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Shinji stared ahead out into the night as he stood there on his apartment's cramped little balcony, listlessly slumped against the cool metal railing. Through heavy eyes he watched the thousands upon thousands of tiny, sparkling lights scattered across the dark silhouette of the surrounding city as they blinked in and out of view, twinkling like a constellation of artificial stars. The sight lifted his mood somewhat, though the smile it brought to his face lasted only for a second.
It was nice to know that even at this hour, long after most had turned in for the night and lay tucked safely under their covers, there was still such life bustling about. The flashing headlights of the cars and buses ferrying occupants to their destinations, office lights left on for all the long-suffering workers pulling overtime tonight, the dim light emanating from all the lonely little apartments that were full of people just like him, who also couldn't find sleep tonight no matter how hard they tried to.
Each and every one, a life—lives that were being lived comfortably, peacefully, and without any of the impending threat of world-ending cataclysm looming overhead that he’d become so accustomed to while growing up. An ordinary world, full of ordinary people living ordinary lives. It was a comforting thought.
At least, it should have been. Right now, it didn’t seem to be giving him much comfort at all. He wasn’t sure if anything could.
He choked back a sob as another wash of memories flooded over him, drowning him in the weight of a hundred lifetime’s mistakes. He grit his teeth as he tried to bear the onslaught, the tangled snippets of all the poor choices he'd made, all his failures, all the things he’d gotten so wrong so many times over.
His hands closing around Asuka’s throat, pushing down on her windpipe as she lay there helplessly—she was injured badly, already so weak, and he was hurting her even more—but he was the one who’d ended up in tears when she lifted a fragile hand and put it to his cheek. Back then she had been so disgusted by the whole situation, by him. Even through all the rage and despair, he couldn’t find it in him blame her.
Him reaching down toward Rei, hell-bent on saving her and only her, damn the consequences. He had wanted so badly in his childish fervor to be a hero, to save the poor, lonely girl just beginning to come out of her shell to him—that’s what he was supposed to do, right? At that moment he hadn’t cared about anyone else, he wasn’t lying when he said that. Could he have known the destruction his choice would bring? Did it even matter if he did?
The hard, unforgiving look on Misato’s face when he finally saw her years later—it had felt like just a few hours to him, but fourteen years had come and gone since then and she was now a completely different woman from the cheerful one he’d known, hardened beyond recognition.
The look of sheer contempt Asuka gave him when they were reunited, her childish rivalry with him corrupted into something vicious and cruel; a wound that had been left to fester for over a decade while he slept, unaware of having inflicted it.
It was the same with everyone. Every familiar face had grown so much older, almost unrecognizable to him now, each twisted into a scowl that only grew deeper the longer they looked at him.
So much time passed, too much, he was completely left behind by those he loved, stuck frozen in the past he could never return to. The world he had known was gone; destroyed by his foolishness. The first time he'd witnessed the aftermath of the devastation he had caused, seeing how the very soil beneath him had been left blood-red and barren—the clenching in his heart was indescribable, it felt like that alone could've killed him and—
It almost had. Back then, the only thing that had kept him tethered to sanity had been Kaworu; his soft voice, his kind words, his gentle reassurances that it would all be okay, that together they could fix the world he'd broken. It had been exactly what he'd needed to hear, given him the strength he needed to avoid falling into despair completely.
But that's what Kaworu had always done. He'd always been there for Shinji just when he needed it most, so eager to offer him the affection, the love no one else cared to give when he needed it most.
A warm hand placed boldly over his own as those words, I love you, came from his lips, saying with such ease what Shinji had never dared hope to hear from another person before.
Letting his feelings be known so openly, undeterred by how Shinji always shut him down—he'd been so unwilling to accept that love, too afraid to, but the other boy had still left such a mark on his heart.
Looking at him with such affection as they lay there together under the stars, telling him how he was born to meet him, how he was always thinking about him, offering him a smile that was so kind and loving, brimming full of emotions Shinji didn’t deserve—
He smiled just the same way when he died, too. He always did when he met his end, always thinking of Shinji first and foremost even with his death fast approaching. Always so gruesome, so undeserved, so premature. Always at Shinji’s hand, one way or another.
Shinji only realized how badly his hands were shaking when he tried to tighten them around the railing to steady himself and was hardly even able to grasp onto the cold metal. He tucked his arms around the bar and desperately clung to it as best he could for support, feeling so weak, so sapped of energy, like his legs might give out under him at any moment without warning.
Pathetic.
Asuka's scowling face came to mind as her words rang through it. He let out a mirthless laugh; he’d been so incensed when she'd said that to him, but right now, he couldn't help but agree.
A familiar, treacherous pressure started to build up in his eyes that he tried to blink away, wanting desperately to banish the nascent tears before they could form. Crying would solve nothing, save no one. He already knew that.
Asuka’s hatred. Misato’s judgment. The broken world, the devastation of its survivors, the death of the only person who offered him refuge from it—it was all his doing. Even if he'd ended that cycle and managed to remedy some of the damage he caused, the lingering memories of those failures were still his responsibility. His burden to bear. What right did he have to cry over the things he had done?
He only realized he was already crying when a stray tear landed on his hand. He immediately buried his face in his arms in a last-ditch effort to stem the steady flow of tears beginning to fall from his eyes, biting onto his lip in an attempt to stifle the whimpers threatening to spill out along with them. His body shook as tried and failed to hold it together, trying to ignore the sticky dampness seeping into his sleeve as his face pressed into it.
He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there like that, stewing in his self-made misery. A minute? An hour? He couldn't tell. The sound of his own strangled sobs had drowned out everything else around him; the gentle mechanical whir of the streetlamps and stores lining his street, the soft rustling of the wind as it wove past buildings and through barren tree branches, the muddy, muted chatter coming from a television set one of his neighbors must’ve left on. All the comforting little reminders that he was here, he was safe, everyone was alright now were gone, now seeming so far out of reach.
He barely even heard the glass door just a few mere feet behind him slowly sliding open before it was almost too late. With barely any time to prepare he still attempted to gather himself, hastily wiping his eyes and straightening out his posture as he put on a shaky, tentative smile, hoping his façade wouldn't immediately be seen through.
Those hopes were dashed the second his eyes met Kaworu's. “Shinji-kun?”
Kaworu stepped out onto the balcony, the worry etched into his face evident even in the dim late-night light. Shinji turned his head away in a hurry, feeling all the resolve he'd tried to muster in those few seconds vanish as soon as Kaworu spoke. Hadn't he told Kaworu that he wasn't going to cry anymore, that he knew it was nothing but self-satisfaction? He'd been so young when he made that promise, a child just starting to mature stuck in a world on the brink of ruin, and yet he'd felt such resolve when he'd said it.
And here he was now—a fully grown man living a peaceful, mundane, everyday life, having long since abandoned it.
The breeze picked up, whirling around them as a few tense moments passed in silence. Shinji wanted to say something, to give Kaworu some false, comforting assurance that he was just fine, that there was no reason for him to worry—it was the least he could do. But every time he tried the words just died in his throat, coming out as little more than a shaky, half-formed whimper. Even in that, the tremble in his voice was evident. He kept silent.
Still without an answer, Kaworu took a hesitant step forward, nearly closing the gap between them in one stride. “Shinji-kun, it’s nearly three in the morning,” he said in just above a whisper, his voice almost unbearably gentle. When Shinji didn’t respond, he cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder, slowly drawing circles into the tense skin with his thumb. “Are you alright?”
Shinji wanted to kick himself when he reflexively flinched away from the touch. Kaworu made a little noise in response—something between a gasp and a hum, soft and without any of the well-deserved annoyance anyone else would’ve felt with him in this situation— and backed away a bit, still keeping close but giving Shinji some space.
Guilt began to tug at his heart. He knew it was late; he’d seen the exhaustion in Kaworu’s eyes in those few seconds he'd been bold enough to look into them. He had to be up in just a few hours—both of them did—but here he was ignoring his own needs, patiently waiting for Shinji to open up to him, not caring how long it would take. Putting Shinji first, just like he always did. The feeling was bittersweet.
“I-I’m fine, Kaworu-kun,” he muttered as evenly as he could, resenting the way his voice wavered as he spoke. "I... I just couldn't sleep."
He still hoped his answer would be enough to satisfy Kaworu's curiosity and send him back inside, even knowing beforehand that it wouldn’t be. He stared at his feet awkwardly as he wracked his mind for a better excuse, not even needing to meet Kaworu’s gaze to know the concern he held within it. He needed to work fast.
“S-so, I, uh,” he choked out, hoping he’d be able to disguise his weariness as mere embarrassment. “I came out here to look at the stars. Y-you know, it always helps me when—”
It was only when he looked up into the sky trying to sell his act that he noticed it was blanketed in a thick, fluffy layer of clouds, everything covered in the dull-orange glow of reflected streetlight all the way to the horizon.
A hint of color came to his cheeks that he hoped Kaworu wouldn't be able to see in the darkness. He stood there in silence, feeling like an idiot, though somewhat relieved that embarrassment had managed to eclipse grief for a moment. He half-expected Kaworu to take a well-meaning jab at him to lighten the mood—he more than deserved it—but the taunt never came. Instead, he just placed a hand over his own, waiting for Shinji to relax into the touch before weaving their fingers together.
“Shinji-kun…”
The warmth from Kaworu's hand seeped into his own, thawing away the icy numbness that had settled in. He hadn't even realized how cold he was; only just now did he feel the chill of the wind as it brushed against him, the biting cold of the metal railing against his skin. He turned his hand within Kaworu's so he could lock their fingers together, suddenly craving more warmth.
"Kaworu-kun, I—"
Before he could finish the thought, he watched as a little droplet fell onto Kaworu's hand. Shinji rubbed his eyes—had he been crying again? No, his cheeks were completely dry, if a bit tacky from the previous bout. But then what…?
His question was answered as a light rain steadily began to fall. It started just as a light drizzle, a few raindrops here and there pattering lightly against the ground as they fell, hardly even worthy of notice. But in the span of what seemed like a second the rain had begun to fall in earnest, the sparse droplets from before swiftly replaced by heavy, almost opaque sheets of rain loudly battering down against metal and concrete.
Shinji could barely even hear his own bitter laugh over the noise. “So much for watching the stars, I guess.”
Kaworu didn’t laugh as he gave Shinji's hand a gentle squeeze.
“Come on, let's go back inside.”
Shinji nodded weakly as Kaworu took him by the hand and led him back inside. He sighed in relief when the glass door was quickly closed shut behind them once they both stepped in, cutting off all the wind and rain and cold that had chilled him to the bone without him even realizing it, leaving nothing but the dry, familiar warmth of their room.
Kaworu still hadn't let go of his hand. He didn't until he'd led Shinji over to the bed and carefully sat him down at its edge, giving him a soft smile as he carefully untangled their fingers.
"Wait here a second."
Kaworu made his way across the room and began shuffling around in the dark, searching around a bit before grabbing something off their dresser. Shinji looked to see what he was doing, squinting to see as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his target coming into view just as a fluffy white mass barreled into his face.
“Wha-! Kaworu-kun, what are you—”
“I don't want you to catch a cold,” Kaworu laughed softly as he tousled Shinji’s hair with the towel, soaking up the water that had seeped in. After a minute he finally pulled the towel away to admire his progress, smiling as he ran his fingers through Shinji’s disheveled, but now fully dry, hair. "There, much better."
Shinji pouted at him as he began to dry his own hair off. “I don't think you can actually get sick just from having wet hair, you know…”
"Hmm, you still shouldn't take the chance."
Shinji almost giggled when Kaworu tossed the towel aside and sat down beside him, revealing the hilariously fluffy, unkempt mess of silver hair left in its wake. He motioned to brush one of the stray tufts poking oddly out from his bangs away from his eyes, but before he could Kaworu grabbed onto his hand and brought it down to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.
"Kaworu-kun…" he mumbled as their eyes met, the lump in his throat making his words come out jumbled and half-whispered. "I-I, um, I just—"
Before he could finish Kaworu wrapped his arms around his waist and brought him in closer, pulling him into a tight embrace.
Shinji stiffened in his arms. Even now, years later, he sometimes felt just as awkward and unworthy as he had the first time Kaworu had held him like this, that nagging feeling that he didn’t deserve all this affection rearing back in full force—now especially so, given his current state of mind. It made him want to push him away, to bring back the lonely but safe gap between them. He put his hand to his chest to do just that, but the urge dissipated as a soothing hand started rubbing up and down his back, the warmth coaxing him to melt into the embrace.
He exhaled against Kaworu’s neck, hands gripping onto the thin fabric of his shirt.
"I'm sorry…”
Kaworu gave a little hum as he pressed a kiss to Shinji's forehead. "For what?”
“I… I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he mumbled against his skin, not knowing what else to say. He had a lot to be sorry about.
“You have nothing to apologize for. I woke up on my own.” Kaworu nuzzled his nose into Shinji’s hair, sighing into it. “It’s just hard to sleep when you aren’t in my arms.”
Shinji let go of Kaworu’s shirt to grip his waist, wanting to pull himself even closer. As his hands made contact he had a brief flash of what it had felt like to hold Kaworu’s entire body in his Eva’s hand, in his hand, remembering how fragile he’d felt clutched between his fingers. How small he’d seemed back then, how easy it had been to—
A sob escaped him as he slumped against Kaworu. He could feel himself trembling in his arms, his face pressed into the crook of Kaworu’s neck as they tightened around him, holding him steady.
“I’m sorry, I should—” Shinji shuddered as he snaked his arms around Kaworu, desperately holding onto him like he would slip away if he didn’t. “I should be over this by now.”
“Shinji-kun…”
“I-It’s usually not a problem. Most of the time, I can handle it just fine,” Shinji scrambled to defend himself, face still pressed against Kaworu’s neck, unwilling—or maybe just unable—to look him in the eyes. “But there are times when it’s just… I mean, I can’t…”
His voice got quiet, almost drowned out by the storm raging outside. “It just gets overwhelming sometimes.”
Kaworu just kept holding him, lips grazing the top of his head when he finally answered. “It takes time, Shinji-kun. Don’t beat yourself up over something you can’t control.”
“Crying won’t change anything,” Shinji’s fists balled in Kaworu’s shirt. “It doesn’t help anyone. It’s a waste of time.”
“Trying to keep it in won’t help anyone, either.”
“I never see you breaking down over the past,” he said bitterly, all the anger in his voice directed at himself. “You never did, even though you kept dying and—" Shinji’s voice cracked at the last part, trailing off with a choked whimper. The rain kept beating against the window, filling the thick silence that had fallen between the two.
“I had plenty of time to come to terms with my fate. And even with that, I still dealt with my circumstances in a… less than healthy way.” Kaworu finally answered after a long pause, speaking slowly like he was carefully considering his words. “I wouldn’t want that for you.”
He let out a tight sigh into Shinji’s hair as his arms tightened around him once more. “It’s painful to have to hide things from someone you love.”
Shinji grumbled a little when Kaworu’s arms loosened and he pulled away from him slightly, already missing the warmth. He was about to say something when a hand moved from his back to his face, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear before cupping his cheek, urging him to look up.
Shinji’s lips quivered as he tried to speak, almost not wanting to hear the answer to the question he was about to ask.
“But I-I told you I wouldn’t...” he twisted his fingers in Kaworu’s shirt nervously as he trailed off, still looking down as he spoke in a near whisper. “You aren’t… disappointed?”
He somehow mustered the courage to finally look up and felt like he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him when he did and locked eyes with Kaworu, the other man’s glossy with unshed tears.
“I would never be disappointed in you for that. Never.” Shinji squeaked in surprise when Kaworu wrapped him into a hug so tight it nearly hurt. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide anything from me.”
Shinji returned the hug. “O-okay.”
Kaworu sniffled into his shoulder. “Promise?”
“Yeah,” Shinji raked his fingers through his hair, slowly rubbing the nape of his neck. “I promise.”
They held each other close even after settling into bed; arms circled around the other, legs entwined, both flush against one another, enveloped by their combined warmth.
Shinji exhaled deeply into Kaworu’s chest as he nuzzled his face into it, trying to dispel the lingering anxiety still coursing through him. He tried to empty his mind of the thoughts racing through it and concentrated on the quiet melody of the early-morning world surrounding him; the pitter-patter of rain pelting against the window, the muted, high-pitched rush of the wind as it flew by, the constant, mellow hum of Kaworu snoring into his hair, already fast asleep, his heart beating steadily against him.
He pressed an ear to his chest to hear more clearly, shutting his eyes and closing out everything else. The tension that plagued his body began to melt away bit by bit as he listened to the thump of Kaworu’s heart beating against his ear, focusing on it and it alone— the steady, healthy beat of a now very human heart; safe and happy and here, no longer bound by some cruel fate to separate from him.
His arms tightened around Kaworu, holding him like he needed confirmation that this was real and not just some wonderful, delusional dream he’d found himself trapped in, soon to wake up and be thrust back into a world full of Angels and Evas and constant death and—
The arms around him tightened back in response, a hand slowly moving from his back to lazily stroke his hair. Kaworu placed a soft, sleepy kiss on the top of his head and mumbled something—he couldn’t make out what, exactly, but the affection in it still made his heart soar—before promptly falling back asleep.
For the first time all night, Shinji finally felt drowsiness starting to overtake him. He quickly followed suit, whispering jumbled words of affection into his lover’s chest as he began to fall asleep in his arms. The biting, visceral pain that had been tearing through him earlier was now nothing but a phantom sitting at the edge of his mind; present, but indistinct and out of sight.
It would always be there, he knew. And he knew what would happen if he let it consume him, how the past could twist and warp one's priorities leaving them blind to the here and now, to the people who still needed and loved them. Would that be him one day? Bogged down in all the things he could've done, all the things he'd done wrong?
No, it wouldn't be. Any doubts he had of that vanished as he finally drifted off, lulled to sleep by the murmur of rain, the warmth of the arms holding him close, and the gentle, constant, steady rhythm of the heart beating next to his own.