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Shinji was walking through the dilapidated halls of Nerv, meandering towards his usual meeting place with Kaworu. Ever since they had met, Shinji had felt drawn to him, intrigued by his cool demeanour and wisdom. Perhaps it was just that Shinji was touch-starved and desperate for the positive attention of another living soul, but lately, he had discovered that he enjoyed Kaworu’s company.
He had been looking forward to some musical therapy, but when he arrived at the spot, he was shocked to see that the entire room had changed. It was bitingly cold, and the floor was caked in a deep coating of white powder, like the substance that came out of a fire extinguisher. The piano, too, was dusted in it. Kaworu was busy swiping the fluff off the bench when Shinji approached, wide-eyed and dumbfounded.
“Oh, Ikari-kun. You’re here,” he observed. “I see you’ve noticed the change in weather.”
“Yeah,” Shinji said, looking around. “What’s all this?”
Kaworu gestured around them. “It’s snow.”
Shinji’s eyes widened further in shock. He had learned about it in school, but he had never actually seen snow before — most people hadn’t, now. After all this world had been through, it didn’t even seem like a possibility anymore. He felt stupid for not realizing what it was, though; he should have recognized it based on the descriptions he had heard. What else would have fallen from the sky?
“Why would it snow now?” he asked, rightfully confused. “I thought that didn’t happen anymore.”
“I have no idea,” Kaworu said. “It hasn’t snowed here for decades. I doubt we would have even noticed it if the roof was intact, since we don’t spend a lot of time outdoors.”
Shinji crouched down to investigate it, pressing his finger into the frosting-like layer of compressed white powder. It was cold, obviously; so much so that it almost felt like it was burning his skin. He grabbed a clump of it with his bare hand and scrunched it together, finding that it crunched in on itself in a rather satisfying way. He felt it start to melt in his palm, so he opened his hand, seeing the shape of his fingers in relief.
“What now?” he asked, looking at the lump in his hand. “We can’t play piano like this, right?”
“I suppose not,” Kaworu said with a bit of defeat.
“Well…I don’t want to go back so soon,” he admitted. “What can we do about it?”
Kaworu hummed. “I think the Lilin used to play in the snow at times like these. Build things with it, throw it at each other, roll around in it.”
Shinji peered at him inquisitively. Then, he grabbed a bigger pile of it, compressing it with both hands. “I’m supposed to throw this at you?”
Kaworu took a step back, mild fear in his eyes. “Perhaps…start with a smaller piece.”
Shinji broke the ball in half, reshaping it. He then lightly tossed it underhand at Kaworu; it hit him in the leg, leaving a white mark on his pants which quickly disappeared as it melted.
Kaworu seemed pensive. “Hm. Let me try.”
Kaworu grabbed some for himself, lightly packing it together. He wound up like a pitcher, going as far as raising his knee elegantly, before gracefully whirling the hunk of snow at Shinji’s chest. It collided with a dull thud.
Shinji looked down, seeing the residual crystals clinging to the buttons of his shirt. He felt the melting ice seep through the fabric, darkening it and making the spot feel cold. This was supposed to be fun? People had done this as an activity?
“Did I hurt you?” Kaworu asked, likely wondering why Shinji was staring down at himself.
“No,” Shinji said. “I guess I just don’t really get why they used to do this.”
“Neither do I.” He covered his mouth in thought. “Why don’t we try making it a bit more fun?”
“How do we do that?”
Kaworu smiled slightly, bending down to pick up another snowball. He held it in his hands, gently tossing it from one to the other.
“Run.”
“N-Nagisa-kun?” Shinji stammered, backing away out of instinct as Kaworu got in a low lunge, ready to take off.
Kaworu’s grin turned almost devious — as devious as it could. “I suggest that you run, Ikari-kun.”
Quickly taking the hint, Shinji rushed away, hiding behind the piano. He kept an eye on Kaworu as he stalked him around the instrument, going around and around in circles, tension building with each lap.
“You’re totally defenseless, Ikari-kun,” Kaworu said playfully. “Don’t you think you ought to procure a weapon of your own? I want this to be a fair fight.”
Taking his advice, Shinji threw together a few snowballs as he kept an eye on his peripherals, piling them in his bare arms despite the discomfort. He wasn’t about to let Kaworu be better than him at this, too.
The crunching sound of Kaworu’s footsteps had stopped. This was it; this was Shinji’s chance. He turned the corner, ready to hit his opponent with a surprise attack, but he was nowhere to be found. He turned around, confused, only to squeal in terror to see that Kaworu had been standing behind him.
“And so the cat catches the mouse,” Kaworu said ominously, preparing his throw.
Shinji scrambled to get away, but Kaworu was too quick; the snowball collided with force against his shoulder. It hadn’t actually hurt, but that didn’t matter; his fighting spirit had now been sufficiently fuelled. He dodged Kaworu’s hasty attempt at a follow-up shot, finally deciding to get serious.
“I won’t let you do that again!” he cried as he took off sprinting.
He ran to the other side of the large area with a dastardly plan in mind, looking behind him to make sure Kaworu was following. When he had led Kaworu away from any kind of useful barricades, he spun on his heel, poised to strike. Kaworu skittered to a stop.
Now that Kaworu was wide open, Shinji went turbo, whipping the snowballs in his arms at him in rapid succession. Before Kaworu could realize what had happened, two had hit him in the chest and one had hit him square in the face.
“Oh!” Shinji gasped. “I-I’m so sorry, Nagisa-kun! I was trying to aim lower…”
Kaworu wiped the now-melted snow from his eyes, laughing. “I’m fine. But you’d better get running, now, before I get you back for that.”
Shinji rose to the challenge. They sprinted after each other for a good while, flinging snow at one another, sweat on their brows despite the chill in the air. It had been a long while since Shinji had physically exerted himself this much. He found it hard to get enough oxygen in his lungs — his stamina wasn’t what it used to be, but he also wasn’t accustomed to breathing so hard in this temperature. Although it stung, it was oddly invigorating.
As the sound of their laughter echoed in the wide, open space, it almost felt like they were just regular teenagers, in a regular world, with no unknown timeline looming over their heads. Shinji let himself pretend they were here together simply because they wanted to be, and not because everything until now had been orchestrated for a higher purpose. The joy in Kaworu’s eyes made it easy to convince himself of that.
By the end of it, Shinji had hit Kaworu twelve times, whereas Kaworu had only managed to hit him with a total of eight snowballs. Shinji had utilized his rapid-fire strategy more than once, lending him the victory. Kaworu was anything but a sore loser.
“You’ve beat me fair and square,” Kaworu relented, panting slightly. “Congratulations, Ikari-kun. I’m impressed with your prowess.”
“W-What else do people do in the snow?” Shinji asked, too eager, terrified of letting this feeling slip away. “I don’t want to miss out on anything. We might not get the chance again.”
Kaworu seemed amused by Shinji’s sudden passion for sport. “I’ve read about people making forts out of snow, or snow sculptures. Sometimes they lay on their backs in the snow and spread their limbs out, making an imprint in it. They called it a ‘snow angel.’”
“A…snow Angel? That sounds terrifying,” he said, shaking his head as a futile method of defense against the images in his mind. “Why would they want to make that?”
Kaworu’s cheery expression fell slightly. “…I don’t know.”
Shinji wanted to veer the topic away from where it had just gone, so he quickly made a suggestion. “Well…you said people made sculptures out of snow, right? Why don’t we do that next?”
“Whatever you say, Ikari-kun. It’s not often that you decide on something like this,” he said, happy to see it. “What do you want to make?”
Shinji hummed in thought. “I have an idea. Let’s each make one, and compare them afterwards.”
“Good thinking.”
They turned their backs to each other, pinky swearing not to peek, and set to building. Shinji was compelled to try his best at this, too; he wanted to keep impressing Kaworu.
He started by making a general approximation of a human figure, about two feet in height. He tried to sculpt the impression of pant legs, a belt, and a shirt collar, which he thought had turned out pretty alright, considering his lack of experience. It helped that he had his own uniform to use as a reference.
When it came time to sculpt the head, Shinji looked around, wishing he had something to press in for the eyes. He remembered where he was, though, and reached under the snow, finding a few burgundy pebbles from the ground. Close enough, he figured.
As he worked out the finer details, he tried to carve out a smile on his creation’s face, but it turned out too cartoonishly. It didn’t look anything like the boy next to him, but it definitely emulated his friendly, approachable energy. He put a small piece of snow in the centre of the face, smoothing around the edges to look like a nose. Shinji knew that he had made the nose too large, but again, it was close enough.
Finally, he stuck some clumps of snow to the back of its head to mimic the appearance of his hair. All in all, it wasn’t bad for a first try.
“Alright, I’m done,” he announced. “Are you ready?”
“I think so,” Kaworu said. “I’m excited to see what you’ve created.”
Shinji turned around, seeing a miniature snow-boy standing next to Kaworu as well. Kaworu had put much more detail in his than Shinji had; the sculpting of the hairline in particular gave it away. He had made an artistic rendition of Shinji, and he had done so with a remarkable amount of care. Shinji didn’t know what to say.
“Ikari-kun,” Kaworu said, first, with awe. “Is that… me?”
Shinji glanced back at his sculpture, then cast his eyes down towards his feet in embarrassment. He had almost forgotten that the purpose of this was for Kaworu to see what he had made. Would the depiction come across as an insult?
“Y-Yeah, I was trying to make it look like you. I, uh, didn’t do a very good job, though.” He glanced up to see Kaworu looking at the sculpture with an affectionate smile.
“Oh, it’s perfect,” he said, sounding like he really believed it. “I love it. I’m so touched that I was your muse.”
Kaworu had fully knelt down in the snow, craning his neck over the sculpture, looking at all the work Shinji had put in. He seemed genuinely mesmerized.
“W-What about yours? What’s it supposed to be?” Shinji asked, wishing to take the attention off himself. Still, he was too shy to ask directly if it was supposed to be him or not. He didn’t want to seem pompous.
“I was trying to make you, as well,” Kaworu confessed, standing up again and brushing off the snow clinging to his knees. “Although I couldn’t find anything to represent your eyes.”
More curious than he had been a moment ago, Shinji got up close like Kaworu had, studying the sculpture’s face. Kaworu had seemed to replicate the features of his face quite accurately, however simplistically. Everything was in the right spot. Even the way his hair fell over his forehead had been depicted with a surprising level of accuracy, given the medium.
“...I could already tell what it was supposed to be,” he admitted, looking at Kaworu again. “It’s incredible. How did you do that without even looking at me?”
Kaworu glanced away for a moment. “I suppose I just…know what you look like very well.”
“Yeah,” Shinji said, laughing. “I must have a really generic face.”
“No,” Kaworu said, suddenly impassioned. “Not at all. I think your face is uniquely beautiful, Ikari-kun.”
Shinji’s eyebrows raised involuntarily. Thankfully, his cheeks were already pink from the cold.
“I-I think you have a…uniquely…b-beautiful face, too, Nagisa-kun,” he stumbled through saying.
A surprised smile found its way to Kaworu’s mouth. “Is that so?”
“A-And I’m sorry I hit it with a snowball earlier,” he said to undercut what he had just admitted.
Kaworu chuckled. “I’m sure it’s fine. You didn’t cause any visible damage, right? I can’t see it for myself, obviously.”
Shinji stepped closer, pretending to inspect him carefully. “No. You’re good.”
Kaworu smiled again, and the sight of it up close like this made Shinji’s heart jump. “As long as you think so, Ikari-kun, I know it’ll be okay.”
“A-Anyway,” Shinji said, growing more bashful the longer the conversation went on, “Let’s do something else. You said something about building a fort?”
“Lead the way,” Kaworu said, gesturing him onward.
Shinji tried to step past him, but his foot caught a slippery patch in the snow, causing him to skitter forward. He wobbled on his feet for a second, but Kaworu caught him before he could fully lose his balance, holding him tightly against his chest.
“Are you alright?” he asked, voice directly in Shinji’s ear.
“Y-Yeah,” Shinji said, heart racing for more than one reason. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him so closely.
“This might be too dangerous, after all,” Kaworu mused. “We wouldn’t want to get hurt when we both serve such an important role.”
Shinji frowned, not wishing to think about that right now. Not while he was in the arms of someone who truly cared about him — the only person alive who did.
“…I’m sorry for bringing it up,” Kaworu murmured, sensing the sudden tension. “But we ought to keep our reality in mind.”
“Let’s go back, then,” Shinji said, shrugging out of his hold, feeling foolish for having enjoyed the last hour. There was no point in enjoying anything. His father saw him as an expendable tool; his former friends saw him as an expendable nuisance. Someone like him didn’t deserve to have fun.
“Hey,” Kaworu cooed, resting the backs of his curled fingers on Shinji’s cheek. “Forget I said that. We can keep playing around, if you want.”
Shinji turned his head away; he didn’t deserve to have Kaworu touch him like that. “I’m not really in the mood anymore,” he said, knowing his tone was sour.
“Then come with me,” Kaworu said, outstretching his hand for Shinji to take if he so chose. “I know somewhere we can go instead.”
Shinji wanted to push him away. He wanted to run far from Kaworu, far from that ever-present benevolent smile that never seemed to judge him. He hated being treated like he was worth something, because he knew he wasn’t. Everyone else hated him; Kaworu should have hated him, too.
Still, he couldn’t bring himself to run. He placed his hand in Kaworu’s open palm, letting Kaworu close his fingers around it. If Kaworu was foolish enough to extend Shinji his affection, then Shinji would just have to be foolish enough to accept it.
As they paced the halls, Kaworu explained that he was taking Shinji to a secret room he had discovered. The notion of a “secret room” in this building seemed absurd; surely, his father knew about it. But Kaworu insisted that it would feel like an entirely different world — a place where they could forget about things, if only for a moment.
Down the end of a dark, almost-creepy-looking hallway was a door. Kaworu jimmied the handle until it opened. Shinji worried for a split second that Kaworu was taking him here to murder him, but he let it go immediately. Surely, Kaworu would have rather died than see him get hurt.
He ushered Shinji inside, shutting the door behind them and finally switching on the light. Shinji gasped; he felt like he was dreaming, seeing a place like this within Nerv.
The room was small, with a fluffy rug spread out across the floor and a few basic pieces of furniture. What really drew Shinji’s eye, though, was the large fireplace affixed to the wall. Why would his father have bothered to set this up?
“No one will bother us here,” Kaworu said. “No one has come here for a very long time. I’m not sure why this place still exists; there’s no use for it anymore.”
“We have use for it now,” Shinji argued. “It’s never been this cold outside before.”
“That’s true. Speaking of which…” Kaworu trailed off as he went over to the fireplace, pressing a switch on the side of it, making it emit a low rumble as it started to light up. “We’re lucky it runs on electricity. If it required real wood, we wouldn’t have been able to use it.”
The image of flickering flames appeared on the front of it, looking real enough to be convincing. Now that there was an alternative source of light, Shinji flicked the main light off, sparing his eyes the harsh sterility of Nerv’s standard light bulbs. Instead, the room was filled with a warm, orange-yellow haze.
Kaworu held out his hand. “Come here,” he coaxed. “You won’t get any warmer standing over there.”
Shinji approached, sitting cross-legged on the plush carpet next to Kaworu, basking in the fireplace’s warmth. Kaworu had been correct; in a place like this, it was easy to forget about everything weighing on his conscience.
Now that they were in such a cozy space, though, Shinji realized just how chilled his body had become in contrast. He wrapped his arms around himself, trembling with cold; it felt like his bones were frozen. He rubbed his hands on his limbs in an attempt at generating heat.
“Are you still cold, Ikari-kun?”
“Huh?” Shinji looked at him. “Uh, kind of. Are you not?”
Kaworu shrugged. “A bit. I don’t seem to be as bothered by atmospheric differences as the rest of you, though.”
“Huh, that’s weird,” Shinji mused. “I wonder why?”
Kaworu ignored his question. “Would you like me to help you warm up?”
Shinji was taken aback by the question; it almost sounded salacious. “How are you going to help me with that?”
“Like this,” Kaworu said matter-of-factly, scooting closer to Shinji and coiling an arm around his shoulders. “We can heat up more quickly this way.”
After having unintentionally fallen into Kaworu’s arms earlier, this didn’t seem so bad, but it still came as a shock. “Um… are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“Of course,” Kaworu assured him. “I’d do anything for you.”
Shinji wanted to ask for more, but he was conflicted. How often was he going to find someone so willing to let their guard down around him, though? Nothing in this world seemed stable; nothing was concrete, and it could change at any moment. He just had to exist in this moment with Kaworu, and he had to let himself be a little selfish. He had to push a little further.
“If that’s the case, then…” Shinji fidgeted with his hands for a moment. “Maybe we should lie down.”
Kaworu’s eyes widened. “Ikari-kun…?”
Shinji ignored his perplexion and lay down on his side, finding it comfortable on the fluffy mat beneath them. “Go behind me.”
Kaworu followed suit, laying behind Shinji and gingerly placing his arm around his waist. There was still distance between their bodies; Kaworu was too polite to seriously encroach on Shinji’s personal space without explicit consent.
Shinji squeezed his eyes shut, steeling his nerves. He shuffled back until he felt Kaworu’s body press against his own. Seeming to finally understand, Kaworu drew his knees up, nestling them into where Shinji’s were folded in front of him so their bodies were flush together. His grip around Shinji’s middle tightened.
Even now, Shinji didn’t know if this was okay to do. Was he allowed to get close to someone, absorb their affection, feel such a palpable desire from them? Did he deserve what Kaworu was willing to give him?
For the time being, he had to pretend that it was permissible. He let his eyes fall shut comfortably, enjoying the heat radiating from the artificial fire before him. Kaworu’s body was warming him up where the fire’s heat couldn’t reach, making him feel enveloped by love.
Shinji’s eyes snapped open. Love?
Just then, he felt a soft pressure against the back of his neck, right behind his ear. It almost felt like...
“W-What was that?” he asked, mouth feeling dry.
Kaworu’s voice was hushed. “I’m sorry, Ikari-kun, I…couldn’t help myself. Spending this time with you today, seeing how happy you looked… it made me feel like…” He trailed off, more hesitant to speak than Shinji had ever seen him. “Well, it almost felt like a date, Ikari-kun. And it’s common for Lilin to kiss one another after a date, isn’t it?”
Shinji wasn’t sure if he had heard him right. Kaworu almost sounded hopeful that their playtime had been a date. A date? Him? With Shinji? That would never happen… Kaworu was out of his league.
But, if Kaworu was so desperate for companionship that he was willing to settle for Shinji, then Shinji didn’t need to harbour so much guilt about the way he was feeling. They were both lonely; that was okay. They had both been alone for far too long.
“Y-You’ve got it wrong, Nagisa-kun,” he told him quietly.
Kaworu lifted his hand away from Shinji’s body, instantly regretful. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ikari-kun, I—”
Shinji rolled over to face him while Kaworu backed away, catching him by the shoulder before he could get too far.
“I mean,” Shinji clarified, “That’s not the kind of kiss you give someone after a date.”
“What do you—”
Before he could finish, Shinji brought their lips together, not totally knowing what he was doing but relying on his instincts. Kaworu’s mouth was very warm — which he hadn’t been expecting — and he had relaxed into it almost immediately, making Shinji lose some of his confidence. He hadn’t thought of what he was supposed to do after the initial contact, and he didn’t like being given the reins.
Quickly picking up the slack, though, Kaworu lightly pushed Shinji down on his back, working his lips against him with tenderness. It seemed like he wanted to push further, but was restraining himself, like he was too scared of pushing too far. Shinji almost wished he would have.
His hand stroked down Shinji’s side, softly, full of affection, like Shinji was something worth cherishing. It was as if Kaworu felt like this moment was precious — that Shinji was precious, and that he was blessed to be here with him, alone in this hidden place. He wondered how long Kaworu had been having these kinds of thoughts about him.
Kaworu pulled back after only a moment. “Was that more appropriate?”
Shinji worried that his voice would hold a tremble when he let it out, so he just nodded dumbly.
“May I kiss you again, Ikari-kun?” he asked, already leaning in as if he knew the answer.
Shinji could only give another nod in reply.
Kaworu laughed under his breath before sealing his lips against Shinji’s once more. It was better, this time — he didn’t seem as afraid of frightening him. After a moment, he parted his lips just slightly, giving Shinji the option to bring him in deeper if he wanted to.
Shinji did want to; he really wanted to, and he had enough adrenaline pumping through him to actually follow through with it. With barely a hint of shyness, he opened his mouth, giving Kaworu permission. He heard Kaworu sigh as he was welcomed in; the sound made something forbidden in Shinji stir, something he hadn’t felt in a while.
He gasped as Kaworu’s tongue grazed his own, soft at first, but quickly becoming firm and insistent. The hand on his side gripped tighter, pushing harder, hungry to feel as much as it could without overstepping. Shinji wondered how long Kaworu had been having these kinds of thoughts about him.
Kaworu pulled off again, making a wet smacking sound as their lips separated. Shinji looked up at him, absolutely floored, wanting to hide his face but also desperately wishing for Kaworu to see him. More than that, he wanted to kiss him again.
“You seem like you’ve warmed up,” Kaworu said, chuckling softly.
“Y-Yeah,” Shinji said, knowing it was a stupid response.
“That wasn’t too much, was it?” he asked, suddenly much quieter.
Shinji studied his expression, finding it meek and wary, not at all like his usual self. His cheeks were red in the glow of the fireplace. Shinji wasn’t sure if he had ever seen him blush before.
He shook his head. “Not at all.”
Kaworu smiled, eyes lidded, as he drew closer again. “You know, I meant it when I said no one would bother us here,” he murmured. “I’m not sure anyone else is aware that this room exists anymore.”
Shinji let himself reach up, stroking the soft hair on the back of Kaworu’s head, eager to squeeze as much life from this moment as he could. The taste of Kaworu’s mouth was still fresh on his tongue; he wanted more of it. He wanted to drown in it. He wanted to fool himself into believing they were falling in love.
“Let’s stay a little longer, then,” he said, pulling him in.