Chapter Text
In this world Kaworu is tired and ruled by nerves; cautious like a frightened child paired with the heave of the oldest soul on Earth and rolled into a body that seems to barely change. He is born here, born mostly unaware of all of the pasts he has already lived, and yet he feels caged and almost wild, like there is something, somewhere that he is meant to be seeking. It’s an ever-present worry that is deep rooted enough to line his very bones. When Ayanami Rei moves in with her family across the street, the unsettlement grows and then he’s tossing and turning every night; a ship breaking to a wreck in the stormy seas of dreams that shouldn’t be as tangible as they are. He doesn’t tell his parents. He can’t explain it, but he doesn’t quite want to let go.
He knows hands. Delicate over the ivory of a piano. Folded, unfolded, raised and clutched. Around his neck, knocking wind from his lungs.
He grows older; slowly (and sometimes quickly, in flashes and waves) he sees more until there are moments when he can feel the stretch of wasteland under his feet, the air of thousands of worlds and the dust settling in on himself; until he knows another boy’s face better than he knows his own. He tries not to speak to people about it—the jagged remains of all he has ever been. He keeps his unknown boy’s face a secret, guarded close and precious in all his deepest, darkest corners.
But sometimes it’s tough. Secrets are weighty business and at times Kaworu pines for nothing more than for someone to know all of his. So occasionally he will hint, quietly of course, and to no one but Rei.
Ayanami Rei is the hush of lonely afternoons and nights spent burrowed deep under the cover of blankets and thoughts that circle and bite. There is something in the obedient tilt of her head and the confliction in her eyes that makes sadness settle softly in the pit of Kaworu’s stomach. They follow each other from primary school to middle school and then later to high school. Kaworu likes the other students just fine, but they tend to shy away from the rawness that will occasionally lace his voice as well as the nervous twitches of his fingers. Rei is different though; she draws comfort from him and the gauzy familiarity of his speech. In lunch breaks and after school she likes to watch him play the piano, she can’t place whether he does it with an unpracticed ease or with the mark of someone who has been playing for centuries but either way she thinks it’s special and she likes how he will always ask for her opinion when he’s done. When he needs it, she allows him to speak vaguely of his dreams, of feeling like he is being consumed by the weight of reaching for something unattainable and the constant fear that this Earth could fall and crash at any moment. All-soft-words-smoke-thin-Rei understands; Kaworu knows she does.
~
Kaworu is eight years old with chubby cheeks and fingers when he first sees the boy. They’re the same age and so he hasn’t yet grown into the image that Kaworu knows. But Kaworu has never been so certain of anything before; certain of the slightly hesitant manner in which the boy walks and the way he shies away from looking people straight in the eyes.
By the time Kaworu can think to do something there are reckless children running through his sandpit and he has to stop to shield himself. When the attack is over and he looks back up it is only to see the boy being led away by the hand of a tall woman. He holds her hand tightly as her skirt swishes around her calves.
Kaworu is left caught between helplessness, frustration and an acute relief. Mostly, he is left with the name “Shinji” clear in his head, against his ears and lingering soundly on his tongue. He’s never been great at remembering names, but he feels like he’s spoken “Shinji” too many times to have kept count.
~
At sixteen Kaworu remembers everything. Including the fact that sixteen is a number he has never seen prior to this. Simple things like growth spurts that leave him odd and gangly are surreal and kind of overwhelming. He is grateful for the fresh time, as well as impatient to see Shinji again (he knows he will, he will, he will).
It’s at sixteen that he sees Shinji for the second time. Kaworu is all hair that will not behave despite all of his mother’s and Rei’s best efforts, and awkward limbs that he hasn’t seemed to quite master the art of controlling. He doesn’t remember to be embarrassed by any of that when he sees Shinji walking in his direction, squeezed in the midst of a heavy crowd. He’s closer to the Shinji that Kaworu knows now than the first time but there’s still enough change for Kaworu to ache for lost time. He’s hungry; thoughts scrambling as he tries to see all the details he’s had to miss at the hands of both of their broken life lines.
Kaworu’s eyes are too slow and Shinji is too fast. His scarf is red, Kaworu holds onto that fact for as long as he has to.
~
When they truly find each other, it’s a lot later than usual. It’s mid June and they’re both twenty-one when they literally collide in the empty aisle of a 24/7 supermarket. The force is strong enough to knock Kaworu straight to the floor, the contents of his shopping basket skittering across the tiles.
His throat runs dry when he looks up, straight into wide brown eyes. The colour is exactly as he remembers from his first timeline. The shock of that familiarity fades so fast that Kaworu barely registers it when Shinji Ikari opens his mouth and actually speaks.
“I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” He’s rushing to help Kaworu up and all Kaworu can do is stare.
He hasn’t heard Shinji’s voice in twenty-one years. It’s almost foreign now – no longer soft around the edges. Any traces of youth have been stripped away along with the baby fat on his cheeks. His shoulders are broader, hands bigger, and when Kaworu is finally on his feet and at his full height, it is only to find that Shinji now stands an inch or two taller than him.
His skin feels more alive than it has in ages but there’s something new that’s taking hold of his shoulders, nagging against his ears.
There are no evas or angels here; this world sits sturdy, away from the grasp of power-hungry men and their frozen hearts. Shinji Ikari could very well be happy. He might own an apartment and a puppy. At night he might warm his feet on the legs of a partner who isn’t Kaworu, wake up to cups of coffee and clean laundry. And where, just where could Kaworu fit into all of that?
For the first time in his life, it occurs to Kaworu that Shinji might not need him.
He staggers. Shinji looks at him concernedly, hand half raised to steady him if need be. There is too much that Kaworu wants to say and do and he’s tangled in all these new doubts and thoughts; all he manages is to keep staring at Shinji, wild eyed and a little lost.
He doesn’t want to leave. It’s been too long.
“Are you okay?” Shinji asks once again. His voice is careful now, testing and Kaworu wonders what he must look like to merit such a tone.
Finally, he swallows and nods slowly. “I’m fine, thank you,” he says. His voice sounds thick, alien to himself. If he were to step backwards, into an older timeline, would the Shinji of then recognise him as he is now?
Neither of them says a word for a moment, until Kaworu registers the clearly uncomfortable look on Shinji’s face and he finds himself panicking. “Are you alright? I must have hit you pretty hard as well.”
“No, no! I’m fine, I mean…you were the one that fell and-“ Shinji smiles meekly, scratching the back of his neck.
Kaworu can feel his heart thrumming against his skin. It feels like it’s commanding his nerves, ready to revolt against his body. Somehow, he manages to smile back. He’s trying so hard to be smooth like he was in the past but his legs are shaking and he doesn’t quite remember how to be soft and guiding – the focused figure of other timelines.
Perhaps he’s always needed Shinji more than Shinji needed him.
He leans down to gather his fallen groceries, heart still ticking away. Shinji is quick to kneel beside him and try to help. Kaworu watches his hands as he places the items in Kaworu’s basket, tracks them as he wipes them on the fabric of his jeans.
“I’m really sorry about that, should have been more careful,” says Shinji.
He looks so guilty that this time Kaworu’s answering smile is stronger, graceful enough to be closer to what used to come easy. “Accidents happen, it’s fine.”
Shinji looks at him, just a little dazed. “Still, you could have been hurt and you know-“
“I’m fine, really. Please don’t worry about it.” Kaworu wonders just what exactly Shinji does worry about nowadays, hopes dearly that it’s simple things.
Shinji waits a beat, he looks ready to turn away but instead he opens his mouth. “I’m Shinji, by the way. Ikari Shinji.”
He has to bite his tongue against “I know”. Instead Kaworu focuses on the shock of hearing Shinji introduce himself first, of all the loops he has experienced, this has never happened. He feels his shoulders loosen in a rush of dizzying affection for this boy, for whatever circumstances have allowed him to stand exactly as he is now.
He can’t let this end just yet.
“Nagisa Kaworu. But I’d like it if you would call me Kaworu.” He speaks as if they’ll be seeing a lot of each other. False confidence has always worked in his favour, at least initially.
“It’s nice to meet you, Kaworu.”
~
He’s never had the chance to speak to Shinji under such normal circumstances. He’s not sure of much at all – of how to make himself available, if he even should make himself available. All he understands is that he wants to wrap Shinji’s voice around his bones. The tips of his ears still warm when Shinji smiles, his fingertips still flex to touch the corners of his lips. He still burns to know Shinji.
Kaworu has never been good at doing things purely for himself.
And so it’s by some miracle that when they both exit the store and Kaworu stalls a little, Shinji does not leave. Instead, he sits on the street curb. The look he sends Kaworu, a question of whether he will sit with him or not, is so fast that Kaworu almost misses it. Almost. Kaworu sits down quick enough to feel his head spin. The wind is slowly getting louder, changing from a whisper to a wheeze as it rumples their hair. Shinji shivers, looking cautiously to the clouds hanging low and ashy in the sky.
“There’s meant to be a storm tonight. Thunder and all,” he offers.
Kaworu files this away, finds importance in how Shinji looks as he watches the sky. “Are you afraid of thunder?” he asks.
Shinji frowns for a moment, measuring his response. “Not really afraid…but I guess there are days where it’s good – almost refreshing – but then there are others where it kind of um…”
“Shakes you?”
Shinji hums in agreement. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
They sit in amiable silence until Kaworu hears rustling. He’s certain that this will be it, that this is Shinji fishing for car keys so he can leave and Kaworu will be stuck spending the rest of his life wondering whether or not Shinji could have wanted him back. Things are good here, there is so much more to lose and Kaworu can’t help the feeling that if something goes wrong at his hands, it won’t be as simple as redo, rewrite and repeat.
His worries are irrelevant, at least for now; Shinji is simply digging into his shopping bag for a packet of chips. He knows he couldn’t possibly leave before Shinji does, and if this is all he has to buy more time, well then he’s never been more grateful for a packet of chips in his life. The sound of the foil rustling as Shinji tries and fails to open it is much too sharp in the chill air and it’s not too long before Kaworu lays out his palm, the ghost of a smile lingering at his lips.
“Could I try?”
Shinji’s cheeks redden slightly as he hands Kaworu the packet. It’s the closest he’s looked to when he was a teenager and Kaworu relaxes in spite of himself. He struggles with the packet but it’s okay because from the corner of his eye, he can see Shinji trying to hide a smile. When he finally gets it open and he tries to return it, Shinji pushes his hands back. The touch is enough to knot his stomach, eyes widening as Shinji shakes his head.
“You have some first,” he says.
Kaworu needs to remember to breathe, remember to function. He finds himself fighting the urge to take Shinji’s hands, check for calluses and trace all the differences these extra years have marked him with. Instead, fingers trembling, he takes a chip before passing the packet back.
Shinji all but inhales an entire handful at once before remembering he’s not alone. He turns to Kaworu, smiling apologetically before swallowing.
“Ah, sorry, I um, I haven’t really eaten all day so I’m kind of hungry and I can’t eat while I’m driving home because that would be dangerous.” He still looks at the ground between sentences.
“Please, go ahead,” Kaworu says. “Besides, you are supposed to eat three balanced meals a day,” he adds as an afterthought.
Shinji laughs softly. “I’m not sure if you could really classify this as a balanced meal.”
“I wouldn’t know to be honest.” Kaworu takes a moment to rummage through his own shopping bag before emerging with a cup of instant noodles. “I mainly eat these.”
“You don’t cook?”
“No, I tend to burn things,” Kaworu replies, smiling impishly.
“You don’t have anyone to cook for you?” As soon as the words escape his mouth, Shinji looks away, bashful. “Sorry, I’m prying. You don’t have to answer that.”
Kaworu notes the way Shinji leans back, like he’s trying to realise his boundaries by creating physical space between them. “I don’t mind,” he says. He doesn’t scoot closer.
~
The wind picks up. They keep talking. When it gets cold enough for both of them to be shivering in earnest and they can smell the first signs of rain, Shinji heaves himself up and offers a hand to Kaworu.
“It looks like the storm might start soon. I should get going.”
He’s known that this is what all of this had to lead up to but still, Kaworu’s stomach sinks. There’s one more thing he needs to know, and if this could be over after now, he decides he’s going to ask.
“Are you happy?” he says, voice even.
Shinji’s outstretched hand falls to his side as he looks to Kaworu bewilderedly. Nevertheless, he bites instead of ignoring the question. “I guess…I don’t really see why I shouldn’t be. Why?”
Kaworu shakes his head. “No, not whether or not you think you should be happy. Are you happy?”
Shinji frowns, clutches his bag a little tighter. “Sure. Yeah, I’m more or less happy.”
He tells himself not to cling to the “less” in “more or less”. It stings, Kaworu realises. And it shouldn’t, he should feel good. He’s bent the rules of time itself to chase this boy, in the hope that somewhere he could live the life he deserves.
“That’s good,” Kaworu says quietly, and his words have never felt so wooden.
Shinji softens, looking slightly guilty and it’s then that Kaworu understands just how much these loops have changed him. What he feels is no longer curiosity or attraction or a selfless desire to see Shinji smile; he needs Shinji to love him back. And that’s not such a good thing considering his history.
He used to marvel in the moments he felt so completely human. When did those moments begin to stretch into entire lifelines and become his very nature?
Rain is beginning to fall, but he’s not shivering anymore. “I’m glad I got to meet you, Shinji.”
Shinji hesitates before nodding slowly. The atmosphere feels all wrong. “It was nice talking to you.”
Kaworu gets the impression he means it. Still, they leave for their respective cars.
There’s a bolt of lightning that strikes through the sky, and perhaps against his better judgement, Shinji stops and calls out Kaworu’s name. When he turns, there’s a dangerous rush of hope that’s threatening to sweep Kaworu from the inside out.
“How far do you live?” asks Shinji.
“I’d say around forty minutes.”
“It might be dangerous to drive, so um…”
Kaworu doesn’t move, doesn’t blink.
“I’m only ten minutes away from here, so maybe it’d be better if I let you…um, if I let you stay at my house until the storm is over? I could drive you back here to your car when it’s over…”
“O-okay,” Kaworu replies. He’s never been one to stutter but he feels like his heart is swelling straight up into his throat
~
When they’re both safe inside Shinji’s car, and the heater is turned right up, Kaworu glances out the window and asks Shinji, “Is today a good day for thunder or a bad day?”
Shinji takes a moment. “A good day,” he says slowly.
Kaworu watches him drive from the corner of his eye. He’s careful, always right in the middle of the correct lane, eyes focused on the road.
Kaworu used to be like that.