Chapter Text
october 4, 20xx.
There are two means of “feeling”— the external and the internal sort. What makes such a basic aspect of the average human so fascinating is the natural tendency for them to be linked.
When one outreaches their hand towards the sun, fingers stretched out and pressing against its rays, they experience a warm feeling. Alternatively, when the world lashes back at them, brimming their clothes with its painful winter, they reel back into themselves in a cold feeling. Both occurrences are two very distant points on a spectrum of their own, yet seem to be inadvertently connected to a much more complex system that at times is beyond comprehension:
The human emotion.
As it goes by this notion, when one is warm on the outside, they feel happy on the inside. When one is cold, they are sad.
When his feet reached that point, Kaworu Nagisa found himself unable to move any further. He had all his five senses, like anyone who was mortal would have. He smelled the slight fragrance of red roses from the corner store, tasted the butter that lay on top of croissants from the bakery. He heard the morning birds that upheld the promise of tomorrow and ran his fingers over the smooth yet sharp surface of book pages with each turn of the story. He even saw the way the buildings around him reached up in desperation for the heavens; Kaworu experienced all of it.
Yet, he felt nothing.
Perhaps that was why he would trace and then retrace his footsteps to and from one end of a nearby bridge to the other. Different people found their way around it each day, which meant different stories for Kaworu to read and different opportunities for something to be ignited within him.
He bore witness to couples smitten with new love when dawn broke, and people who have reached rock bottom when dusk arose. Kisses, hugs, displays of affection between two lovers was something he’d always tried to understand. When two people adore each other very much, they kiss.
Why do they kiss?
According to an author whose name he forgot in a book he read long ago, desire sparks a flame so great that a person wants nothing more than to throw themselves on their beau and die for them on the spot. Of course, they would not go to such lengths, so a kiss and a hug would suffice. When there is death, there is nothing, and there is no space to love your partner any more. To that, Kaworu waved off all doubts, all concerns that a usual human would have. It’d been century upon century, and he’d yet to experience infatuation. He didn’t expect to do so any time soon, nor did he have the desire to. It was all the same, unlike his encounters at midnight.
At midnight, he saw something so much more enticing and riveting it was what led him walking back to the bridge— human despair.
Despair is something evident in all aspects of life, and what manifests under the veil of the moonlight. The depression that wallowed within wandering drunkards who pushed themselves to the point of blacking out, the hooded faces of disguised people with no story and no penny to their names, and the silent death cries of people with their legs dangling off the edge. Though Kaworu didn’t try to interact with any of these personalities, he saw the meaning behind their stay at this bridge. He saw the anguish, the misery, and the loss of everything.
In the most extreme cases (namely suicide), he’d even feel some regret for not helping them. However, those doubts quelled themselves when he understood that there was little merit in doing so. They’d endured with their lives long enough; there was futility in stopping their decision out of his own desire. Without interference, these people met their ends as quickly as they arrived here. There was hesitance, there were tears at times, and then there were none.
This concept now left thoughts and words washed away on the tip of his tongue, for the boy in front of him who stood at the edge of the bridge had been doing so for a while now.
As each second passed, Kaworu found himself observing with an even greater intensity than the last. The boy looked to be about his age, with a white button-down tucked into his black dress pants. His shoes were worn and a dull white, and every time they threatened to slip off the edge they’d reel all the way back in a panicked hurry. His head hung down in a reflection of the same gloom he saw within everyone whose fate led them to this bridge.
But, most of all, he wouldn’t budge.
Kaworu never struck up a conversation with the pariahs of midnight. They weren’t exactly one for conversation, as their minds were sunk too deep in hopelessness to give someone like Kaworu the time of day. Communication and interaction was the driving reason many humans continued to live. Perhaps that was what he was missing, he noted to himself as he took a step forward. Perhaps, instead of observing, instead of not daring to touch their perfectly miserable lives, he should interfere.
Not physically, of course, because of this supernatural thing that he had (unrelated for now, really) but… perhaps verbally, for just a bit.
It wasn’t two steps, nor was it three, it was just a single step in the boy’s direction. But, like an echoing bell in the silence, that was all that was needed for the listless, unmoving boy on the bridge’s edge to look Kaworu’s way.
And so their eyes met, and it struck Kaworu all of a sudden that perhaps there was still more he wasn’t aware he lacked understanding of in this world. The large, deep brown eyes that locked with his were not depraved or filled with despondency. Quite the opposite, Kaworu noticed. They were expectant.
“Are you going to kill yourself?” He couldn’t help the natural smile that itched at his lips.
“Ah.. uh.. yes.” His voice was meek, frail, and certainly played the part of someone who had given up. In fact, the pathetic desperation he spoke in did nothing but push away. Yet his eyes, those pupils that a great English poet once referred to as windows to the soul, beckoned and poked at Kaworu to act, to do something. So, he bent to their will for just this once.
“By any chance, are you afraid of death?” The boy flinched. He hit it right on the nail.
“Yes..” His words faded in and out, like a fountain pen on paper. This was a person who loathed themselves to such an extent they drove themselves to near suicide. This was a person who was so wronged they came crashing all the way down to here. Their tone mirrored their heart— fragile, weak, and no longer willing to endure the pain of living. Yet their eyes still begged. “Are you going to talk me out of it?”
“Not particularly, no.” His irises dulled, and the anticipation melted into dejection.
“Then why are you here?”
“Why are you afraid of death?”
The boy seemed to not have expected a question in response to his own. Call it dodging, call it curiosity, those meanings couldn’t have been less valued at this moment.
“Because I’m a coward.”
“Is it not within human nature to value your life?”
“Alright, then what if you don’t? The entire reason people continue to live is because of hope, but what if I have none?” His voice crumbles up. “The only thing I want is to die, but I can’t even do that.” He looked away for a moment, eyes glossed over with tears. “I’m a coward.” An expression that resembled that of a trembling child crossed his face, provoking the deepest of thoughts within Kaworu.
“The human heart truly is a beautiful thing.” Kaworu came to many revelations at this time, few of which he’d come to mention. This boy, he didn’t want to die. His heart wept and his speech quivered, and there was no fight within him. But his eyes longed for a few seconds more. “Pain envelops the psyche every chance it gets. Many live their life in despair and come to terms with it, turning their grief into something beautiful. To live is to hurt, some would say. But others can’t stand it, so they find themselves here. You don’t find yourself to be either, do you?”
By now, Kaworu has heaved himself up on the edge, staring at the boy in a much closer proximity. He didn’t say a word, his silence giving Kaworu more leeway to speak.
“Why do you want to die?”
“There is no reason for me to live. You know, people say happiness is what drives others forward, but I wonder if I have actually been happy. Isn’t it ironic? A human without happiness?” He let out a droll smile to nobody but himself. “I’m so pathetic,” he swallowed a little, his eyes refusing to find Kaworu’s, “speaking to some stranger I just met as I’m about to kill myself about all of my troubles.”
“I don’t believe that’s pathetic.” Perhaps it was Kaworu that was pathetic, for waiting so long before thinking to teach himself through the heart instead of the eyes. “Joy is not necessarily a given in one’s life, though many believe it to be. Enduring pain is beautiful and humane in and of itself; it’s something I’ve always deeply admired about humans.” He brushed his knuckles against the boy’s.
Pathetic was a word that touched Kaworu’s lips so rarely he could count it on his fingers. However, it could be that today was an exception, for Kaworu saw a chance here he’d never considered in the hundreds of times he’d been 16.
A dying boy whose life expectancy reached into the decades to come, and whose heart sang in misery.
“What’s your name?”
Hesitation danced around his mouth.
“Shinji.”
“Shinji, is it alright if I disclose something about myself?”
“Well, there isn’t a reason for you not to..”
“I’ve lived on this Earth for longer than anyone could imagine.” Saying this right off the bat could be startling, and absurd, and Kaworu knew this all too well. “I stopped aging when I hit 16. I have the body of a human, the brain of a human, and my blood seeps red.” Yet he still kept speaking. “What sets me apart from everyone else is that I can absorb life from anything I touch.” And then the anticipated silence followed and Kaworu felt the moon get just a bit dimmer.
“Do you pity me?”
“Not exactly. Why?”
“You obviously must. Who else would tell someone such a ridiculous story in an attempt to cheer them up?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Don’t feel too bad. I’m used to people undermining me; you’re just not any different.”
“That’s not it, Shinji.” And just then, Kaworu felt something unfurl within himself. It was small, and it was weak, but it was there. Frustration pooled in his stomach and kissed his fingertips. Frustration, an emotion that Kaworu had never felt in his life. Frustration at not being believed, frustration that this boy waved him off as someone who didn’t care. Frustration shook hands with him at that moment, and it trailed tiny little shocks up and down his skin.
How did he know this emotion? How could he recognize it? Is this what it felt like? The answer wafted underneath his nose and eluded his grasp, and the feeling swirled with greater depth. As his words left, their weight was borne on them. For once, there may have been a point he was truly trying to reach with whatever breath he had remaining.
“Shinji.” He touched his hand, and life seeped through his veins and Kaworu knew all that he needed to know. “You have 40 years left in your life. Today is not the day you die, nor will it be tomorrow, nor the day after.”
(Before Shinji’s next words are to be revealed, it’s important to note that he’d have 40 years left if Kaworu didn’t interfere. If he were to continue to touch him, this number would be depleted.)
“How am I supposed to believe you?”
“You can choose whether or not to believe me. No matter what someone does, if they go into something with a preconception then doubt will always fill them.” He slipped his fingers through Shinji’s. Contrary to what Kaworu believed, he didn’t retract. He stayed still, his gaze swaying in the area between Kaworu and the sea below. “Today is not the day that death meets with you, Shinji, and I believe that’s for a reason.”
“Really? What reason is that?” Sarcasm edged his voice.
“You can teach me.” The words came out just a little too fast, and there was just one slight, unnoticeable stumble in his words.
“Teach you? What could I possibly teach you?”
“Despair.” The sardonic look in the boy’s eyes dulled over like his anticipation earlier. It felt like “earlier” was centuries ago. “You see, Shinji, I think we have more in common than what meets the eye.”
As Kaworu kept speaking, his eyes kept lingering. The boy’s hair was a deep brown, and it waltzed in a languid manner under the glow of the moon. The air that twirled around Shinji’s hair slinked into Kaworu’s senses; it had a numbing, salty aroma of sorts.
“The ability to feel miserable, and the ability to cope with it, is something so terribly captivating about humans. For years, I’ve tried to wrap my head around it, to feel it, but I’ve always failed. Though I look like a human and breathe like one, without such a vital part of me it’s difficult to think of myself as anything mortal. You’re in the same situation, aren’t you?” Shinji flinched. He must have been right. “Then, what if I promise you this?”
“Promise me what?”
“You have 40 years left, enough for a long lasting life. But, I assume that isn’t what you want, nor is it something that would make you happy. Despair is something humans endure, but to not want to endure it any longer than you have to is the very thing you don’t want, is it not?” This wasn’t what he personally believed, it wasn’t. Humans should be able to do what they want without him playing God. But, oh, he was so…. so… frustrated? Desperate? This emotion was virtually unrecognizable.
“So, I’ll kill you slowly, but surely, with my hands alone. In exchange,” he leaned his head in, forcing the boy to make eye contact with him, “you teach me what it is to hurt.” Though it was only moments ago, Kaworu felt his desperation for the correct words melt into the years before.
Desperation, he thought, was such a tragic thing. How depressing it was to see someone grasp for their life in their last moments, searching for the surface of the ocean as the water burned their lungs.
Every trip he’d made to the bridge until now, was it all futile? Perhaps he became less interested with the purpose and more interested with the idea of just taking a stroll. Perhaps he was losing hope in ever feeling anything. Perhaps he would never have known until desperation lashed out at him when it reached its breaking point. In just one night, every preconceived notion came tumbling down and crashing along with the sea’s grief. For there was a chance— a taunting, impatient sliver of a chance that Kaworu Nagisa could finally take a step in the direction he’d so longed for.
“How can I trust you?”
“You can’t.”
“Really, then why make this offer to me?”
“Because your heart entrances me, Shinji.”
Kaworu squeezed his hand, and like a long, undemanding IV drip, Shinji’s seconds and minutes granted warmth to his hands, then his arms, his throat, and his body. He didn’t even notice when those large, expressive, weeping eyes began staring deep into his own. 40 years, 6 months, and 21 days. The clock moved backwards.
“I must be going crazy..”
“A human’s vulnerability is a very complex concept. It defiles the idea that someone truly knows themselves.”
“Are you talking about me?”
“About the both of us.”
“Ah..”
A pause followed, standing between the two of them and staring down the ocean alongside their feet. Kaworu desired for the conversation to keep going, but he realized his position on the edge of the bridge and the view from ahead and allowed for nothing but the waves and the wind to speak to them.
The water beneath the bridge was expansive, and stagnant for most of the day. Tonight, it was restless. The waves overlapped each other in childish competitions, running around under Kaworu’s feet in a manner that pricked his face in nostalgia. There was a distant hum, of which its origins he did not know. There were no people around save for the two of them, making them the only witnesses to the way the moon rippled its glimmering touch throughout the sea.
Shinji must have felt afraid standing on the edge of the bridge, as their hands never broke from their hold and Shinji’s grip would tighten every now and then. Fear is something Kaworu experienced even less, as he found there to be little to fear in this world. At the root of all fear, there was mortality, something he’d never lived with. He’d never shuffled his feet away when they got too close to the ledge of a dangerously tall place, never flinched when a car drove past in such a near proximity his nose could have grazed the window. He would live for as long as one could count on every single one of their fingers, which made him ever so longing of a life where he could cry and tremble in fear and look for a god to cope with death like Shinji could.
Perhaps that was why he didn’t let go of his hand, and instead held it tighter.
“Do you have an answer for me?”
“...What’s your name?”
“Kaworu.”
“Kaworu..”
“Hm?”
“Can we stay like this.. for just a bit longer?”
It was not a yes, nor was it a no, but Kaworu accepted it with open arms nonetheless.
“Of course.”
Looking at such a view may have seemed so frivolous to others. It might’ve seemed boring and time-wasting. However, ‘twas the intricate beauty of life and how humans bore it. Nothing in this world meant something until value was placed upon it. With that, humanity could grant themselves comfort on any number of things, as long as they held it dear. It was a silly thing, but it could be life-saving from the grief and darkness that shrouded this world. Kaworu could feel some of it, as the howling, baying wind battled with the warmth that filled him.
In a dance between the heat and the frigidity, Shinji’s life sent such a feeling up his spine he could only describe it as what it felt like to drink alcohol on a lonely night. A hot, slinking stride down your throat that embraced every inch of your limbs, providing the frail human with an artificial sort of comfort; like a lover who only held you out of their own interest and never yours.
Dancing to a melody which did not exist and a rhythm which must have been overcome by the ocean waves, gusts ran along and challenged Shinji’s time. Goosebumps spread throughout his skin while his body held him tighter.
For just a moment, Kaworu forgot about today, tomorrow, and the years after and before. He forgot he was taking the life of someone as he observed the landscape, and every thought or idea or shred of curiosity that occupied his mind in such frequency left themselves in a place far away from here.
Was this what humans did? To forget about what keeps them awake at night, they cling helplessly to just about any old thing to provide them some form of solace? Though he thought of it in such a meek manner, it really was lovely. This feeling of taking part in such a pitiful activity was indeed lovely. And suddenly, for the second time that day, Kaworu went through that occurrence where you link a new experience to a word you’ve only ever read in books, as if you’d felt it before in a previous life of yours.
Ah, the word, it’s on the tip of his tongue. What was it..
Escapism.