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Kaworu was dying.
A familiar feeling he came to know through his nightmares since childhood. It was not scary or particularly painful, if anything — it was comforting, reassuring, peaceful. Whatever horrors were there to get him, it was all going to an end. And after the end the morning always came.
Only this time it felt different. Somehow everything was slow and heavy, a suspended animation of inevitable. Why does it feel wrong? Why does he want to stay so badly? Right. There is someone waiting for him on the other side of an invisible barrier. This boy is scared and shaken, tears won’t stop running, and he is calling his name over and over again.
“Kaworu!..” the boy calls out in desperation once more, trying to reach out for him, as if with his wish alone cold metal between them could disappear.
Kaworu wishes it was possible. He wishes he could give him one last kiss. But he is running out of time. Again and again. Again? Has he seen this dream before? Or was it something else, but similar?
He feels a dull pain deeply in his chest, he knows he is the source of it, he knows he can’t flinch or scream to ease it. Instead, he smiles with all the strength he’s left with and makes another promise:
“We will meet again.”
He calls his lover’s name before he can finally let go, as if it is a magic spell to seal it.
The morning always comes. But Kaworu hates the most when he wakes up in tears like that and can’t remember why. The feeling of loosing something important is sitting heavy on his heart, and he needs time to convince himself that it will fade away.
Some dreams, while still unreachable once woken up, are kinder. They leave a different feeling. The one which drives Kaworu to learn how to express his emotions when the words fail him. He started writing music when he was 10. He said he wanted to remember. When there is no picture to paint, no story to tell - there is only so much you can do. Kaworu knew how he felt, so he needed a way to preserve it, he was compelled to.
While simple and light at first, his music evolved with him growing up. It became sharper and more intense, but never lost its calm caressing beauty.
“Maybe, I was born to meet you,” he says these words as he thinks them, and only seeing the reaction within the eyes of his overnight guest — he realises they are spoken out loud. He didn’t mean to hide them. He doesn’t know how. All of what he is feeling — he is eager to share with this one person in front of him. It is important to be heard, to be known. But even so, he feels his blood rushing to his cheeks, and he wonders if that is visible in the darkness they are in.
He wants to know everything about the boy sharing the room with him tonight. He wants to hear his story and to tell his own. Only they don’t have time, Kaworu knows it all too well. But he is willing to forget, if only for a night.
And so there is no tomorrow, no mornings and no angels. Only two people sharing a bond that will change them both forever.
The other boy looks stunned, more so than even before, when he heard Kaworu saying words which people seem to be too protective over. He doesn’t know why it is supposed to be a secret treasure that one keeps. Sharing only when the time is right. Is it ever right? Is it even promised?
“Kaworu…”
He is the only one who can say his name like this. Softly, longingly, with care. Kaworu wants to hear it more. He wants to hear him speak. But the boy is silent now. He makes a movement as if to reach him, but stops midair and places his hand back to the blanket, squeezing it. Was he trying to touch him? A wishful thinking, perhaps.
They will keep looking at each other with a quiet awe till dreams claim one of them. The sleeping boy just does not know there will be no other night like this.
Kaworu recognised the smell of rain before he could even hear it starting to hit the ground outside. The anticipation was tingling, and he finally breathed the humid air in deeply before touching the piano keys again. He was alone in a small conservatory hall, practicing his part, the front door left ajar as per usual. This way Kaworu felt connected to the world a little bit more, even if no one else was actually listening to him. He wanted to lit a lantern for a lonely spirit to find its way to him if needed. And now he could play for the summer rain. It was among the most welcomed ones.
Kaworu smiled and arched back, closing his eyes while reaching his favourite part of the piece. Then the sensation came, the one he sometimes felt when someone was looking at him. Kaworu glanced at the direction of where the presence was pulling him to and saw a lone young man, staying near the door hesitantly. He must had been trying to hide from the rain that only was bursting out stronger by the minute. And now he seemed unsure if he was trespassing, interrupting.
Kaworu met his gaze and couldn’t help but smile, he never stopped playing. The youth responded with a soft shy smile of his own and pulled out his headphones, relaxing. He stayed and listened — and Kaworu played. For the wild summer rain and for a beautiful stranger it lured in along with.
The presence of another person energised Kaworu beyond limits, and he thought he played as he never did before. He felt it all flowing through him strongly, and he let himself became a conduit of this extreme wave of emotions, so that it could truly be heard, so it could reach the shore and touch the other man’s world. Even if only for this brief fragile moment.
Kaworu didn’t know how long he’d played. Passing of time became a nonexistent concept, he was fully in the moment, giving his all. He felt the presence of another all the way through, he was finally not alone, he was connected, he was heard.
When Kaworu finished playing, both the man and the rain were no more.
“I now know, that I was born so we could meet.”
Kaworu has been so careful with his words until now. Letting the music speak for him instead. But now he is exposed, open, vulnerable. As he used to. Some long time ago. He missed being honest to the core, with his words and actions alike coming unshielded, not chosen but lived through. He feels liberated by speaking his heart like this once again.
The boy in front of him smiles dreamily at him and puts his hand between them. Not a promise, but an invitation. Kaworu shifts his body slightly and moves his hand near, mirroring, half an inch apart. Not a promise, but an acceptance. Close enough. That could be enough. But not tonight.
As if understanding the same need to close the void between them - the other boy moves his pinky just a little bit, to touch Kaworu’s. That tiny movement is everything for them, it finally connects. Not a promise, but a declaration.
Kaworu closes his eyes for a moment, concentrating on this new feeling of warmth of another. His warmth. Real, solid, electrifying. Cautious not to break the contact accidentally, he shifts his hand very slowly to connect the other fingers. Barely touching, a feathery promise. He doesn’t dare to make more than that. He opens his eyes when he feels his pinky squeezed lightly in response. Their gazes meet.
Kaworu sees a ghost of an unspoken question in the eyes of another. He moves his hand over the other one and intertwines their fingers at last. Is it enough of an answer?
The other hand moves in response, they speak with light touches now, dancing hand by hand, fingers over fingers. Slow at first, more haste from time to time, on the ground and in the air. He feels a tentative caress over his palm and almost bites his lip to keep himself from drifting away completely. He reciprocates, more prominent, but still gentle. His eyes half closed, breaths are slightly uneven. He can be like this forever, he doesn’t want it to end.
They both freeze when this dance pulls them too close, palms and elbows fully touching, fingers tightly intertwined, gazes locked at one another. Suspended mid-flight, unsure of how to continue. Kaworu almost hears his name spoken with just lips moving alone. But not out loud. Forbidden. Too fast. He can see it in the eyes of another boy. The struggle, the tension, the resolution.
Suddenly Kaworu is pulled in, but the other boy turns away with the same movement. He wraps himself with Kaworu’s hand, back touching Kaworu’s chest. Their heartbeat and breathing sync, felt through each other. Rapid, fierce, begging to move even closer.
Kaworu feels his hand being gently held, caressed, and then pulled slightly up. He feels the light hot breath over his skin before he realises what is about to happen.
“Ah..” he gasps, unable to stop himself, when he feels lips touching his fingers with a slow tender kiss.
Overwhelmed and dazed he pulls in the other boy closer in his embrace and buries his face in the other’s shoulder. His heart is dangerously close to escaping his chest. His face burning. His soul singing.
They stay in each other arms till the first light of dawn.
An old concert hall was surprisingly packed tonight. That was a nice turn of events for a modest charity show his conservatory arranged with a help of its students. Kaworu loved playing for an audience. If music tells a story — there needs to be someone willing to listen. He quickly scanned through the people while they were settling down in their seats. He wanted to pick a person to play to. Kaworu always imagined it to be a personal conversation — a soul to soul, intimate and one of a kind. He was not particular who to choose to be his partner in this conversation, he went by raw intuition, a sense of connection. It might be weak, but it needed to feel real enough.
Kaworu knows he found one when his heart skips a beat. It’s him, the summer rain spirit from weeks ago. Kaworu doesn’t know why it feels surreal or why he can suddenly recognise the pulse in his wrists and his throat raising wildly. He gasps for air subconsciously.
This time Kaworu has breaks during the performance, he is not the only one in it. Every moment he gets — he looks at his chosen partner, he doesn’t even try to be subtle about it. He is too curious what this person is like, what he came for, what brings him joy, what saddens him. Whenever he gets to play — he plays for him and him alone. Kaworu feels elevated, free, light and breaching limits again. He feels connected as never before, needed, recognised, belonging.
It all finally makes sense, coming together, lining up, when the solo violin enters with its final song of the evening. Kaworu can see in the eyes of this young man understanding. He can see his eyes shining more, submerged with the feelings. Kaworu knows that no one could perform this composition, the one of many written from his dreams, but probably the most important, better than Risa. He knows he couldn’t make it sing this way himself, so he is grateful she can and feels tears welling up in his own eyes as a mirror of those he keeps looking at.
Kaworu realises he can’t end it like this, not this time. And he plays his early piano piece for the surprised public that was promised no more, airy and filled with hope. Let it be a parting gift from him.
Kaworu finds himself almost tripping when he sees the summer rain spirit heading his way instead of the exit. He caries a flower bouquet, which he somehow managed to keep hidden all this time. Kaworu slows down, letting Risa to pass in front of him, she is getting a lot of flowers tonight as she most certainly deserved. This realisation calms him down, he can just spend a few more seconds observing this stranger from afar before it inevitably ends and they go their separate ways. When Risa doesn’t get a bouquet as the young man softly steps out keeping it to himself while she passes, Kaworu can’t make another step of his own anymore. So the man with beautiful delicate white lilies has to make his way to him himself. Kaworu is frozen till the moment they are up close and he can see that the summer rain spirit has deep blue eyes, as he should.
Kaworu is as surprised as he is beaming.
“I should have expressed my gratitude long before,” he says with determination that wasn’t visible just a second ago. “Your music is… It gave me shelter.”
Kaworu accepts the flowers with the warmest smile he is capable of, fully enchanted with the moment. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of the lilies’ aroma, petals are brushing his face and hair, pollen is probably left on his eyelashes now, but he doesn’t care. He lets himself be carried away with this happiness that washes over him.
“So you returned. Thank you,” he says softly at last, finding his voice again.
“You.. you remember?” blue eyes are wider, non believing, but cheeks are brighter, daring.
Kaworu laughs lightly, amused, “I am not such an airhead as people make of me, I promise.”
Well, did he overdo the teasing? The man in front of him is absolutely flushed now. He smiles peacefully and adds: “Only a little.”
Kaworu understands that they need to say goodbyes now. There is nothing keeping them together anymore. He needs to let him go. And yet, he finds deep down this unsettling, demanding urge to stay, to prolong, to say something. He realises that the man now is trying to find words to excuse himself, and that is when Kaworu says before he thinks:
“Please.. come listen to me again.”
He didn’t mean it to sound so desperate. A whisper barely heard. He is now the one who is flustered, but even so he can’t move his gaze away from these beautiful kind eyes. If there will be no other time, let this be an embarrassment he enjoys to the fullest.
“I would love to!” the young man replies, probably a bit too fast, too eager. Kaworu finds himself beaming again, feeling slightly lightheaded with the turn of the conversation he didn’t dream to still be having. The summer rain spirit gathers himself at this sight:
“I’m… actually was hoping to… I know it’s probably too much, but could you let me know when the next performance will be held? I had a hard time finding about this one!”
Kaworu studies his expression curiously, trying to figure out what sort of help that might imply. He simply nods:
“Sure. That was not well communicated from our side. I am sorry. I wonder how I can assist?..”
“Well… I left a card in the bouquet,” the youth seems a bit embarrassed now. The last sentence he says almost apologetically: “There is my Line id in it…”
Oh. Kaworu gets it now. There was a link left all along. He was not the only one hoping to keep this connection, wasn’t he? Is it too bold of him to think that? He hugs the flowers a bit closer to his chest and smiles:
“Then I will make sure you know about the next time.”
“Thanks,” the young man smiles softly, seemingly relieved. Then he frowns a little, as if it only now came to his attention, “Are you not getting flowers usually? That’s unfair.”
Kaworu is baffled at the speculation. Does he usually? No. Should he? He doesn’t know. He knows he loves this particular bouquet to pieces and he needs no other. He parts his lips to say something as he hears his colleague’s a bit annoyed voice:
“Kaworu?.. Are you coming?”
That all it takes for the spirit of the summer rain to rush on disappearing. He excuses himself with such a speed and abruptness that Kaworu can only blink before he’s gone.
He hurries to check if the card is indeed somewhere in there, among the flowers. He needs it to be real. Please, be real…
“Let’s go, Kaworu!”
His hand is taken, his heart is racing. They stand looking at one another, resolve and hope in each other’s eyes. Then something shifts. Something new emerges and now exists between them.
“Kaworu..” the boy reaches out with his free hand to touch the choker on Kaworu’s neck, slowly tracing its shape with his fingers.
It feels strange, to not sense the touch directly but to know it’s there. Kaworu is enchanted by the gesture, unable to move or speak.
The boy looks concerned for a split second, but then slides his fingers off the choker and strokes over the bare skin of his neck, as if searching for something. Kaworu shivers.
There. The tracing fingers find a pulsating spot and rest still, listening, waiting. Kaworu closes his eyes, feeling his pulse under this touch increasing spontaneously, his sense of gravity evaporating. He gently pulls the hand he is holding closer to his chest, pressing it against his rushing heart.
When he opens his eyes again, he can see his own reflection in the blue eyes. There is barely any space between them. The hand moves from his neck upward, now resting on his jawline more confidently. Kaworu finds it thrilling and closes his eyes again.
All I can think of - is you..
Kaworu opened his eyes, yet again unable to catch the dream he’d just had. It was so close, so close to pull it out, to remember. And still it slipped away, fading into nothingness. It was a sensual dream, he could tell, and an important one, he knew. It frustrated him more than usual, but then his eyes stopped at the tender white lilies standing in the vase near his bed, and it calmed him down immensely.
He reached out to take a carefully folded gift card and reread it: “A song or a flower won’t last long in this world, but the memory of it stays. Shinji.” Kaworu wished it was true, that memories could be collected and kept safe, uncorrupted, lasting, never fading. Still, he appreciated the sentiment. It was more than a simple “thank you” card. It was intimate, honest. He looked at the business card included: “Shinji Ikari, freelance web designer”, and wondered why he signed the gift card with his first name alone.
Kaworu checked his phone and saw a new message. Last night he invited Shinji’s account id to the announcement group he was in, so he could receive the music venue news as he asked for. But then, an hour later, still struggling to fall asleep, he decided to send a personal message as well, he thought it was a simple courtesy, to introduce himself in return: “Thank you once more for the flowers! In fact, lilies are my favourite, and now my room is scented wonderfully. I hope this group could be of use to you. Kaworu.” And now he noticed that 10 minutes later his original message, still in the middle of the night, he got a response: “Thank you for adding me! And sorry for the trouble. I am glad you brought them home..”
Trouble? Kaworu was not sure what he meant by this. Was he talking about his request to sign him up for updates? He texted the reply: “No trouble at all!” He hesitated for a brief moment, then added: “I think, I will try to remember it for as long as I can.” He saw Shinji starting typing something, but after about a minute the indication of it disappeared, and nothing ended up being sent. That’s fair, he didn’t leave much room for a reply, that’s probably it. He got up and decided to get on with his day.
Only he really couldn’t stop thinking of this man and their now multiple meetings. Mostly because the scent of the lilies was everywhere - in his room, in his hair and in his thoughts. He soon found himself daydreaming and forgetting what he was going to do. He sighed and made a coffee, grabbing the phone again.
The truth was, he didn’t simply want to remember. He wanted more, he wanted to make more of the memories. No. He wanted to live them. He wanted to see these eyes again and hear his voice and.. Does it matter if it makes sense at all? Is the ‘why’ more important than ‘what’? Than ‘who’?
He finished his coffee in one fierce go and opened his messages again. A cute blushing cat sticker was looking at him as the latest response. He chuckled and typed the reply before he could think it all through and stop himself: “It is last minute and you probably have other plans or a company already. But if not - would you like to join me for a star festival this weekend? I missed 3 last years already due to my work schedule, but seems I can make it to this one. We can talk more there?”
He froze after pressing ‘send’, the realisation that he invited a person, he barely knew or talked to, for a festival, known to be designed for romantic couples, sinked in. What was he thinking? Oh right, he wasn’t. But now he should. It sounded like a date invitation. Did he mean it as a date? Did he want a date?.. Kaworu put his hand over his face and wished he could reverse time. Take a step back. Normal people talk and get to know each other first. Not calling for a date after as much as a flower bouquet, which was given to him as an artist, there was no hidden meaning behind it. Why was he like that? He wouldn’t know much about it though, would he? He never dated, never wanted to.
His trance was broken by the new message notification. He opened the app with a doomed and defeated look on his face.
“Let’s go!” read the reply.
When Kaworu saw Shinji at their meeting spot, the only word he could think of was stunning. They did not discuss it prior, but both ended up wearing yukata. And of matching colours, no less - amethyst and sky blue. He realised he probably stared for a little too long, when Shinji finally spoke his name hesitantly:
“Kaworu?..”
That on its own somehow affected him deeply. It was just his name, but the way he said it… He couldn’t quite describe what he felt at that moment. He shook his head and smiled apologetically:
“I am sorry, did I make you wait?”
They walked through colourfully decorated streets and food stalls, talking small things, like what they want to try next, or how the crowd seem to be getting thinner the later it gets. Somehow they were at ease with each other, there was no uncomfortable silence or stretched out dialogues. There was no rush for anything. Kaworu enjoyed it being simple, as if they had all the time in the world to make it bigger later.
When they were passing the shrine, Kaworu slowed down to a stop:
“Hey, I wanted to try something this time,” he nodded at the direction of the bamboo trees with multiple paper ribbons attached to them.
“Oh, the wishes.. I don’t actually do that..”
“Me too! But… I have one now.”
Kaworu came to the small table leaving a few coins and took a blue blank paper to write his wish on. I want it to stay. He folded it carefully and walked to the bamboo stem to attach to.
“You know why it has to be these trees, right?” he asked Shinji, while making a final knot.
“Ehm.. I didn’t think about it actually. Because there are many?”
Kaworu chuckled lightly: “That’s probably too, but the main reason is the growth speed. People believe it can shoot its trunk up way to the heaven realm in no time. To make your wish known.”
“Hm.. But don’t they remove the papers to burn them afterwards anyway?”
Kaworu shrugged, smiling softly. Probably a tiny bit too sad, as Shinji suddenly came to pick his own paper. Kaworu quirked a brow, so he explained:
“It won’t make it worse, will it? And what if you are right…”
By the time they came to the river, the sun already said its farewell, and the stars were shining instead. Here, far away from the loudness of the busy districts, they seem to be visible despite still being within the city. They both stopped on the bridge in silence.
Shinji seemed to be enchanted by the night sky view, looking at the stars in deep contemplation. Kaworu was in turn mesmerized by him, completely lost in this tender moment. Suddenly, Shinji spoke:
“Do you think people still remember them on this day?”
“Them?..” Kaworu took a moment to follow the direction to where Shinji was looking at. “Ah!” he recognized the constellation immediately, “Princess of the heaven’s kingdom and her lover.”
Shinji nodded, “Orihime and Hikoboshi. Star-crossed lovers. Do you think people remember this day is their date?”
“A chance for a date, even. If it rains, then magpies wings are too heavy and can’t form a living bridge for them to cross the heavenly river, Milky Way.”
Shinji frowned, “Oh yeah, it’s even worse… Separated for life, having just one night a year to meet and even that could fail. What a cruel fate…”
Kaworu, who was looking at the stars all this time, turned to Shinji, surprised with this newfound demeanor:
“Cruel?.. I guess you can say that. But I think it is better to find and know love, than never be in pain of separation. They still have each other. They could hope to meet again.”
Shinji looked at him, their eyes met. After a few quiet moments he replied at last:
“I guess, I just can’t understand why they haven’t fought against this stupid rule. They seemed to have all the eternity to figure this out.”
Kaworu shrugged and smiled peacefully:
“Who said, they haven’t tried? Maybe that’s what they are still doing.”
Shinji blinked a few times and then averted his gaze, now seemingly interested in something in the deep dark waters instead.
“Maybe they are…”
Kaworu was going to say something else in an attempt to cheer him up a bit, but a sudden cold sensation washed over him. He glanced over the far bank of the river:
“Hm… You didn’t happen to wish for a hurricane accidentally, did you?”
Shinji looked up at Kaworu, perplexed, not sure what the joke was about, “Huh?”
Kaworu pointed at the directing where the strange dark mass, of what looked like sand or dust all mixed with air, was forming at an alarming rate:
“Because I think one is coming our way.”
“Wow..” Shinji was right to be impressed, the whole horizon was now pitch black and it kept advancing, “It.. doesn’t look good.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Kaworu grasped Shinj’s wrist and pulled him in the opposite direction from this growing darkness. He didn’t think much of this action until he felt the other hand sliding into his for a firmer grip. He squeezed it slightly in response and they hurried, hoping to outpace whatever was coming after them.
Kaworu looked for anything that could make a good enough shelter, but there was nothing. Then the next best thing, he figured, would be to get out of the way of this raging wind at least. He made a turn to get into the deeper part of the park, with bigger, stronger trees. He stopped near an old thick oak and gently but swiftly moved Shinji to stand against it, while covering him from the outside. The harsh cold wind stung him just as he positioned himself.
“What are you doing?” Shinji looked at him in shock. “Why are you shielding me like that?”
“I… I didn’t think much… I’m sorry,” Kaworu tensed, but hesitated to move aside, the wind was still too strong. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“No…” Shinji moved his hands to wrap them around Kaworu’s back, “I just don’t want you to freeze.” And with these words he hugged him tightly, stepping forward.
Kaworu felt the warmth of another body against his own, arms firmly pressing over his back, and Shinji’s heart beating at his chest as it happened. To steady himself, preventing from melting down right there on the spot from the sudden heat consuming his very being, he moved his hands out of the tree bark on to the other man shoulders. Tentatively, barely touching at first, then, when he felt that the breaths around his neck evened out - he relaxed his arms, letting them slide naturally down the spine, forming a full embrace.
“You know,” Shinji whispered into his neck, making him long for something he couldn’t quite name yet, “I think those bamboo do grow very fast.”
The wind calmed down, as if satisfied with where it lead them, but they didn’t seem to care or notice, staying close in each other’s arms, not willing to part just yet. It is only when the water pouring down on them stopped being a gentle drizzle and turned into much heavier rain drops, they pulled apart slightly, to look at each other. Hazed at first, Shinji regained his consciousness faster and spoke, a worry in his voice:
“Rain!.. Does it mean they won’t meet tonight?..” he was looking at Kaworu, as if only he could have the answer to it, to put his heart at ease.
Kaworu raised his hand to brush through Shinji’s damp hair, fingers tracing the contour of his face ever so slightly. Beautiful, he was strikingly, irresistibly beautiful. Always and especially now. So close and gentle. Warm. Real. Kaworu almost forgot how to breath for a moment, before he spoke again, voice barely above a whisper:
“I think.. they already have.”
“Kaworu..” eyes half closed, flickering.
This. Again he says his name with such deep care and tenderness, it sends Kaworu to his heights. He believes in this moment that he can break the laws of gravity and reach the sky and the stars along with it. Instead, he leans in close enough for their noses to finally touch. He stops himself, not wanting to break the trust between them, trembling slightly. Then the soft touch to the back of his bare neck nudges him gently to move. And he does, unable to restrain himself any longer, unable to resist the pull bringing him closer. He connects their lips effortlessly, as if it was always meant to be, as if he knew exactly how, all along. He feels his heart flutter when the caressing kiss he is giving - returned.
It all exists in this one moment of space and time. The warmth of their bodies, the kiss they share, unwilling to break, to part, to stop holding each other. The feeling of being needed, recognised, accepted. The heart to heart conversation where words can’t reach. They don’t have to.
Here and now Kaworu is alive.