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The new world Shinji had created is vibrant: streets filled with people, bugs and animals many didn’t recognize before, colors beyond the magenta of the post apocalyptic sea.
Everyday life is quiet and mundane. No evil men ruling the world, no weird creatures to fight.
Kaworu is born here like any other human. The only exception are the dreams that filled him with dread, anxiety and death until he is 5 years old. Slowly, his infant mind not being able to process all the trauma, pushes past it, except for one memory: a young sweet boy that calls his name, a hand and a promise to meet again. His mind fights for this dream, preserving it as long as he can.
Sometimes things come to him when he least expects them: an orange sunset by the sea with his parents and he can’t avoid being sick right there on the sand. He hates the beach and the feeling of salt on his lips. He hates the calm piano music his mom plays for him before bed. These things fill him with anxiety and longing for something he doesn’t understand. For something he can’t reach. The sensation is unequivocally strong, visceral. It leaves his chest raw and open. Suffering is just one long moment. It doesn’t progress, it revolves —and that's something that seems all too familiar to him—.
His young heart feels in a perpetual state of grieving. He tries to move past it, but there is something within him that fights it every time.
The overpowering feelings and the sensation of almost reaching, almost being, almost understanding, leaves him bedridden. To move on, his heart needs to heal and to heal he needs to truly forget. Obliterate even what he doesn’t know is there.
What he thought was a promise no longer felt like one.
-
The young boy in his dreams is no longer in his thoughts when he reaches 14 years of age.. He no longer has nightmares nor weird random feelings that overwhelm him without explanation. Everything that used to scare him as a kid fades. It fades slowly, almost naturally, leaving no trace.
He doesn’t exactly know why, but there is a strong sense of permanence in everything he does. Is almost like there is a voice in his ear that keeps repeating: “make it all worth something”. He tries.
Once he hits college he plays the part: he has friends, he studies hard, he even tries to leave his apartment more often and commits to being young and carefree, but these things never come organically to him. He is made out of intensity and introspection. Being a person is hard on itself, and being a young adult seems almost impossible.
He likes the softness of the spring sun caressing his naked arms while he reads the same book for the 5th time sitting on the grass outside, the way the curtains in his room dance to the wind while he gets lost drawing on the floor. These are the things he treasures, not parties and loud drunk people.
He has never paid attention to anyone that way before, but at 20 years old he is starting to imagine he is indeed missing something people his age are very keen on trying.
“Let someone new hold my truth in their hands”, He says it out-loud, just to inflict some sort of tangible quality to what he wants to test, almost to convince himself.
He goes for the first person that sparks some sort of quiet fire inside of him. He meets Shinya at the cafe just outside of campus. He is a cute brunette with sparkly blue eyes. Kaworu doesn’t know why he is attracted to him, but doesn’t think much of it. They go on four dates before everything unravels in his stomach: just at the last second, when he can feel the other boy breathing near his nose, the brunette whispers “Kaworu-kun” and it sounds so wrong. Everything is wrong.
Kaworu can’t contain the pang of nausea that slaps him instantly, the stab of desperation that doesn’t let him breathe.
Maybe he just doesn’t work like that, maybe he is wired differently. What if he doesn’t like people romantically? That's fine, he doesn’t need to get involved with anyone that way, it makes things easier.
-
At 27 Kaworu has made peace with all the parts of him that concern other people.
He feels at home in his own skin. He is all eyelashes and soft smiles. The curve of his lips make people stare at his mouth when he talks. Soft wild hair the color of warm honey, almost silvery against the moon light. Impossibly tall and pale, maroon shade of brown for eyes. Everything about him mutters of an ethereal condition, something exquisite beyond conventional beauty.
He knows the impact that his look leaves on people, he has enough stories about strangers stopping him on the street to talk to him, teenagers trying to sneak pictures at the mall, modeling opportunities and a long list of cashiers giving him free stuff at the supermarket. He disregards them as nothing more than a fun story to tell friends over coffee.
He has a successful career as a fine-art photographer. This is the only thing that allows him some real peace of mind: He likes the feeling of saving a moment forever without having to carry the burden of them only in his heart.
His apartment in the middle of the city is packed with art, colorful knick-knacks and an unholy amount of house plants. He remembers someone telling him about the value of working the land. The smell of dirt and rain makes him melancholic, but happy.
He feels incredibly human, almost as if that fact was new. His only annoyance is that his very human body only contains human emotions. Most of his are tinted with some sort of sadness, without even having a real reason. There is always a feeling of unease. Something settling between his bones, a constant pull to something he doesn’t have a name for and cannot find —And sometimes when he feels lost, when he knows the moon is spying on his fears, closing his eyes is all it takes to make it all rush back to him again. All the feelings that overwhelmed him as a kid. Escaping leads him to climb tall bridges at night, to push the boundaries of his lungs under the water— It's not really about escaping, it's about disappearing.
-
The moment he thinks this is all there is to life, once he's sure he has it all figured out, and this is how things will be to the end of his days; something happens that makes his certainties turn to water.
There's nothing new, not really. Things are exactly like the day before: clear spring day, sweet flowery smell hinting at summer. He is running late to work, 30 minutes to be exact. He takes the train nearly every day. It's usually less crowded, but now there's lots of new faces.
He hears a soft chuckle that reminds him of an old torment. Elation and euphoria slowly drips down his spine. There's something there, something that demands his attention. It's not normal and mundane, but feral and aching... like a wildfire in his chest. Everything shifts once his eyes meet cobalt blue. Everything.
What is this feeling? This compulsion? He can't take his eyes off the stranger in front of him. Kaworu babbles for the first time in his entire life, but nothing comes out. The words die on the way to his tongue.
There's a new pulse in his blood, an unnamed emotion.. he doesn't know why, but he cannot let go. It pulls him, intense and quiet, he can't avoid feeling like he's standing in front of an irrevocable truth. Something lost and found. Like his body knows something he doesn't, and it's keeping the secret silent..
The blue eyed boy looks at him between his lashes, smiling playfully. His attention then returns to his phone as he leaves the train, still retaining a shadow of bliss on his lips.
Kaworu blushes. This is certainly another first. The moment the boy is out of sight, a storm brews in his stomach. A weird sensation of being found out, of being seen. He replays the scene in his mind, knowing there's a hint of something settling deep inside him. Emotions that were more than simply new - rather, renewed. A tenderness, and a wink of obsession... but before feelings overtake him (he can feel himself falling into this very easily), he stops himself. Obsession is simply a variety of addiction, and something tells him that would be a game he's all too capable of playing.
-
They meet again after 5 weeks, on the platform waiting for the train. Kaworu doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t even think, just lets his body act on its own for once. If he has learned anything about life during these weeks, it's that he was indeed full of turbulent desires. It's not as if they hadn't existed before... but they'd never broken surface tension until now.
Sleepless nights looking at his ceiling, imaging scenarios where life could be different. Things can co-exist, they can all dance together without ever touching. Harmony. Life is not something that just happens, he wants to decide, he wants to act. He is finally ready to say yes to all the pain, only to get a glimpse at the intertwined sentiment that is delight.
He stands next to the brunette and without skipping a beat, says hi with a lovely smile that reaches his warm melting eyes.
Blue eyed boy meets Kaworu’s gaze. He is dazzled. His heart pounds loudly.
Conversation flowing effortlessly and without barriers. An instant connection.
The words leave his mouth softly, almost like a caress. “Call me Kaworu” - He means: Take my name, whisper it to yourself when you are alone in the dark. Try it, see if you like it on your lips.
The intensity between them dribbles like something inexplicable that mends everything broken.
“I’m Shinji, Nice to finally meet you”.
They both feel it. The thirst for being in each other's life, for permanency. It’s almost like they are old lovers reuniting only to forget and meet again.
They are mirrors like they've always been. Shinji is a pianist (of course he is), he likes the soft melodies that escape from his fingers. He didn't pick the profession, he fell into it. He says maybe it was the obvious choice ever since he was a child. He is in love with the waves, with the ocean and water. The humid breeze soothes him. He has a tender spot for nights under the open sky, for closeness and bashful talk. He is not unhappy at all, he is in fact full of joy for things he can’t quite pinpoint. He knows love, because he feels it inside him. It softens him at the edges, tinting with a slight glow. He lives his life in peace.
-
They keep seeing each other. Their routine is like the ocean, the tides of circumstance pulling them apart before then bringing them close again. It's not love as in falling.. not yet anyway, though it will be later. Now it's just love because there is beauty in everything they do.
When they are close and all they are is skin, hands and eyelashes, when lungs need air and hearts need to slow down the frantic beating.. that's when the craving to intertwine their legs is the most important thing. Holding each other close, whispering anything real, things they couldn’t share with anyone else.
They kiss in three movements: lips, tongues, and separation. The negative space is just as important as when they merge.
They crave nothing more than being together. Even in the simplest of ways.
In here, they are born to do this, and to do it multiple times each day.