Archive of Our Own

Happiness is the last thing on Shinji's mind.

It's not that he didn't want to be happy—no, on the contrary, it's all he could dream of. He dreamt of finding a warm, sunny place facing the ocean where he could play music all day and figure out the entire world. He would never play the cello, no, because he stopped in middle school and he would never play again. He would listen and watch. He’d watch the rest of the world from a safe distance, and while he was away from all the people who would break his heart, he'd figure out the secrets of the stars and the universe.

But when in hell, you don't spend all your waking thoughts on your dreams; you spend all your effort on trying to get out.

What better place to start than a job at Walmart?

"You gotta start small, you little shit," Asuka had whispered to him earlier that week while their calculus teacher droned on about extraneous solutions. "You think Rome was built in a day?"

"You think I could build a Rome?" He peeked up from the worksheet he was doodled on in time to see her bite back her snort. Shinji frowned and picked up his earbud, ready to tune out their teacher talking about negative roots and Asuka. He had groaned to her about his home life so he could get some good advice, not to hear her insult him.

"Oh come on, shit-ji." She smiled that stupid grin of hers and wedges her hand between her neck and her head. She only does that when she’s about to say the smartest or stupidest thing you’d hear from someone’s mouth. "You couldn't even dream of it! But you can help some middle-aged couple build a fence around their garden. Maybe you can get me discounts. No, scratch that, you better get me discounts."

And that's how Shinji decided to get out of hell, he'd need to build Rome. One Walmart shift at a time.

Happiness was the last thing on Shinji's mind: firstly, he needed to avoid his father.

If Shinji was in hell, his father was the devil. Or maybe the devil’s right hand, given he was barely around. Ever since his mother died when he was a kid, Shinji had been in purgatory for a sin he did not commit. It was as if his father had completely ignored that his son lost his mother, not just that he lost his wife.

But no, Gendo's pain trumped Shinji's, because it was always a competition. It was always, 'Shinji, you're not trying hard enough' and 'Shinji, all those kids are so much better’ and ‘Shinji, you’ll never get anywhere if you’re too lazy to even play cello’ and his favorite, 'Shinji, you're a disgrace.' At first, Shinji was just happy his dad would talk to him, but that childish glee wore off when he started forgetting how to laugh.

Lucky for Shinji, his father is a workaholic, all hours of the clock dedicated to a science beyond this world. It was easy to avoid him physically, but Gendo had eyes everywhere—mainly, Gendo had a security camera installed. If he learned that his disgraceful son began to work at Walmart, after all the ‘kindness’ he had shown him, Shinji would be a part of his next experiment.

Shinji thought that sneaking out in windows was only in those shitty coming-of-age movies, yet here he is. Maybe his life is a shitty coming-of-age movie. With a bag slung over his shoulder, he slid the creaky window open and glanced at his plain bedroom. Step one to getting out of here.

Sneaking out his window was actually pretty easy, except for landing on the grass, which is not as soft as walking on it. With dirt kissing his white shirt, Shinji was ready to begin phase two of 'Building-Rome-And-Getting-Out-Of-Hell': the Walk.

Which was three minutes because Rei was picking him up a block away.

Phase two-and-a-half began, the Drive, which is much harder than the Walk. Rei is Shinji's half-sister—Shinji isn't too sure about the details and he doesn't think there's enough science or enough therapy to make him understand. He doesn't even know if Rei is blood-related. But, there's something about her that makes Shinji feel... known.

And that's what scares Shinji: her knowing. Her knowing and hating him. Her knowing and deciding that purgatory is not enough for him. Her knowing and becoming worse than his father. That's his worst fear, maybe, thinking that that man... he may just be right after all. He is a disgrace.

But she just smiled softly at him whenever their eyes met and they didn't say a word to each other until she pulled up to the Walmart.

"Be careful," she says. The lights flicker in the six PM light, the sun a distance away and beginning to set. It reflects in her blue eyes, in her blue hair, and her crumpled white shirt. She’s beautiful—Shinji has noticed this many times before. "I'll be at Asuka's. I'll come get you at four."

Shinji mock gags, unbuckling his seatbelt. “TMI. What will you even do that late? Wait, don’t answer that. Just make sure you keep the door locked."

The softest of pinks kiss her cheeks, the same way Asuka probably has a thousand times. Shinji is pretty sure Rei isn't half related to him because there's no universe where he'd ever kiss Asuka.

“I’ll be sure to tell her your thoughts on our relation—"

“NO, don’t tell her anything!” He flashes her a smile full of teeth and swings open the door. “Tell her you love her and leave me out of it! Bye!”

Her laughter follows him out of the car. There’s no universe where he’d ever kiss Asuka, but he’s glad it’s Rei. He’s glad she’s happy. He really is, despite the nagging envy inside him.

The next phases are pretty easy, with the training going by in a flash. In fact, the next few weeks went pretty smoothly; Shinji started to take the bus instead of Rei dropping him off and he picked up another shift.

But smooth sailing or not, Shinji is in hell. Between his father and school and the existential dread that he will never live up to being an Ikari nor will he ever find a purpose in his life to justify existing, Shinji is stuck in the fiery pits for a sin he did not commit.

So by that logic, he should've expected that things would get worse before they got better. But as he helped a middle-aged couple pick what material they should use to build a fence around their garden, he thought that just for a second, things were going his way. He didn't need a purpose. He could just begin living in the now, for the first time since his mother's death. Maybe, just maybe, he could remember how to laugh again.

That was all before he met the white-haired boy of his fucking dreams.

Kaworu had stumbled into Shinji’s life—literally. When Shinji picked up a later shift, the angelic boy with pale skin and red eyes tripped over the pack of tissues that Shinji was arranging. Instead of apologizing, getting mad, or doing any of the normal responses that a normal person would do after tripping, he had just crouched next to Shinji and smiled, eyeing his tag.

“I’ve never seen you here before, Shinji.” His stare was so intense that even if Shinji wanted nothing more than to punch him for bothering him while working, his mouth just went slack and his cheeks went red.

“Y-Yeah,” Shinji fucking stuttered, trying to pick up the pieces of his failing demeanor. “I just got this shift... Kaworu.”

“You can read.” Kaworu sounded genuinely delighted.

“Apparently so.” Shinji sounded genuinely infatuated.

And now, Kaworu could not leave Shinji alone. Shinji has learned absolutely nothing about the boy other than he’s beautiful and beautifully a pain in the ass. His mind can’t make out if he loves him or hates him and it doesn’t help that there’s an air of mystery that follows Kaworu everywhere. He wants to know more. He needs to know more. But to know more, he needs to actually talk to Kaworu, which will end in disaster, somehow.

Today? Phase two hundred thirty-three: Don’t Punch In Kaworu’s Nose And Definitely Don’t Kiss Him.

“Shinji,” he cooed, holding a bucket in his hand. His uniform is messy and so is his hair and so is the lopsided grin that Shinji can’t figure out what to do. “Shinji, let’s do something.”

Phase two hundred thirty-four: Ignore Kaworu’s Advances.

“I’m busy,” Shinji seethes through gritted teeth, mopping the cleanup on aisle fourteen. A group of teens thought it would be funny to spill all the good nail polish on the floor and the pair were tasked to clean it up. Which is weird, given that cleaning is a one-person job, but Shinji has just decided that Kaworu isn’t real and is just a figment of his imagination. Which is why he only feels slightly bad saying, “Fuck off.”

“You don’t mean that,” Kaworu laughs and Shinji spares a single glance up at him. Normally, when he laughs that stupid fucking laugh at him, Shinji would think of ways to figure out if Kaworu was into boys without embarrassing himself, would think of ways to convince Asuka to beat him up, or he would sink to the floor. Today, it’s none of those things, and he just stares at the way Kaworu’s cheeks scrunch up. “...do you?”

Shinji takes a second to respond which is all the time it takes Kaworu to continue being eccentric. “Perfect! What are you doing after this?”

With a hearty groan, Shinji shoves the mop in Kaworu’s general direction—it clatters to the floor—and checks his watch. “It’ll be four and it’s Thursday.”

Kaworu grabs the mop with a great bow as though he were an aristocrat and not some skinny high-schooler and shrugs. “Do you have something better to do?”

“Sleep.”

“Is that really better than being with me?”

Shinji snorts. “Miles.”

“Well, I’ll just cross that distance,” he decides, leaning forward on the mop, “and we can get food together.”

“I…” Shinji bites his tongue.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Kaworu. On the contrary, he’s just completely obsessed with him. He’s known the boy for the shortest amount of time but he makes him feel like he’s never lived before. Shinji wants to know everything about him but he’s just too… closed off to even try.

But there’s too much electricity. Shinji has known him for two weeks, two pages, and he feels like a live wire. Like if he decides to take the leap and become his friend, an actual friend, he won’t just be trapped in hell… he’ll short out the energy between them. He’ll ruin the chance to be Kaworu’s friend because that’s just what Shinji does.

That’s all too much to say, so Shinji settles on the easier, equally true truth: “My… my dad. He doesn’t know I have this job. He’d hate me.”

For a moment, Kaworu’s face falters. The universe is unbalanced and Kaworu is… sad? Remorseful? Shinji can’t even process it because his smile returns and he shrugs. “Do you want him to like you?”

“Do I want my dad to like me?” Shinji blinks at him, but he doesn’t seem too out of it.

“Yes. Do you want him to like you?”

“Of course, you idiot, I…” Shinji hesitates for a moment and he hates the way Kaworu’s lips roll up when he does. Or maybe he loves it. Whatever it is, Shinji is on fire and it’s either being in hell, being related to his father, or being close to Kaworu. “I… actually don’t.”

The angel boy of Shinji’s fucking dreams gives him a knowing stare, glances at his watch, and then walks away, mop and bucket in tow.

Something is horribly wrong with him, Shinji decides. No one could ever make him think that way about his father…

No one could ever make him admit that.

Shinji finds it very easy to cry while rain is pouring on him. No one can hear his tiny body rock and no one can tell tears are falling down. It’s very easy to cry while his father drags him through the rain, holding a brown suitcase full of all his belongings.

‘Papa,’ Shinji wants to call. ‘Papa, can we please stop?’

His father wouldn’t answer him, but Shinji likes to imagine he would listen. He would stop dragging him, stop making him slip, and scratch his knees. He would listen and then he would turn around and notice he was crying. He would crouch down and wipe those tears away and take him home. Then, he would dry him off and his mother would come back.

Shinji doesn’t call out and lets his father drag him through the rain. The sidewalk is slippery and the dim street lights provide no warmth. Every house looks the same. Shinji wants to go home. ‘Papa,’ Shinji wants to call. ‘Papa, my legs hurt. It’s cold. I’m cold.’

His father stops walking eventually and turns to look at one of the identical houses. Shinji hopes he changes his mind and lets him go back home—of course, that’s naive of him to think. His father taught him that word. Naive. Shinji is too naive. Too trusting. Too stupid. Shinji thinks his father would love him if he was older.

Yanking his arm, his father walks up to the door of one of the houses with a sobbing Shinji in tow, rings the doorbell, and drops the suitcase. It’s a minute or two in the cold before a couple opens the door. ‘Mama,’ Shinji wants to call. ‘You look like mama.’

The hand holding his arm lets go.

‘Papa,’ Shinji wants to call. ‘What are you doing?’

The couple—Shinji’s uncle and aunt, he recalls vaguely—talks to his father for a bit. His father walks away and his uncle and aunt pull him in.

‘Papa,’ Shinji wants to call. He wants to wiggle out of his relative’s arms and go back to his father, to his mother, to his parents. ‘Where are you going?’

His father does not bother to look back.

His father does not look back for eleven years.

Phase two hundred thirty-five: Accept Kaworu’s Advances (the heart is a fucking traitor) and Meet Him At the Curb.

The rest of his shift goes by accordingly, reshelving and helping direct a few late-night customers. A feeling of sonder trails Shinji as he imagines what all these people are doing, where they’re going back to, who’s waiting for them, more than usual. It’s like, after being asked out—no, not asked out, being asked to ‘do something’—by the most perfect boy he’s ever met, he’s never felt at more odds with the universe.

This is going to go wrong somehow, Shinji figures, making his way to the lockers in the breakroom. He twists his lock open and that’s what’s going to happen to his heart: it’ll twist in all the wrong ways but he’ll just hang there uselessly until… click. The lock opens.

Shinji won’t be so lucky.

“That’s fucking cheesy,” he mutters aloud, snatching his bag and slamming the door. “I’m not a protagonist.”

But he certainly feels like one when he finds Kaworu standing outside, staring up at the moon. A messenger bag is askew over his back and Shinji wants to pull at it, pull at Kaworu’s shirt, pull at his own lock and open, and break. Taste. It’ll be worth it, unlucky and all, for this chance. The universe is playing tricks on him, but Shinji, Shinji is a fool in love. If hell asks for a jester then Shinji shall be one.

“Kaworu.” Shinji manages enough annoyance into his voice to save face, shuffling next to the stranger. “You really waited for me.”

“Of course I did,” Kaworu replies, eyes glittering under the moon as though it were home. “What else would I have done?”

“Uh, left?”

“Do you want me to—"

“Yes.”

Kaworu laughs and looks away from the stars, but there’s still a glint in his eye and wow, red really shines at night. “The moon is beautiful.”

Shinji snorts. “Good for it?”

“Wait, no, let me use a pick-up line!” He stares off thoughtfully, before smiling (Shinji has been staring too hard. Kaworu always looks like he’s smiling but now Shinji can tell when he’s actually smiling and when he’s not and it’s horrible.) “You’re—"

Shinji has been staring too hard and if this goes on any longer, he’ll be worse than a fool, so he grabs Kaworu’s shoulder and begins to cross the morning street. “Shut up and take me where you want to go.”

“You’re so rough, Shinji,” Kaworu whimpers, faking sniffles. “I just want to be your friend!”

“Yuck. I’ll pass.”

“Oh please.” Kaworu shrugs off Shinji’s hand and matches his pace, trying to meet Shinji’s eyes. “You’d miss me soooo much.”

Shinji rolls his fingers between his clothes and his backpack and rolls his eyes. “Ohh, life would be so horrible if I didn’t have some ice cube constantly bothering me.”

“Huh. Ice cube. That’s a new one.” Kaworu grins. “What about my eyes? Ice cubes don’t have red eyes.”

“Contact lenses, duh. You’re an ice cube that wants attent-ION—"

Kaworu pulls back Shinji until they're face to face in the middle of the empty parking lot, and he meets Shinji’s eyes. Oh, he meets Shinji’s eyes and that grin is a lot softer and Shinji can taste his breath. “Do they look like contacts, Shinji?”

Shinji hates him. Everything he says sounds so… poetic. It sounds like he’s trained to woo boys with overprotective sisters and shitty dads and Shinji hates that he’s wooed; Shinji hates that he wants to hate Kaworu when he’s done nothing; and most of all, Shinji hates that he can’t figure out why this is the boy of his dreams, why he’s so familiar, and that he just wants to kiss him!

“N-No,” he manages, through woo, hate, and confusion. The jester in Shinji yearns to be free and to step closer but the lock wants nothing to do with this. The lock pulls back and reminds the boy of fresh air. Kaworu cannot help him. Nobody can. He shall die with this sin. “What are you… Whatever. Let’s just, let’s just get this over with, okay?”

That’s enough for Kaworu. He lets go of Shinji’s arm after a moment of hesitation and bumps shoulders with him. “This will change your life. I promise.”

Shinji doesn’t believe him.

“I hate him,” Shinji groans, head in Asuka’s lap. They’re in Rei’s basement, lounging on her couch, while she works on her biology project on the coffee table in front of them. “He won’t leave me alone. Whenever I go in, he’s always there!”

“Quit,” Rei says simply, tracing her finger over her sketch. “If it’s that bothersome, why hurt yourself, Shinji?”

“Cause he’s a whiny bitch,” Asuka says, running her fingers through his hair before yanking on it. “And he just likes to whine.”

He yelps and sits up, rubbing his head. “I can’t just quit. I-I need to stick at something. And no, I don't like to whine. He just likes to bother me.”

“How exactly does he bother you?” Asuka leans against his shoulder, throwing her leg over the armrest.

“Well, he always gets in the way of my work and he always distracts me from everything. And, and if I push him away, he always manages to get me to talk to him again, and, and he has this stupid fucking smile and whenever he smiles, I just want to—"

Asuka bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, Shinji!”

He stares at her, baffled, before an equally amused Rei giggles. “Shinji, it sounds like you have—"

“Shinji is in love!” Asuka interrupts, and the two girls look at each other before bursting out laughing. “He’s such a fucking idiot, he can’t even realize he’s in love!”

“Oh, shut up!”

Phase two hundred thirty-five: Get In Kaworu’s Car, Don’t Imagine Making Out Because That Would Be Horrible, and Prove Asuka and Rei Wrong.

Kaworu has a car waiting for him in the parking lot, which Shinji doesn’t ask about. Shinji does realize that he doesn’t know anything about Kaworu’s family life but if the boy wants to share, he will. Kaworu opens the trunk and there’s an aroma that follows that makes Shinji’s knees weak and his head blank.

"Food is the best way into a woman’s heart," Shinji’s teacher Misato had said after the two had run into each other in the frozen food aisle. Now, Shinji is pretty sure he’s not a woman (the jury of cisgenderism is still out on that one, they’ll get back to him soon) and he’s pretty sure Kaworu isn’t trying to weasel his way into Shinji’s heart, but wow.

Shinji picks up the wrap and opens it, revealing thick bread and thick meat, laced with lettuce, tomato, and some thick white sauce. He carefully positions it on his lips before taking a bite and wow. Wow.

“Gyro,” Kaworu says, as Shinji greedily begins to eat, settling into the trunk of the car. “It’s amazing. It’s filling though, so it’s better to eat it during the day. But I don’t plan on sleeping.”

Shinji will never sleep after eating this. It’s heaven in a bite, a perfect mix of juicy, savory, and weight, so you’ll take a good bite and you won’t finish too fast but it won’t be too hard to eat. "There’s this kabob place," Shinji remembers Kaworu saying once, "that makes gyro. It looks really good. Perfect food for getting stoned."

Shinji choked on his drink. "Do you do drugs?"

Kaworu grinned at him. "No, I can’t say I do. But I would try it with you."

Halfway through, Shinji realizes that Kaworu hasn’t even opened the wrapping and has just been staring at him. “Why huvun’t,” Shinji swallows his bite, “you started?”

“Oh.” Kaworu looks away. A twang of sadness kisses the air between them but Shinji lets it hang and rot. “I guess I don’t plan on eating.”

“Then why'd you buy them?”

Kaworu settles in the trunk with Shinji and refuses to look him in the eye. “I was hoping you would accompany me and eat it.”

Shinji takes another bite, the sandwich slowly dwindling to its final drops of bread, willing his cheeks to not turn red and to focus his blood on whatever process is needed to digest this heavenly meal. “Oh.” Shinji forces his voice even. “That’s.” Shinji forces himself to swallow. “That’s nice.” Shinji forces himself not to stop eating.

“How do you get home?” Kaworu turns, smiling softly at the sight of Shinji being a mess.

Shinji forces himself to bite down the last of the gift from god, holding the wrapper like a napkin between his soaked fingers. “It’s usually the bus, but sometimes it’s my sister.”

“Sister?” If Shinji was thinking straight, he might’ve said that Kaworu sounded shocked. But Shinji is not. He’s in hell as a jester, a lock, and in heaven as a patron of the food arts, and he is most definitely not thinking straight.

“Yeah, Rei.” Finally, something Kaworu didn’t know about him. “She’s my half-sister. I think. I don’t really know. But she’s my sister and I love her. I think I’m older, but she’s always the one looking out for me.”

Misato had once told him that once you open up, the fear of being open slowly goes away. She was also drunk on cheap liquor and heartbreak when she told him that, so he takes it with the littlest value in the universe, but now he’s open. He’s in hell as an open lock, an open story that, for some reason, he wants Kaworu to read.

“And then there’s Asuka. She’s sort of my sister, but less related than Rei. We grew up together and she’s kind of bossy but I think she cares about me. I think. Actually, I don’t know.” Shinji chuckles, glancing at Kaworu. Whatever that moment of shock was, it’s gone and Kaworu is just watching Shinji. It’s like… sonder. Sonder with a smile. Shinji continues, opening, open, opened. “They started dating recently. Which was weird for me at first because it was like, you’re both my sisters? But I guess it was weirder before when they’d just stare at each other and fight and not do anything about it.”

“They sound lovely,” Kaworu decides. “I’d love to meet them.”

Shinji pulls his legs up into the trunk as a breeze rushes past them, settling into the back. “Already inviting yourself to meet my family? Jeez, buy me dinner first.”

Kaworu taps his untouched gyro. “I thought ahead.”

“I... guess you did.” Shinji smiles. “I think they’d like you. Wait, scratch that, Asuka would hate you. Oh yeah, she would despise you. She’d like, smother you with a pillow.”

“Hypothetically, if she took me on in a fight, who would win?”

“Her, definitely. Dude, you’re like... No offense, but you’re a stick.”

“I thought I was an ice cube.”

“Well she’s fire, and fire beats ice.”

“Scissors beat paper.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

They grin at each other.

“I want to do something stupid,” Kaworu says. “Will you let me?”

“You’re an idiot, Nagisa,” Shinji says. Shinji doesn’t know how he knows his last name. “I can’t stop you.”

Shinji can barely breathe through his sobs. His entire body racks alongside it, as though he is collapsing here and now, but oh, wouldn’t that be too much of a relief? If he gave in now, if he just stopped running, and stopped trying so hard, wouldn’t it be too easy?

It would be horrible. Because Shinji deserves every bit of it; he deserves all the bad and the hurt and the scary and the horrifying. He deserves to suffer. Another cry rocks through him, and he stuffs his face into his pillow. There’ll be a big Shinji-shaped tear stain in the morning.

In the morning.

What if he just… didn’t?

It would be too easy. It would be too easy but he could. He could just give in. It’s not like anyone else had higher expectations for him. Would anyone be sad?

Rei. Asuka.

The thought of leaving them makes Shinji very sad. They’ve stuck by him longer than he’s stuck by himself. They’ve been his friend when no one else would. This hurts.

Shinji thinks about how they look at each other when they think he’s not there. He thinks about how they used to be unable to stand each other, screaming and kicking and silently falling away as though the world was ending, and how they cannot live without each other anymore. How they whisper to each other like they’ve discovered the darkest depths of each other and lit them up. He thinks about how they smile and giggle and hold hands and how they were made to love each other.

Shinji thinks about how they look at him when he walks in. They've stuck by him longer than he’s stuck by himself—why can’t he accept that? They’re his friends no matter what. No matter how many times he’s let them down.

They both hurt. Leaving and staying. He’s stuck in an in-between, not exactly alive, not exactly dead, in a forever purgatory. Forever reaching happiness, forever being forced behind. Watching his friends leave him. Watching all the people he wants to be friends with disappear.

He grabs his blanket and pulls it over his body, curling into himself. His voice dies in his throat but his tears don’t get the message. They can’t. Tomorrow, he’ll get a cough drop and he’ll give himself some relief.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he’ll go back and he’ll see Kaworu again.

Another sob escapes him and he lets it flow through him. He can barely breathe.

Shinji prays their coworkers are passed out in the break lounge as Kaworu pushes an empty cart through the store because this is embarrassing. They’re not doing anything but. He works here. People know him here. And it’s horrible, the thought of being seen by people he knows but isn’t friends with, because what are they thinking?

It doesn’t matter. Shinji doesn’t give a shit.

Shinji only cares about what Kaworu is doing right now. He glances at every shelf in the soup aisle, but nothing seems to satisfy him and the franticness in his search is leaving Shinji restless.

“You said you were going to do something stupid,” Shinji groans, grabbing the cart’s handle and yanking him to a stop. “Well, you’re just freaking me out.”

“Is that not stupid? To freak out the one I wish to please?” Kaworu looks over his shoulder and his face relaxes into an easy grin. Shinji wonders how it feels to be him.

“Just... shut up.” Sighing, Shinji lets go of the cart and looks at the cans of soup. “I didn’t think you ate. Food.”

“What did you think I ate then, Shinji?” He flutters his eyelashes in the corner of Shinji’s eyes and the poor wooed fool shivers. They’re so white and fluttery, and Kaworu must’ve been a butterfly in another life. It would explain the colors and how carefree he is.

If Kaworu was a butterfly, who was Shinji?

Who is Shinji?

He is in hell. Nothing matters more than that.

“Hearts,” he decides. “You trick people into eating gyro and then you eat their hearts. That’s why your eyes are red.”

“From ice cube to witch.” Kaworu nods. “I’m flattered.”

“Okay witch, now will you tell me what we’re doing?”

“Am I not stupid enough for your liking, Shinji?” There’s something about the way he says his name. Something about the way the word slips off like they’ve been friends for decades, like they’ve been two flames kindling around one another. Like his name was made for his tongue and their lips were made for one another, and what are lips, if not to kiss?

(To close the mouth shut, normally and while chewing or drinking, a voice chimes inside of him. That must be the Asuka in him. Or maybe the Rei. Or maybe his father.

Or maybe himself.)

“No, it’s unbearable, but, y’know.” Shinji shrugs. “I’m curious to see how much worse you can get.”

“Worse? Well then, I’ll give you worse.” Kaworu lets go of the cart, nearly sending Shinji flying back. Before Shinji can yell at him, before they continue this dance of theirs, he gestures to the bottom tray and grins like he’s about to do something very stupid. “Climb on.”

“Climb on?” Recovering, Shinji looks at the cart and scoffs. “That’s not stupid, that’s childish.”

“I didn’t know I needed your permission to be childish.” Kaworu approaches a bewildered Shinji, their knuckles brushing against one another.

It takes all of Shinji’s will to not turn red, to not take a deep breath, to not pull away. To exist, here and now, like real people do. Like real friends do. “That’s your fault. Not… not—"

“Maybe... you’re scared.”

Like real idiots do.

A gaping Shinji glares at Kaworu. He yanks his hand away. “Fuck you.” He takes a deep breath and turns to the cart. “Fuck you, fuck you.” He grabs the handles and steps on, shifting his weight to the front. “Fuck you and fuck this.” He looks over his shoulder. “Let’s fucking do this.”

Shinji is a wooed fool, but he is not a liar, and he would be one if he said Kaworu did not deliver.

Kaworu’s hands go on either side of Shinji, fluttering against his hips, sending goosebumps cascading through his spine. And he kicks off, sending Shinji flying back into his chest, but oh no, he doesn’t even think to stop. He starts running, and Shinji recovers, and there’s wind in his hair, and now!

Now they’re in the meat aisle and Shinji is smiling, because wow can Kaworu run, and there’s no one around to tell them to stop. The cart squeaks and protests but Kaworu’s laughter is the only sound Shinji holds onto. He abruptly turns, and Shinji falls backward against his arms and he lets out a squeal, gripping the cart.

Like real idiots do, like real friends do, like people do, because this is stupid and this is fun, and Shinji doesn’t care if it’s stupid or childish because he’s a real idiot.

“Faster!” Shinji calls behind him as though he wasn’t the one against this mere moments ago. And Kaworu, oh Kaworu delivers. They’re in the cleaning supplies and the fresh smell of detergent rushes by them as they make their way to the electronics.

From the help desk, one of their coworkers glances up at them, before looking down. Kaworu and Shinji let out a howl—quiet, though, to not disturb anyone’s peace—and Kaworu, he turns and now they’re darting through the car parts, and through the toys, and Kaworu turns, and they’re going, they’re going, and Shinji imagines this is what flying would feel like.

They go through towels and sewing materials and clothes, and Shinji, Shinji dares to let go. Shinji dares to feel like he’s flying like he’s the only soul in this world, and he dares to climb out of his hell. It’s not a staircase, no, it’s a ladder, and Shinji dares to try and reach five rungs higher. His fingers reach and reach, and Kaworu is behind him, and Shinji, Shinji the person, Shinji the friend, Shinji the idiot, Shinji he

falls. His fingers slip and he collides with Kaworu. Their bodies topple to the ground, knocking down a rack of kids’ clothes, and the cart crashes into a display of graphic shirts. Shinji’s head rings with spinning lights glaring down at him.

“S... Shinji?” Kaworu asks, from under him. Shinji can feel the way his body moves with his voice. “Are you okay?”

Shinji sits up, looking over his shoulder. Another Kaworu expression for him to remember: concern. Somehow, Shinji feels like this is an expression he should know, he should be fond of, and it is. It’s something so familiar to him and something so warm and Shinji, oh Shinji…

He throws his head back and laughs.

Oh, the sound he’s forgotten, the sound that used to follow his mother and his flowing dresses, the sound that used to follow at sleepovers with Asuka and Rei, the sound that used to follow him with his friends, the sound that flows through him like nectar. The sound takes over him and Shinji just laughs harder, because wow, they just ran through a Walmart on a cart?

And behind him, Kaworu snorts and starts laughing too. They stay like that, Shinji sitting up, Kaworu lying down, laughing so hard they can’t breathe, for a few minutes. Shinji can’t breathe and his laughter turns soft but he doesn’t want to stop. He doesn’t want the ladder to crack.

He turns to say something to Kaworu when a mean-looking man frowns from across the aisle at them. “What are you two doing? Look at this mess you made!”

Kaworu sits up and looks at the man. “Uh... we’re not on the job right now.”

Their manager begins to say something but Shinji and Kaworu aren’t ready to accept the consequences, not for their laughter. So like a switch going off, they grab each other’s hands and begin to run. Anger follows them but they laugh, oh they laugh while they dodge the piles of clothes and the displays of gaudy jewelry, and they laugh through the sliding door.

Dew hits Shinji’s skin and he’s breathless and alive and loved all at once. They keep running, hand in hand, their sneakers hitting the pavement and their matching uniforms catching wind, even if no one is chasing them. They’re chasing laughter. They chase it all the way to Kaworu’s car, wordlessly with laughter clambering in, and starting the engine.

And they drive.

Shinji’s fingers hang over the call button. Kaworu forcefully took his phone and added his number (much to the relief of Shinji as many hours of Instagram stalking led him to learn Kaworu is the last teenager on earth without an account) that afternoon, and Shinji pretended to be angry. Kaworu said it was for emergencies; if they couldn’t find each other. And now, he wants Kaworu to call first.

He’s learned that people sound different over the phone. Maybe it’s because there isn’t background noise to clutter their voice or because they have to be quieter, but it’s different. Somehow, more intimate. Shinji doesn’t want to invite Kaworu to his house. He doesn’t want to go to his house. So he’ll settle for this.

But he hates Kaworu. He would never call first.

Shinji hates himself for being a coward.

He hates himself for not being able to remember where he’s seen Kaworu before.

He shuts off his phone and places it on the nightstand. Kaworu doesn’t call.

Shinji thinks this is an emergency. He wants Kaworu to find him.

In retrospect, it might’ve been a good idea to ask Kaworu to drive him home. It’s nearing half past one and if Shinji’s father found him out…

But, Shinji’s high. Off laughter. Kaworu probably could get Shinji actually high if he asked—weed, kissing—but it doesn’t matter how he’s high, because he just is. So he doesn’t ask any questions when Kaworu’s ten minutes of driving lead them to the underside of a bridge.

Shinji has seen this bridge a thousand times. It’s the route to the city and it’s a mindless bump, something to forget and carry on from. But now, Shinji climbs out of the car and breathes in the air. Basin and rainwater greet him happily, and Shinji doesn’t allow this moment to mindlessly pass him. Trees surround either side of them and the moon shines down, hiding this piece of the world for them.

Kaworu climbs out too and they walk together to the base of the river. It’s too small to be called a river, really, but it’s a flowing body of water and there might be fish if it wasn’t too dark to see, so it’s a river to Shinji.

His first instinct is to…

Kiss Kaworu. Kiss him until their lips are red and kiss him until Kaworu asks him if he loves him and he would say yes, and they would keep kissing. Kiss him until he remembers. Kiss him until he finds him again. Kiss him until someone finds him, finds them.

Run. There’s no place to hide. Here, under the moon, there’s no place to hide. Shinji can drive but he’d rather not steal Kaworu’s car. Shinji doesn’t think someone can swim through that small of a river. Shinji can run on foot. He can just keep going and see if Kaworu would ask him to stop. If anyone would.

Scream. Scream until the world hears him. Scream until he finds him.

So he does.

He doesn’t stop as his throat feels raw and his eyes close and his fists ball. He hears Kaworu move closer, but he doesn't stop him. He screams to the fishless river, lit up by the lonely moonlight, and Shinji hates everything.

Shinji hates his father. Shinji hates that he has to go back. Shinji hates that he was worried about what he would do if he found out. What would he even do? Oh, Shinji would be fucking happy if he even did anything. A slap on the face and then he’d move on because Shinji isn’t worth the effort. But Shinji would be happy with a slap, wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he?

Shinji hates school. He hates his friends because his real ones moved away. He hates that Asuka and Rei can’t be in all of his classes and he hates that he’s too scared to tell that he hates being away from them. He hates that he distances himself away from them as they get closer and he hates that he’s horrified that they’ll one day leave him. He hates that he knows that day will come. He hates that he can’t stop it.

Shinji hates his job. He hates cleaning up and he hates making minimum wage and he hates pretending that this is a way out. He hates pretending there is a way out.

Shinji hates hell. Shinji hates living. Shinji hates everything.

But most of all, Shinji hates Kaworu and how he lets him scream.

When his voice gives out, Shinji wipes his eyes and swallows bile. “Thank you,” he meekly says, sitting on the rocks that stretch across the bank.

There’s crunching as Kaworu makes his way next to Shinji. He stands, for a moment, before joining him on the ground. “There’s no need to thank me.”

“Well, yeah, but... Thank you for not. For not asking. And.” Shinji’s breath catches. “Thank you for making me laugh.”

He turns to watch Kaworu’s face scrunch up. “Making you laugh? Do you not do that?”

“No, not really.” Shinji smiles. “I haven’t for a while. And thank you for not taking me home.”

“I don’t know where you live.”

“But if you did… would you have?”

“No,” he answers, too quickly, and Shinji’s smile threatens to widen but he forces it down. “You hate it there. It makes you sad. I wouldn’t make you go back.”

“Life doesn’t work like that.” Shinji picks up a pebble and rolls it between his fingers. Residue sticks to his pads.

“Why not?”

“Well... I dunno. You can’t do things you want. I hate him but I’m not allowed to stay away from him.” He throws the pebble into the water. His father came back, years after leaving him. Years of Shinji was finally starting to do okay. Years after making friends and maybe making peace, he dragged Shinji back to reality.

“Well then, just stay with me,” Kaworu carelessly offers. “If you’re not allowed to stay away from him, don’t ask for permission.”

“I-I don’t know anything about you.” Shinji picks up another pebble. “I don’t even know where you live—"

“I live with a family friend. My parents died when I was young. I didn’t know them.”

“Oh. I’m. I’m sorry.” Shinji tosses the pebble and watches Kaworu’s face.

“Stay with me, then. Make it up to me.”

Shinji scoffs. “Make up the death of your parents by staying with you?”

Kaworu really is an idiot, Shinji decides, as he nods with a smile.

Shinji lays down, laughing softly. “You’re strange, Nagisa.”

Kaworu lays down next to Shinji and Shinji doesn’t know why he doesn’t run. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t try to shove Kaworu away and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t try to pull him closer. He just lays there and looks at the sky, trying to find stars or some sense of north. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t kiss him.

“Only for you, Ikari.” Shinji finds a new emotion in the crinkle of his eyes: sadness. “It’s lonely at home. I’m the youngest one there. Everyone else is an adult. Friends who I must respect, so not friends. I’m... the ‘strangest’ too. Only one of them understands me but he struggles to understand himself. People are hard. They’re hard to understand. If you were there, it would be easier.” Kaworu sighs. “Do you remember?”

Shinji wants to run away. Shinji wants to run away with him. Not to his house, but to wherever their laughter leads them. He learned about Kaworu then. He’d learn about his hair and his eyes and his eccentricities and all the things that make him tick. But Shinji does not run away. Shinji asks, “Remember what?”

Sadness kisses Kaworu’s face again and he turns to Shinji. “I didn’t think so.”

Shinji turns to face Kaworu. A question dies on his lips and burns into his mind. “You... you’re doing something to me.”

“I’m doing something to you?”

“Yeah, you, you’re…” Making me want to kiss you. Making me want to run away with you. Making me want to laugh. Making me want to cry. Making me want to scream. Making me scared. “Making everything easy. Too easy.”

“Is easy bad?”

“Easy is horrible.” Shinji closes his eyes and remembers. He remembers how easy it was for his uncle and aunt to kick him back to his father’s when they found him with a bike. He remembers how easy it was for his teachers to declare him a lost cause. He remembers how easy it was for his classmates to start ignoring him. “Easy is the worst and, and you’re the worst, Kaworu.”

He means it, in another life. In another life where he is not a fool and Kaworu is a butterfly.

“I think hate is your love language.” Kaworu smiles. “Easy is not bad and neither am I. You love both.”

Shinji snorts. “Why do you think I love you?”

“Because,” he answers simply, “I think we were born to meet each other.” He hesitates. “I think I was born to meet you.”

“Meet... me?” Shinji is breathless.

He thinks about his mother and how she was love. He thinks about how his father adored her and nothing else, not even his science or his work. She had an energy that made everyone fall for and everyone else felt so wrong when she wasn’t around.

He thinks about his father. He doesn’t want to but he does. He thinks about how much better things could be if his father just left for good. He thinks about how that man can't stand him but continues to torture him. He thinks about how Shinji could’ve been happier. No, Shinji thinks, he would’ve kept chasing. He would’ve never stopped wanting approval.

He thinks about Asuka. His oldest friend, a girl he thought he was once in love with. They hated each other when they first met. And they would never stop saying they hated each other, but they just... stopped hating. They became friends. She was his turning point. She keeps forcing him to look at himself and she never looks at herself. But she still manages to give others fleeting looks of adoration and hate.

He thinks about Rei. His sister. She’s like his mother. She is love and she is right when the world is not. She is gentle when the world is harsh, even when she is harsh. She is a gift the world was not ready for, is not ready for. He was not ready when he met her at a family gathering. He is still not ready and will never be. He doesn't want to be ready. He wants to be her friend.

He thinks about Misato. He thinks about her doomed romances and how she rants and rants about all the things Shinji doesn’t deem important. But he still listens. He still listens because he doesn’t want to be trapped. She is stuck between worlds and he doesn’t want to be.

He thinks about himself. He’s stuck in hell, created by all these people and created by himself. He is a nobody. He deserves to be stuck in hell so someone else can have a place in heaven. He deserves to burn for a sin he did not commit. He deserves to fall in love with those who will not love him back and he deserves to make a fool of himself and his locked heart, over and over.

He thinks about Kaworu. Kaworu, who fell into his life and looked at him like Shinji was the answer. In a way no one had ever looked at him before. How he talks like no one else talks, how he laughs like no one else laughs, and how Shinji barely knows much about him but somehow, he knows so much. He knows he cannot love this boy. He knows that this is not love, this is young, dumb, attraction.

But somehow, he thinks, he has fallen. If not in love, then in time. He has fallen in time for the boy of his dreams.

Phase two hundred thirty-six: Fall Faster Than You’ve Ever Fallen. Grow up. Make friends. Hate your father. Go back to your father. Miss your mother. Lose your sisters. Lose your friends. Lose your music. And meet him. Meet him when all is lost. Meet him and fall faster than you’ve ever fallen, faster than how you can fall. Show hurt. And let him show you hurt. Let him hurt you. Let yourself hurt him. Be in misery and be in love.

Shinji is scared. Shinji has never been so scared in his life.

Shinji thinks of happiness.

Shinji bites his lip, looking at his reflection. His friends were talking about young love and their type in girls and for some stupid fucking reason, Shinji thought of Kaworu. After excusing himself quickly, he made his way to the bathroom and his cheeks were bright red.

He’s been thinking about Kaworu so much, and he thinks he’s figured it out: he wants Kaworu.

Oh, he wants Kaworu so badly. He wants to know more about Kaworu. He wants to not be scared to ask him. He wants to stop being so frustrated with how long it takes to know someone and get to know him. He wants to know him, to stop pretending to hate him. He does not know why he hates him.

But he wants Kaworu. He wants Kaworu in a way he’s never wanted anyone before. He wants Kaworu so bad, he cries at night and he wants that boy to be the one to wipe his tears away and tell him he’ll be okay. He wants that boy to be the one to go to the ocean with him and listen to music with him. Kaworu once said he likes to paint. Shinji would listen to music, watch the waves rise and fall, and watch Kaworu paint. He would watch him and then he would laugh because of the way Kaworu’s nose scrunches him and the way his eyes narrow when he’s focused.

And then, Shinji would stand up and grab his paint-covered hand. Maybe, in frustration, Kaworu would run the brush over Shinji’s arm and he would just laugh and they would both laugh because they’re idiots. They’re idiots and then they would dance. They would dance to the music that was always playing and maybe Shinji would play the cello again. He stopped in middle school and maybe, maybe he would keep going, maybe Kaworu would listen, and maybe he would paint to it. Shinji would play and Kaworu would paint.

Shinji would play and Kaworu would paint and Shinji would never figure it out. He would never figure out why he feels this way about Kaworu. Why now, why him? He would never figure it out and he would just smile. He wouldn’t be in hell anymore. He’d be next to the ocean with Kaworu.

His friends would come over. Asuka would always tease him about Kaworu. Rei would just smile. They’d whisper and laugh with each other and Shinji would with Kaworu. And maybe they’d get along with him. Maybe one day.

Maybe…

Shinji’s lip falls from his teeth.

Oh.

Oh.

And then, Shinji does not think at all: he leans forward and Kaworu meets him in the middle.