’s pockets, letting his eyes roam over the hall
around them. A lot of glass, not enough illumination, and quite modern-looking; they even
had an interior garden.

“Chances of rain?”

Glancing at him, Shinji raised an eyebrow. “As big as they always are?”

“Right.” Kaworu seemed to deflate. Shinji continued looking at him. “I was pretty scattered
this morning,” started the explanation, accompanied with an embarrassed look. “There was a
disagreement over the last cup of milk between me and Tabris, and it lasted more than it
should have. So, essentially, I forgot my umbrella,” he shrugged, helplessly. “Also my coat.”
An equally helpless look lay on Shinji’s face too, at the moment. Then he sighed and passed
his bag to Kaworu.

“I’m still getting used to the new schedule,” Kaworu said apologetically.

Shinji was in the process of taking off his coat. “Me too. Two days ago I was halfway to the
Conservatory when I remembered it was Sunday.” He handed his coat to Kaworu too and
went on.

“Sorry,” Kaworu said, watching him; a possible sorry you’re such an airhead you end up
making your life four times more difficult than it already is. Not really, that was just Shinji.
With Kaworu, it usually only meant sorry you had such a bad day and I hope you got some
rest in the end. Really, he was too much. “It will get better before long. Etched into the bone,
that kind of thing.”

When Shinji gave him a weird look, he only smiled. “Well, hopefully,” Shinji sighed, passing
him his cardigan too, and taking back his coat. “Uh, thanks for the ticket, by the way,” and,
coat back on, he took his bag back too.

“Not at all. I’ll arrive around Act 2, if all goes well.”

Shinji nodded; he wasn’t really sure what they were going to see, but if Kaworu was willing
to run through the city at night to be in time to see half of it, it ought to be good; or terrifying;
or an utter mystery.

Still quite safe from the roaming students all around, he watched Kaworu put on his cardigan.
It went to show there wasn’t such a big difference between them; it was equally large on him
too. However, Kaworu seemed quite delighted with how long and loose the sleeves were,
reaching down to his knuckles.

A frown formed on Shinji’s face. “Don’t be cute.”

Which, looking back on it, was like telling rain not to be wet, but he digressed. A surprised
look was directed towards him, and then Kaworu bit his lips in an attempt not to smile. It had
the opposite effect of what Shinji had asked of him.

“At least I don’t have dimples,” was the low-voiced retort, and Shinji had a moment to look
outraged before Kaworu grinned. “Thank you.”

Shinji could hardly believe he’d survived a year of this.

The opera thing proved to be a surreal mix of mime, dance, and some weird psychological
images; it had been quite good. It took a little over a week for Shinji to get back his cardigan,
however, and when he did it smelt like whatever childhood dreams Kaworu’s detergent was
made of. Shinji really ought to do something about his weird fixation with it. At some other
time, though.

Kaworu didn’t know his way around bookshops, Shinji realised halfway through September.
This conclusion had been reached at the end of a longer process. It had started with a text,
announcing an unexpected delivery of things to Kaworu’s apartment. It was followed by a
series of photos, all showing four or five suspicious-looking boxes now deposited on his
floor.

Accordingly, an extra couple of photos had been of Tabris, dramatically and emphatically
lying on one of them with her belly to the skies.

It had continued with a few explanations about how the boxes contained old books and music
albums and how they were a gift from his relatives’ respective attics. Shinji’s vague feeling
had been that they had just wanted to get rid of a few old things. Kaworu had laughed the
suspicion off, though, saying, although a little ironically, that they were only being nice.

Still, there was no place for all of them to stay at Kaworu’s place, so they had eventually
decided to look up a few second-hand bookshops and go on a little pilgrimage, backpacks full
of books. At first, it had gone well, since the first few stops consisted of tiny rooms full of
nice old books and run by nice old people.

It only got confusing once they reached the larger shops. And here the realisation had struck
Shinji. “How do you usually find anything?” he asked after Kaworu expressed a disquieting
amount of surprise at the fact that the alphabetical order was marked on the shelves
themselves too.

At that, Kaworu had the decency to look sheepish. “Online orders and libraries?”

Shinji pulled a face, and then helped him carry his goods to the exchange room anyway.
Truth be told, the only reason he was more acquainted with bookshops than Kaworu was that
he’d spent half his high school years drifting through them. They were large enough, and
quiet enough, and distracting enough to dull his mind every now and then. And, of course,
since he had been looking for a distraction back then, it went without saying that he’d learn
the bookshelves top to bottom.

Shinji wasn’t really sure why he hadn’t tried to get a small job in one of them, just pointing
people to where various books were. Probably due to lack of qualification; and, granted,
social anxiety.

“We’re almost done,” Kaworu announced after what had looked like a nice chat with one of
the employees, from afar. “Can we hang around a bit after that?”

Shinji shrugged; it was his only weekly free day, and there were worse ways to spend it than
teaching Kaworu how to approach bookshelves.

“Brontë?” Kaworu looked at an upper shelf, full of burgundy and golden hardbacks.

Shinji was analysing a rather ruffled-looking cloth-bound poetry book. “Depends on which
one.”
Kaworu took one off the shelf, and then went back to hovering over the next. “Shelley?”

“Same,” he said without looking up. Kaworu took another book, yet again without soliciting
further clarification. “Are you gambling?” Shinji felt justified enough to ask.

“Maybe.” Then he had to swallow down his laughter. “Eliot?”

“Sa—,” Shinji stopped, closed his book and gave him an incredulous look. “Are you doing it
on purpose?”

Even at his worst, Kaworu still hardly seemed to look anything worse than vaguely innocent.
“You got me. Here,” he displayed the books he’d gathered.

Mistrustfully, Shinji looked them over. Well, they were mostly the ones he would have
picked. “Other Brontë,” he however clarified.

Kaworu picked the erroneous choice out of his hands, and looked at it apologetically. “I
thought you’d like gloomy.”

“That’s not gloomy, it’s distressing.” He ought to know, he’d had a more pleasant time even
while reading Frankenstein.

There was the lightest crease in between Kaworu’s eyebrows, and he was still analysing the
cover, as if trying to bring back any deeper memories of the plot. “Point,” he eventually said,
countenance relaxing. He turned back to the shelf, and went on. “Dumas?”

That, Shinji could deal with. “Yes,” he joined Kaworu in his exploration. It took another
thought and, “I thought you were not buying anything.” They had just, after all, managed to
get rid of several dozen books.

Kaworu smiled and glanced his way. “I changed my mind, seeing as it is my birthday.”
Shinji’s outraged look, if anything, only seemed to make him glow brighter. “I’m treating you
to a cake later.”

An entire cake..., Shinji almost blurted out, but held it back in favour of making his stare
more eloquent.

Apparently, when Kaworu said cake, he indeed meant exactly that. Only, a very small one.
Kaworu literally bought himself the world’s smallest cake, and he was willing to share it.
Quite the metaphor for his entire existence, Shinji mused.

Their backpacks were lighter, but still held half a dozen books in them, and they were
currently in one of the most inconspicuously strange places Shinji had ever been. Kaworu
claimed that he’d never been there before, but Shinji couldn’t keep wondering, how do you
find a place like this on your first try?

There were literal wooden boxes stuck to the walls, and some of them held jars of weird-
coloured crushed leaves. Tea, Shinji’s mind suggested, but Shinji had his own notions about
tea as a rather sensible sort of substance, and this wasn’t it. Still, they had been given a teapot
large enough to last both of them, two hand-painted cups, two round teaspoons, and one
weird cake on a wooden plate.

It barely avoided being called a tart, but Shinji wasn’t going to judge the poor thing too
harshly now. After all, he had other things on his mind, such as the fact that Kaworu looked
far too pleased with the surprise birthday party he’d organised for himself, and, maybe, the
fact that the present Shinji had got him a few weeks before – just to be on the safe side – still
lay on his shelf back at home. Well, Kaworu could probably survive without a collection of
Solar System pillow cases (Shinji had been desperate, alright) for a few more days.

Well, okay, Shinji deserved this; he himself hadn’t told him when his birthday had been, in
the end. He could admit defeat just this one time. “Happy birthday,” he smiled, and Kaworu
stopped mid-pouring the tea to kick his beaming up a notch.

“Happy birthday to me,” he said, and passed Shinji a cup of steaming, less-than-sensible tea-
matter.

It was a rare occasion of sunny October weather when he made his way to the coffee shop,
only to stop just outside and stare at the chalkboard resting beside the door. It was a swirly
display of white and purple, with the occasional yellow star or dot. There were also, granted,
a few words about the coffee and tea variety to be found inside.

Shinji walked in, doorbell chiming harmlessly, took in the four or five occupied tables, and
went to the counter, where Kaworu and one of his co-workers were putting a lot of effort into
arranging a perfect plate of wheat cookies.

“Be with you in a moment,” Kaworu said distractedly, adding two more cookies and letting
the other do the final flourish. A look of pleasant surprise took over his face when he looked
up. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Shinji drummed his fingers a little on his bag’s strap, and looked up at the menu. He
actually intended to choose something today, which needed a little distraction. “Is the thing
outside done by you?”

Kaworu grinned, which temporarily drove his attention away from the cappuccino flavours.
“Board duty is only assigned to part-timers, apparently. I wondered why I never got it
before.” That explained the lack of swirly cups of coffee before. A decently timed pause
preceded his next words. “What would you have?”

Shinji bit the inside of his cheek in thought, and kind of wished he had his scarf to keep him
occupied in such situations. It wasn’t cold enough yet, though. “Uh, mocha.”

“Caramel or vanilla?”

He shrugged. “Vanilla.”
“Right away.”

Another couple of customers came in after Shinji moved to the other end of the counter to
wait for his coffee. There was a predominating tinkling sound inside, mixed with low
conversations and the occasional chuckle. The grinder kind of broke the atmosphere for a
moment, but once it went silent, the feeling fell over the café again like a glove, or like some
really thick, invisible smoke.

Shinji had kind of missed this. He was suddenly struck by the realisation that he felt better.
Better than what or when, it was hard to say. It was such an oscillating thing. Still, he did feel
better.

“Here you are,” Kaworu presented him to a steaming mug topped with a leafy foam drawing.
“More milk and less sugar.”

Shinji smiled at it. “Thank you.”

Kaworu’s gaze seemed to be fixed by something below his collarbone; Shinji was kind of
afraid to check. “That looks pretty,” Kaworu inclined his head a little.

At such a positive verdict, Shinji looked down in wonder. Oh, that. It was a soft and loose
sweater he’d bought some time before, thickly patterned with zigzags and dots and lines of
navy, brown and teal. It had taken him until he’d got home to realise what he’d done, but – it
was really, really comfy.

“Yeah,” he thus said.

By this time, the queue had advanced, so they took their swift farewells in a glance, Kaworu
returning to his coffee-builder, sunny-smiler duty, and Shinji retreating to one of the more
sheltered corner tables. Without the support of his coat, now draped over the back of his
chair, his sweater’s sleeves felt rather long. There were yellow and light brown dots on them,
just at their hems. He stared at them a bit while warming up his fingertips over the coffee
mug.

Shinji took a moment to breathe in, look at the coffee, and look around. It was interesting that
the coffee shop, being mostly planked with dark wood, still managed to seem quite luminous
at times. One, two more times, and the harsh sound of the grinder seemed to be enveloped in
the atmosphere too.

One gulp of coffee later, Shinji relaxed back into his chair. He paused for a bit to think about
all that had changed in the passing of a year; after all, changes always seemed to occur, but it
was easier to see them like this.

He looked at Kaworu, now drifting through the tables with two plates of lemon tarts, and
thought that if all this would ultimately come to pass, if one day he suddenly wouldn’t be
there anymore, at least not for him, then he’d be really sad. Sad, and heartbroken, and frail,
but he felt like that would be a really normal, natural and justified kind of sadness, for once.
If all this came to pass, Shinji would be unspeakably sad, but he’d be okay. It was most
reassuring to know that.
 Chapter 34
Chapter Notes

Ok, first of all, the ending of chapter 33 was a thing that I considered important to
mention. In no way a foreshadowing to anything happening these two last chapters
about to follow.
Secondly, this is long.
Secondly (b), like most of this story, the narrative is highly subjective. As such, I
particularly feel the need to (re)state now that all the following opinions are, essentially,
subjective too, as is their level of relatability.
Thirdly, this chapter took a long time to write.
Fourthly, thanks for sticking with this so far! I hope you'll enjoy this one too.

Thinking about sex didn’t come naturally to Shinji; so it always had to be a very active
process. Always, however, typically meant hardly ever. It was good, in a way, because he
probably would’ve generally panicked a lot more with that at the back of his mind. Probably;
he couldn’t really tell.

Back when there had been so many people around him that he couldn’t have possibly avoided
hearing about it, his most powerful reaction was a slight grimace that nobody knew whether
it was aversion or confusion. Shinji wasn’t sure what it was either, but he guessed it ought to
have been something more on the confusion side. Otherwise, it wasn’t like he particularly
cared.

Really, what had caught his attention was the excitement people displayed in talking about it.
He remembered Asuka complaining once that it didn’t feel as good as people claimed and
that she therefore declared it a waste of time. That had been their first and only talk on the
subject, and Shinji hadn’t thought too much about it after that.

It probably had something to do with the fact that Shinji never thought all this applied to him
too. Not out of self-loathing or fear, but simply because it had never occurred to him that he
was made of the same matter as everyone else, and thus that he theoretically ought to be able
to feel the same things they did. It wasn’t as complicated as it sounded, really.

He’d thought about it – like, twice – this past year. It felt kind of strange to finally accept that
now these things could apply to him, but he’d just drafted all thoughts on the fact with the
vague assurance that, when the moment for them to apply to him would come, the fact would
be made known to him. It hadn’t happened so far. On good days, he just forgot; on bad days,
it was some unidentified extra pressure on his subconscious.
“What do you think we should do for Christmas?” Kaworu asked on a mid-November
afternoon, twirling around his apartment with two empty cups of early-season eggnog.

Much too early, in Shinji’s opinion, but he actually liked the stuff, so he’d even helped mix in
the cinnamon. “Actual Christmas?” he asked, just to be sure, drawing up his feet on the bed.
Pumpkin print this time, probably forgotten since Halloween.

“Well, um,” Kaworu drowned the sound of the water filling the mugs. “Whenever you’re
free, if you’re doing something with your family...”

It was a fact that he was included more in household activities during the wintertime, but
Shinji didn’t think he would be missed. Plus, there was Asuka, but she usually stayed over for
at least two weeks, so a couple of days couldn’t possibly hurt anybody. Shinji didn’t know
what Kaworu had in mind. He asked him.

“I’m not sure, I just thought...,” he put the clean cups beside the sink and dried his hands on a
green towel, turning back to Shinji. “We could go somewhere. Not very far away, not with all
the anticipated snow storms, but—somewhere. Or, if you want, you could come home with
me for a night of two. There are a few nice skiing trails around there.”

“I don’t ski,” Shinji said as Kaworu took a seat beside him on his cotton pumpkin patch.
“And, uh, I don’t know, I—,” he stopped, searched for the right words, found none, “I don’t
know...”

Graciously, Kaworu was busying himself with casually taking hold of his hands and
intertwining their fingers instead of giving too much thought to his tirades. “We don’t have
to, you know,” he looked up, met his eyes, smiled. “I was just throwing ideas out there.”

“If we need train tickets we should know that a while before,” Shinji gave his hands a push,
met resistance, so he smiled and held them tighter.

Kaworu was moving his thumb up and down his index finger. “We’ll cross that bridge when
we get to it,” he said, with the distant quality in his voice that told Shinji he was ready to drop
the subject any time he wished.

“Or burn it,” Shinji said, because sometimes he liked to have the last word.

Sometimes, Kaworu let him have it, too, so when he leant in and pressed his mouth to
Shinji’s, he did it wordlessly. He smelt like vanilla and the badly-ground cinnamon Shinji had
nearly blown in his face earlier; but that was maybe just poetic licence.

When he pulled back, Shinji didn’t quite know what to do, so he pressed against his hands
again, to be sure they were a safe stability point, and pushed himself forward until they could
kiss again. It was nice, he thought, the way Kaworu never seemed to seek anything
particularly deep during their kisses. The way he’d just lean it, lean back, as if he only
wanted to feel Shinji’s lips against his own and was quite satisfied once that point was
reached. It was Shinji’s favourite part about kissing too, that soft touch which seemed to
make him so happy at times. All the rest came as extras, more or less unneeded.
After a small period of mulling it over by himself, it had come as a relief to know that
Kaworu didn’t have particularly strong feelings about putting too much fervour into it either.
Sure, they’d tried it a few times, out of momentum rather than anything else, and it had been
– fine. Dimly, more or less, fine; sure, Shinji’s jaw had been sore for a while, and Kaworu
had undergone an ice-cream treatment immediately afterwards, but it had been fine. There
had been another more abstract sense of discomfort during it too, but nothing long-lasting.
They’d agreed not to do that too often, after all.

“Where could we go?” Shinji found himself asking before he’d even got a few inches away
from his face, and directed an inquisitive look towards the world at large – in this case, the
preposterous sheets.

“Hm,” Kaworu inspected the ceiling and walls. “Somewhere with trees,” he grinned and
while Shinji was absorbed into a titter he inclined his head to press a kiss to his jaw.

That was nice. It was always nice, Shinji thought, this easy touch of skin, and the excitement
one felt when they marked the slight difference in warmth. They were all small things, but
they felt so important, like how a cup of tea on a bad day felt important.

He started counting different names of towns nearby enough that a snow-storm wouldn’t
make it impossible to come back, by whatever means possible, and Kaworu kept pressing his
lips – warm, growing warmer – to his cheeks, temples, chin.

“I only want trees,” Kaworu said at the end of it, pulling back to give Shinji a happy smile.
Shinji made his question into a face and put it on. “For the squirrels.”

It shouldn’t have been funny.

It oughtn’t have been funny if it hadn’t been for the memory of 14 months before arising in
Shinji’s head at that exact moment. As he started laughing, he unconsciously let himself fall
back on the bed, hands still holding fast to Kaworu, thus pulling him right along too. Of
course, falling forward from a cross-legged position had its metaphorical down-falls too, so
Kaworu’s head collided with Shinji’s stomach, which only made him laugh harder.

Still, he let his now-freed hands go gently through Kaworu’s hair, even as he was making the
effort to regain his balance, and even as Shinji himself tried to stop his laughter. It was kind
of hard, though, and his face hurt, and his heart hurt, and it just kept bubbling in his chest.

Shinji hadn’t had such a good day in ages.

“What’s the matter?” Kaworu asked once he’d propped himself a little way above him. Shinji
was still lying on the bed, snickering.

Dying squirrels, he would have said, but that would have probably sounded quite insensitive
if not explained in great detail. He didn’t quite feel like doing it now, so he shook his head,
touched his fingers to Kaworu’s face.

His chest was still so light and so painful. Shinji took a breath. “It’s nothing—I just, it’s me.
It’s a long story,” he said, taking another deep breath afterwards, and feeling more like
himself.

That had been strange, his mind stated laconically, apparently regaining its control. He was
kind of teary-eyed, he just realised, but it wasn’t enough to require tissues. They would dry
soon enough.

“Are you alright?” Kaworu asked, after a period of probably holding all he saw in balance.

“Yeah,” Shinji said, rubbing at one eye. “Yes,” he repeated more clearly, breath almost even.
“Sorry,” he added, more out of habit.

“Don’t be sorry,” Kaworu said gently. He’d never said that before. “I’ve never seen you this
happy.”

Shinji swallowed. “I’ve been happy,” and it hadn’t been about mass-rodent-destruction,
either.

“I know,” Kaworu smiled. “It’s just, never been this visual.”

Fixing his eyes on a blank point in space, Shinji held back another laugh. Then, he glanced
over, and Kaworu was still giving him that look, but there weren’t really any more words to
say, but he still tried to find them, opening his mouth in hope that they would reach him.

They didn’t, but Kaworu did, and it was December all over again, and his mouth just
wouldn’t stay closed, and maybe there was a good part to all of this, too. He quite liked
feeling Kaworu’s breath in between his lips. Actually, he kind of liked the feeling of
Kaworu’s hands in his hair too. Furthermore, he couldn’t stop wondering whether Kaworu’s
arms hurt.

Shinji kind of remembered trying to read in bed while holding himself up on his elbows and
that hadn’t been a pretty comfortable experience after the first three minutes. So they
probably did hurt, by now. His hands had reached Kaworu’s shoulder blades; his mental
argument was caught somewhere between massaging them to relieve hypothetical pain and
not putting any more pressure than necessary on them.

It was better to take these things slowly. Shinji let his hands drift to Kaworu’s hair, then
cheeks, chin and mouth, and when they pulled the slightest bit away he smiled. “What did the
shy pebble wish for?”

It was quite exhilarating to feel Kaworu chuckle against his fingertips. “What?”

“Just that it could be a little boulder,” Shinji let out in a breath, but in the end laughed
anyway as a result of Kaworu’s cooing sounds. He’d been saving that one for a rainy day.

Then Kaworu let his forehead rest on his chest for a while, which gave Shinji another
occasion to thread his fingers through his hair, once again marvelling that something so little
acquainted with the laws of gravity could feel so nice. On the ceiling, the fluorescent stars
he’d bought had been stuck in constellations only Kaworu knew.
“If your arms hurt...,” Shinji eventually offered, moving one hand slowly up and down his
back.

“Only a little,” Kaworu admitted against his shirt, and then shifted a bit, making Shinji
withdraw his hands, and lay down on his side. The pumpkin patch environment did marvels
to his complexion.

Shinji admired it, noted the growing twilight in the room, and caught Kaworu’s eye. “What
do you say to a ghost with three heads?”

Surprise turned into fondness quicker than what it sometimes took Shinji to turn it into panic.
“What?”

He resisted the urge to hide his face in the pillow midway through it. “Hello, hello, hello.”

Kaworu always smiled so much; at some point early on, Shinji used to get home and wonder
why his mouth seemed to hurt, only to realise it did so by association. Kaworu wore his
happiness on his sleeve, but Shinji never, ever ceased to appreciate it.

“What’s a cold, evil candle called?” he now asked Shinji.

It was dangerous, since he’d proved to be prone to laughing fits that day, but he complied.
“What?”

“The wicked wick of the north,” Kaworu grinned, and his self-satisfaction was mortifying in
the most endearing way. Shinji pushed at his shoulder for an instant, before doing the
backwards motion of pulling him into a half-hug. It was nice, like that. It was nice, even if
only a few minutes later a newly-awakened Tabris jumped directly on them.

An hour later, while Kaworu was occupied with boiling a potful of noodles for the perfect
amount of time, Tabris seemed to have decided that, as far as she was concerned, her plans
for the future implied a complete osmosis with Shinji’s arms. He’d only tried petting her head
a little, since he’d feared that Kaworu’s sudden retreat to the kitchen saddened her, and her
immediate reaction had taken him by surprise. She literally stretched in his arms, a paw on
his shirt, as if attempting to reach his face, and started purring as if she were a very old bus
and he’d just hit the ignition.

She was so soft, though. Shinji found it hard to begrudge her this aggressive cuddling
session. Instead, he ran one hand through the long white fur of her tummy. “Did she do this
when she was little too?”

Kaworu peered at them, seemed to melt a little, and went back to draining his perfectionist’s
pasta. “Yes. It was much more amusing when she was the approximate size of a grapefruit,
though.”

Stroking the underside of her head, Shinji smiled. “Didn’t you ever lose track of her?”
“Oh, dear,” Kaworu let out an amused breath, pouring the drained noodles into a bowl and
dropping some chopped greens over them. “I thought I lost her so many times. She’s really
good at hiding, but at that size she could become nearly invisible. I had to start leaving my
wardrobe open just to know where to find her. Thankfully, it got easier once she started
growing.” He was quite gracefully using two spoons to mix stir-fried vegetables into the
pasta now. “Are you having fun?”

Shinji nodded, massaging the cat’s paws a little now. Soft, warm and really dark. Maybe he
was becoming a cat person, if that was a thing which could be achieved in time. “I can’t
really imagine her smaller than this,” he admitted.

This, he knew very well, was a dangerous thing to say, as no doubt there were hundreds of
kitten-Tabris pictures on Kaworu’s laptop, but he didn’t really mind that. He was rather
curious. Maybe the howling wind from outside was making him feel way cosier than he
would have been otherwise. It was dark and chilly out there, from what the windows showed
him, the perfect weather to stay inside all day, which coincidentally was what they’d been
doing.

“She was a really fuzzy caterpillar,” Kaworu said with fondness. “I could show you some
photos.”

It was probably time for Shinji to let her assimilate the bed instead, and to go and help him
set the table. “Yes, please,” he said as he was letting Tabris slink out of his arms and onto the
mattress.

Later, as a reward both for finishing his food and for accepting to go through an entire
presentation of Tabris’s early loveliness, Shinji was handed a large glass of pomegranate
juice. He wondered where Kaworu got these ideas, but there probably had to be something
for him to occupy his free time with every now and then; in between stitching old clothes and
saving kittens, that is.

They had fun going through the pictures, however, and that led to Kaworu admitting that he
had some old photo albums somewhere in the room, which consequently led to Shinji doing
such a bad job of being inconspicuous in his curiosity that they’d been dropped in his hands
before he could even think of saying something.

“There’s a theatre festival starting next week,” Kaworu said after they seated themselves
comfortably on the couch, holding Tabris in his lap and playing with her paws.

Shinji glanced at the contrast the trapped cat made against Kaworu’s bird-patterned shirt and
enjoyed the irony. “I know,” he answered, getting back to where he’d been looking through
an almost entirely Polaroid album. In Kaworu’s defence, they were mostly photographs of
trees and birds taken by a 7-year-old him before the camera had broken down. “Heard about
it, at least,” he turned the page and saw a blurry picture of a fox. “Anything you want to go
to?”
Kaworu started to hum something that could have been anything from Music of the Night to
The Song of Purple Summer, so Shinji let him have a go at it. It turned out to be the latter, but
Shinji kept quiet, currently unsure whether he had the necessary moral training and mental
fortitude to go with him to that. In his arms, Tabris started showing unexpected insurrection
signs against a totalitarian regime of cuddling.

“Maybe Antigone,” Kaworu anticlimactically and mercifully mused. “Or, maybe, I think I
saw there’ll be something by Stoppard too. If you want to.” Revolutionary cat jumped over a
barricade of legs and reached the democratic ground of the floor. Long live, Shinji thought.

“What’s wrong with a decent King Lear,” he muttered in mock seriousness, instead.

There was an almost snicker coming from the other half of this conversation and then
Kaworu was pressing his lips to his shoulder. Shinji blinked, feeling the warmth of them even
through the material. “Nothing,” Kaworu said, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

There was a decision to be taken in this case, and one of the options involved the shutting of
an album. Still, there were pictures of foxes and rabbits in there. Shinji chose the middle way,
by only letting one of his hands reach out and slide under Kaworu’s sleeve, running his
fingers over his wrist. Okay, Shinji was feeling rather more affectionate than usual.

“We can make a compromise,” Shinji said to the album at large, and Kaworu leant closer as if
to catch his words. “I guess, we could each choose one play, and...”

“Sounds perfectly reasonable.” It only took a single try for Kaworu to interlace their fingers.
“We could go there after classes this week.”

“Mhm,” Shinji turned another page, squinted. “Is that you?”

Interested, Kaworu shifted until their heads lightly knocked together. “Yes,” he said with an
obvious grin in his voice. “And, look, there,” he used his free hand to point at other blobs of
colour on the background, “are a few of my siblings. Let me see if I can find some with the
others.”

Needless to say, that was a course of action that left Shinji helpless and quite dizzy by the
time it was over.

It wasn’t really certain when Shinji had started keeping a pair of pyjamas at Kaworu’s place,
but it felt strangely good to be able to slip into something of his own after a long, nice
shower. Sometimes, still felt so tiring, forcing his thoughts not to fall into well-worn paths of
self-doubt. Shinji would get home, sigh, and feel his chest heavy and his bones ache without
knowing what had been weighing down on him. At other times, the same things made him
feel quite light on his feet.

It was strange, and confusing. At least today, he felt alright.

Although, after practically sitting inside from morning till night, he had to admit he felt
unexpectedly drowsy; Kaworu’s pumpkin sheets suddenly looked like a little bit of heaven. A
slightly amused heaven, since his steadfast burrowing into their midst emitted a laugh from
the immediate vicinity of the room.

“Lights out?” Kaworu asked from where he’d been occupied himself with petting Tabris to
sleep. Shinji could only nod into a pillow – or two, he wasn’t really sure. “Okay,” and he felt
more than saw the darkness engulf the room.

He had a distant suspicion that he was impolitely lying in the middle of the bed, but Kaworu
didn’t comment on it, and soon Shinji felt part of the blanket move and the mattress dip
beside him. It was probably a scientifically proven fact that such situations rendered one
dangerously prone to affectionate hugging, but such information always seemed to come too
late.

Shinji could completely empathise with Tabris in that moment. There seemed to be
something fundamentally right about the way Kaworu fit beside him, the way his arm rested
easily over Shinji’s shoulders; even though that last bit might have merely been him trying
not to fall out of the bed Shinji had been unjustly hogging so far.

Well. Shinji scooted backwards a bit, and pulled Kaworu after him.

There were times they fell asleep instantly, and there were times when they lay awake for
hours before giving up and starting to talk again, recounting their week all over again, but
from different angles, so that there was always something new and probably completely
trivial to add. Sometimes, Kaworu might have just finished reading another fantasy series,
and he’d explain it all to Shinji as abstractly as he could while gesticulating to the mildly
glowing stars on his ceiling. At other times, Shinji might have just learned a new
composition, discovered a new favourite composer, stared at a random poem until he’d
started liking it, and that would be something to talk about too.

Many times, they were quiet. They were quiet now, momentarily, and Kaworu’s arm was still
around Shinji and Shinji was thinking that his shampoo smelled like honey, and that it was
something new. He couldn’t quite remember, now that the question came to his head, what
Kaworu’s shampoo had smelled like before. Lily of the Valley, maybe, or something else. He
thought he remembered sensing coconut once.

After lying down, he wasn’t that sleepy anymore, but neither did he want to do anything else
than lay there. His hand found the lower hem of Kaworu’s T-shirt, a large one with only
yellow and grey stripes, since it was mostly used to sleep in, and he carefully slipped it
underneath, feeling strangely comforted by the warm skin of his back.

“Do you think bakeries are open at this hour?”

It was far too late in this relationship for Shinji to feign surprise. “Probably not,” he
accordingly answered. “Fresh ingredients and cakes and stuff...”

“Hmmm,” was Kaworu’s answer, and a completely troubling one at that. “I just got this
weird, sudden craving for a Rum baba.”
“Strange,” Shinji said, because he wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking about.

Kaworu shifted a bit, and Shinji’s hand ended up even higher on his back, but that was a
minor detail in the bigger picture. “They’re these...,” Kaworu moved his hand in a peculiar
kneading motion, “Small sponge cakes dipped in rum or syrup, and either topped or filled
with a lot of whipped cream.”

“Oh,” Shinji voiced in the general direction of his collarbone. “I see.”

“They’re really good,” Kaworu reaffirmed, willing to convince. Shinji nodded.

The thing about Kaworu was that, while his taste in clothes was problematic, he was pretty
much right in other cases. Thus, some faith ought to be put in his late night ramblings. “We’ll
get some tomorrow,” Shinji assured him.

That seemed to make him happy. If happiness could be interpreted as him stopping his
gesticulations in favour of reaching underneath Shinji’s shirt too. That felt nice. Perspective
wasn’t something Shinji had completely mastered yet, however, so he leant forwards instead
of backwards when he wanted to feel it better. It could have ended awkwardly, but Kaworu
knocked their foreheads together with a playful laugh.

They stayed like that a while, Shinji tracing his spine up to his shoulder blades, and Kaworu
finger-drawing various signs on his back, spirals and stars and other things Shinji wasn’t sure
of. At some point, when his hand had reached closer to his side, Shinji was bestowed with the
knowledge that Kaworu was a bit ticklish. He didn’t know what to do with the information,
though. He wasn’t evil enough to use it.

“I was thinking,” Shinji started some time later, without any act of will. He stopped in time to
bit his lip and swallow his thoughts.

When nothing else followed, however, Kaworu nudged his forehead a little in inquiry.
Nothing still.

“About what?” he eventually asked.

Truthfully, Shinji wasn’t completely sure. “I was thinking...,” he said again, involuntarily
drumming his fingers on Kaworu’s skin. “This is... alright, isn’t it?”

Apparently deciding that giving Shinji more time to put his thoughts in order this time around
would be best, Kaworu kept quiet.

Whether it was working was anyone’s guess. Shinji’s fingers stilled, then he consciously
dragged them down Kaworu’s back, and stopped again. His problem was merely a matter of
syntax. Semantics too, maybe, but he was trying to make at least that one clear. There was a
lot of ambiguity involved in nonfigurative sentences; he ought to be quite specific.

“I mean, after the last time...” Well, there wasn’t really a matter of last time. “Actually, no...
er, wait.” It seemed like all he did was wait, actually, but Shinji wanted to make sure.
Anyway, he drilled his mind. “Did you ever think we should...” Should. Shinji grimaced. “I
mean, do you feel like you want to. Er.” He glanced up, met Kaworu’s eyes. Kaworu raised
his eyebrows. It was pretty dark.

All the while, Shinji’s mind tapped its foot impatiently. I’m too old not to be able to say this
out loud, he thought, feeling offended. Really, he thought it reflected rather badly on him. He
didn’t want to sound childish now.

Kaworu still looked curious as to his meaning, so Shinji pulled a bit at his shirt, pressing his
lips in a mildly upset expression. He hoped the eye contact helped, because it was kind of
hard to keep it up in that lack of light.

There must have been an inkling of the implication in Kaworu’s mind, because his eyebrows
lowered a bit, but he still remained silent. It lasted a while, and Shinji busied himself with
putting his T-shirt back in order.

Eventually, Kaworu raised an eyebrow, and Shinji held his breath. “Have sex?”

Honestly, why had he instead expected to hear an array of words on the lines of copulation,
osculation and other –ions?

Shinji hid his face in Kaworu’s chest. “Yes, have sex,” he mumbled, ashamed of himself.

Still, at least his reaction led to a soft and amused shaking against his face. “Whether I want
to or not...,” Kaworu stopped to let out a sigh. “I don’t think this is a talk we ought to have in
the dark.”

Shinji full-heartedly agreed, so he helpfully pried himself off. In a way, it was too easy to
write off words that had been said on the point of falling asleep, or while lying in bed. It was
easy, maybe, to utter them too, with reality hidden under a deep layer of shadow. Still,
Kaworu was right; this ought to be talked about with reality in full view.

That didn’t stop Shinji from grimacing once Kaworu’s floor lamp was turned on, at the foot
of the bed. “Sorry,” Kaworu grinned, and these three words alone described Shinji’s life
perfectly.

Meanwhile, he had assumed a cross-legged position, somewhere far enough on the bed to be
able to lean against the wall. When Kaworu returned from his apollonian quest, he assumed a
similar pose, so that they were pretty much on equal ground. Kaworu was still smiling,
though. Shinji didn’t really know what to make of that.

Am I supposed to go through the same lines all over again?, he dimly wondered. Really,
maybe he should have just gone to sleep.

“I’m not really sure,” Kaworu said, and Shinji blinked, recalling the point they’d left off.
“Would you like to?”

“Er,” Shinji pulled a face, feeling unprepared.

It was true that those feelings he’d expected to come to him were still missing in action, but
he wasn’t sure what the time limit for them to arrive was. Maybe he’d lacked incentive. Then
again, there had been that time, on Kaworu’s floor; once before that too, maybe. As far as
incentives went, these have made him feel pretty unwell. What's more, Shinji felt something
to be distinctly wrong about waiting in worry for something like that.

Actually, he didn’t want to talk about it. He just wanted it out of the way.

He had hardly ever thought about this before, and didn’t think too much about it now either,
but he couldn’t know when something, anything, would remind him of it, and start this same
train of thought over and over again. Just because Shinji worried about a lot of stuff didn’t
mean he accepted new things in that pile indiscriminately. And this was quite bothering him.

Still, saying it out loud was another matter entirely. I want to, so I can be done with it,
sounded impersonal and heartless. I don’t want to, I don’t feel the need for it, sounded
childish and close-minded. At least, if he was going to have an opinion, he ought to have
better arguments for it. Still, what good arguments could there be when he was talking about
himself?

Seriously, saying he didn’t want to go through with a basic human interaction, he was such a
child.

Shinji swallowed, looked at Kaworu. He hadn’t ever lied to him before. He wasn’t going to
let this stupid thing change that. “Do we have to?”

From expectance, Kaworu’s expression shifted into a kind of sad reassurance. “Of course
not,” he said, as Shinji had known he would. There was no other answer Kaworu could ever
give to that question. Shinji felt awful. “Truth be told, I’ve been kind of jittery about it for a
while,” Kaworu rubbed at his arms a little. “I mean, not a lot, and usually on my own, but...,”
he raised his shoulders and let them fall without having any statement made. “I just. I don’t
think it’s for me,” and here he let out a nervous laugh which almost broke Shinji’s heart.

Eventually, Shinji realised it was kind of foolish to sit like that, as if they were having a
debate, so he scooted closer, bit his heart and took Kaworu’s hand in his. A strong squeeze
later, Kaworu seemed ready to continue.

“That sounded weird, sorry,” he said while looking down at their hands, moving his thumb
over Shinji’s knuckles. “I wanted to say that I just don’t feel like I’d particularly like to try it
out.” Abruptly, he flailed his free hand in front of him, a frantic and apologetic smile on his
face. “I know that it’s nothing bad! It’s quite nice, and good and it seems to be very important
to a lot of people, but I...,” he looked down, bit his lip, and Shinji guessed that this had been
bothering him on a conceptual level for way longer than this.

“Some people don’t like salad, either,” he made a bad attempt at being helpful, but Kaworu
tittered, so maybe it wasn’t all that bad. The grip on his hand tightened again.

“That may be so,” he allowed, as if he’d never heard of people hating on salad before but he
felt magnanimous. Shinji let it pass. “Still, I said I knew it was something good, nothing to be
scared or ashamed of, but at the same time I didn’t really have any wish to try it, and it made
me feel so bad,” he said the last words breathily, as if intending it to sound amusing, but it
didn’t really reach that point. “It rather feels like I am contradicting myself, doesn’t it?” he let
that question hang in the air while he took a deep breath.

Shinji was feeling kind of queasy, but then Kaworu smiled, and he looked more like himself.

“That was... a few years ago, actually. When I just picked up stuff to think about and it
sometimes ended badly,” he actually shrugged this time, and glanced at Shinji. “It got better
after a while, but I guess that was also me cheerfully ignoring it, since it still made me a little
twitchy now.”

It was amazing for someone to be able to talk so on-point about their feelings, Shinji thought.
He hadn’t let go of Kaworu’s hand, and now he leant his forehead on his shoulder, closing his
eyes as he let his body relax again.

Maybe he wasn’t being quite so childish, after all, he allowed himself to consider. Well,
Kaworu’s reasons differed from his own, and they didn’t sound quite so selfish, but the
essence was still there. It rather felt like they were either missing or lacking a point to all this.
Even being himself, Shinji believed this shouldn’t have been so complicated. At least, it felt
like they were worrying for the completely wrong reasons.

“You’re a good person,” Shinji thus told him, cheesily, as he sat there.

Kaworu laughed and it sounded quite light now, and he leant his head over Shinji’s. “Well,
you’re a good person too, that’s why I first started talking to you.”

With no apparent reason to do so apart from that matter-of-fact tone, Shinji laughed against
his shoulder. “Um,” he started, wishing he had a glass of water nearby. “I don’t think I want
to, either,” and this sounded maybe too unoriginal because he went on, “I kept trying to find
reasons for it, instead of against, and the thought always felt like such a chore. I guess it
wouldn’t have felt so bad if I didn’t feel like it was something I ought to want...” It took a
tiny solar system’s worth of strength to pull Shinji away from his hiding spot, but he did it
anyway, if only to see Kaworu’s face. “I mean, I...,” and it was his turn to shrug and look
around for a bit. “I would have been... willing. If you wanted to. I mean... I still—.”

His voice was shaking, and he hated it, but Kaworu let go of his hand in order to pull him
into a hug and that was nice, that was so nice, that was always nice, and Shinji almost forgot
how to hug back.

“I also thought that... maybe, it is something that comes to you as you go along,” he
continued into Kaworu’s shoulder, because his were still switches and not gears and he
wasn’t quite finished yet.

It was so strange, how Kaworu always seemed to hug him with his whole body, like it wasn’t
just arms around him, but his entire presence wrapping, comfortingly, around him. “Might
be,” he allowed, breath ticking the back of Shinji’s neck. “I guess it differs from person to
person.” There was the silent pause of words they could both hear. Still, Kaworu was the one
to voice them out. “Would you like us to try?”
To him, it still rather sounded like they were making an exception, almost as if they were
trying to humour some abstract idea that had nothing to do with them, but wanted to beg to
differ. It was all rather fishy, when they both had to make themselves try something they
should have wanted from the beginning.

Still holding tight, Shinji shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” Kaworu put the metaphorical dot on the conversation and let himself fall backwards
on the bed, pulling Shinji right after him. This kept happening. “Then, as we’ve said, we’re
going out for cakes tomorrow.”

It was probably 3 am. Shinji giggled against his neck. “Yes, alright.” Probably a bad decision,
since the weather didn’t sound any better even through two layers of glass, but they could at
least try.
 Chapter 35
Chapter Notes

Well, this is done!

It has been pretty nice and all, and it certainly got more attention than I expected, so
thank you all for that.
Really, I've read so many nice things from you during this time. Hopefully this will be
okay. Since this didn't/couldn't really have a definite ending, this should be as good as
any. So, yes, one last time, thank you for reading.
Finally, finally.

P.S. Thanks, Didi, for beta-ing this entire thing on a more or less chaotic schedule. It
was mighty sweet of you.

Once again, Shinji wondered whether this was what all his life had led up to. Spending an
early break of orchestra rehearsals huddled on some old-as-life theatre chair and looking up
light-up shoes for adults with his phone’s lamentable internet connection was surely not a
point he’d thought he’d reach one year ago. Well, the general gossip was that things were
naturally predisposed to change.

Light-up shoes, though, he attempted to remember what having some dignity had been like
and failed. There were some muffled yells from backstage but he guessed they were only
people getting ready for dress rehearsals. Lucky them.

Well, Christmas is in one month, he countered as he painstakingly opened another website. It

wasn’t like he had any better ideas. Or, well, yes, he did have better ideas, dozens of them,
but they just seemed too generic. That wouldn’t have been a problem, actually, only he’d
somehow decided to get out of his comfort zone for this one. With light-up shoes! He again
whined at himself, and spent the rest of his short break wondering whether he ought to get
him multicoloured or purple ones.

“Gosh, it’s so hard to get hold of you nowadays,” huffed Asuka’s voice through his phone
once rehearsals had ended and he was once again facing the icy streets. It had been so cold
lately, though it hadn’t exactly started snowing, that he’d even started wearing hand-warmers.

Well, it had mostly been at Kaworu’s insistence, and it was hard to resist him while knowing
that he’d previously provided Shinji with one of the world’s warmest mufflers. Really, when
Shinji had unearthed it from his wardrobe’s recesses, two thoughts had instantly come into
his mind: (1) that it wasn’t really all that colourful, and (2) that it looked like a safe haven in
face of the wind outside. He had been mostly right. Consequently, Kaworu had handed him a
pair of grey knitted hand-warmers with more determination than he usually displayed, and
he’d accepted them.

“They’re holding a lot more rehearsals for the winter plays lately,” Shinji said from the
theatre’s entrance door, glancing at up at the gloomy skies and pulling his hat lower over his
ears with his free hand. “Sorry,” he added as an afterthought. “How have you been?”

“Oh, the same old story,” Asuka drawled and Shinji had the distinct knowledge that she was
probably in a more comfortable position than his own as he started his freezing walk to the
subway station. “Here I am, kicking stuff and saving people’s lives while the less endowed
fill the house with junk.”

There was a light squabble in the background at that point, and Shinji waited for it to be over
and for the pedestrian light to turn green simultaneously. His boots were too thin for this, he
reflected. The temperature also kind of hurt his eyes, if that made any sense.

“That’s not a nice thing to say about your roommate,” he offered, once Asuka seemed to have
come back to him, and he suppressed a smile at the thought of her expression. “Er, you were
saying something about your scholarship last time...”

Meaning around four days before, when he’d called to ask her about her thoughts on Bizet
and she had instead commenced to tell him about how she’d practically saved a freshman’s
life by kicking a vial out of their hand. It summed up their friendship pretty well, actually.

“I’m a strong believer in hard truths and plain speech,” she said now, and it was quite poetic
how she managed to shape and undermine her statement concurrently. “And yes. They
accepted. I might go abroad next year.”

Instinctively, there was a drowning feeling in Shinji’s stomach. Then, he’d started descending
the stairs to the underground. “That’s good...”

“Yes – I mean, it’s only gonna be a few months, three at best, I don’t have enough time to
spare for a full semester unless I know for sure the conditions are better, but that’s for later
use anyway. I guess I’ll make a general evaluation.”

He had to fumble a bit in order to find his pass, but then he was advancing towards the
platform. “I looked over what you sent me. They seemed pretty... advanced.”

Basically, he’d spent half an hour poring over sentences he couldn’t understand about
molecules and genomes and many facilities that could make these sentences even less
readable for people like him. It had looked trustworthy enough, in its unintelligibility; and
Asuka had been waiting to study abroad since middle school, after all.

“That’s because they are,” she stressed. “Why else would I even go there?” The point was on
her side. Shinji noted the delay of his subway and proceeded to wait beside a pillar. “Are you
freaking out?” Asuka asked, first surprising him and then making his face screw up in
embarrassment.

“I’m not freaking out,” he said, fretting his hands in an incipient freaking-out fashion.
There was a hard groan on Asuka’s side. It was followed by a reconciliatory silence. “You’ll
be fine.”

Hands stopped fretting momentarily. “I know,” he said, smiling a bit. “You too,” he continued
after a bit of reflection.

This time, she made a sound like a hand-dismissal. “Don’t be cheeky.” He almost laughed,
and then boarded the train. “Anyway, how is it going?”

Shinji held on to a handrail, hoping his cello wouldn’t fall off his shoulder. “Er, it’s going
well. I will probably be able to slip you in to watch one of the plays in December...” Gaining
this piece of knowledge had required a decent amount of nerve-wracking espionage and some
awkward questions thrown around.

“Great. About time your artistic inclinations started impinging upon me.”

“Yeah, well,” Shinji backed into an empty corner of the wagon. “If you want, you could bring
your violin too...,” he added as soon as the idea returned to his mind. “I mean, we could
probably find some place to play. Er – only if you want to.”

Shinji, poet laureate.

“I don’t see why not,” was Asuka’s reply, nevertheless, and he counted his stops; two more to
go. “It’s been a while.” He made an indistinct sound to show that indeed, it had. “Last time
we played was – well.”

Unseen, Shinji nodded. It hadn’t been during one of the best parts of their lives. “A long time
ago,” he summarised.

“That’s it,” she acquiesced. “Ugh, what’s the time?” Shinji glanced at his watch; close to 4
o’clock. But she didn’t seem to wait for him to answer. “Can you believe I’m having a
colloquium at this hour?” She made another displeased sound. “I gotta go.”

Well, as a fact, Shinji had a composition class scheduled quite late in the evening on
Wednesdays this year, but he chose not to mention that now. “Have fun,” he tried instead.

“Uh, are you kidding me?” she groaned. “Still. Call me tomorrow.”

“Alright. Bye,” he said, pushing the opening button of the train. She hung up as the doors
closed behind him.

Next was a relatively short way through a dry and freezing wasteland until he reached his
predetermined shelter. Namely, Shinji’s face, thighs, feet and the better part of his torso froze
as he walked down the empty street towards his home. Once there, he found the front door
unlocked and, behind it, glorious warmth. He put his cello down and took off his boots in a
reverie, and then picked the cello up again and rushed politely to his room, while also being
careful to greet his aunt as he passed by the living room.
I’m not made for this kind of weather, Shinji pondered once he’d closed his door behind him.
But, then again, neither was he made for sunny, rainy, or windy weather, so his complaint was
kind of unimpressive. The cello was safely deposited beside his bed.

Right. He checked the time, let out another breath, and started taking off his outer clothes
muffler-first. I’m still on time, he marvelled as he took off his wannabe-gloves and then his
coat. Everything, that is his skin, felt like melting ice. It was great and horrible at the same
time; because he knew he had to leave again in – he looked at the clock. Seven minutes at
most.

Once the better part of his outer garments was discarded, he took a seat on the edge of his bed
and forcefully rubbed his thighs in an attempt to force warmth back into them. His cheeks
stung too, but it was his lips that eventually made him get up again, search the drawers of his
desk, and hastily reclaim his balm.

Five minutes, then, he told himself, eyeing a hidden digital clock as he did his best to run the
small thing over his lips without opening old sores. This had become a problem lately, and it
was solely the fault of this inhuman weather.

After a few moments of hesitation, he took off his black, decently-thick shirt in normal
conditions, and hastily pulled on a similar black sweater in its stead. Well, this one also had
some blue dolphins on it, but nevertheless. Then, he started the process of re-dressing
himself, coat, hand-warmers, colourful muffler and knitted hat regaining their place in record
time.

Thicker boots now, however, he reminded himself as he draped his bag over one shoulder and
went out of his room. He was almost at the entrance hall when he heard his aunt behind him,
which would have made him jump if he wasn’t wrapped up in so many layers of clothes.

“Out again already?” she asked, and Shinji politely pulled his muffler down a bit.

“Yea – Yes, I have a...,” he moved his hand a bit, analysed the ceiling. “...date,” he finished.

“Oh,” his aunt said, and it wouldn’t have been particularly fair if she’d now said something to
dampen Shinji’s mood right as he was steeling himself to face the freezing abyss outside. “I
hope you dressed warmly enough, then,” she continued and it was so perfectly civil that it
made Shinji feel bad for his previous thoughts.

“I—yes, I am. Thank you,” he analysed the floor now, and took a couple more steps towards
the door. Thicker boots now, right, he reminded himself, getting a hold on them and on
himself too.

“Have fun,” his aunt said, smiling, making him look up from his shoe-laces

“Thank you,” he repeated, and hurried to leave not as much because the interaction scared
him but because he was officially, maybe, possibly, running late.
He didn’t run entirely late, in the end. The coffee shop had been in his line of sight ever since
he’d climbed up from the underground, and Kaworu only had to wait for him to walk, well,
200 metres at best.

Classes at 8 in the morning, rehearsals at 12, home at 4.30 and back in town at 5.20. Shinji
wasn’t an individual particularly used to having such crowded days, but the thought to feel
tired didn’t reach him until he was within leaning distance. Kaworu had a gloriously
pompous, large-knitted, beige muffler around his throat – and, well, also around his
shoulders. His shoulders looked particularly comfortable now, Shinji observed with
resentment.

“Got off duty okay?” Kaworu asked him, not looking quite as cold or tired as Shinji was
feeling.

“I guess so,” Shinji said distractedly, because his hands had just begun to unfreeze in his
pockets and he was thus at an impasse between keeping them there and touching Kaworu’s
face. Not that there was any mandatory need to touch his face, of course, but it had been a
long day. “Was your shift alright?”

“Pretty alright,” Kaworu smiled, pulling his knitted cap back a bit so his fringe wouldn’t get
in his eyes anymore. “Somebody asked for an affogato, in this weather. It had almost
forgotten how to prepare it, but it turned out alright.”

Shinji’s attention was still centred on his hat, however. It looked like Kaworu’s muffler had
somehow created a tinier, greyer baby, which had crawled on his head and settled snugly
there. It looked quite good on him, Shinji thought. It was cute.

“You’re obviously underpaid,” he said, because, no matter how low the temperature got,
hearing Kaworu’s laugh was still a noble goal to have. As a consequence, his teeth froze.

“Obviously,” laugh turned to a grin that probably had no licence to be that charming, and
Kaworu pushed their shoulders together to get them going down the street. “I was thinking
we could walk around a bit, drink something warm somewhere, possibly visit – there’s a
children’s charity sale near the City Hall, did you know? Also, some other shops...”

Once he raised his hand to his mouth, Shinji noted with thankfulness that his hand-warmers
were a deep ochre and red. People needed some consistency in life, after all. For some, that
meant the laws of physics remaining in place. For Shinji, that Kaworu stayed mildly
overexcited at combining colours.

“...I kind of need a new teapot,” Kaworu continued, rueful, then immediately snapped out of
it. “Ah, sorry,” he waved his hand. “I just went on talking...”

“I kind of need a warm drink,” Shinji said instead of a clearer assurance. His hands had just
got warm again, but he risked taking one of them out of his pocket in order to hold Kaworu’s.

“Manageable,” Kaworu nodded, sunny. His hold was like a pocket-sized hug. Shinji felt like
he increasingly wanted a Shinji-sized hug anyway. “Now, tell me about your day.”
Shinji let out a breath, anticipating his teeth and tongue’s impending transformation to ice.
Still, he conceded.

How Kaworu had been able to fit an entire teapot – antique, hand-painted, cheap and horribly
pleasant-looking – in his messenger bag was beside Shinji’s intellectual powers. However, as
they left the small alcove in which they’d enjoyed a cup of warm cider in a nearby shopping
centre, there proved to be more important things ready to catch his attention. Like the fact
that

“It’s snowing,” he said, looking at the sky like it was a Greek tragedy.

“Oh,” Kaworu deflated a bit, but his arm went slowly over Shinji’s shoulders so maybe he
wasn’t quite so devastated. It was dark and cold and wetly snowing; Shinji leant into him.
“I’m going to get you some hot waffles, if that’s alright,” he then said, after a period of
reflection Shinji somehow felt like he’d missed.

“What?” he found the strength to ask. Kaworu pointed across the street, through the thick and
soggy snowfall. There was, indeed, a vendor. If he concentrated, he could almost smell the
vanilla and the cooking batter. His head hurt a bit. “Yes, thank you.”

Minutes later, fingers burning from the hot, crisp waffle, Shinji decided his day wasn’t so
bad, even though some snowflakes had got in his mouth. They had taken cover under a tree,
but it wasn’t like it was doing them much good; at least the streets had grown rather crowded,
stopping most of the flakes from reaching the ground.

Beside him, Kaworu was chewing and staring at the falling snow with a serious expression.
“This is rather inconvenient.”

Shinji nodded, but chose to take another bite instead of adding something to that statement.

“I mean,” Kaworu moved his waffle around a bit, which was a bit of a shame, since it only
increased the chances for it to get cold, “It’s messing with my contact lenses.”

Shinji chewed a bit more, looking at the street. Then, he turned to look at Kaworu and, sure
enough, he was blinking rather more than necessary. Oh, he stared. Huh...

He hadn’t observed that. “We could take the bus...”

Blinking rather ameliorated, Kaworu gave him a reassuring smile. “No, that’s okay. It’s not
that bad,” he glanced at him and presumably noted Shinji’s offended disbelief. “Really,” and
he grinned too, for effect.

It only elicited a huff and a small shrug from Shinji. “Eat your waffle.”

“I probably won’t be able to go anywhere until after New Year’s,” Shinji admitted, eyes
tracking the thickening snow waiting to be trodden on by his boots. Not so many people here,
now.

“Hm,” Kaworu shifted their hands’ position a bit, warming up a different patch of icy skin.
“That’s not a problem. We’ll still have a few days.”

Maybe, but those days would come after a few endless evenings of theatre performances, so
Shinji wasn’t sure how good he’d be as company. It was a lucky thing neither of them
seemed to be particularly looking for excitement in this relationship, else they would have
reached an impasse long ago.

“Before that, you could come over to discuss pillow fort techniques,” Kaworu grinned and
Shinji hid his own smile in his muffler.

“I still think we ought to look for a step-by-step tutorial,” he muttered against colourful,
knitted wool. Last time, which was, granted, in summer, it had fallen on their heads and made
Tabris cross with them for a full week. “Remind me to bring you a theatre ticket, though,” he
said as an unrelated afterthought.

“Already?” Shinji shot him a glance as if to say no, but one could never be too forethoughtful
with these things. “Alright, I’ll remember.”

Then, since that was settled, Shinji’s thoughts fell back upon pillows and blankets. “When
I’m living alone, I’m gonna save a bit of space, just for you to build a nest,” he declared,
trying in vain to see anything ahead in that snowfall.

That was too daring on two different levels, he pondered, but didn’t take it back.

Kaworu’s shoulder pressed into his, fleetingly. “Thank you, you’re one of the loveliest people
I know,” he said, in the half-amused tone of someone who was joking and telling the truth at
the same time.

You really ought to get a better entourage, Shinji thought, but it didn’t last, and he smiled
instead. “Only a small corner, though.”

“More than enough,” Kaworu said with conviction. “You’d have to share the rest with Tabris,
however.”

“I know,” Shinji nodded, seriously. “It’s all arranged.”

“Good,” Kaworu changed their hold again and, really, if he hadn’t been there Shinji would
have probably been dying of cold. Like this, walking on a snowy street, after dark, while
being gradually frozen to the bone, didn’t seem that bad.

There was only the minor setback of the snow getting in his eyes, and nose, and mouth,
getting his fringe into his eyes, weighing down his clothes, and making his steps awkward.
Shinji sniffed, wondering how far they were from the next subway station.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked Kaworu, because the abrupt discovery of his visual
impairment had yet to wear off.
Really, he might have found out about it earlier, but the previous experiences of his life
hadn’t prepared him to tell apart a contact lens case from a fancy-looking box of dental floss,
so the mysteries of Kaworu’s bathroom had remained intact.

“Positive,” Kaworu said, but then ducked his head a little. “Although it might be somewhat
helpful not to walk against the wind for a moment.”

Right. There wasn’t a lot of wind, but, since it still managed to move bucketfuls of
snowflakes their way, it was inconvenient. Changing course, however, hardly seemed
productive now.

“You could, uh.” Vague hand movements signalled secret meanings to Kaworu. In the face of
puzzlement, Shinji redoubled his efforts.

“Oh,” Kaworu said, possibly out of politeness, but Shinji stopped anyway.

It was probably a mixture of need and desperation that eventually made Kaworu understand
and follow his signed instructions. Mainly, he turned with his back to the wind and hid his
face into Shinji’s shoulder. Human shield was not something Shinji had previously
considered adding to his CV, but he seemed to be pretty good at it nevertheless. Good thing
they had left the bigger part of the crowd several hundred metres behind them. Feeling
prolific and affectionate above his daily quota, he also linked his hands at Kaworu’s back.

“Much better,” Kaworu said into his muffler, and he probably meant the made-up shelter.
“Thank you.”

Shinji’s cheeks were kind of hurting a lot from the cold, so the thought to follow Kaworu’s
example and acquaint his face with his large, knitted scarf was floating cheerily around his
head. Still, somebody ought to stay guard, in case a sudden mob were to come around the
corner, so he didn’t.

“If you also want a lullaby,” Shinji offered in good humour, because his disfavour of singing
was only slightly more renowned than the one he had of dancing.

Appropriately, Kaworu giggled into his shoulder. “Don’t make me lose my head.”

“I thought you said that was a common occurrence with you,” Shinji probed, feeling his
fingers chill, but not giving up their hug.

“True,” Kaworu said, mock-serious tone mimicking Shinji’s, and raised his face to look at
him. “Only it’s usually – in more dramatic situations.”

An eyebrow was raised. “Such as...?”

Kaworu smiled, and although Shinji had got used to close proximity where the two of them
were concerned, he still held his breath for a moment. “Various things; taking Tabris to the
vet for the first time, auditioning for the middle school play...”

He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore, apart from an uncomfortable, dull sting, but that was
okay. Shinji smiled back. He felt a particularly large snowflake melt in between their lips a
moment later.

Monday, and sunny, and very full of snow, and Shinji was seated on a (snowy) bench
somewhere and looking at some dogs and waiting for his body to stop trembling with nerves.
The dogs were wearing sweaters. In five hours, it would be time for Shinji’s first play with
the theatre’s orchestra to commence.

The most annoying thing was that he felt like he couldn’t quite swallow right. Of all things.
Also, his bones felt immaterial and shivery at the same time. Also, his muffler smelt like
Kaworu’s place. Possibly, also his coat; and his hat. His shirt probably smelt like his aunt’s
lilac detergent, however.

There were three small dogs and they were wearing hand-knitted sweaters and going round a
small snowman. They were metres away from Shinji. They had tiny knitted hats too. Shinji
wondered whether he should have gone to a library, to calm his nerves. Then again, a library
wouldn’t have had grandmotherly terriers playing around in the snow. Or who knew.

Once he started getting used to his hand-warmers, he found them to be actually effective. He
wasn’t freezing so much now, even though the air was as cold as the sunrays on his face were
bright. He hoped he wouldn’t get sunburnt; this was what he got for not listening when
everybody told him to get sun cream.

At this hour, Asuka was supposedly undergoing awkward family visits, so he couldn’t exactly
call her; yet. At some point, she might casually and desperately tell him to call and save her
from whatever situation she’d got herself into. Until then, he didn’t have much to do, except
for watching the dogs. It was entertaining enough, but he was still shivering on the inside.
From time to time, he looked at his hands, only to see them improbably steady as he felt like
he was dissolving inside-out.

One of the dogs had entered his immediate proximity, and was now staring strangely at his
boots. Shinji frowned; he thought his boots to be perfectly sensible, offering no reason for
staring. It didn’t seem to be particularly aggressive. However, he did not know how to go
around petting it without setting its hat askew. Problems of the highest seriousness.

It lasted all of five minutes, and then Shinji started petting its nose in what, to him, seemed
like the most awkward manner. I’ve been around cats too long, he decided. Nobody seemed
to mind him. For all he knew, these dogs might have been a stress hallucination. Another dog
approached, and was consequently subjected to the same treatment.

Shinji would have asked himself what he was doing, but he found that he was enjoying
himself.

Nothing better than a pair of wiggling tails before a traumatic experience, he reasoned,
smiled at a rather too excited terrier. He’d been missing out; he should have hung around
dogs and puppies more. There was so little that was terrifying about them. They’re furry
couch pillows, Shinji poeticised. Well, he might have been a little influenced by the brightly
knit sweaters.
By the time a short elderly person came to retrieve said cushions, his phone already waited
with an unseen text. Just on time, Shinji thought, glancing at the hour.

Kaworu: Alright, I’m here. Come retrieve your special order whenever you’re free.

He’d be great in commercials, Shinji thought with dry fondness, and pushed himself up from
the bench. His legs kind of hurt now, although he hadn’t sat there for more than an hour.
Cause and effect, he thought. At least he’d got to pet some dogs.

“Welcome,” Kaworu smiled like a snowflake in its very first snowstorm. It wasn’t snowing
today, Shinji reminded himself.

“Hi,” he started pulling off his hand-warmers as he approached the counter, thinking that they
had overdone the cosy, wintery atmosphere in the coffee shop this year. There were a lot of
dull red decorations, not to mention the perpetual smell of cinnamon and ginger.

“How much time have I got?” Kaworu asked, pulling up his sleeve to check his watch. It had
planets all over it, Shinji knew. He’d been there for the magical purchase.

“As much as you need. I can stay around for two hours.” Then – the massacre, the purge, the
slaying of the innocent. Then – a theatre play.

The sounds of the coffee grinder were as loud as always, and quite therapeutic for Shinji’s
mental state. For all his fast movements, it still seemed to take Kaworu a while to prepare
whatever small cauldron of dark magic he had promised him. It was lucky that the other two
customers, who arrived after Shinji, asked for tea, otherwise Shinji would have had quite a
stressful time waiting for his order.

Glancing at Kaworu, bent over his masterpiece, adding who-knew-what, Shinji felt a whole
year younger. It was a strange, viscous, gooey feeling, residing somewhere deep in his chest.
It was nice, almost, but he was still too jittery to tell.

“Here you go,” Kaworu lifted a blue ceramic mug for Shinji to see, and smiled over it. “It
will make you feel better.”

Shinji frowned, because he didn’t remember telling him he was feeling unwell, and he still
liked to think he wasn’t quite that transparent. “Is it safe?” he asked, fixing his eyes on the
mug.

“Perfectly,” Kaworu placed it on a small tray, alongside a long teaspoon, a couple napkins,
and a small biscuit. “Oh, and look what I learnt to do,” he added with glee, and Shinji looked
closer at the mug to see the cat drawn in the foam.

He smiled. “Frothy,” he declared, and it made Kaworu beam more. He caught himself
wanting to experience that a little while longer, so he went on. “How is your dragon?”

There was a moment for Kaworu to blink at him; a short one, for deciphering. Then it
dissolved back into a grin. “Tabris is well. It’s decoration-sabotage season.”
“I’m glad,” Shinji said as he picked up his tray and magic cauldron.

Apparently, that wasn’t the desired action, because Kaworu immediately made a few vague
hand gestures. Still, it wasn’t like Shinji would actually relinquish his tray now. One of these
days, some manager will catch him at it, he mused, turning to look around for a table.
Whether he was referring to Kaworu’s continuous fixation on not letting him pay for each of
his drinks, or to the fact that they always seemed to talk a bit more than Shinji would have
considered advisable during work-hours – although, granted, this usually meant only one or
two lines more than a greeting, but Shinji had his own strong views about these things – was
of little importance.

Amiably ignorant of his thoughts, Kaworu followed him to the table – even tray-less – as he
left the miraculous other two baristas busy themselves with the heavy amount of customers.
Mainly, one. Still, Shinji countered, seating himself in a much needed, soft chair. Better than
frozen park benches, at least.

“Will you be alright?” Kaworu asked, playing with a little order-notebook to make himself
seem hard-working.

Hard to say, Shinji thought, looking at his mystery drink. “I think so,” he tried.

“It’s all going to be fine, in the end,” Kaworu said, making him realise he probably hadn’t
been talking about coffee before. Looking up, he got offered a kind smile. “One way or
another. I’ll be there, let’s see, 20 minutes prior? Will that be okay?”

Oh, right. Shinji had a play to actively attend to. Two minutes of forgetting that had rendered
him dreadfully defenceless. “Er,” he consequently enunciated. “Yes, that would be okay.”
Then, a thought. “Um. Thanks.”

The tiny notebook was returned to an apron-pocket in favour of Kaworu kind of easily and
patiently caressing Shinji’s hair. Definitely going to get him in trouble, Shinji remarked
absently, but he was feeling more surprised than fatalistic at the moment. Still, it was nice, for
the few seconds it lasted.

“You’re going to be alright,” Kaworu told him moments before withdrawing his hand. Words
seemed more trustworthy like that.

“I guess,” Shinji tried to smile, raising his shoulders in embarrassment. He remembered an

old dogma, and tried it out. “If I won’t, then at least I could get another coffee afterwards.”

Inferring from the light suddenly flickering in Kaworu’s eyes, that was a sound judgement.
He’d done that before, after all.
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