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The shrill blaring of his alarm woke him.
Shinji rubbed his eyes and stared up at the ceiling as he let it ring on, hoping the noise would rouse him fully in due time. After a minute he finally turned it off and forced himself out of bed and onto his feet, knowing all too well that he’d be too tempted to sleep in for 'just five more minutes’ if he stayed in any longer.
He trudged over to the bathroom to wash his face, the first task on his mental checklist of things to be done before heading to work. Wash up, get dressed, make breakfast, check emails, and then leave for the station. It had become so habitual by this point that he didn’t even need to think about what he was doing; he just let his body run on autopilot as he got through it.
It wasn't difficult when every day carried the same routine with little variation. His days blended into one another week after week and month after month, even years seeming to meld into one another with only the change of the seasons to distinguish them. It was a mundane, banal, maybe even boring way to live, but after all he’d been through, he’d count a boring life as a blessing.
After splashing some much-needed cold water onto his face— and grimacing at the noticeable dark bags under his eyes, no way he’d let Mari drag him out drinking like that on a work night again— he plodded over to his dresser to put together the day’s attire. Not that it took any real effort on his part either; it’s not like there were many combinations of shirt, tie, and slacks to come up with.
He felt his stomach grumble as he finally made his way over to his apartment’s modest kitchen, finally ready to make breakfast. Today he was going to keep it simple; just a few pieces of toast, lightly buttered as always, with some fresh coffee to along with it. He read the newspaper as he ate, disinterestedly scanning over the headlines and half-reading the articles that looked at least somewhat promising. He never particularly liked doing it, but growing up he’d always see his guardians read the paper at breakfast, and even had a vague recollection of his father doing so as well. This must be how adults were supposed to live, wasn’t it?
After his quick breakfast he was immediately out the door, suit and tie neat and briefcase at his side. It was only a ten-minute walk to the station, but even still he always liked to leave more than enough time for himself to get there. He had it down to a science; ten minutes to the station, five minutes of waiting, thirty minutes on the train, and only a few more to the office.
Easy, predictable, mundane. Things were better that way.
When he finally got to the station and took place with the rest of the morning commuters, he took a second to finally enjoy the gentle morning breeze. He closed his eyes as it blew through his short-cropped hair as the warm, early-morning sun bathed the station around him in bright yellow-white warmth. It was a beautiful morning; hopefully, the weather forecast predicting rain later this afternoon would be wrong.
He finally opened his eyes at the familiar sound of his train’s approach. He’d started taking an earlier one as of late; sure, it was a little more difficult to get up even earlier than he had been before, but leaving earlier meant avoiding the hectic morning rush and increasing his chances of snagging a seat along the way. Given the choice between fifteen extra minutes of sleep or the prospect of not having to stand packed like a sardine on his morning commute, those fifteen minutes lost every time.
The doors opened and he could see that, remarkably, his wish had finally come true; the train was far less full than usual, almost empty, leaving plenty of open seating. He smiled to himself. This must be my lucky day.
He plopped down onto the nearest one available, sighing with relief that he could finally be off his feet for a bit. He tried to think up what to do with himself for the next half an hour, now that he wouldn’t be spending it hanging onto the railings for dear life while squished against dozens of other people as he fought against being swept into the chaotic, undulating crowd.
Perhaps he should read that book he always carried around with him but had never actually gotten around to reading, or check his emails once again before getting to the office? Maybe he could use the time to finally get back to Mari; she’d probably start nagging him again if he put it off any longer and kept denying her desire to stick her nose into his business like some kind of overbearing aunt. He hated it when she got like that.
He was so caught up in trying to figure out what to do with this waning sliver of free time that three stops in, he still hadn’t come to a decision. He fretted the rest of the way to the next, worried that he’d waste it all away doing nothing, only finally deciding to just indulge in some mindless scrolling on his phone as the train pulled up to its fourth stop. It was better than nothing, and certainly better than stewing in his own thoughts for the next twenty-something minutes.
A new wave of people filed in, filling up what had been a comfortably empty train almost completely in a matter of seconds. Shinji pressed himself to the side to make enough room for fellow passengers quick enough to grab the seating next to him, trying to keep focused on the artificial light of his phone’s screen and not on the swarm of people now surrounding him.
Just before the doors closed another passenger stepped in and took place right in front of Shinji, casting a shadow over him. Now boxed in completely, he felt his heartbeat pick up and beads of sweat begin to form on his neck right under his shirt collar. He felt ridiculous; why now, of all times?
He exhaled lightly, pushing the feeling down. All he needed to do was keep his head down and he’d be there in no time at all— there were only a few stations left until his own. Then he could finally get off, make his way to work, and have another boring day just like the string of boring days he’d been lumbering through these past few months.
That’s right— a completely average, normal, unremarkable day. That’s all that awaited him.
Shinji kept thinking that right up until he snuck a glance up and saw who was standing in front of him.
He looked just like how Shinji remembered him as the last time he’d seen him, the image of him seared into his mind even if it’d only been but a second’s glance. Even now as a mere human he was no less ethereal than he had been before; the same clear, flawless pale skin and beautiful deep red eyes peeking out from under long eyelashes. The same fluffy, pale grey hair that stuck out every which way but still always managed to look effortlessly tousled. The same gentle smile gracing his features even now as he stood in the cramped train car right in front of Shinji, the same smile he’d always worn around him in the times they’d spent together.
The times they’d spent together. Shinji allowed himself to indulge in the memories from time to time, all the small glimmers of happiness they’d been able to share in those brief, wonderful times they’d been able to be with one another.
Meeting for the first time on the sunset-colored beach, Shinji stammering out his name to the other boy while he beamed at him. Playing the piano together, their combined music becoming clearer and smoother every time they met to practice, strengthening along with their bond. Laying out under the stars at night side by side, a blush searing across his cheeks when Kaworu tells him those words, I really was born to meet you. The one he cherishes above all else, hearing the words I love you for the first time in his miserable life, a warm, sure hand protectively covering his own—
The very hand that would crush Kaworu to death less than a day later.
Shinji squeezed his eyes shut and bit the inner part of his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, hoping physical pain will somehow overwhelm the oncoming wave of mental anguish.
It didn’t. The pain gouged a fresh wound into his heart every time he was subjected to the memory of what always awaited at the end of their little momentary happiness, of all the panic and screaming and blood, so much blood, of his eyes blinded by hot tears at the realization of what was to come as Kaworu just smiled at him as softly as he always had, whispering gentle words of comfort. The nonstop reel of all of Kaworu’s grisly deaths, not all by his hand but all of them his fault, even if Kaworu had never once blamed him for it.
Shinji could feel himself about to start hyperventilating, not here, not now, not again, before he finally remembered that Kaworu was finally freed from that fate. Free to live a life on his own terms, no longer bound by his destiny, no longer forced to sacrifice himself repeatedly for a goal that was always just out of reach.
Free to finally be alive, living a life no longer concerning Shinji.
Shinji had long since come to terms with never seeing him again. He would’ve liked to think it was for some noble reason, but in reality, it was completely selfish— as he often still was. It was just too painful to get his hopes up for something that might never come to pass.
But here Kaworu was, standing right in front of him, his brow knit cutely as he stood there engrossed in the small book he was reading while on his morning commute. No longer an Angel, no longer incompatible, no longer doomed; just an normal man, carrying about in what was no doubt a normal life. It was all Shinji had ever wanted for him.
Shinji swallowed thickly, his mind a hazy mess of conflicting emotions. There were so many things he wanted, no, needed, to know, things he wanted to ask the man in front of him. What kind of life was it that he was living? What did he do for work, or even just in his spare time— did he still play the piano or the violin, just like he used to? What kind of friends did he have? Was he happy, as happy as he deserved to be?
And then, perhaps, most selfishly,
Does he still remember me?
“Are you alright?”
Their eyes met and Shinji realized he must’ve been staring at Kaworu all this time, too absorbed in the tumult of his thoughts to notice. His lips quivered as he tried to muster up a quick I’m so sorry in apology, but Kaworu didn’t look offended in the least. Far from it; He could tell those gentle, deep-red eyes he knew so well were full of nothing but honest concern for him.
He could also tell they didn’t recognize him in the slightest.
“I-I’m sorry, I…”
He tried to choke out the rest of his answer, not even knowing what to say what to say, what to feel, barely registering the gust of wind that wafted in as the train doors opened with a little mechanical chime. Without even thinking he shot out of his seat, his body moving on instinct alone.
“I have to go.”
He whispered the last part, so low barely even he could hear it. As he pushed past the other passengers straight for the door he idly wondered if Kaworu had, but why would he care even if he did? To him, Shinji was just another face in the crowd, one stranger in a sea of the hundreds he saw every day.
Kaworu would just forget about the strange man who’d been gawking at him on the train this the morning as he went about the rest of his day. Before, he’d had no one but Shinji; another sad, lost, lonely little boy he’d seen enough of himself in to tie his fate to in hopes of finding some glimmer of happiness. But that was in the past; Shinji was no longer the center of Kaworu's world. He wasn't even in its periphery.
The sound of the train he’d just been on faded as it got further and further away. As he was just about to leave the station, he realized that he’d gotten off several stops too early— it was too far to walk to work from here, at least if he wanted to make it there on time.
He trudged back to wait for the next train and collapsed onto the first empty bench he saw. His body felt too heavy to move, too burdened by the increasing tightness in his chest and the pressure forming behind his eyes that he fruitlessly tried to stifle.
How could I be so selfish?
Kaworu was alive. Alive, and healthy, and he— he looked like he was happy. Shinji didn’t need to know the details of his life, had no right to. All that mattered was that Kaworu was finding his own happiness, finally for himself, on his own terms, for the first time in his long, lonely existence.
It was exactly what Shinji had wanted for him, urged him to pursue the last time they’d spoken, and back then he’d meant it with all his heart. He still did.
I made the world like this. I have no right to complain.
He whipped out his phone and got right back to his mindless task from earlier, wanting something, anything to distract him from the maelstrom of emotions swirling in his heart.
He tapped at the screen to continue reading the article he’d been half-paying attention to earlier. It was a decent enough distraction for a minute, but he found it increasingly difficult to read through the blurry film of unshed tears gathering up in his eyes, threatening to spill over.
I should be happy for him.
The tears fell, and this time he didn’t try to stop them.