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Kaworu Nagisa was not human, nor did he particularly want to be, all things considered.
Humans, as a general concept, were messy, inelegant, self-absorbed.
Shinji Ikari was all of these things.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Kaworu apologized, sliding onto the bench beside Shinji.
“It’s not a problem.” Shinji shook his head, considering the black and white keys, and avoiding Kaworu’s gaze. “You’re usually here first, so I was just a little surprised, that’s all…”
He had thought that Kaworu wasn’t coming at all, he realized. Shinji’s distrust was understandable, of course, given the state of things, and perhaps the trait wasn’t even possible to amend in the first place. Although Kaworu was staunchly determined to bring a happiness to Shinji unlike any the Lillan had ever known, he had also learned during his brief yet plural lifetimes upon the Earth that happiness rang different for everyone. A single emotion on paper, yet ever changing in its truth, just the same as people themselves.
Kaworu smiled warmly. “Forgive me for surprising you, then.”
In truth, Kaworu had been lost in thought on his way to their rendezvous. There had to be some way… There must, because Kaworu would make it so, even at a cost unfathomable.
Shinji’s thigh was warm against his own and despite an initial twitch, he didn’t shy away from the contact. A warm body, as was proper and right for a living being, and the very proximity to such a tangible concept brought a great sense of comfort to Kaworu, craving more. Placing his fingers overtop Shinji’s, it occurred to Kaworu, however briefly, that perhaps he wasn’t above selfishness as well.
“It was a nice surprise,” Shinji managed, already turning pink beneath those brown eyes that promised like the earth promised a seed the gift of life. Kaworu had seen the Earth from the surface of the Moon, and yet somehow the beauty of one simple human was greater.
“Hmm?” Kaworu hummed, hoping to urge more words from Shinji’s stumbling lips. He found that he enjoyed when Shinji talked, no matter the topic. His childhood, his friends from school in the past, Rei, Asuka… fear and grief.
“Like…” Shinji searched Kaworu’s face, as if he would continue the thought for him, and Kaworu thought that Shinji must have had very few ‘good’ surprises in his life. “Like when someone throws you a surprise birthday party, or something like that.”
“Ah, I see.” Kaworu tried to imagine Gendo throwing any sort of party and failed miserably. “So then, shall we get started?”
“I’d like that,” Shinji replied quietly.
Kaworu led Shinji’s fingers across the keys, like a lover walking their partner along a favorite childhood seashore for the first time.
Shinji Ikari was human. And while humans did have their host of flaws, Kaworu had discovered two very delightful aspects:
- They enjoyed gentle touch.
- They had a penchant for music.
Shinji was no exception—beautifully, wonderfully normal as he was—and Kaworu loved him for it.
“You’re improving,” Kaworu commented, nodding appreciatively as their song was through.
Rather than deny it, Shinji blossomed under the praise. “Do you really think so?”
“Of course. Your song is as beautiful as the heart it arose from,” Kaworu answered truthfully.
Shinji smiled, far too rare of an occurrence for Kaworu’s liking. He wanted to devour those smiles, absorbing them as nourishment while he did everything within his worldly power and beyond to bring forth another and another. To bring Shinji happiness until the next apocalypse and beyond it.
Neither moved from the bench, despite both the lesson and resulting conversation having ended, and Kaworu thought that perhaps Shinji didn’t wish to leave. Being so bold as to consider himself the cause of this hesitance, Kaworu extended an offer, “Would you like me to walk you back to your room?”
The halls leading to the place where Shinji was kept were stark and clinical, and Kaworu found them peaceful, as a void was.
“Well, we’re here…” Shinji scratched at the back of his neck, and while the action was likely due to nerves, it reminded Kaworu of the collar that he had freed Shinji from in that same room, the same device Kaworu wore now.
He only wished that he could lift even more burdens from Shinji’s shoulders.
Without asking permission, Kaworu sat on the bed. Shinji, on the other hand shuffled his feet, silently requesting admission to his own living space.
“Sit.” Kaworu cocked his head playfully as he patted the open space on the mattress beside him.
Accustomed to doing what he was told, Shinji obeyed, seating himself uncertainly like a new pet unsure of the rules of his new home regarding the furniture. He had responded so joyfully to the music they had played together, Kaworu thought, and not only that but to the touch of his hand as well. What more could he do to bring more such serenity to Shinji’s heart? If only he could consume Shinji’s sorrows, drawing them like a poultice to a wound.
Slowly, carefully--as if Shinji could slip through his fingers, lost forever to the callous whims of eternity—Kaworu rested his hands over Shinji’s shoulders. Closing the brief distance between them, Kaworu brushed his lips over Shinji’s inviting pout.
A sharp intake of breath tickled Kaworu’s lips as arms wrapped him, clutching as if to a vine swung out over a wide river, afraid to let himself go deeper, should all breath be lost.